#he is assertive enough to demand that others see it too

[its-leethee]

Reflecting on Claudia's conversation with Terry about the leaflynx kitten, and how even though she acknowledges that it's cute, she still can't see the sum of the animal from all of its parts.

So far, only Ezran has been able to inspire Claudia to actually relate to another creature, and not just see it as a threat or a tool: Hey, that's like me!

2x09 // 6x04

Bonus: what's with this look, Ez?!

[frostedfragments]

exclusive tutorial ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 4.5k words ✧.* friends to lovers summary: you ask zayne to teach you how to kiss warnings!: messy kissing, dry humping, fingering, zayne cums in his pants lol, touch starved!zayne note: this came to me in a dream. im kidding. im just horny for pathetic zayne note2: part 2 is here

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

Zayne is in his office reviewing a recent surgery when you come barging into his office one Friday afternoon.

Windswept and pink-cheeked, you look radiant and it takes a few moments of blinking away the lingering text printed on his vision for him to realise you’re speaking.

“Did you hear me?” You sound…nervous, almost, which is out of character for someone who routinely interrupts his working day to sit in his office and drop bagel crumbs all over his carpet. Your eyes drift around the room, flying over his features for a beat before you’re looking away again, and it’s intoxicating, for some reason, to see you shy around him. Usually he’s the one who’s hesitant, too weary to blur the line between your friendship and the depraved, desperate thoughts he has about you when he’s alone in his apartment.

There’s a well-buried part of Zayne that chooses to file away that coy expression on your face for such a moment.

Glancing back to the screen of his computer, he continues typing, correctly assuming you will fall into your regular pattern and plop yourself on his desk any moment now.

It takes you three seconds to do exactly that as he speaks, “No, I didn’t. It’s almost as if I’m working right now,”

One of his favourite things to do is tease you, to have your nose scrunch in annoyance when he plays dumb on purpose, or when he pretends he doesn’t want you around. The secret he keeps locked up tight is that he wants you near him all the time, his hands itch with it. He notices you stick your tongue out at him from the corner of his eye, and he has to suppress the twitch of his lips. You’re back to your old self for only a moment before you seem to remember what it is you wanted to ask him.

“I have a date,”

It’s not a question, though it doesn’t really matter. The corner of Zayne’s brain that, eons ago, would have demanded he hammer his fists on his chest or pee on the desk to assert dominance takes over for a millisecond as he files through a dozen different scenarios which all seem wildly inappropriate for the news he’s just received. As usual, he manages to tame his base urges when it comes to you, and he nods, calm and cool as a cucumber.

Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve dated. Zayne has known you since he was eight, and you were six. It’s not like he hasn’t witnessed this before; for a long time the concept of you with other boys never bothered him. At least not until the two of you hit puberty and he started taking note of all the ways in which you were different; softer, sweeter, prettier. Since then, it’s been a part of your friendship he likes to ignore.

Except when you force him to confront it, that is.

“Very good,” He speaks around a sudden tightness in his throat, feigning sarcasm if only to distract by the sudden grip of panic on his chest, “I’m thrilled you decided to come to my place of work to inform me,”

“Zayne,” The way you whine his name has his thighs tensing under the desk, and he really wishes you wouldn’t do that. He mentally files that away for later too.

He sighs softly, taking his hands away from the keyboard and turning his body just enough so that you know you have his complete attention. As if you don’t have it all the time anyway.

“What is it?”

“I have a date,”

His hand clenches, “I heard,”

Inhaling deeply, you let out a breath like you’re about to confess something. The soft, pink flush on your cheeks deepens slightly and you start doing that thing again where you look anywhere but at him, “I wanted to ask if you would help me with something,”

“Anything,” He says, because it’s true. He almost wants to wince at how desperate to please you he is, but as usual, he stays neutral.

“I…ahh,” You bite your lip, and another year is shaved off of Zayne’s life, “I wanted to ask if you would teach me…hosjskkss,”

He frowns as you trail off, speaking the rest into your chest as you tilt your head down. Your cheeks are glowing pink now.

“What was that?”

“Teachmehowtokiss,” You respond, lifting your head slightly but still refusing to look at him, not that it matters. Zayne is convinced his physical form no longer exists and he’s now a pile of ash and glasses on the desk chair.

He swallows hard, needing the extra moisture in his mouth, speaking in the monotone of someone who’s just had a major brain injury, “You want me to teach you how to kiss,”

It takes a couple seconds, but you nod before squeaking and covering your face with your hands, speaking muffled through the sleeves of your hoodie, “I’ve never…ugh! This is so embarrassing. Maybe I should ask Caleb- “

“I’ll do it,” Zayne speaks so fast he almost leaps forward over the desk to stop the rest of that sentence from leaving your lips. He is selfish, and clearly has no regard for his own mental state, but like hell is he gonna let Caleb put his grubby paws on you.

You meet his gaze with wide, impossibly pretty eyes, and something throbs deep in Zayne’s gut. He thinks he might do just about anything to keep you looking at him like that.

“You mean it? You don’t think it’ll be…” You shrug, “weird?”

Weird is the last word Zayne would use to describe how kissing you would be, but he can’t think of any others right now, so he just shakes his head.

“It’ll be fine,” His voice is scratchy, and he clears it twice, just to have the words coming out sounding the same, “I get off work at seven. You can come over, or we could…”

He’s unsure where exactly you want to do this, but the prospect of kissing you in his office and then driving home with his cock hard as steel sounds unappealing.

“I’ll come over,” You say, voice a little dazed and your cheeks still pink, “see you later, Zayne,”

There’s a good few seconds between when you knock on Zayne’s door to when he opens it that you’re almost positive you’ve made a mistake.

Because really, what were you thinking? Second only to Caleb, Zayne is your oldest friend, and now you’re probably going to implode the friendship by locking lips with him. Of course, there’s no guarantee that you’ll have to actually kiss him to learn how to kiss, but it’s implied. And the implication is enough to have your stomach in knots.

Maybe Caleb would have been the better choice; a little more laid back, less likely to make a big deal out of the whole thing. Not that Zayne would hold it over you, or anything. The reason you’d asked him, stupidly, was because he’s a doctor. He’s good at removing emotions from certain situations. As if that matters at all…you swear it made sense in your head at the time, but now as Zayne swings open the door wearing a grey sweater and black sweatpants, you wonder if running is an option.

“Hey,” He says, his expression giving nothing away about whether or not he feels as awkward as you do. Sweat gathers at the base of your spine as you step inside, unconsciously inhaling that expensive cologne he wears; woodsy and addictive. He smells like a hot, rich man - which he is. Rich, anyway.

You’ve never really thought of Zayne as hot, more…devastatingly handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you think of princes in fairy tales, or the hot guys you see in k-dramas or something.

He closes the door and stands in the entryway, watching you from behind his glasses with a slight tilt to his head, “You okay?”

“Great. Never better,” You sound like an idiot, and you sweat again when Zayne’s lips tip up into a soft smile, his eyes getting that far away, dreamy look that makes you feel like a teenager around her crush.

Which obviously you’re not…you don’t have a crush, and you’re twenty-five.

Twenty-five and yet you still don’t know how to kiss.

Zayne takes your jacket, and like usual, you sit on the sofa, pulling your legs under you as you watch him move around the kitchen. He opens a cabinet, pulls out two glasses and brings them over, along with your usual bottle of wine. It’s tradition, routine, almost, and yet it makes you feel warm. Your stomach dips as he strolls over, so…big.

How had you never noticed how large he was? Sure, you noticed but you’ve never noticed. His build is large and yet he doesn’t appear bulky beneath his sweater, his collarbones jut just above the neckline and for an insane moment, your fingers tingle with the urge to touch them.

You stuff your hands beneath your thigh and keep them sandwiched there, unsure what to do with them for the time being.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Zayne asks, his voice soft as if always is, and for a second you forget all about the kissing lesson and just enjoy the company of your friend.

“Um, sure,”

He shifts a little, lips downturned before his eyes dart away, “Unless you wanted to get straight to the- “

“The movie is good for now,” You smile probably a little too widely at him, and you wonder if you look insane.

He levels you with a look, as if he sees through you, and it makes you want to squirm under his gaze, “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, ___,”

He looks away before you do, moving to pour you a glass of red wine and you take it eagerly, as if it’s a lifeline. Surely after a glass you’ll feel a little less…like this. Jittery, achy, sweaty - as if there’s a thousand little feathers brushing your skin every time he glances your way.

This has never happened before, this awkward energy. With Zayne you’ve always felt safe, relaxed, and you never had to worry about whether or not your hair looks good, or if you have spinach in your teeth. He has always been a comfort blanket for you, but now with the thoughts of kissing on your mind, you can’t seem to relax. Your brain files through all the scenarios it can generate; will he kiss you soft? Slow? Will he put his hands on your face, or your waist, or in your hair? What does he normally do when he kisses women?

“When is the date?” Zayne asks, not looking at you and instead focusing on the tv, trying to find something mindless for the two of you to watch before you begin. His voice sounds scratchy, as if he’s coming down with something, but you get distracted once the movie starts and he sits back against the sofa, turning to look at you with an unreadable expression.

“Tomorrow night,” You reply. It’s a co-worker who asked you, a nice, good-looking guy who works in the office above yours. He offered to take you for food and it’s been so long since you dated, Simone convinced you to say yes, “We’re just getting food,”

Zayne nods, though he doesn’t look away, “So you’re already planning to kiss him? He must be quite the catch,” That odd look is still there in the depths of his eyes - moss green with a hint of amber.

“Wh- uh, yeah. Maybe, I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down into your wine, “I just think that it’s kinda embarrassing that I haven’t kissed anyone yet,”

“Nothing about you is embarrassing,” He replies so fast it catches you off guard, and when you glance up at him, the tips of his ears have gone pink. There’s a tension in his shoulders as he looks at you, almost easy to miss if you didn’t know him so well.

The two of you sink into a comfortable silence after that, both watching the movie and laughing when the girl on the plane starts insulting the air steward. After a while you’ve relaxed somewhat, only one glass into the wine, you’re back to your factory settings, awkwardness gone as you slouch into the sofa, your shoulder pressed against Zayne’s.

It’s when the character on the screen kisses the love interest before the credits roll that you remember why you came. You lift your head from where it had fallen against the sofa and you turn to find Zayne already looking at you, that strange look on his face again. Your lips roll inward as you look at him, your eyes flitting unwillingly from his mouth and back again twice before you look away, embarrassed.

Zayne’s hand reaches out to grasp yours, and his voice is rumbly and warm when he speaks, “Do you want to go?”

“No,” You swing your head around to face him, almost too fast, “I…ah, I’m just nervous,”

He keeps watching you for a moment longer before he shifts, turning so he’s facing you fully on the sofa, “It’s only me,”

“Yeah, but I’ve never kissed you,”

“You said you’ve never kissed anyone,” He tilts his head again, “Why don’t you take the lead? I’ll stay here like this,”

He remains still, not rigid, but relaxed. More relaxed than you feel as you mimic his posture, turning so you’re fully facing him. He’s backlit by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the golden summer sunset, and you feel an unfamiliar dip in your stomach again.

He’s watching you, cheeks a little rosy from the wine, and his lips are stained to match. You linger on them for a moment, licking the red wine taste off your own and wondering briefly if he will taste like you. You must be taking too long, because he shifts again, and a pillow finds its way into his lap. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and you feel as if you’re exposed.

The way Zayne is looking at you is nothing like any of the other times you’ve noticed him staring; his jaw is tense, eyes darting all over your face, he almost looks quietly angry, but you know that can’t be it.

“____?”

“Sorry,” You exhale softly, shuffling so you’re on your knees. It’s better this way - now you’re eye-to-eye with Zayne, though it makes that feeling in your stomach even worse.

Before you can think otherwise, you place your hands on his shoulders, briefly noting the way they tense and then relax. You mean to lean forward, but Zayne’s eyes have you feeling like a mouse caught in a trap

“Can you close your eyes?” You ask, and his lips twitch, but he does as you ask, his eyes sliding closed. His black lashes fan along his cheekbones, and you almost want to sigh wistfully - he really is handsome.

The second attempt is more successful without Zayne’s intense gaze, and you lean toward him, moving until your noses bump together and Zayne exhales softly against your lips.

There’s a sharp, warm press in your lower stomach, as if your body is just now realising what you’re doing. The feel of Zayne’s soft breaths against your lips is maddening; you’re hot all over, and it’s sudden, out of nowhere. The hands on his shoulder’s clench as your fingers dig in, and before you can chicken out, you’re pressing your lips to his.

He is going to explode, or come, either way it’s taking every ounce of restraint Zayne has to let you take the lead, to get used to him and this new, terrifying step in your friendship. His stomach drops like he’s on a rollercoaster, hands clenched over the pillow hiding his obvious erection that reared its head the moment he saw your pupils dilate.

Your lips are soft, warm as you press gently against him. He wishes kissing with his eyes open was socially acceptable because he hates that he can’t see you, that he can’t get a front row seat of you on his couch, hands gripping his shoulders, lips against his. For a long moment, you don’t move, you just stay like this, and Zayne can’t bring himself to complain. But, you tilt your head slightly, pushing your lips against his harder, and he feels his cock twitch impatiently.

Inexperience isn’t usually something that turns him on - frankly, the idea of deflowering someone has him coming out in a rash. It’s not that he thinks he’s bad at kissing, or sex, but the expectations put upon him are dizzying. He wants to make this kiss good for you, even while an animal part of him thrashes against its restraints, begging him to ruin you for any other man. His hands fist against the pillow in his crotch, and when you pull away, he almost groans at the loss of contact.

Zayne is the first to open his eyes, just a second before you, but it’s enough. Your lips aren’t well-kissed, not by his standards, but he can spot the signs of arousal a mile away. Your cheeks are flushed a gorgeous shade of pink, your lips even deeper, and when you let your tongue dart out to wet them just before opening your eyes, he feels a sharp punch of need deep in his stomach.

You exhale shakily against his lips, and he can feel his restraint fraying at the seams. He wants you so badly he feels as if he could come just from the way you’re gazing blearily at his lips, as if you’re drunk on him. It’s a maddening rush to his ego, to see you so undone after barely kissing him, and he can’t stop himself from lifting a hand, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb along your lower lip.

“Was that okay?” You ask him, voice thick with something he is too chicken-shit to name, for fear that he will actually pick you up and fuck you into his couch.

He swallows hard, licking the taste of your lip balm off his lips, “Y-yeah. It was,”

This is it, he thinks, this is all you wanted from him, and it’s more than enough. More than he ever expected when it came to you. Even a chaste, soft kiss is enough to give him material to jerk off to for the rest of the year like the desperate man you’ve turned him into. But the tender, hesitancy of the moment lasts only a few seconds before you speak again, obliterating his final shred of sanity.

“Can we do it again?”

He should say no. You have a date planned, you’re his best friend in the whole world, and he made peace long ago with the fact he was destined to want you from afar. The unrequited nature of his feelings and his desires have always been somewhat safe for him, something he can use to control himself around you, but to hear you ask him for more of his lips on yours awakens something hot and vicious in his gut.

He doesn’t really reply, too dumbstruck to speak, and you gaze up at him with dark eyes, dangerously eager eyes, your voice barely above a whisper, “Will you kiss me this time? Like you do with other women?”

The mere thought of it has the tip of his cock growing slick, need curling in his stomach, worming its way around the base of his spine as he tenses. But, he’s not as strong as he thought he was, because within two seconds he’s nodding, leaning in and groaning all in one breath, his lips catching yours in a real kiss. Your hands fist the material of his sweater, tugging him closer, and he loses it, brain splattered against his skull. Now, there is only you and him and this pulsing desire he has to tuck you against his body and make you feel just how bad he’s wanted you.

His hands find your soft waist, palming the dip and clutching hard enough for your t-shirt to rise up a little. The sliver of skin brushing against his pinky does insane things to his psyche, and he pulls you, knocking away the pillow in his lap and pressing you there instead. You gasp into his mouth and he wants to snarl into the kiss, wants to make you understand.

Do you feel how bad I need you? Can you feel how hot and hard and aching I am?

Your body is like heaven in his arms, and he suddenly realises he could die happy now, knowing intimately how the weight of you feels in his lap, pressing against his cock, knees on either side of his hips. A soft moan against his lips has him bucking up against you, thankful for your choice to wear a skirt so he has access to the warmest, wettest part of you instantly. He yearns, needs and wants like he’s never wanted anything. He wants to rake his nails up your thighs, push aside your underwear and run his fingers through the mess he hopes he’ll find there. The mess he put there, he realises, and he growls into the kiss at the thought.

“Zayne,” You whimper, whining like you did earlier in his office, and he can’t help but smile at the sound. He’s fucked his own hand to your voice more times than he wants to admit, and now he leaks against his sweatpants, drunk on the way you’re babbling in his arms, your lips wet from his spit and is tongue as it laves them, eagerly asking entrance into your mouth.

“Open for me, beautiful. Open your mouth for me,” Zayne’s voice is almost unrecognisable to his own ears, a soft, firm rumble. When you do as he asks, he lets his hands drift down to your hips, pushing and pulling you along the ridge in his pants as his tongue brushes yours.

It’s messy, and you’re not sure what you’re doing, that much is evident, but it doesn’t even matter. He wants every inch of you messy over him, wants to keep this lesson going until you leave his apartment with the knowledge of how Zayne kisses you, and no one else. He wants you to be as gone for him as he is for you, as he always has been.

You’re lost on him now, hips moving of their own accord, and Zayne thinks that if he can make you come, he will take that as his greatest accomplishment in life. Forget med school, forget every surgery he completed that others failed. All he cares about is the sounds falling from your lips, the way your fingers have threaded through his hair, the fact his apartment is filled with the sounds of your kisses, of your panting breaths, his deep groans as you rock against him. Nothing else matters.

His name falls from your lips again, like you’re asking for something, but you don’t know what. He pulls away from your slick, swollen lips only to run his tongue up your neck, relishing in the way you tremble against him.

“What is it, ___? What do you need?” He rasps against your ear, “You need me to make you come?”

You nod eagerly, clutching him tight enough that he feels flames roaring up his spine. He isn’t gonna last much longer with you riding him like this, and like hell is he gonna come without taking care of you first.

“Okay,” He breathes, winded and totally out of his depth. He’s never lost control like this, never had his hands shake with it, but he takes a deep, steadying breath, “Okay,”

His hand brushes your thigh and you sigh, the sound falling into a moan as you continue to roll your hips in circles, so hard that Zayne’s eyes roll back before he grips your skin, pushing up your skirt until he finds the spot he wants. You gasp, breath ragged where you kiss and lick his jaw, and he groans deep in his throat when he finds just what he’d hoped for.

“So fucking wet,” He murmurs, dazed and drunk off of you, “You got this wet from me kissing you, huh?” He knows damn well he was doing more than just kiss you, but he doesn’t correct himself. Instead, he palms your damp underwear, pressing against the material so he can feel the contours of your pussy. He uses his fingers to push the material aside, mouth watering when he drags his fingers through the center of you, “God, fuck,”

“Please,” You whisper, “Please, please -”

“Shh, beautiful,” He presses a soft kiss to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, a polar opposite to the kisses he’d given you a moment ago, “I’ve got you, okay? Does it hurt?” He doesn’t know why he asks, maybe because he’s so hard beneath you that he’s beginning to see double.

“So bad,” You sob into his shoulder, rocking your hips against his fingers as he continues to explore you, avoiding the spot where you need him and just enjoying the wet, silky, warmth of you. When you whisper again, so soft he barely hears you begging him, he smiles, out of his mind with it. He wants you to beg, and so he fucks his fingers into your soft, pliant pussy until you cry out. “Oh, god! Oh, please, please - t-there, yes. Yes -”

“Holy fuck,” He murmurs as you tighten up on him, squeezing so hard he can hear the wet squelch as he attempts to carry on thrusting his middle and ring fingers into you, eager to feel it. He blearily wonders what you would feel like coming on his cock before he loses the battle against his oncoming orgasm, coming wetly against the material of his sweatpants. “Oh fuck, shit,”

You’re still shaking when he pulls his fingers out of you, your head laying on his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed the room get darker as the sun finally set, but now the two of you are alone in the glow of the tv, still stuck and waiting on the netflix homepage. The only sound in the room is your collective breathing, soft pants as you catch your breaths.

Zayne’s mind clears once the cloud of lust dissipates, and he feels a cold stab of fear deep in the centre of his chest. He’s ruined it, he thinks, he’s lost you forever. You’re going to leave and it’s going to be awkward, and why couldn’t he just keep his damn hands off of you -

“Zayne?” You whisper, breath ghosting over his collarbones.

He audibly swallows, closing his eyes in preparation for the words. We shouldn’t have done that, this was a mistake…

“Yes?”

You shuffle against him, like maybe your foot is falling to sleep in the awkward position you’re in, but you make no effort to move. When you do speak, your voice is shy, if a little hoarse, but oh, so sweet.

“You’re a really good kisser,”

The cold icy dread Zayne had been waiting in cracks, and warm seeps in. He huffs a laugh, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to your hair.

[sttoru]

fav concubine trying to top but sukuna is... sukuna so he fucks her full nelson <3

𝝑𝑒 SYNOPSIS. trying to show lord sukuna that you can indeed be on top of him in bed ends up backfiring almost immediately & results in you nearly passing out.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, pwp. size difference. full nelson position. degredation. objectification. mention of (almost) passing out. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl, woman.’ beta read? nope

“i can do it, my lord,” you huff stubbornly. you don’t know where you got the courage from to be so assertive tonight. maybe it’s because of sukuna’s earlier words—those mocking words that he uttered to get a rise out of you. or to see you scared, perhaps.

‘y’re gonna need to do a lot more to keep me entertained, doll. gonna get bored of ya if y’ don’t.’

the sentences repeat in your head like a never ending chant. on one hand, you know sukuna was simply trying to play with your emotions, but on the other hand, you’re afraid that there might be some truth to his words. so, you take up the challenge.

“y’ can’t do shit, little girl,” sukuna rolls his eyes as he sees you climb onto his lap. his thick thighs are spread, his broad back against the headboard of the bed.

he doesn’t even try helping you like he usually does, with his hands guiding your hips. if you’re stubborn enough to try and be on top of the king of curses out of all people, you’re going to get minimal help.

“yes i can,” you mumble with a sense of uncertainty in your voice. you’ve never really done any of this. you’re usually on the receiving end, having sukuna easily move and bend your body however he sees fit. you’ve never imagined being in his place, “just watch me, my lord.”

you’re desperate to please him. you’re scared to lose your position as his favorite. you let the words get to your head—just like sukuna expected. the fact that you’re so gullible makes him stifle a condescending laugh.

“all ‘m seeing is you struggling to ride me,” the tall man clicks his tongue and his eyes lazily watch your attempts to sink down on his two, hard and dripping cocks. the contact his leaking tips makes with your cunt is enough to make sukuna grunt.

he’s trying hard to not slam you down on him fully. he’s used to take control—too used to it. seeing you struggle to even start is making him impatient.

“i-i’ll get it eventually, my lord,” you hiccup, nervous because of the fact that you’re on top of such a huge man. he’s staring at you menacingly, all his arms crossed over his chest. your hips tremble as you slide one of his cocks into your warm pussy, both of you hissing at the direct contact.

you try to fit the other in the same hole, but you simply cannot handle it at the moment. his upper dick slips right out and bumps against your clit instead. you clumsily fumble with the same one, trying to make place for it in your cunt.

sukuna can’t hold it in anymore. having you clamping down on one of his massive cocks, his girth stretching your small canal to fit all of it to the base and your face contorting in both discomfort and pleasure is making him lose it. “this isn’t gonna work. need to fuck you properly, doll.”

you’re not even one minute in and he’s yanked your small body off his lap, forcefully turning you around until your back is pressed against his chest and your head is rolled back to rest near his shoulder. sukuna’s upper hands hold your legs up by the back of your knees. his bottom set of hands wrap around his cocks and pushes one through your sensitive cunt whilst he fists the other.

“fff— mhhh! my lord! nonono,” you tear up. partially because the sudden intrusion hurts your insides and the stretch is unexpected, but mainly because you’re scared that sukuna’s angry with you. you don’t wish to lose his interest in you, “i’m sorry, let me try again.”

the king of curses slaps your clitoris harshly after that comment of yours. “that a demand? foolish woman,” he scoffs and his hips thrust upwards against the fat of your ass. squelchy noises fill the chambers and spill outside of the room—it’s loud. the bed creaking is unmissable as well with how fast he’s pounding you.

sukuna bites into your shoulder and holds back his grunts like that. he’s relentless, drilling into your cunt so hard that you’re getting numb. your body is limp in his beefy arms and your rationality leaves your mind. you’re more than overwhelmed.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you whine and try to babble about something, but it’s all incoherent. you’re feeling lightheaded due to how much you’re taking of him. it feels amazing, soul ascending, but your emotions are in the way. even when you try not to show any attachment to the man you swore not to like.

sukuna ignores your pleas. his focus is on your slutty cunt swallowing every inch of his lower dick like its nothing. you’re used to it—he’s made you used to it—and somehow you’re still as tight as the first time. that and your submission to him is exciting. your adorable noises. the form of your body as it fits perfectly against his like you’re made for him.

you are made for him. your purpose is to please him, submit to him and give him what he deserves. that’s why he keeps you around.

“stop y’r whining,” sukuna grumbles. your knees are forced up against your ears and your tits are bouncing with each harsh thrust. “y’r a dumb fucking thing,” the king of curses presses down on the bottom of your stomach, increasing the pleasure for you, whilst also pleasing himself by knowing how deep you’re taking him, “do you think ‘m actually going to let you go?”

your eyes widen as sukuna picks up on your internal worries. you know there’s no hiding your feelings from him, even if you don’t talk about them to him. it’s like he can sense them. or see right through you with those piercing red eyes that leave you shivering for days.

“y’re too delicious to let go of. i don’t intend on letting anyone else get a taste of this pussy,” sukuna smirks and his tongue rolls out to lick your left ear. you gasp at the feeling and moan right after. you don’t try being quiet. you don’t care if anyone hears you. the reassurance was all you needed.

everyone around the estate knows you’re getting your guts rearranged by the same lord they serve. it’s the same routine every day.

“y’re mine,” sukuna grumbles and speeds up his thrusts until you’re seeing stars. you’re not sure if you can hold out for much longer. you can already feel your orgasm building up—and judging by sukuna’s tight grip on your thighs—he’s close to emptying himself deep inside you as well.

you try your best to keep up with everything, but your human mind can only focus on so much at once. you mumble some words in agreement as your head tilts to the side, your vision turning blurry and fuzzy, “all yours, m’lord.”

sukuna grins mischievously. he’s completely won you over. he’s got you wrapped around his finger. you’re easy, even if you think you’re the complete opposite. the skilled curse knows just what to say to make you all putty in his hands.

you’re gullible. easily manipulated. a perfect target for his mockery and teasing. that’s why he always has fun with you—whether it’d be in bed or not. his comment earlier was just to mess with you.

and expected, you walked right into his trap. you’re his favorite. his favorite to play around with. his favorite human.

“all mine. only mine.”

[sunderwight]

Fic where Su Xiyan lives but she's like, a huge asshole about it.

Tianlang Jun still gets stuck under the mountain, see, and Su Xiyan's been thoroughly betrayed by her own master, and seemingly not just him but also all the other major sects too. They all sided against her and against her lover based on prejudice. The fact that they were tricked likely wouldn't be known to her, from the outside it would just look as though they all readily dogpiled on at the first opportunity to take down a heavenly demon, even though he never did anything wrong.

Plus her own reputation has been ground to dust, going from the respected head disciple of the second greatest sect to being slandered as a honeypot who seduced a demon emperor in order to bring him down. She was used to destroy the man she loves, she almost died trying to keep her baby, her cultivation's probably taken a massive hit and she has no chance of getting to that mountain and digging her lover out from under it. Even if she could, he believes she betrayed him, so what kind of reception could she hope for?

Not that this will stop her from trying to dig him out anyway, but it's not like she can just snap her fingers and get him out. There's a whole mountain on him, and she's on the run with an infant.

So she decides she's going to make this everyone's problem as much as she can.

For a couple of years she lays low, just trying to rebuild her cultivation and look after the baby. If she's being honest, she's not great at it. She loves her son but maternal instincts don't really kick in, he's kind of a shriveled ball of misery and mess, and she doesn't really see the appeal. It gets better as he starts to get bigger and more of a personality asserts itself, and she can start treating him more like a small human than a wailing parasite that's latched onto her tit.

She would still hire someone else to look after him at the first possible opportunity, but she's paranoid about some aspect of his seal slipping and giving them away. With no body ever recovered, Huan Hua Palace is still looking for her. So she's stuck with childcare and she hates every minute of it and spends most of her time changing diapers just seething about dropping her old shifu into a mountain of shit and watching him suffocate.

Once Binghe is big enough to walk, and Su Xiyan is well enough to fight, they make for the borderlands. Su Xiyan starts teaching her son the earliest forms of cultivation he can learn, but his demon heritage is still sealed and right now he's too weak and small to risk unsealing it. So she focuses on herself, on rebuilding her own strength, turning to demonic methods and forbidden techniques (why not, when one has already been tarred and feathered and was never particularly precious about righteousness to begin with?) and hunting other cultivators just as often as demonic beasts.

Time passes and Su Xiyan begins to build a reputation even worse than Wu Yanzi's. A deadly rogue cultivator known only by some epithet or other who kills even powerful disciples of mighty sects. She experiments with what it would take to destroy a mountain, how much force, and what could provide it. Sacrificial arrays that feed off of the energy of cultivators or demons. Rituals and artifacts that demand high prices. Ways to summon demons or open gateways for them to possess others. She even considers using her son -- his blood is heavenly demon blood, his body is the closest thing she has to a suitable vessel for Tianlang Jun.

It would probably work, is the thing.

As the thought turns around her mind and she washes the blood from her hands, she decides that she's got to send her son away, actually. He's too weak and burdensome (and the fact she'd even consider using him such a way means that not even she is fully safe for him to be around any longer, not with the kinds of things she's doing, not with the kind of creature she's becoming). Now that he's big enough to survive on his own, she can ditch him somewhere to level up and bring him back once he's got enough strength to actually make himself useful.

So she sends him off, tells him not to come back until he's strong, ignores the tears and the hands gripping her robes until she finally has to wrench them away and strand the boy in a city far enough from her hunting grounds that he can't easily get back on his own.

Of course, he does still try, but he's lost and doesn't know where he's going. A kindly washerwoman takes pity on him and takes him in. The now-named Luo Binghe (his mother only ever called him 'son') isn't sure what he's supposed to be doing, but he suspects it's not just keeping house with his new caretaker. However, at the ripe old age of five he doesn't really know what else to do, so he stays and gradually the memories of the cold-eyed woman he called mother start to fade, until he wonders how much of it was merely a dream.

When his second mother dies and encourages him to go become a cultivator, Binghe decides that sounds right, so he goes to the Cang Qiong entrance exams and gets taken in. There's something familiar about his new shizun. Not in his looks, really, but in the way he acts, how he snaps and sneers, how he seems to hate Binghe but also claims him. Luo Binghe finds himself utterly desperate for the man's approval, even though he can't completely explain why. But it feels like, if he could just get this person to love him, the world might make sense.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't love him, though, if anything he hates him, and that only seems to change at random after a qi deviation. Which at first drives Luo Binghe slightly mad trying to figure out what he did and guarantee he can keep it, but gradually his thoughts and feelings on his master start to shift as, it seems, the man becomes someone completely different.

Meanwhile Su Xiyan has built up enough strength and information that she has a plan to move a mountain using a legendary blade that can open portals. She's also gradually begun to infiltrate her old sect again, using dark techniques to turn some of her former shidimei into puppets. By the time the Immortal Alliance Conference comes around, she's built the underpinnings to take the entire sect out from under her old master, and the chaos of the conference provides the perfect opportunity.

Shen Yuan has no idea what he did to cause the Huan Hua Palace Master to get ripped apart by demons during the invasion, and he's even more confused by the woman who materializes during the final hour and does him the favor of throwing Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss herself, saying something about needing him to fetch a sword for her before she'll welcome him back to her side.

[ratatattouille]

Why Arcane's Finale Fumbled Pt. 2

In my last post, I argued that Arcane's second season was artistically beautiful and thematically cheap. I broke down where I believed the writers fumbled with Vi's, Jinx's and Viktor's characters, and how the conflict of season 2 should have centred around a war between Piltover and Zaun rather than Piltover/Zaun against Ambessa and cosmic robots. I asserted the the real let-down of Season 2 had to do with its themes and its refusal to commit to the political story it had set up.

Well, folks, on further examination, it actually looks worse than I thought, and I'm going to use two characters--Silco and Mel--to break down what makes the message of Arcane so hollow and even a little dangerous.

Let's get into it.

Silco: The First Proposition

Silco and Vander:

Silco is a character CENTRAL to the themes of Arcane. The setup of the entire drama of the show, the central theme, are these questions: what is the price of progress and are we willing to pay it? Should we pay that price? Or as Silco says it quite bluntly to the first kid we see him give shimmer to: “Real power belongs to people who are willing to do anything to get it.” This story isn’t merely about ambition, but a dialogue on what actual progress costs and looks like. What does a better world look like? Is the better world we’re fighting for better for us or others? And what (or who) are we willing to sacrifice to achieve that goal? Vander, when faced with that question on the bridge answers, “No dream is worth the loss of those we love.”

The death on the Bridge of Progress during the early war/conflict had too high a cost to Vander. Silco, however, “had enough.” Unlike Vander, what happened on the Bridge of Progress radicalized him. Silco, while being drowned by Vander, realized in that moment that he would do anything, not just to live, but to achieve his dream of a free Zaun. With or without Vander. Even if he had to sacrifice Vander. And we soon see, that while Vander dedicated the rest of his life to keeping the vulnerable in The Lanes safe (even if it meant making deals with enforcers), Silco was willing to throw citizens of The Lanes to the wolves on his way to achieve independence for Zaun. Silco calls it, “The necessary violence for change.” And in this episode (3 of Season 1) Silco sets forth a proposition for the entire show: does the path to a better world require violence?

Silco and Sevika:

Silco’s new approach to crossing the bridge of progress, the path to freedom is winding and twisted. Silco embraces that, because only the goal matters: an independent Zaun. Silco won’t be at the mercy of the Council or anyone in The Lanes, and Sevika is into that shit. We saw that she percieved Vander as weak and servile to enforcers. Who she deems abhorrent without remorse (Vander and Grayson are both despised by Sevika and Marcus because they are percieved as being too lenient with their enemies). Silco, however, has an ACTUAL plan.

He creates a shimmer enterprise because having this control not only gives him a monopoly on The Lanes (and the gangs within), but leverage when it comes to manipulating the Council. Violence and the threat of war are the official languages of both Zaun and Piltover. It is how anyone bothers to listen to Silco both in The Lanes and within the Council. We know that the rich Piltovians (like those IRL) only speak money. “Progress” to them is prosperity and legacy (and I’ll get more into that later).

By creating the shimmer enterprise, Silco not only gets his foot in the door, monopoly over the other gangs and factions (thus uniting them), but a metaphorical seat at the table. His name has weight now, which positions him to make demands of Piltover and give Zaun a thriving industry (at least when it comes to money). Especially because (as we see with Salo and Lest) shimmer is also used by the elites. Silco is a brilliant tactician who exploits the hubris of Piltovians (like Marcus, who wanted to be in charge so he can neuter Zaunites indiscriminately), and manipulates them to his own advantage (much like Mel). But when Renni’s son is killed in the mines, Silco’s proposition is confronted once again: isn’t it easy to justify necessary violence when no one you love is the collateral?

Silco doesn’t care about Renni’s son, doesn’t see himself as remotely near Renni’s position. When Twitch calls Jinx his “dog” (something Sevika herself wanted to do lmao), Silco gets twitchy. He doesn’t recognize any similarity between his relationship with Jinx and Renni and her son. Jinx is not someone he would ever consider as up for debate. Which was the point of tension between him and Sevika (a Sevika who’s loyalty he KNEW he needed in order to keep control, especially in the wake of Jinx’s volatility and unpopularity). Nevertheless, Sevika doesn’t betray him in that moment, because she still sees Silco as stronger (even though she believes Jinx is a weakness he needs to get rid of). As with Vander, Sevika views affection for their own at the cost of freedom as weakness.

Yet, funnily enough, she is fiercely loyal. She, like Jinx, is Silco’s “dog.” She shares his weakness, the weakness that makes her zealous for a better world in the first place. But what Twitch and Renni pose to both Silco and Sevika is the unsettling question of: are you really willing to go far enough? Or do you still see yourself as an exception? Regardless, when it comes to Silco’s proposition, Silco WAS SUCCESSFUL (and also accurate in his deductions on what would get both cities to respect him and eventaully give him what he wanted - Zaun). His determination and focus paid off, indeed, it’s hard to see how he could have been successful without the “necessary violence”. It is clear that he wouldn’t have. No shimmer, no independence. Silco, for all his gruesome methods, WAS RIGHT. Except . . .

Silco and Marcus:

By exploiting and manipulating the vulnerable of The Lanes, Silco also ensured he would suffer the same fate as Marcus. Unlike Silco, Marcus did horrible things to protect his daughter. Marcus, at first, had started out as a zealous enforcer, eager to clean out the rats of The Lanes. Although he didn’t plan for Grayson to be killed, he was willing to get rid of her in order to ensure that he would get into a position that allowed him to do what he wanted to do: exterminate rats and be the hero of Piltover.

Silco offers him bodies for Stillwater in exchange for ease of shimmer distribution. Silco is willing to sacrifice his own people, the people Zaun is ironically for, in order to gain influence in Piltover. Silco, however, did the opposite. Because he loved Jinx, he recognized her deepest insecurity and sought to assuage it (inadvertently weaponizing it against her and those who loved her). He let Jinx get close and gave her responsibility so she could feel like she belonged (he let her drug his eye, a delicate process, while she was still thought of as reckless and untrustworthy). He brought her deeper into the heart of the violence and taught her to embrace it. He made her a child prodigy of warfare.

He takes a different approach to Vander (who kept telling the kids to stay out of trouble where they could and used himself as a buffer). So was Silco wrong? Was Vander? The answer was, quite poetically and profoundly, their deaths and the resulting silence. Both died, more or less, at the hands of their daughters. This is something overlooked often by fandom. It was Vi’s choice to lead her brothers and sister into Jayce’s apartment that would eventually bring the enforcers down to The Lanes, sparking the chain of events that would lead to Vander’s death (or had things gone “well,” his arrest). Vi is also how Powder got the arcane stones in the first place. Vi’s encouragement (well-meaning and innocent as it was) played a hand in the disaster that followed.

But the fact that both Vander and Silco die regardless, paints an excellent portrait of the constraints of oppression. Both tried different methods when it came to rearing their daughters. Both methods got them killed and thrust their children into peril. Vander could only have shielded Vi for so long, and Jinx could only have taken so much so young before she broke down completely. The fate of the girls is not merely their fathers’ fault, nor their sister’s. The tragedies of their lives happen due to the simple fact that they were born in The Lanes. No choice, on either Vander’s, Silco’s, Powder’s or Vi’s mattered in the end.

They were always playing a losing game, which is what makes it so fucking INFURIATING when S2 comes along and suggests that “ACKTUALLY the reason everyone’s happy in Ekko’s AU is because Vi died/hextech was no more/Silco and Vander made up).” All of those were symptoms of the bigger issue, not the issue itself. And that is the horrible irony of Silco’s story. He WAS right. But his folly was viewing himself and those he loved as exceptions to the rule. For when Zaun demands the final price, when Jayce asks for Jinx in exchange for his dream being realized, he isn’t willing to pay anymore.

Marcus only crossed the bridge of progress into Zaun for the sake of his daughter (as is shown in a chilling scene where he finds Silco playing with her in her room). Likewise, when Silco FINALLY finishes, after all those years, his march on The Bridge of Progress, like Marcus, he dies in a swarm of bullets. But unlike Marcus, he is afforded time to tell his daughter, “I wouldn’t have given you to them. Not for the world.” Not for his dream. So what did Season 2 do with that?

Summary of Fumblings:

-I’ll tell you what Season 2 did. Season 2 took the biggest shit on one of the most fascinating characters in animated history. The reason I didn’t put that much critique up there was to show you how complex, layered, deep and thoughtful Season 1 was with Silco’s character. Silco in S2 became a cheap gimmick flung in our faces like the marketing team was trying to sell Silco plushies following the release. His back-story in Season 2 clashes horribly with Season 1. If Vander, Silco and Felicia were such chums back then, why did neither Silco nor Vi recognize each other when they met in Season 1? They were quite grown by the time the March on The Bridge of Progress happened. Honestly, there’s too many mistakes and inconsistencies with how Season 2 handles the backstory I don’t even see a point in getting to it

-(excerpt from one of the writers) I can't BELIEVE MY FUCKING EYES! Silco’s respect for Vander, despite the fact that Vander tried to drown him (most likely after the carnage on the Bridge of Progress where Vander realized the cost of war), was that Vander remained dedicated to Zaun’s independence, at least, until he began prioritizing the safety of the children over Zaun’s freedom. Silco’s respect for Vander had never been a goal or motivation. Silco never expressed any desire to be respected by Vander. He merely expressed respect, ONLY because Vander, up until he became the enforcer’s “lapdog,” shared his pursuit of a free Zaun. Silco killed Vander for the same reason Vander tried to drown Silco: they had become a threat to what they held dear - Silco, his pursuit of Zaun, and Vander the safety of his adopted children.

-”We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments.” This conversation is SO FUCKING—rips into mattress and pulls out stuffing Jinx hallucinates Silco from within the cell she’s in at Stillwater, maybe the same one Vi had been in. Silco starts off saying something like “It’s funny how Marcus thought putting Vi in this cell was a greater mercy than killing her,” cluing us in to not just Jinx’s mental state but the very real torment it must have been for Vi as a child as well. SO JUST TO RECAP, WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THE PRISON OF THE CYCLE OF KILLING AND VIOLENCE, OKAY. In addition to that already horrible quote above, Silco says, “. . . and it will continue, long after the two of you.” So, folks, IN CONCLUSION, this cycle of violence (which I have already established like a fucking broken record is EXPLICITLY started and perpetuated by Piltover) is eternal and inevitable. Just let that fucking sink in. Let it settle nice and sour in your gut and then tell me how that GERD feels. Not only is that an appalling thing to suggest about any oppressive regime, it’s also untrue. Yes, humanity has not gone a decade without some form of conflict and struggle, but individual societies have been PROVABLY capable of both progress and regress. Both of which require the agency and active participation of others. And Arcane seems to want to show that progress is indeed possible, but it has already declared it, to some extent, a pointless pursuit in this conversation. Which is it, Arcane S2 writers? Is progress worth striving for, or is it pointless? “Oh my god, you’re so dumb ratatatouille!” you say. “Of course they answered the former! Duh! In Ekko’s monologue when Jinx is trying to kill herself, he tells Jinx that someone special once told him that no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new - someone worth building it for.” GREAT! DELICIOUS, EVEN! Now why is it that Ekko says this instead of Silco? Why isn’t this something Silco would say, given that this was the entire point of his and Vander’s story? That this is what his arc embodied and explored? “You’re so silly! Obviously Silco is a hallucination!” The show explicitly frames Silco as RIGHT and tries to tie in what Silco says with what Ekko says. More sympathetic viewers will say that since Ekko discovered that Jinx was never the problem, that hextech was, and that Jinx was actually the path towards progress - a path Silco had walked so she could run - Ekko approached her as someone he could finally save (and oh boy am I going to get into why that doesn’t work AT ALL later). Is is not Jinx, but the hextech, the ARCANE, that is dangerous. The hextech is the true jinx. It is what will keep the cycle going. That’s why Silco holds the arcane stone near his eye like that in the scene.

And to that I say . . . WELL THAT’S FUCKING STUPID. I don’t care that “Arcane” is the title of the show. It is the cheapest story gimmick I have seen since vibranium, except vibranium REMAINED a plot device and didn’t usurp the theme or political/interpersonal conflicts in Black Panther. Hextech was a PLOT DEVICE meant to be used to explore the themes which became the ENDPOINT. And this story SUFFERS SO MUCH from that simple change. This is why most critics of season 2 say the story should have remained focused on the interpersonal and political reasons characters did what they did, rather than siphoning all their stories into a mission to stop the evil, mystical stones. It is a fucking stupid distraction in S2, where in S1 it had been a beautiful metaphor, a fragment of a mirror that the characters held up to examine their faces.

But by claiming the cycle was the hextech all along, you just shat on everything that made S1 good.

Which brings me back to what Ekko tells Jinx, that she can still build a better world for the people she loves (like Vi, I guess). That’s why she comes back to help her sister. She cuts her hair (a symbol of letting go of the past) and joins Vi to defeat Ambessa and evil Viktor. This is treated as some kind of continuation (or the true point) of Silco’s “ending the cycle” speech. By letting go of Vi (literally) and Silco (also literally), she can finally . . . er . . . stop “running in circles.” So the show tells us she is BOTH supposed to fight one more time to achieve an autonomous Zaun AND fuck off to a new land to escape said cycle—which, what was the POINT of fighting if she still had to “escape” it in the end anyways?

NO S2 HALLUCINATION SILCO, JINX AND VI DID NOT BUILD THEIR OWN PRISONS. THEY SURVIVED THE CAGES THEY WERE PUT IN AS CHILDREN AND THEY DESERVED BETTER THAN THAT GODAWFUL DUMBASS SPEECH.

Do you see why this writing is so horrible? It contradicts itself so many fucking times, no matter how you splice it. Whether it’s about the cycle of violence being the fault of unforgiveness or hextech. None of it makes any sense because none of it was ever established in season 1 as being the cause for any of those things. And by even SUGGESTING that either or both of those could be the cause, the writers send us two very troubling messages: oppression is inevitable and also, somehow, the fault (rather than responsibility) of the oppressed. Actually no, I think the suggestion from the writers is even stupider: oppression is an option and you can opt in or out.

And that is the ultimate insult to Silco’s character and what he did for the story of the show.

Mel: The Counterpoint

Mel and Jayce:

Mel is Silco’s thematic counterpoint. In the story, Silco proposes that progress costs some “necessary violence.” Mel is faced with this same question as a child, when Ambessa presents her with the last remaining heir of a nation Noxus had conquered. Ambessa asks young Mel if they should kill or spare the girl. “Kino says war is a failure of statecraft,” Mel had said, when her mother told her about how her father had made her retrieve knives on the battlefield at ten so she’d know death. War, Mel is sure, is REGRESS not PROGRESS. It is the breaking down of the state, not the making of one. It’s obvious to Mel that sparing this girl, who looks about her age, is the progressive, less barbaric thing to do. Yet Ambessa insists, “Your brother thinks he can talk his way out of anything,” Likening him to being a fox among wolves when a good ruler needs to be both. To which Mel goes on to describe the kind of ruler the new conquered kingdom will need. A woman “with a kind, fat face to charm her subjects”, but moldable, to which Ambesaa basically says “So basically you? Cool. I’m down, but you have to prove yourself to me. Prove you can take it.” This is when Mel is presented with the ultimatum: choose to spare the girl or kill her. “We can show the people we are merciful,” she pleads on behalf of the girl. But Ambessa is firm. If Mel kills her now (a symbol of the old “regime”), she won’t (maybe) have to deal with any uprisings and kill thousands.

But Mel doesn’t swallow this poison, insists that diplomacy is the superior way, and is banished to Piltover, where she undertakes the task of proving herself. She tries to become the fox. She uses her kind, fat face to charm the Councilors of Piltover and utilizes Jayce to use hextech for Piltover so that her work in the city becomes impressive, cements her legacy as a Medarda, validates her as one of them, and ALSO proves her mother wrong, thus liberating herself from her mother’s cycle of violence and re-instating her rightful station as a worthy member of the Medarda clan.

But it’s not JUST that, though. Jayce’s enthusiasm to improve the world with hextech inspires Mel and validates what she felt so strongly as a child that Ambessa staunchly denied. When Jayce shares his dream with her, she goes all soft and says, “We’re (the Medarda’s) not often in the position to give back.” Which is . . . funny, lol. I think she was talking about herself rather than her entire family. Anyway, to Jayce, Mel was the one who gave him a second chance. He and Viktor wouldn’t have gone anywhere without her help. Jayce is likely the first person she’s felt capable of helping (especially outside Ambessa’s shadow), and likewise, Mel makes Jayce feel indominable (remember: “Nothing feels impossible when I’m with you”). Jayce makes her feel good about herself, hopeful that her ways can work. After all, being the fox has worked for Jayce and Piltover.

But Mel isn’t just the fox, and not for the reasons S2 thinks. Why? LONG before Ambessa sets foot in Piltover, Mel receives a letter from a correspondent overseas. She despairs that Jayce is not ready to be the success she needs him to be. Even after he confides in her about Viktor’s illness, to her it is not a personal loss. Like no matter what the meljayvik or melvik shippers say, Viktor and Mel DID NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT EACH OTHER OUTSIDE OF JAYCE. Jayce wants to uphold his promise in helping Viktor, the man who saved him from his own death (AND TRUST ME, WE’LL GET TO THAT) but Mel wants Jayce focused on keeping her investment and legacy IN PILTOVER safe from Ambessa.

So what does homegirl do? She manipulates Jayce into creating hextech weapons. The reason she moves for a vote to make Jayce a councilor on Progress Day is in light of Jinx’s attack. The councilors are worried that someone in the undercity got their hands on hextech and can use it against them. Jayce, feeling responsible for the situation (and that probably having something to do with Caitlyn nearly dying in the attack), proposes to pause all hextech developments until the threat is neutralized. Instantly, we see Viktor’s and Mel’s reactions—panic. Both are running out of time. Mel to make Piltover a success (in that it is able to defend itself from Ambessa), and Viktor to help those dying in The Lanes. So Mel proposes Jayce become a councilor instead.

We next see her examining Jinx’s bomb with Viktor and Jayce. Jayce asks Viktor if it’s possible that Jinx could create something resembling hextech. Viktor, who is busy marvelling at Jinx’s ingenuity and feeling a little proud of his people, says very confidently that “It’s a leap.” Meaning it’s far away from what Jayce and him are developing. But Mel needs SOMETHING to intimidate Ambessa. That, or she recognizes the undercity as a real threat to her dream of progress and prosperity. Legacy. The undercity is ugly and she wants to neutralize it before she loses her chance. Regardless, here, we see her make the choice to be the wolf. The relentless and unmerciful. Focused and driven by her ambition. She will be a Medarda, unlike last time. Armed and prepared. When Jayce asks if she knows for certain that Zaun intends to turn the gemstones into weapons, Mel says, “That doesn’t matter. We’ll assume,” which pisses Viktor off. But then she performs the ultimate manipulation on Jayce. She uses Jayce’s care for the Kirammans and Piltover to convince him that it’s necessary to “protect your people” which, Viktor can tell, does not extend to the people of the undercity.

Once again, Mel is demonstrating that she doesn’t see Zaunites as people. She barely acknowledges Viktor when he protests, saying “That’s not what we invented hextech for!” She merely looks at him, then looks back at Jayce and talks to Jayce. She repeatedly ignores Viktor, talks over him, as if he isn’t there. Doesn’t matter. After all, Jayce is the only one in Piltover worth her time. Piltover is her project, not the dirty undercity. Mel had already sown the seed for Jayce’s rampage by the time Ambessa showed up.

“Stay away from Jayce!” she says, and yet Mel is what brought Ambessa close to Jayce both physically and ideologically. For hextech and Piltover (the City of Progress) to be safe, Jayce has to commit some “necessary violence for change.”

This isn’t only Ambessa’s fault, but Mel’s and Jayce’s errors as leaders. By neglecting the undercity, Jayce fails to see how his innovations could be weapons until it's too late. Mel is also so focused on Ambessa as a threat that she neglects the threat of the undercity, a place that only became a threat because of YEARS of failed state-craft.

Jayce acquiesces to Ambessa's rhetoric since the attack at the bridge, and proposes to the other council members to go into The Lanes with force, which they are all (including Mel) hesitant to do. But then Jayce goes ahead anyways, and kills a kid (which we’ll come back to), and he not only regrets it, but does a 180 and returns, like Mel, back to his core values — peace and progress over prosperity or legacy. He makes a deal with Silco and then goes and tells the Council what’s up. Mel, now utterly convinced of her position, is the first to cast her vote in favor of an independent Zaun, and removes the Medarda ring while she does so, signalling her disdain for all the clan represents. Not only that, but she smears gold over the Noxian ships in her painting, which her mother correctly reads as a rejection of Noxus and an embrace of the Piltover her and Jayce want to build. Mel does not anticipate the attack, and Mel, in the last frame of the finale of Season 1, is the first target of Jinx’s bomb, the first councilor it was going to hit while her back was turned to it.

Mel and Viktor:

Mel’s parallel with Viktor is interesting. Mel’s interest in hextech (and initially Jayce) are to her own ends, later becoming altruistic (Viktor’s interest in Jayce also starts as an interest in his theories although his motivations were altruistic from the start). Jayce reminded her what she wanted to be in the first place. That her family name, like Jayce’s was to his, was a ball and chain around her neck. Holding her back from true progress. From a better world. A better legacy. Viktor comes from nowhere-land. Viktor doesn’t have a family legacy to inherit. Viktor is a Zaunite. And soon, much like Viktor, Mel is going to have to work hard to create her own legacy. Both Viktor and Mel are sort of outsiders in Piltover. As is shown in S2 with Salo, Piltover, the Fake City of Progress, has no accommodations for the disabled, which makes Viktor stand out like a sore thumb (also, Viktor is the one who made his own leg brace). Mel is a foreigner who has to make a name for herself before she can latch onto the Medarda title. Viktor wants the city to be good, while Mel wants the city (and herself) to look good by matching the strength and prosperity of Noxus.

This is why Viktor gets so sassy with her lmao. He sees through her manipulations and notices that she is pulling Jayce away from what they’d set out to do together (he is also annoyed at how easy it is for Jayce to forget). Mel is the one who tells Jayce it would be wiser to let the council members get away with their criminality (all while cracking down on The Lanes), which makes them wealthier, something that pushes Jayce deeper into his own prejudices against Zaun, where he starts seeing himself as primarily a caretaker of Piltover rather than hextech, as a councilor rather than a scientist, and it jeopardizes his relationship with Viktor.

But Jayce helped her re-connect with the values all three of them shared deep down. The desire to help people and make the world a better place. After the bridge massacre, Mel wants to put her charm and diplomacy to good use, and she does so in the Council Room when she votes for Zaun’s independence.

But here’s where the FUMBLE happens. In S2, we see that Mel’s magic seems to have shielded Jayce and herself, but not Viktor. Not only that, but it’s hinted that Viktor’s magic is resistant to her touch. We don’t get any answer as to why that is (although I’d like to think that was Viktor being petty even while unconscious). This is especially weird since the arcane is alluded to be where the mages get their power (and isn’t it convenient that Viktor became a mindless war machine controlled by the corrupted/corrupting arcane instead of a mage when we see that in other universes he is indeed a mage already?). Not only that, but Viktor can clearly “touch” her magic through the puppet, later on.

Jayce keeps asking her why he was spared and Viktor wasn’t, and Mel, once again, cannot answer him. She knows that her magic protected her and Jayce, but once again, Jayce is lowkey asking why all these horrible things keep happening to Viktor instead of him. Why he is spared instead of Viktor. Unlike Mel, I have an answer. The answer IS PRIVILEGE JAYCE NOT THE FUCKING ARCANE AND THE MYSTICAL NATURE OF MAGIC OR SOME UNKNOWN FORCE OF FATE. Viktor’s tragedy was something that could be helped by both hextech and just Piltover not being a bunch of fucking asswipes. Viktor’s “bad luck” was actually just piss poor governance, or as Kino would say, “a failure of statecraft.” When Mel forsook her original ideals in order to pursue her mother’s acceptance and her family legacy, she did what all the other council members did: make themselves comfortable in places of power at the expense of the oppressed. In order for her to reclaim herself, she had to abandon Noxus and her dream of returning or belonging to the Medarda Clan. Mel has to choose between her family’s legacy and her own longing for progress and dedication to mercy over violence.

Mel and Ambessa:

While Jayce has to fight Victor (who is really now reduced to just another weapon Jayce created that’s gotten into the wrong hands - and more on THAT later), Mel’s task is facing down her mother. By removing the context of oppressed/oppressor inherent to the Piltover/Zaun dynamic, we fail to explore S1’s setup for Mel. IT SHOULD BE NOTED that the reason diplomacy worked for Mel and not Silco was because of their differences in power. When Viktor tells Jayce “There is always a choice” after Jayce expresses his doubts regarding what Mel said about the Zaunites making hextech, Viktor was talking about Jayce’s choice. Mel’s choice. Mel could have chosen to be diplomatic, even with the threat of Jinx. But instead she forsook her ideals in pursuit of her desire to become a Medarda and, like her mother in her dream, preferred to eliminate the threat rather than integrate (Zaun). Even if she back-tracked by the time her mom came back.

Mel has to face the fact that, like Jayce, she betrayed her values and initiated something horrible: the war she’d always dreaded and despised. Mel is why Ambessa heard of the weapons in the first place. But S2 doesn’t focus on this at all. It barely acknowledges it. Instead, Mel is sucked into the Black Rose and told she’s a mage and that her mother must die for the sake of nameless nations the Black Rose mentions. You see, Ambessa is a scapegoat. An excuse to halt and dissolve any meaningful discussion on Piltover’s (and Mel’s) hand in the plight of The Lanes.

By making Ambessa the big bad, the council members and other Piltovians complicit in Zaun’s desperation get a free pass. Both in the show and by fandom. In fact, Mel can now be regarded as a hero (one of the GOATs of Arcane, if I recall) for killing Ambessa, then being christened the wolf by her mother. We don’t have to reckon with the fact that for most of the time she ignored Zaun, and that when Zaun got her attention, her first instinct was to weaponize Piltover, saying, “The peace was already broken.” And I’m pretty sure the reason she did this was LARGELY for ambition, because not more than an episode later, she’s backtracking, insisting that Jayce doesn’t know war like she does, that they should simply give Silco what he wants.

So Viktor was right. She wasn’t forced to create hextech weapons. She wanted to do it for her own gain. And Jayce rightfully gets mad at her in S2 when he recognizes her manipulations (even if he himself was complicit). He does, however tell her that “No one can control you and you’ll never be a passenger.” Once again affirming her incredible power—only this time, the focus is magic and not her political prowess. AND ISN’T IT CONVENIENT THAT MEL “DOESN’T UNDERSTAND” HER EMPATHIC POWERS SO SHE CAN BE TECHNICALLY EXCUSED FROM HER DECISIONS IN S1? HOW COOL IS THAT?!

Lmao when Mel starts lecturing her mother in the finale with “Mother, look at the price of your ambition,” it’s like . . . okay? You exacerbated this war long before your mother, girl. You were the one on the council for YEARS before she arrived. Mel, like Caitlyn, gets to play saviour while barely taking any credit for the fact that she was largely responsible for where Zaun and Piltover ended up (sis literally determined council votes singlehandedly). When Mel stands on the other side of the Bridge of Progress, she sees a trail of violence. She decides to cling even more firmly to her core values. Silco was right, but so was Mel. You see, diplomacy wouldn't have worked for Silco, but it could work for Mel, because Mel had power.

Summary of Fumblings:

-And what was that, “(Piltover is) the city I built for my family” BS? By the end of S1, it is clear that Mel wants NOTHING to do with being a Medarda anymore. She wants to keep Noxus and Piltover SEPARATE. So why does she tell her mother, “You will never be a Medarda” as some kind of gotcha? Lmao, like why tf does that matter? How would she know? Why would she care? Other than her and Kino, what other benevolent Medardas are out there that makes her say this?

-The Black Rose warns Mel of Ambessa’s “thirst for legacy” (much like Mel’s) leading to a worldwide calamity. Mel wants to imagine that her mother prizes her own children over her pride, but the Black Rose insists that’s not true. That Ambessa is willing to sacrifice her children for more power and legacy. We do understand, however, that when Ambessa is confronted by the Black Rose, she is resorting to hextech so she can avoid using Mel (”she’s safer as our enemy”). AND THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE IF THE THIRD ACT ACTUALLY ACTED LIKE IT. How is Mel going to be this really great weapon that Ambessa doesn’t want to use because she loves her (which like, why didn’t she love Kino then if it wasn’t about magic?), but also simultaneously SENT AWAY TO A DISTANT LAND OUT OF HER WATCH? So now she’s hiding Mel, but she wants to pursue the arcane that is waking her mage-ness up and making it impossible for Mel to hide? Ambessa was literally there in the council room in the aftermath of the explosion. She knew Mel had used magic to protect herself and Jayce, but she didn’t do anything? Say anything?

Now most of this is clearly setting up another story in Runeterra (which means my criticism will ultimately be left to conjecture), so I’m going to focus instead on her last words to Mel: “You are the wolf.” The wolf being a symbol (at least in callback to season 1) of ruthlessness and fearlessness: the opposite of mercy. Why does her mother say this? Because Mel finally made a kill? Or because she killed to protect what she built? Finally embraced her power? Yeah, let’s go with that last one. Mel’s development in S2 becomes one where we focus on the power she’s always had, both magical and influential. Yet the show focuses more on the cool magic part than the rammys of Mel’s decisions in S1. It ignores her political power and frontlines her magical abilities, even making her political prowess partly due to her magical empath powers . . . like . . .

-Mel had dislodged her legacy from the Medardas by the time S2 rolls around. . . except no she hasn’t. In the end, Mel is sailing back on the Noxian ships she painted over, and she is doing so as the new Warlord (even wearing what looks like her mother’s cape) because she is the badass wolf, the leader that her mom wasn’t. And how did she achieve that power? Magic. Why does she want to go back? To reform the Medarda name? To take on the mission her mother couldn’t finish against The Deceiver? Because Jayce is dead? Who even cares at this point, this is mainly happening for the spinoff. It isn’t illogical, it’s just the least interesting approach to her character. Mel had much more agency in S1, and her political prowess made her formidable. But that doesn’t matter anymore.

-Her whole arc in S1 was all about her finding the courage to leave the Medarda name behind in pursuit of true progress, but then she kills her mother and sails away from Piltover, the city she fought to protect and killed her mother for and is all about probably reforming the Medarda name—and that’s her job done? Is it me, or is that a reversal of her—pardon the pun—progress? Also, she grew up in Piltover, it must be more of her home than Noxus ever was. Not only that, but making Ambessa go from an imperialist tyrant to this woman bravely fighting against a larger, more powerful threat cheapens what Noxus represented for me. Sometimes conquerors do be conquering, and they make threats up to justify their greed. Not the other way around. It’s not too egregious, but it would’ve been nice if the Black Rose had been more of an epilogue thing.

-sigh I know I’ve said it before but it’s because it’s true . . . the conflict should have remained between Zaun and Piltover and Ambessa was a cheap way out of what S1 was building up

-Ambessa was not who Mel needed to physically defeat, but someone she needed to ideologically defeat. And we don’t see any of that. By the time Ambessa calls Mel “the wolf” it’s hollow, because it’s about Mel being a more powerful combatant than a wise ruler. In this moment, her “foxness” is about how she figured out the “deception” of the Black Rose and not how she outmaneuvered her mother politically. Perhaps it would be epic if we knew what the fuck she meant by “I see your face deceiver!” and then super sayan-ing out of nowhere. Her not having mercy on her mother is about being a Medarda, a question that wasn’t the focus of season 1, merely a catalyst. Becoming a Medarda was the goal Mel had, not the need. She needed to learn how to rule. Instead, she learns how to kill. And then she’s off to her home in Noxus as more of a soldier and spy than a queen. 

Which likely means two things:

-S2 got bored of Mel and just gave her cool reflective powers to make up for it. Making every interesting development about her character happen off-screen, in the writers room, or on another show.

-S2 was deliberately trying to communicate that it sided with Ambessa. That violence and combat, war, is not merely a failure of state craft, but necessary or inevitable to political growth. That militarism is the only thing that can answer militarism. That the only way to ensure the progress you make is secure is arming yourself. Even though this topic has some grey areas, Arcane explicitly picks a side by narratively using Ambessa to justify Piltover’s weaponization of hextech.

i know fandom has a lot to say about Mel being a “strong-black woman” character, but as a black woman myself, I hated how they stripped her of what made her such a strong, enigmatic presence in S1. Her prowess, her wit and cleverness. Her sheer intellectual power made her so FORMIDABLE.

She’s just a lost, hurt uwu little puppy for most of S2 before she’s given her US government assigned Avengers superhero uniform.

Mel in Act I was already using Lest to spy and we almost got a good story then—POOF!—Black Rose.

-Mel’s contribution to the development of hex-tech every step of the way is completely ignored. Instead Viktor and Jayce take full responsibility.

Conclusion:

Mel and Silco's arcs both ask: is violence necessary for progress? Both answer yes, but Mel's remains a little unsatisfactory. Because Mel had a choice. She had power. Power that Silco was willing to do (almost) anything to get. Both Mel and Silco's presence in S1 were formidable, and what made them so intriguing was there thorough understanding of people, both the good and the bad. But in S2, at least for Mel, what made her such an agentive character is thrust aside for spinoff hype. It's not that it isn't cool, it is. It's just one of the things that made S2 feel not only chunky, but disconnected from the roots of its story in S1. Both Silco's and Mel's characters in S2 reveal a very poor (or troubling) view of oppression, power dynamics and politics.

Anyway, that's just me. I was gonna do Ekko, Caitlyn and Jayce as well, but this post got too lengthy. I'll probably need to whittle it all down later. I've already cut so much.

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you cuddle, that's it :)

cw: fluff, comfort, pinch of angst, established relationship, silliness, extremely self-indulgent, the idea spawned in my head and i had to write it immediately

word count: 1200

an: for the anons and non-anons in my inbox: i see you and i appreciate every ask you sent me, some ideas are really lovely and cute and i will write drabbles about them. i just don't want to force myself to write 24/7 because i get burn out very easily, so it may take me some time to answer you all :DD

You can see it in his optics right away. Sadness, regret, exhaustion. He’s utterly drained, even if his frame doesn’t betray it. Always upright, with perfect posture, to set an example, to be a symbol for his people. But you’ve seen through that facade for a long time now.

He approaches you, a small human sitting on his berth with a book in your hands, wrapped in a blanket. And even despite the exhaustion, despite the chaos undoubtedly storming in his processor, he smiles at you. It's faint, but tender, joyous just to be in your presence.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, returning his smile. “How did the mission go?”

“Greetings, my dearest. Unfortunately, it did not end in success.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you... want to talk about it?”

The smile fades, replaced by bitterness. The Prime returns, the leader is back. As much as he wanted to tell you everything, the wound was too fresh, too raw. He wasn’t ready to revisit those memories—not yet. He would rather think of you, only you. That was his plan for tonight, for the scraps of time you had left together. It was enough for you to just be by his side, to meet his gaze now and then, to smile. He wouldn’t ask for more; he wouldn’t dare.

“I sincerely apologize, but I do not feel comfortable discussing it at this moment. However, I shall divulge the details to you later.”

“All right, I totally understand. I don't want to push you into anything.”

“For that, I am deeply grateful.”

“But! Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

“Your presence alone suffices for me.”

You weren’t entirely convinced. Optimus never asked for more. Never demanded, never took the lead. Sometimes he would request but never initiate. You wonder how you even ended up as a couple. How long he must have suppressed his feelings before you realized your own. But you quickly push those thoughts aside. They’re painful and, most importantly, they belong to the past.

“I don’t know... that feels like it’s not enough.” You know he’s about to protest, to launch into a monologue about how he doesn’t expect more from you, so you cut him off. “Wait. I know what you’re going to say, but this time, I want to actually help you. Have you ever... cuddled?"

His optics widen slightly. He wasn’t expecting that question, nor your assertiveness. But now, he’s profoundly grateful for it.

“I am familiar with the term, though I have never partaken in… cuddling. On Cybertron, other customs of expressing affection were prevalent.”

You’ll have to ask him about that later.

“I see. Would you like to cuddle now?”

Your question catches him off guard. He hesitates. If he says ‘yes,’ he’ll be stepping into completely uncharted territory, stripped of control over himself, entirely at your mercy. If he says ‘no,’ he’ll miss the experience of human affection, of tasting a relationship from your perspective, a human perspective. And it might hurt your feelings, which was the last thing he wanted.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Your wide smile is reward enough for him, though the best is yet to come.

You slide the blanket off one side of your body and pat the empty space beside you. The message is clear, and Optimus knows what to do. Fortunately, he still has enough energy to mass-displace, which he does in a matter of seconds, shrinking to a still-imposing three meters.

“Amazing,” you whisper.

He kneels on both knees to reduce the height difference even further. You’ll still have to climb onto his thighs to make the hug work, but you appreciate the effort. Now, it’s all in your hands.

Even in this position, he’s perfect—straight back, arms resting neatly by his sides. A few indecent ideas cross your mind; you know exactly how to take advantage of his submissiveness towards you. But those plans are for later. This is not the time to be lewd.

“If you feel uncomfortable, let me know right away,” you say, approaching him slowly.

You climb onto his thighs, watching his expression closely for any sign of discomfort, for anything he might not voice but would betray through body language. Luckily, you find nothing—not even when you’re face-to-face with him.

With your fingertips, you gently caress the metal where a human would have a cheek. You’re delicate, exploring uncharted territory. Stroking his cheek as a titan was one thing, but this form was new to you, just as it was to him. So you take your time, allowing him to adjust to the new circumstances, to this form of affection. Your hands move to the back, brushing against his audials until they encircle his entire helm. You shift slightly to the side to complete the embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head against the side of his.

You don’t expect him to return the hug. This time, you expect nothing from him. This is an experiment, a trial. You just want him to stop thinking about everything that happened on the mission and start thinking about the here and now. To focus on you, on the skin-to-metal contact, on the fact that, for now, he doesn’t have to return to the battlefield. That he’s safe. So you’re surprised when you feel heavy hands on your back, enveloping you completely. But you don’t comment; you don’t say a word about it. You let him, because he deserves it.

His world narrows down to you. To your hair, tickling the back of his helm, to the warm skin pressing against his metal. To your softness, your breath, your heartbeat. To your scent, which he knows so well. You surround him from every angle, allowing him to forget the failure he suffered today. You fill his processor, already overloaded with thoughts of you, with even more admiration for your actions—for how you wanted to help him, even though he never asked you to. You are his universe, his galaxy, his sun around which he orbits. His alpha and omega, his beginning and his end.

This position and action are foreign to him, uncharted, incomparable to any other sensation. It wasn’t like holding you on his shoulder; it wasn’t like reminiscing about your smile. This was something new, far more intimate, and not yet fully understood by him. But it was beautiful and captivating. Raw.

“Everything will be all right,” you assure him, your voice resonating through his entire frame. “Everything is all right.” He believes you.

He can’t tell how long the two of you remain locked in each other’s embrace, but eventually, he feels you shifting. The last thing he wants to do now is let you go, still lost in your closeness, but he has no intention of holding you against your will. He releases you from his grasp, and you pull back from his chassis, leaving behind an unpleasant coldness. He wants you back there, pronto.

“Did you like it?” you ask with a smile, your thumb starting to stroke his cheek.

“Immensely,” he replies, looking into your eyes. A smile creeps onto his faceplate. “Might I request another cuddle?”

[monarchberrysblog]

NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

credit to: @mar_mar0u on Instagram/ @/marmar0u on X and Tumblr!

✭ 🔞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✭

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: cat and mouse chase? more like a cat and spider chase…

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader and miguel have an established relationship, suggestive comments? miguel being a complete flirt, the reader being fed-up, make-out session? flirty interactions, soft smut, miguel is uncircumcised, soft dom miguel, reader is a little assertive in bed, dick-grabbing (?), and this is hella cheesy (idc I had fun)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: >1k words

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: my doing 😛 (my indecisive ass CANNOT) this took forever to work on as my ass got too indecisive on how to write it and how to execute it

to my cat owners, tell your cat I said: psst, psst. 🐈‍⬛🩵 (specifically to the cat that lives on my campus)

𝒀𝑶𝑼’𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳 𝑰𝑵 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑮𝑼𝑰𝑺𝑬

º・🤍 º.▫︎º・

MATURE CONTENT MDNI | MINORS WHO INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves to mess with you whenever he has the chance. He would do ridiculous burglaries to get your attention. He is like a cat running to chase a laser point to catch it but fails every time. But when you see him, he always gets away… He would break into a pet store to free the cats, to get your attention.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 would find ways to flirt with you, no matter how innocent it sounds or how sexual it is. And do you like it? A little too much. The pickup lines got cleverer every time you ran into him.

“You're the only woman who turns my world upset down.” He sneers, hanging upside down on a lamppost with your webbing around his ankle.

“Uh-huh…” You huffed out, not paying attention to him.

“You got my blood rushing, and I'm not talking about my head. It's going to my dick—”

“Okay, enough.”

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 is like a stray cat whenever he comes into your apartment. This man would crawl into your apartment and start with his late night “𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝒁𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑺” with you.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who makes biscuits on your blankets and pillows half-asleep, somehow ripping your blankets. Because of this, he would buy you new blankets every other week, going into different stores to not see the same workers every other week.

He becomes domesticated—

When you're not home, he washes your new blankets with your favorite laundry detergent and always leaves a rose on your bed, no matter what. The thorns are always snipped off. He doesn't want you to cut your pretty fingers :(

(As a bonus, he trims the thorns with his claws.)

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 make sure that you get home safely. Every night, between 9:30 and 10:15, he stands on the roof of a building across from your apartment, waiting to see your window light up with that familiar warm light.

A sigh of relief escapes his lungs when he sees you enter your apartment after returning from your high-demanding job as a photographer (and New York’s superhero).

Seeing you drop your bags and remove your sweater was a good indicator for him that you were ready to settle for the night. Especially when it's a weekday.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves long nights with nothing but intimacy, especially after you had a long night. The sensation of being free from his suit while being bare in bed with you brings serotonin to him, enjoying the soft touches and caresses. The touches slowly evolve into gropes, to the point where he is on top of you, planting soft kisses on your cheeks and temple.

He loves holding you close while slowly stroking his length against your puffy clit, enjoying the hood of skin stroking the vein on his length. The slow rub is enough to pent you up, enough for you to grab his length gently and pull him closer to your entrance. Seeing you tug at it, he chuckles, guiding him closer to your gummy walls.

"Seems like you know what you're doing, sweetheart. Go on, it's yours."

Between the gentle pinch of your thumb and pointer, you gently pinch at his foreskin, pulling it down to see the familiar mauve tip you love to see when he's pent up. You again pull at his length with such vigor, finally inviting the bulbous tip into your soft, warm, gummy walls. "No foreplay?" He quips before he feeds your needy pussy more of his length, slowly and gently. Your fingernails rake down his back like a rake gathering leaves in a yard. When he bottoms out, a breathy moan escapes from deep in his chest cavity, a groan that pleads to be let out from such pent-up stress and frustration.

"Home sweet home," He sighs, grinding his aching tip against your g-spot. You rolled your eyes at the unnecessary commentary, wanting this man to shut up. But the unexpected thrust sent you into heaven and back to earth, grasping onto your bedsheets as if it would anchor you down from the heavenly sensation while a guttural moan escapes.

"Good, good. You're doing so good." He croons while slowly pulling out and thrusting his length back in, grasping onto the fat of your hips, allowing his claws to sink into your soft skin while keeping up the same smooth pace. The sight of your soft breasts rippling against his thrusts awakened something in him, allowing him to eagerly take your nipple in between his teeth, allowing his canines to graze against the sensitive bud every other second.

But he always lets you finish first, no matter how long it takes for you to finish. It could be an hour, and he's not going to stop until he wants you to squirt on his cock, soaking both of y'all and the fitted bedsheets. But it can sometimes get the man pussy whipped, literally.

Groans slowly turn into mewls and resort to sloppy, makeout sessions with you, wanting to block the sounds he was producing. In between kisses, he whispers in between the kisses and breaths soft praises while he gently strokes his cock, yearning to be indulged in your warmth. The usual stoic expression wipes away like a spill off a kitchen counter, changing into a lolled expression, seeing your chest rise and fall rapidly. But the moments while you finish, he accompanies you, holding you close to his chest, muffled groans against his skin.

"Good job, sweetheart. We did it."

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves to cuddle with you after. This man loves sleeping on your bed while you play with his hair. He groans from the back of his throat, mimicking the sound of a cat purring. The vibrations return to you, creating a funny feel against your skin.

He denies and denies that he purrs, but the vibrations from his groans don't help his case.

He yaps in his sleep, too. He mumbles, barely coherent nonsense.

But you don't mind it as he sleeps like a dog (cat) on the floor.

[pineconepie]

NCould you write a short sequel if a reader who has recently been turned into a vampire tries to escape from Octavian?

TW: Blood-drinking (vampires), escape attempt, forced age regression/infantilization, injuries, restraints (mittens), platonic/parental yandere

...

Ever since you've been turned, Octavian treats you even more like a child.

Well, his baby, to be exact.

It's annoying, because it does seem like you're going through childhood again, because of your recent changes. Your canines fell out and began coming back in as pointed fangs, plus your nails grew much faster, sharper, and stronger than before.

And it hurt.

Constant headaches and random crying fits from growing pains made you needy. Octavian was always more than willing to pick you up, shushing you gently and rocking you as if you were a baby having a tantrum.

Even now, he cradles you on his hip in the middle of dinner.

Octavian keeps taking breaks to cut up your meat, wiping at your mouth, and occasionally spoon-feeding you despite the fact you insisted you can handle eating yourself.

The amount of doting attention he gives you is overwhelming, and you're only more irritated with the throbbing pain coursing through you.

Noticing your discomfort, he puts down the silverware and wipes away tears with a tender touch.

"Don't cry, my sweet," he coos. "Papa knows. Teething is hard. It'll be over soon." Octavian kisses your forehead before lifting you fully onto his lap, placing you sideways on top of him.

One gloved hand smooths back strands of sweaty hair as you bury your face into his crisp white dress shirt.

Not because you want to, but because you need the comfort. Even though your pride wants you to fight back, the rest of your mind needs this too much to care.

Gnawing lightly on his cravat, you sigh contentedly when he continues threading his fingers through your scalp in slow circles.

"Now, say, 'ahhhh.'" He holds a bloody piece of meat to your lips with a fork.

"I'm not eating that," you tell him. Frankly, you can't eat with the pain, even if you wanted to. The idea of swallowing anything right now makes you feel like hurling.

Octavian frowns. "Don't be fussy." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "You have to finish all of your food. I know you're going through a lot of pain, but it'll be so much worse if you don't eat. Would you like a tummy ache on top of the growing pains?"

For a moment, you plan to blindly agree, but then you realize something. He won't hurt you. He sees you as a child. Children sometimes refuse to listen.

What's going to happen if you deny his demand?

"No," you assert. "It hurts too much."

Octavian goes silent. His face falls before contorting into a mask of barely-restrained frustration.

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily through his nose. "(Y/n)..." He sets the fork down again and grips your shoulders with both hands. Opening them, he levels you with a stern glare. "You are going to eat your dinner, and you aren't getting up until every bite is finished. I will wait here all night if need be. Do you understand?"

"Fine! Then we'll be waiting here forever!" you snap.

He stares at you intensely, seeming more upset than angry. "Fine. You know what? Then go upstairs, and when you're ready to stop acting out, come find me."

You huff and storm upstairs, slamming the door to his bedroom behind you.

It's been long enough that Octavian has your room decorated more... childishly. It still has the same Victorian-vibe about it, but there's toys scattered around the place, and a shelf full of storybooks that he's read to you hundreds of times during your stay so far.

He also got you plenty of new stuffed animals, filling up an entire wicker basket to the brim with them.

There's a mirror in the bathroom, and you briefly glance at it while passing by. Since turning into a vampire, you stopped having a reflection. Now looking at your image just shows the furniture behind where you stand.

You can't take this anymore. For so long, you've been putting off escaping, but no longer.

The window is locked and barred shut, but with your new strength, you should be able to pry them open without needing a key, especially with your newfound strength from turning.

There's some resistance as you first start yanking apart the iron rods.

With a grunt, you pull as hard as possible, gritting your teeth and snarling as they finally bend and pop from the wall, breaking the hinges on each side until falling backward. Panting from the excursion, you drop the pieces to the ground before pushing the window open.

It's sunny out, but you don't think twice about burning when stepping out the window, now on the rooftop.

From what you can see, you're on the second or third floor.

If you climb to the ground below, you should be free to escape.

There's a trellis next to the ledge of the building, thankfully. The vines wrapped around it don't provide much stability as you hold onto them, so you mostly rely on the wooden slats to make your way to the ground safely.

Once your feet hit soft grass, you book it to the forest, running faster than ever - quite literally, perhaps being a vampire has its strengths.

For a moment, you hesitate.

Where would you even go, now that you're a vampire? You were already considered odd before, but now? Even more so than ever. Now the people who called you a monster were technically correct, even if not at the time.

No. There's no going back now, not even as the sun feels like its sizzling your skin. You'd rather take your chances alone in this forest than spend one more second living with that man and his insanity.

...

"Sweetling, may I come in?" Octavian knocks gently.

No response.

"I understand you're frustrated with me, and I'm sorry." He speaks louder this time, just in case your voice can't be heard through the wood separating you both. "I know you're going through a lot of pain and discomfort lately, and I know that's why you've been moody. I'm not angry with you."

Still, no response.

He sighs. "I'm coming in." Turning the knob, Octavian pushes open the door and scans the room for you. At first he thinks maybe you're hiding somewhere. "My love, please come out. Papa said he isn't angry."

Something doesn't feel right.

That's when he notices the broken lock on the window, bent into an odd shape and laying on the floor uselessly. The bars previously bolted across are torn off their hinges and thrown aside. The glass panes are wide open.

Horror and dread instantly fill him to the brim.

You ran away.

"No!" Octavian sprints outside and scales the side of the building before gracefully jumping down onto the soil below.

Inhuman speed allows him to race across the grounds until reaching the end of the property, stopping once he reaches the iron fence encasing the area.

Beyond it, he can see faint imprints in the earth - footprints.

There's only one way you could've gone: the forest.

...

You can't believe you voluntarily put yourself in the same spot you were before meeting Octavian. Cautiously trekking through the thicket, you hold your arms in front of your face to block any branches that get in the way.

The wind howls eerily around you, echoing in your ears as you try not to trip over any rocks or roots in your path.

Just earlier that day you thought you couldn't be in any more pain or discomfort than you were. But now? Your insides feel like they're on fire. The heat radiating off your skin is unbearable.

If it weren't for adrenaline pumping through your veins, you'd collapse already.

How did you survive this when you were human? The sun was harsh, but nothing like this. You'd do anything for winter to return.

You can't take this any longer, and almost collapse into a nearby bush, its thorns biting into your skin, but you no longer care. Taking in shaky breaths, you curl up, shivering despite the burns scorching every inch of your body.

Whimpers tear out of your raw throat, your body begging to just give out already.

Something moves to your left.

The noise startles you out of your misery, causing you to freeze immediately upon hearing it.

Rustling from the foliage. Crashing from leaves being crushed underfoot. Hushed breathing.

Then suddenly—

"(Y/N)! OH GOD–"

Arms snake around your waist and hoist you upwards into someone's arms. Octavian clutches you tightly against himself, his coldness being such a drastic relief to the flames searing your flesh.

"No," you weakly protest, too tired to fight him off.

You can feel his tears soaking into the top of your head. "What were you thinking?!" he cries. "This could've killed you!" Looking down, you see blisters forming along your exposed skin. With those sharp nails, Octavian quickly slashes his wrist, bringing it up to your lips. "Drink. Now."

If you didn't feel like death, you'd refuse, but your instincts kick in, driving you to latch onto the dripping wound and guzzle down his blood.

You feel less horrible physically, even if none of your injuries go away. He winces in pain, but looks more worried for you.

Octavian adjusts your weight in his grip and rushes back the way he came, faster than the human eye could process. You cling onto him and bury your face into the fabric of his clothing.

It feels good not having to deal with direct exposure to the light anymore.

In record time, he brings you inside, closing the door behind himself and hurrying upstairs.

The moment Octavian enters the master bath, he undresses you and puts you in the bathtub. You watch him frantically grab washcloths and bandages from the medicine cabinet.

His long brown hair frames his face, loose strands flying wildly thanks to him dashing through the wilderness earlier.

He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and gets to work cleaning your wounds with shaking hands.

"Why didn't you get hurt from the sun?" you quietly blurt.

Octavian sighs. "It affects all vampires differently. Some don't burn from it. Some only get moderately sun burnt, like me. And you..." His eyes narrow. "It could've killed you! Do you understand how dangerous this was? What if you were taken away from me?! I'd die!"

You avoid his gaze.

Octavian doesn't respond, simply continuing to wipe away bits of dried blood and dirt. After several minutes of silence, he finishes his work, wrapping your wounds, dressing you in pajamas and setting you down in bed.

As he tucks you in, you can see how absolutely heartbroken he seems. You wish you didn't feel guilty. You wish you hated him.

"I'm sorry," you grumble.

"I forgive you, but never do that again." He pulls something out of your wardrobe before sitting down on the edge of the mattress beside you. "Hold out your hands."

You hesitate, but obey.

Octavian gingerly loops the ribbons attached to mittens around your wrists, tying them securely shut so you won't be able to use your hands properly. The thick wool protects your fingers from being used, making it harder to pick things up and grip objects.

"These are staying on until I can fix that window and trust you again," he tells you matter-of-factly.

"Octavian..."

"You know that isn't how you address me, sweetheart."

"Papa," you murmur. Tears sting at the corner of your vision. "Why are you doing this to me?"

The bed creaks as he moves around to sit by your side.

He pulls you close, resting his chin atop your head. "I lost too much the first time. I refuse to let it happen again. Do you know how terrified I was at the idea of losing you?" A pause. "Never again. You're staying here with me. Safe. Always."

His hand takes hold of your palm within its mitten, squeezing affectionately.

"Now get some sleep, my precious. I'm not going anywhere."

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING DIFFERENT !!! OSCAR P. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: oscar piastri wasn’t usually like this, but she was so lost in her feeling that all she could do was listen to him.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, pwp, mean dom!oscar (heavy on dom), fingering, brief mention of overstimulation, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, short smut because i just wrote this lol

note: (s)creaming. pls send some asks my way! enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

it was as if she had lost her lungs from writhing and whining. 

her legs violently shook as she came for the fifth time tonight, her eyes glistening with overwhelming pleasure and her mouth letting out nothing but a silent whine. her body was on fire from the endless orgasms she had gotten through the night.

yet oscar piastri kneeled in front of her with his thick cock still stiff as ever, his chest rising as his head beaded with sweat. he looked at her as if he hadn’t just fucked her brain out for ages. 

he wasn’t usually like this. he looked like a man on a mission— a mission to give his girlfriend endless orgasms until she’s unable to walk for a whole month. he just came home from a long double header and here he was now— waiting for her to calm a little bit before his fingers started to touch her glistening cunt again.

he watched her cunt clench around nothing, licking his lips when her cum dripped down to her puckered hole. his fingers slowly pressed and rubbed on her clit, eliciting a mumble of, “too much, ‘scar,” from his partner as he shushed her softly. 

he wasn’t like this. he would’ve allowed himself to cum after she’d cum all over his mouth and fingers— now he expected her to cum all over his cock repeatedly and have her beg for it. 

he wasn’t this demanding either. if anybody would dare ask what the fuck happened to the quiet and polite oscar, his girlfriend would answer with a shrug… should she come back from her high by then. 

“gonna fuck you more, baby,” he murmured, his fingers traced on her lips before sliding two fingers inside her cunt. 

she squealed, “o- oh! fuck!” pressure built up in her lower stomach as oscar’s fingers curled up against her sensitive spot. 

“oscar, ‘s too much, too- hah! fuck! ‘s too much!” her legs began to kick away from him, but his other hand had pushed her down to where she was and his fingers relently fucked her cunt. 

“you got one more,” he muttered and looked at her firmly, “stay still.”

“os- it’s too much! please!” she pleaded. she didn’t even know what the fuck she was pleading for. all she knew was that her body was desperately writhing under his touch and her cunt was throbbing around his fingers. 

he tsked, “you have more in you, baby. don’t lie to me.”

“‘m not,” she sobbed, her voice jumping an octave as she cried out, “fuck— i’m cumming again, fuck fuck! shit~”

he crooned, “see? you’re a good girl f’me aren’t you?”

“fuuuuck~ oscar, please,” her eyes were shut tightly as she begged, “i’m gonna— oh my goooood~ can i-“

“can you what, princess?” oscar’s face feigned innocence, yet his thoughts were nothing but sinful as he smirked and fucked her. “tell me. can you what?” 

“can i- i-“ she was running out of words, eyes were letting go of her tears. 

she wasn’t sure if she hated this version of oscar or not. because oscar trusted her enough to show this side of him— the more assertive and dominant one. she loved him, really. 

but god was she so fucking frustrated that he wouldn’t finish her thought process already. he wouldn’t just tell her immediately to cum before she could even say it. he was fucking her relentlessly with his fingers and he was still expecting her to answer. 

she whined, uttering incoherent words as oscar tutted and demanded quietly, “i can’t read minds, baby. tell me what you want.” 

yet she let nothing out, whining and shaking against his touch.

then… nothing. 

she almost cried when the pressure in her stomach faded away immediately, her eyes opening quickly as he looked at her with sheer disappointment in his face. 

she babbled, “b- but-“ 

“you weren’t listening, baby,” he laughed mockingly, pressing a sweet kiss that contrasted with his cruel words, “i told you. if you can’t tell me what you want i’m not gonna give it.” 

“os-“ her lips formed a deep pout as oscar scoffed. she was just so fucked out— she couldn’t find herself to even argue. 

“you should’ve tried harder, princess,” he murmured, “i would've let you cum again. and again. and again.” 

“but you didn’t listen,” he tutted again and clicked his tongue. “you’re so spoiled that you thought you could easily get things that you want without telling me, hm?” 

“‘s a good thing ‘m here,” oscar pulled her hips closer to the edge of the bed, the tip of his cock prodding at her wet cunt. 

she whimpered at the feeling, wriggling against him before his hand slapped the side of her thigh. the impact left her moaning as he muttered, “you better start asking sweetheart— or else ‘m gonna have to fuck the word ‘please’ out of you.” 

so much for a quiet, polite man. 

he was so different that she wasn’t sure if she had the answer for the sudden change, either. all she knew was that she needed to behave and be vocal if she wanted to cum on his cock. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1

[anantaru]

any starrail character with breeding kink

cw. jing yuan + breeding, fem! reader

there was rarely an incentive to leave the bed this week, but jing yuan quietly feared that he would turn utterly enchanted by you if he doesn't go to work already— because, how come you're all warm and soft under his hands, and he wants to start a family with you, hankering over the thought to make it happen, just imagining himself being a father was enough to kiss you like a starved animal again, correlating a swelling demand.

jing yuan felt really good pressed against you, better when he lowers his lips to gnaw along the outline of your jaw, "right there?" a tease, quite well-pleased with himself as he rubs the tip of his member over your dripping hole, slow circling motions, easily creating a parted mouth on your face, a silhouette of a little surprised ‘o’ for a moment before you discern a dirty flicker in your lovers golden eyes, "you'll have me right there tonight."

you giggle, cheeks holding onto heat, exactly knowing what he meant by that little sentence, "you promise?" and you roll your hips into him barefaced and a teeny tiny bit smug, being aware that you'll feel it writhing against your stomach, mirroring your own movements as he fucks his cum into you.

jing yuan affirms you with a gentle smile before placing one palm against your hip, your soft skin shivering beneath his hands. "tell me if it's too much for you," he asserts, a glimmer of worry purled on top of his handsome countenance.

you nod firmly, closing your eyes and wrap your arms around his chest with your hands resting on his back, your heart rumbles in your chest and fuck, there really was nothing better than this, there simply couldn't be anything else that would make you feel this way. the mood changes, always being so warm and cozy later, sensitive and open for him, and jing yuan's own sweet excitement multiplies and heightens by a tenfold when he fucks himself into you at last, catching your needy, little pants huffing and puffing on his face.

you nibble on his bottom lip, suck on his tongue and let him use you, fuck you, pouring and sliding into you in a slowed, even manner, until he successfully overflows your insides, and then his cock pulses right inside you while you constrict on his girth.

jing yuan was perfect, yours.

he moans into your mouth, both catching sweet, tender tunes in tandem with each others movements, "oh fuck, fuck! you're so…" his breath shutters lightly, body screaming and convulsing, aching to already cum inside of you.

"i'm not gonna last long like this." his strong jaw was clenched and his blatant admittance was a clear turn on— in truth, you never wanted it to end, the more he roughly pumped and thrusted into you, bored his eyes over your lewd reactions while washing multiple shivers down your spine was haunting, tantalizing your entire figure for more of him. yet do not get fooled, he seems like he got lost in it as well, long-windedly groaning and panting and praising you.

the general swoops down to kiss you again, cutting off your quite limited space when you notice the piercing coil, the largely aching and built up bubble in your stomach snap into two pieces, and so did his, at the very same time.

you convulse around him, melting like butter, milking him dry and hard with all of your remaining energy, together worshipping and touching your faces to please please see your expressions become slowly screwed up with pin-pointed pleasure, eyes rolled back while he swiftly licks the drool dribbling down your chin.

you continue to clench around him strongly, pulling more out of jing yuan until he was practically empty, his warm, white cum stored inside of you, glistening, and you're all happy and fulfilled now, couldn't fathom that you even had this much of him in you.

but then, when it ends, both out of breath and feeling a little light headed, jing yuan collapses on top of your figure— one arm holding him up fairly enough so he wouldn't cut off your breathing space entirely, sweat stricken foreheads resting, suddenly putting a trembling hand on your belly and rubbing it in circles.

"just imagine baby."

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

[dsireland86]

OMG Imagine Noah growling into you as he eats you out maybe when you tug his hair or squeeze your thighs around his head

yeah I'm imagining especially with these pictures... 😏😏

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You've been bratty and mean, denying Noah for days what he feels, is rightfully his. He knows you love him but he wants you to show him, not just say it. It's the last night of the tour, and he's in a pissy mood, grumbling and complaining over just about everything, but mostly you. Keeping a sharp eye on you the moment you walk into the venue and head straight for the merch table is a move that only fans the flames of his lustful want for you and what only your body can give him. His rage meter flies off the radar the moment he sees a guy from VIP flirt with you and it's the last straw for him.

Noah jumps off the stage and makes his way over to you, completely ignoring everyone else around him. Your eyes meet his, and instantly, you know he’s angry over something. Brushing past the dimwit who flirted with you, Noah subtly slips his bare toned arms around your waist and buries his hands into the front pockets of your jeans, kissing the back of your hair. It's his way of showing his possessiveness of you, and secretly, you absolutely love it when he does this. The move gives the guy the hint that you're taken and he quickly moves away from the table.

"You know, you don't always have to do that. It's not like I was going to run off with the guy," you, chuckle lightly. "We need to talk. Now," Noah tells you in a tight voice. "Later," you reply, infuriating him a little more. His arms tighten around your waist. "If you don't come with me right now, I'm going bend you over the table behind me and fuck you in front of all of these people until you can't walk. The choice is yours, princess," he says gravely. The deep throaty tone of his voice gets your attention, making your heart race deep inside your chest. That familiar ache in your lower abdomen that always comes when you've been craving Noah, the kind that sends all the right signals to the center of your sex and makes you nothing but putty in his hands, suddenly hits you. "Fine."

Noah barges into the Green Room, yanking you in behind him before slamming the door closed and locking it. You're all nervous, a bit out of breath, and very confused. Dressed in his stage clothes, he moves towards you, close enough for you to see the stubble lining his jawline. You feel his body heat seeping into you, making you even hotter between your legs for his touch as you stare at each other, the tension growing thick as you swallow hard.

"Tell me why you've been avoiding me," Noah says flatly. "I haven't been," you lie. He clenches his jaw. "Yes, you have. Earlier was the first time I've held you in days." You break eye contact with Noah only to stare at the floor. "Answer me!" he demands a little louder than he means to. Your eyes shoot up at him. "No." In an instant, Noah's hand is wrapped firmly around your neck, long fingers pressing into your skin to assert control without leaving a mark. You try to push him off of you, but he's too tall and too strong for you. "Feisty, today, aren't we," he sneers with a grins. It makes you so mad that you spit at him and watch it land on his skin right below his neck. "Get. Off. Me." you demand, emphasizing each word. "Make me," Noah challenges you. He holds your gaze, and you can see the fire lighting up in his eyes.

"Open up, it's my turn," Noah hisses with a wide Cheshire cat-like grin. Your eyes widen as his hand moves up from around your neck to your jaw and tightens. Noah moves closer, so close that there's hardly any spare room between your bodies, moving his free hand in between your lower halves. "I said open up," he repeats, his gaze darkly hot, and this time you do. Noah lowers his face to yours and before you can object, his spit lands on your tongue. "Now, swallow," he orders, the darkness in his tone mirroring the satisfaction you know he's feeling once you do. "That's one way to get me inside you," he says, brushing your lips with his. It makes your little red panties soaked. Then, you slam your lips into his, and kiss him with all the strength you have. Noah kisses you back with just as much urgency, knocking the breath out of both of you.

"I want your fingers inside me," you beg him, guiding his fingers closer to your wet little pussy. "I want your mouth back on me." He teases you by grazing your heated sex with his knuckles and starts to give you what you want. His fingertips press hard against your clit overtop the fabric of your jeans and cause you to bite your lower lip. Noah growls as he watches the effect spread over your face. "Kiss me and I'll touch you," he promises. "You already are." "No. I'm rubbing your clit. I'll fuck you with my fingers once you kiss me, if that's what you want." A soft, tight moan escapes your lips before you crash your mouth into his again, tangling your tongues and consuming his very breath as your hands wrap around his face, slowly slipping to his neck.

Noah lifts you and sits you on the table, practically ripping your jeans off. He gives you that "to die for" smile that weakens all of your senses, pushing your panties to the side and running a finger up your slit only to find you more than ready for him. Immediately you start to grind on him as he pushes a finger inside you, his expression softening the moment he watches it slide in and out. Your mouth falls open on a pant. "Fuck if I'm not hard for you, baby," Noah growls lowly. You keep your eyes focused on the silver chain around his neck that sways slightly as his finger thrusts and twists gently working tiny gasps from your lips. Your heartbeat pulses everywhere you feel him. His warmth, his scent, his touch, it surrounds you, burying you deeper in love with him. "Stay with me, princess," Noah whispers, pressing his lips against your forehead while the fingers of his free hand press roughly against the skin of your thigh, pinning you in place. He works his finger deeper and deeper into you, slipping in one more as this thumb rubs circles against your clit.

You moan his name, finally meeting his eyes. Love for you pours out of them, making you smile. You touch the side of his face, caressing his cheek with your fingertips. Noah leans into it, kissing the palm of your hand. "You like this, princess?" You nod. "Yeah? What about if I eat you out? Will that have you finally screaming my name?" "Please, Noah," you beg him through a whined whimper and he laughs softly. "Lay back," he orders, and you do, just as Noah lifts your legs and pulls your panties down, placing them in his pocket once he gets them off. At first he simply stares at your entrance, and you catch the playful glimmer that crosses his eyes. He moves slowly, savoring every second of this moment with you. You can feel the anticipation building with each deliberately slow move Noah makes. "Fuck, baby," he whispers, his voice a low husky murmur that excites you even more. Lifting your legs and placing them on his shoulders, Noah parts them and trails soft kisses up your inner thighs before his finger reaches up and runs softly up and down your slit again, making you whimper his name some more.

Noah sinks his finger deep inside you again, this time following it with his tongue as he leans down and places kisses on your hot, throbbing cunt that, by now is a screaming mess aching to be satisfied. "Oh god you taste so fucking good," Noah admits, letting up for a moment. He runs his tongue flat up your center to your clit, sucking and pulling it into his mouth. "Oh fuck, Noah!" you cry out, clamping you hand into his hair. The tip of his tongue probes your entrance and because of how he's taking his time, you can slightly feel it slipping in and out of you. "Fuck, fuck, oh baby," you whine, tugging at his hair and making him growl against your pussy. You look down at him feeling like your about to explode "Holy shit that was so fucking hot," you laugh, feeling Noah smile against your sex. When he does it again it's like a mixture of a growl and a grunt and it makes you lose your mind in the waves of pleasure. You become a panting mess, squeezing your thighs around his head when he begs you too. You're moaning his name over and over pleading for him not to stop.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he asks, nipping your clit between his teeth. "Fuck, Noah! oh god, please, make my cum. I'm almost there. Uh, fu...fuck... Noah!” Your hips stutter as you grip his hair tighter, feeling him growl and moan against you. Your thighs tighten around his head to keep him in place. "Oh fuck, Noah, please, right there," you mumble over and over, lost in the pleasure of your orgasm quickly approaching. "Let go, princess. Cum in my mouth. Let me taste you," he tells you, encouraging your inner goddess. Legs shaking, you tighten them once more around Noah's head and you cum for him, arching your back and partially screaming out your moans and cries of ecstasy. Noah slows and continues to fuck you though it.

"Goddamn," he groans, trying to keep his composure. "Your legs are fucking trembling, princess," he says with a pleased smile, making you blush and smile as you lay there trying to catch your breath. The way he's staring at you with messy hair, swollen lips, and a satisfied smile has everything in your world complete. Except one thing. You sit up and pull Noah into, kissing him softly while tasting yourself. He breathes in deeply through his nose as his hands find your waist.

"I'm sorry for pushing you away, Noah," you whisper against his lips. "I'm sorry for what I put your mind through." You tangle your tongues up again, making Noah's lips even more swollen then they already are. "I will never let you close your eyes at night wondering if I love you or if you're enough for me. You are." Noah smiles at you and doesn't try once to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. "I'll make sure you'll never doubt that I do and wake up every morning convinced that I do." He plants a hard long kiss on your lips again, bringing your foreheads together.

The pounding on the Green Room door startles you both. Noah helps you put your jeans back on, but refuses to give you back your little red panties. "They'll be my good luck charm tonight," he teases you with a wink, slipping his hand into his pocket. "Noah! If you and my merch girl are done fucking now, the rest of us would like to have the room back. The show starts in an hour." You look at Noah and throw your hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh, yet feeling totally embarrassed. Noah opens the door, receiving hit after hit in the stomach from the other four guys as they walk in. He looks over at you, grinning from ear to ear and your heart couldn't be any fuller than it is right now.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Wicked Phase! MC

Requested By: @kok0crunch

Headcannons

Summary: The Obey Me! characters reactions to MC who goes through a wicked phase / evil cycle. The Demon Brothers & Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, + Solomon Word Count: 3,019 *Based on the anime: Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun*

A/N: Sorry if this isn't accurate! I personally haven't seen this anime, but I did do some research so hopefully it's close! I hope you enjoy it!

You worked religiously on the tasks that were given to you. Day in and day out, you were constantly trying to keep up with everything. But at the end of the day, there would somehow always be more work to do.

You were burnt out and exhausted. You were under way too much stress and you didn't know who to turn to. So, after your stress continued to build and build, you finally snapped.

You had a breakdown in which you entered a wicked phase / evil cycle. During which, your eyes glow red and you have a very intimidating aura.

Not to mention your complete personality change. Where there was once kindness and a bit of shyness, there was now ruthlessness and confidence that could kill.

Lucifer had heard rumors that certain humans could go through an evil cycle when their stress levels hit a certain level.

But he certainly didn’t expect it to happen to you.

He was at a loss for words when he watched a dark aura surround you. Your eyes glowed red, and he couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of gratification.

After all, they resembled his own eyes when he hit his limit as well.

In all seriousness though, your personality switch could pose some troubles for RAD.

He would love nothing more than to sit back and watch you dominate the school.

He was a known sadist and enjoyed seeing a side to you other than the kind and gentle side you always portrayed.

But, he had a responsibility to Diavolo to ensure that nothing bad happened at RAD. He was the enforcer of the rules when Diavolo couldn’t be there.

So, he made sure he was always by your side.

He didn’t say he wouldn’t let you have any fun. He would just be there to make sure that things didn’t get out of hand.

He feels proud as he sees you walking around the school so confidently.

He believed that you deserved every ounce of respect from others and he liked that you weren’t asking for it right now but demanding it.

He’ll do his part in helping you with your restoration, but he won’t forget this incident any time soon.

And he’ll make sure that his brothers give you enough breaks in the future so that you don’t hit your breaking point again.

Whether he admitted it or not, Mammon always saw you as his sweet and innocent human. 

He loved the way that you were always gentle with him and went to him for things that scared you.

He didn’t know that humans could go through an evil cycle when they were stressed out.

He always tried to do fun things with you, but he would have tried to help you manage your stress a lot more if he knew this would happen.

At first, your evil cycle scared Mammon.

Your intimidating aura and red eyes were a bit overwhelming. What really made him take a step back though was your complete personality change.

You became ruthless and assertive. You were harsh and straight-forward with your words and the usual kindness behind your eyes was lacking.

But, once the initial shock passed, Mammon was back to being your hype-man.

At the end of the day, you’re his human and you could never do any wrong in his eyes.

He likes the fact that you seem so much tougher so that he doesn’t have to worry as much about you getting hurt. 

"I dare ‘em to mess with my human right now,” will be a phrase he uses often as well as different variations of it. 

He will do any and every leisure activity that you like to do to restore you back to normal. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like you in your evil cycle phase. He just misses the way you would cling to his arm when walking down the hallways at RAD or the way you would tenderly stroke his hair after his brothers had decided to be particularly mean to him.

Levi is your number-one fan when it comes to your wicked phase.

He thought that it was something fake that he had read in a manga and seen in an anime.

So when found out that not only was it real but that his true friend was experiencing it, he was delighted.

He wanted to be there for every single moment of it. He was one hundred percent fangirling. It was as if one of his favorite animes were coming to life right in front of him.

He definitely took pictures of you with your dark aura and red eyes, thinking you looked so amazing.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask you, but you didn’t seem like you were in the mood to answer them right now. So, he would ask them after your cycle breaks.

Levi is like your own personal demon guide on evil cycles. He knows everything there is to know about them thanks to him being an otaku.

He knows all about how your personality shifts, but he is still surprised at how much it changed.

You were so assertive with him. He is used to your shy behavior so he’s a bit nervous to be around you when you were being so forward with him.

But he wasn’t going to let the introvert in him cause him to miss out on this possibly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He knows exactly how to help you with your restoration and is the only one who does it efficiently.

He’ll make sure to play games with you more often, among other things, to help prevent another evil cycle.

Satan understands snapping when under too much stress more than anyone else.

He is constantly fighting his dark side to avoid losing control, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.

Sometimes he gets pushed to the point where he can’t help it and he goes on a rampage.

When that happens, you’re the one who’s always there to help calm him down.

In return, he wants to be there for you during your wicked phase.

Let’s not forget that behind his polite and respectable personality, Satan is a demon.

A demon who finds it very attractive when he sees you with a dark aura and red eyes, confidence radiating off you.

He was never an angel, so being a demon was all he knew. He didn’t have the same reservations some of his other brothers had. 

So, he is one hundred percent supportive of your evil cycle. He doesn’t realize his mind is running rampant with fantasies of the two of you taking over the Devildom until you snap him out of his thoughts.

Maybe he’s been reading too many fiction books lately.

Either way, he doesn’t judge you at all for anything that is said or done during your evil cycle, and he enjoys it when he sees you being somewhat ruthless to others.

He’ll help you in any way you ask him to, even if that means helping with your restoration.

He doesn’t love you any less when you do return to normal, but now that he’s seen that side of you, he won’t forget it.

He’ll make sure to spend time with you more often to help you decompress.

Asmo doesn’t read manga or watch anime the way that Levi does. And he’s far too busy to sit down and be able to research humans the way Lucifer or Satan do.

If he wants to know something about humans, he’ll go directly to the source and ask you.

So, when your wicked phase started, Asmo had no idea what was going on.

He wasn’t sure if he should be concerned when your aura turned from one that was sweet to intimidating or when your eyes glowed a bright red.

The only thing he did know for sure was that the confidence that you were exerting was starting to stir him up.

He loved your sweet and innocent personality. It drove him crazy.

But seeing you so self-assured made his heart flutter and his words stutter. 

He’ll want to document the occasion with lots of pictures to show you off to others. You were so stunning, how could he not want to?

When it comes to you being ruthless, Asmo will have two very different reactions.

He tends to be ruthless when it comes to his words, so if you’re ruthless in the same way, he’ll admire you and maybe even give you some notes on what he would have added in.

If you’re ruthless more in the physical sense, Asmo will be more hesitant with your actions.

He doesn’t want you getting hurt. He couldn’t imagine you bruising your skin or breaking your nails just to fight a lowly demon.

Once Asmo finds out that your wicked phase was caused by stress, he’ll immediately set up a spa day to help you relax.

Beel has only ever seen you be kind and caring to others.

He would never think that the word “ruthless” could be associated with you in any way.

At least, not until you went through your wicked phase.

Your personality in your evil cycle was a head-turner for sure.

Beel thought you were perfect in every sense of the word. After everything you had done for them, how could he not think that way?

And those thoughts didn’t change even during your wicked phase.

He was certainly surprised when he saw you walking towards him with red eyes and a dark aura surrounding you. That would be enough to make anyone falter.

He wasn’t sure what was going on with you. At first, he thought that you had been cursed by a demon or a witch and he was filled with anxiety.

Once Beel was told that the situation was caused by you being under an immense amount of stress, he felt guilty that he and his brothers didn’t do enough to keep you from being so stressed out.

He doesn’t mind you in your evil cycle. You’re completely different, but at the end of the day, you’re still you.

He’ll do whatever he can to help with your restoration though and when you finally are back to normal, he’ll keep checking on you to make sure you don’t get that stressed again.

As much as Belphie doesn’t want to be like Lucifer, the fact is that he tends to be a sadist just like the eldest.

And he is as ruthless as the fourth-born could be.

So your wicked phase doesn’t bother Belphie in the slightest bit.

In fact, he quite enjoys the way that Lucifer and Diavolo are running around chasing after you to ensure that you don’t do anything you might regret later.

He loves watching you be assertive and demanding rather than letting yourself get pushed around by his brothers.

If he had it his way, he would always want you to stand up to his brothers like that.

Your dark aura does intimidate him a bit, mostly because in your evil cycle you are completely unpredictable.

But he likes that it also intimidates other demons. No one would think twice about messing with you when you were in this state.

When he finds out that you being under an immense amount of stress is what caused your wicked phase, Belphie turns from amusement to blame.

He will complain to Lucifer all day long about how it was his fault this happened to you because he and Diavolo insisted on giving you such a large workload.

Just the thought of how much work you have to do for them makes Belphie exhausted.

Once you're returned to your normal state, Belphie will insist on taking more naps with you.

He doesn’t mind you in your evil cycle, he just doesn’t like the fact that it’s caused by stress.

Diavolo didn’t know that such power and confidence could come from a human.

He had seen powerful spells from witches and potent curses from sorcerers. He had seen angels at their highest and mightiest and demons at their lowest and most ferocious.

But he had never seen anything like your wicked phase.

The Y/N he once knew was locked away deep inside of you, replaced with a darker, much more frightening version of you.

Diavolo already knew better than to push you to your limits, unlike the brothers, but he didn’t know that you could be this scary.

He’s very impressed with how ruthless and assertive you could be, your red eyes only enticing him further.

He was the ruler of the Devildom and yet you were walking around like you owned the place. It was hard not to imagine you ruling alongside him when you were doing so.

He understands that exchange students have a certain image to uphold though so he feels the need to get to the bottom of what happened.

When he finds out that this was caused by stress from the amount of work you’ve been having to do, Diavolo feels awful.

He’ll immediately help with your restoration in any way he can and he’ll demand that your workload is lessened and that you get plenty of breaks in.

He’ll keep a careful eye on you, making sure that your stress levels don’t reach the point where they cause you to snap again.

And he won’t be afraid to help you relax if he does feel like it’s getting to that point.

Barbatos has lived a very long life. And in that life, he has done many things. Things that he wouldn’t dream of telling you for fear of ruining your image of him.

He was used to darkness in his life. Torturing others had been his job multiple times in the past.

He was used to being ruthless and intimidating and just downright scary.

Though, he would never show that side to you.

You were the opposite of that darkness, your kind smile and bright eyes lighting up any room you walked into.

So when he saw you in your wicked phase, red eyes and a dark aura surrounding you, he was shocked.

His occupation was to remain calm in any situation and follow the orders that Lord Diavolo gave him.

So, he kept his outward reaction to a bare minimum. Simply taking in your appearance and looking to Diavolo for further instructions.

But on the inside, he was dying. He was torn between wanting to see your evil cycle in action and helping restore you.

He ends up doing the latter after Lord Diavolo gives him the order to do so.

He’ll now make sure that he is watching after you more carefully in addition to his responsibilities to Diavolo.

He’ll do his best to consistently bring you your favorite drink and will intermittently surprise you with your favorite snack or dessert to help you unwind.

Simeon doesn’t know how to react when he sees your normally calm and collected self storming down the hallway.

You always acknowledged him whenever you saw him. Your eyes would shine brightly as you smiled at him - a smile that always made his day better.

But today, you simply walked past him, paying him no attention.

Simeon had caught a glimpse of your red eyes when you were passing by and the dark aura you gave off was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

He immediately went to Lucifer to figure out what was going on.

When Lucifer explained that you were going through an evil cycle, Simeon’s first reaction was to keep Luke away from you.

He couldn’t imagine the lecture that you would get from him about demons if he saw you in this state.

And he was almost positive that you weren’t in the mood right now to receive such a lecture.

After properly distracting Luke, Simeon will track you down and attempt to help restore you back to your normal self.

He does find your sudden surge of confidence charming. He always thought you were the most attractive being in all three realms and it was about time you admitted it.

But, he would rather spend every day telling you how perfect you are than hearing you say it when you’re not acting like yourself.

When you are restored, Simeon will ensure that this doesn’t happen again.

He doesn’t care if the brothers think he’s being overbearing, they shouldn’t have let you get so stressed out in the first place.

Up to now, Solomon hadn’t heard of a human going through a wicked phase in real life.

He is well-versed in pop culture like Levi and is as studious as Satan, so of course he knew what an evil cycle was.

But he didn’t think it was real because he had never seen it.

When he saw it happen to you, Solomon was beyond curious as to what caused it.

He concluded that it must have been the constant stress and pressure that you were under. 

He had never been through one himself, but he was usually laid back.

He never would have been able to live this long of a life as a human if he didn’t find a way to cope with stress.

And as a fellow human, he wanted to help you through your wicked phase.

But, as a scholar, he couldn’t help but want to study it. He observed your threatening aura and shining red eyes. He noted your behavioral change down to a T.

If you ever got to this point again, he would be well-prepared on what to expect.

He was able to calm you down and help restore you using several different methods that he had heard about.

He isn’t as effective as Levi, but he does have a few tricks up his sleeve.

He won’t be afraid to tease you about your evil cycle later. He’ll tell you how assertive you were with him and joke about how he thinks the demons you live with are rubbing off on you.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 27

Part 1  Part 26

Eddie drags the kiddie pool into the gym, cursing under his breath. This is such a waste of time. They have absolutely no proof Supergirl’s powers are even real, much less that she’ll be able to contact Steve on the other side.

“This is taking too long,” Eddie grumbles.

Uncle Wayne gives him a warning look from where he’s attaching extensions to the hose they’d dragged into the gym from the pool room. “We need to figure out where he is before we go in, guns blazing.”

“He’ll be in the trailer!” Eddie says heatedly. “Like I said!”

Wayne’s brows furrowed just like the last time he’d said that. Like the idea of rich boy Steve Harrington willingly hanging out in their trailer was too much for him to take on faith alone.

Joyce, not moving from her place next to Supergirl, smiles at him pityingly. “It’s going to be dangerous, sweetie,” she says, voice low. “We need to make sure that he’s still—”

“Alive?” Will asks. He’s sitting on the bleachers, smushed between all his friends, wringing his hands. Beside him, Mike grabs one of his hands, stopping him from bruising his knuckles with the force of his pulling. Will squeezes his hand hard enough that Mike winces. He doesn’t pull his hand away, just clutches his other hand onto his own knee. Eddie aches.

Joyce doesn’t answer, but she meets her son’s gaze, eyes shining, and that’s answer enough.

“He is,” Eddie asserts, barely feeling better when Will nods.

“We’re already set up, kid,” Hopper says, dumping pounds of what looks like salt into the pool. “A couple more minutes can’t hurt.”

Eddie shares a loaded look with Will. None of them understand how quickly things can go bad over there, how hurt Steve already was. They can’t feel the way there’s a tug in Eddie’s sternum, pulling him toward the other boy.

Joyce settles Supergirl into the pool, soothing her, holding her hand. The girl looks like an alien with the dark glasses obscuring her face, casting darker shadows onto her face in the already-dark gym. She looks like a corpse, floating there, with no

Then, it’s silence. And waiting. Eddie wants to scream at her, demand answers. What’s she seeing? Is Steve okay?

Even more so when the lights start flickering again. Eddie backs up on instinct, lowering his center of gravity to crouch in front of Will as the kid clutches at the loose hem of his pant leg.

The flickering stops as the girl gasps. The lights go out, making the water she’s floating in seem like a dark pit of oil. Eddie almost excepts the dark, grasping claw of the Demogorgon to come out of its depths and yank her down. It doesn’t.

“Is Steve okay?” Will calls, voice quiet. “Is he okay?”

She doesn’t twitch, like she didn’t hear him at all. The silence makes Eddie’s toes curl into the soles of his boots to keep him in place. He feels Will’s nails through the material of his pants as the kid holds on tighter. Their collective breathing, so loud in the silence, seems like it’s echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

Then, Supergirl speaks.

“It’s dark.”

Eddie pictures Steve, huddled into himself on Eddie’s bed, waiting for them to come back to him. Maybe he’s changed into a pair of Eddie’s clothes, his own covered with blood and grime. Maybe he’s snooping through Eddie’s things. He hopes Steve doesn’t look under his bed.

“Not here.”

It hits like a punch. He staggers a little, and another small fist clutches onto his shirt. Maybe Will’s other hand, maybe one of the other kids. He doesn’t look away from the pool to check.

“What do you mean ‘not here?’” Eddie demands.

There are tremors running through his whole body. He barely feels it, wonders if he’s inside his body at all, right now.  

“Big house,” Supergirl says.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says.

Eddie thinks of that poor dog that used to always be chained up three trailers down from theirs until the Parker’s packed their shit up and moved away. When approached, the dog would cower into the front porch it was chained to, making itself hidden and small. Eddie used to try to pet it, but there’s only so much a dog can take before it turns mean, starts snapping at anything that moves.

Everyone had thought the Parker’s had taken the dog with them. They’d all shaken their heads at the poor treatment but washed their hands of the business before doing a thing to try and help.

They’d found the dog three weeks later when the smell had gotten too much. It’d crawled under the porch and died. Even when home was full of monstrous thing, it’d still drug its body back there for its final resting place.

“I know where he is,” Eddie whispers.

That first night, Steve had dragged Eddie into his closet on instinct, like it was the only place they’d be safe. Like a dog slinking under the porch to die.

Eddie runs toward the pool, feels small hands try to hold on before they give way. He drops to his knees next to the pool, barely stopping himself from shaking the little girl floating inside it. He clutches the side, shouts down at her, “tell him we’re coming.”

“Your friends,” she whispers into the darkness of the gym, “they’re coming for you.”

She’s quiet for a minute, before saying, “he says to hurry.”

“Tell him to stay where he is,” Hopper says.

“Just hold on a little longer, Steve,” she says.

“Steve?” Eddie says, quiet like he’s still sitting beside him in Steve’s closet, knees knocking as his hanging clothes shroud them. “I’m coming.”

Then Supergirl’s yelling, “Steve!” on repeat, like he’s drifting away. Like she’s trying to get to him.

Eddie reaches in for her, just as Joyce does, their fingers tangling on the girl as they both pull her up and out.

“Okay, okay.” Joyce says, “I’ve got you. You did so good.”

“Is Steve okay?” Eddie demands. His voice comes out as a croak.

Wayne crouches down beside him, old knees popping, and clutches his shoulder. Eddie doesn’t take his eyes off Supergirl. She raises her head slowly, eyes filled with tears as she slowly raises her eyes and meets his gaze, looking like she’d rather look anywhere else.

She shakes her head slowly. “We have to hurry,” she says. “He is out of time.”

Part 28

[bluelockmaniac]

— ୨ৎ "TEDDY TITTY BEAR"

★ ft. toji x fem!reader 彡 wc: 0.6k

▯ notes. 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲. fluff. slightly suggestive ending !

“my cute titty bear is back!” you yell excitedly, rushing towards toji and throwing your arms around his large body as he enters through the front door of your apartment. a cheeky smile etched its way across your face— one that he was all too familiar with.

he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he tries to pry you off him, amused. “your what?”

he's been through this before; it was not the first time you've appeared before him with nonsense leaving your pretty, impulsive mouth. yet, perhaps it was your peculiarities that he secretly found endearing.

“what do you mean, my what?” you ask, tipping your head to the side with innocent, wide eyes, peering up at him through your fluttering eyelashes. you repeat your words, that teasing grin of yours still stubbornly refusing to abandon your lips. “i said, you're my cute titty bear.”

“what the fuck is a titty bear?” he shakes his head in amusement as his hand absentmindedly moves behind his head to scratch his thick nape. “look, princess,” he continues, “i know this is one of y’weird outburst episodes, but seriously, you gotta stop—”

“nuh-uh, i’m not repeating this again,” you huff, feistily grabbing his huge hand and dragging him to the living room. 

this time, you were taking the lead and he was letting you. he was just slightly intrigued. what were you planning on getting yourself into now? there was no harm in entertaining your shenanigans just this once, he thought.

he follows you with a grin playing at his lips, then sprawls comfortably on the couch with his legs spread.

you smirk, quickly settling yourself warmly on his lap, legs straddling his waist as you assertively slam your palms against the backrest of the couch, one hand beside each of his shoulders, caging him in with your arms.

“oh?” he raises his brow, staring at your sly expression nonchalantly as one muscular arm encircles your waist, his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “don’t act so smug, princess. i still need an explanation, y’know?”

you hum softly, then, without warning, slide your hands up his chest, guiding them to either of his breasts and shamelessly squeezing them simultaneously.

“look.” squeeze. “at.” squeeze. “them!” squeeze. 

he flinches, inhaling sharply out of surprise as his mouth falls agape at your brazen stunt. sure, you’re undeniably crazy, and confident, but to boldly squish his chest with that mischievous grin dancing unashamedly on your lips? he had clearly underestimated you.

“girl,” his fingers gently gripping the soft flesh of your hips, his eyes wordlessly demanding answers. when you only giggle in response, he moves his hand to grip your chin, thumb dragging along your plump lips. “you’re insufferable.”

your eyes crinkle devilishly, “but you love me?”

“ya know it.” he grumbles, his voice soft as he holds your head and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to the corners of your lips.

“then can you take off your shirt pl—”

“no.”

“i need to see your—”

“no. perv.”

“but i wanna bite—”

he groans, his patience wearing thin, and without another word he silences you with a rough kiss on the lips, which predictably worked like a charm. “you’re crazier than me, y’know?”

you nod your head in response as pink creeps up your cheeks, “and you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”

“i wouldn’t.” the two of you silently stare at each other for a few seconds. it was a comfortable silence— almost as if you both were falling in love for the first time again. almost.

“alright, enough,” he yawns loudly, interrupting the silence, the romantic atmosphere abruptly fading away. he stands up and throws you over his broad shoulder effortlessly, earning a squeaky gasp from you. “time to show this stuck-up princess what this titty bear can do, ‘kay?”

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

"h-hey, toji, calm your tits!"

"nah princess, you asked for this first."

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[da-rulah]

"oh, and my love, did i mistake you as a sign from god?" from sleep token's the summoning >:33 could i rq cardinal copia?? sfw / nsfw idm just wherever your creativity takes u!! <33

This song gives me all the vibes. And for Cardinal Copia, this is what I got out of it. I'm sorry if it's not your thing but I couldn't think of anything else that fit this lyric better... This got a little kinky😈

NSFW 18+, MDNI! Cardinal Copia x f!reader

TW: dom/sub dynamic (f dom), dominatrix, control, power play, ropes/bondage, cum play, emotions and soft domination.

Copia's neck was starting to hurt, his head bowed down and staring at the stone floors of the chapel beneath his knees. His hands remained behind his back, arms tied from his elbows to his wrists in red shibari ropes.

But he knew he wasn't allowed to look up. Not yet.

He heard your heels on the stone, and naturally his body tensed in welcome anticipation. He'd waited patiently for you to come back to the chapel after stripping him down, tying his arms and instructing him to stay put while you'd gone to slip into something more comfortable. Of course, making him wait was all part of it; to make him uncomfortable, antsy, nervous.

You came to stand in front of him, stepping between his spread knees to make sure he could see the heels you'd put on. He'd be getting more acquainted with them soon...

He was already painfully hard, his mind racing as fast as his heart thinking of all the things you might do to him, that you'd done to him in the past. He could never get enough of you, like a drug he was terminally addicted to. You would be the death of him...

But this was his release. His job was so demanding, so stressful and he had to be the authoritarian he was crafted into as a Cardinal. All of that went out the window during playtime with you... He could let go, let someone else take charge for him and literally beat the tension out of him if that's what he needed. But there was a complication...

He was becoming too obsessed with you. You were the most beautiful woman in the world to him, the perfect mix of cruel dominatrix and soft lover. He kept finding excuses to be around you day to day, just to catch glimpses of you if that was all he could get. Other times, he'd specifically call for your assistance on a task, just to spend time with you. He knew this was purely transactional on both sides and yet, he was falling into a trap...

"You haven't moved, have you?" your voice sounded so assertive, particularly in the stone setting of the chapel - which you'd locked up for tonight so as not to be interrupted. This was a fantasy of his, to be overruled in the one place he was supposed to have the most command. Lucifer would certainly approve.

"No, ma'am," he confirmed, his voice quaking a little.

"Good." You lifted one of your feet, placing it flat onto his thigh and gently applying pressure with your stiletto hell. Copia winced, but his cock twitched between his legs, precum dripping to the stone floor.

And of course, you noticed.

"You're making a mess, Cardinal. Maybe you should clean that up, hm?" It was a rhetorical question, more of an order than a suggestion. And he knew how you worked by now. You stepped backwards and watched with a smirk as he shuffled backwards, dipping his body down without the use of his hands to keep him steady. His face hovered above the stone floor, his tongue darting out to lick at the mess like a cat lapping at a saucer full of milk.

You were very pleased with the Cardinal's progress from your first session together. He'd never been outright defiant, more like inexperienced. Not at sex - far from it - but at letting go, and understanding what you were asking of him without being direct. He'd come leaps and bounds since then.

"Such a good boy," you praised as he finished, still never looking up at you. You hadn't given him permission yet...

You stepped back a few paces, up the first step in front of the pulpit. "Come here."

He walked on his knees towards you, wincing at the pain and stopping short of the step, too awkward to lift his knees but he had a feeling you wanted him beneath you.

Slowly, you raised your heel again, this time lifting his chin with the toe and allowing him to look up at you. His eyes travelled the length of your leg, dreamily observing the stockings you wore for him, held up by suspenders that sat over a stunning black lace bodysuit. He took in every curve, slowly marvelling as saliva pooled in his mouth until finally, he looked up to see your stunning face, beautifully lit in the candlelight and framed by the incredibly intricate stained glass windows behind you.

You were like an oil painting, more beautiful than if Michelangelo himself had painted you. And with the backdrop behind you illustrating his fantasy playing out, it was sending him spiralling.

To him, you were a damn succubus... A demon sent for him and him alone to tempt and defile. He'd allow you anything you wanted from him, follow any command.

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn..." You straightened up at the sound of his voice, glaring down at him. You hadn't given him permission to speak, nor asked him a question that warranted an answer. But you were intrigued...

He'd never spoke out of turn before and frankly, you were curious to see what was so important that he must tell you and suffer the consequences of disobedience.

"You have never look so bewitching... I-I'm all yours, body and soul."

Your eyes widened, taken aback completely. Of all the things you expected, that absolutely was not one of them. You had no smart retort, nothing to say in response at all. Instead, you did something you had never done before, crossing a boundary you set when terms were agreed upon on day one.

You crouched in front of him, meeting his eyes. You could see the fear in them, almost regret as he swallowed his fear and readied himself for the inevitable punishment for speaking without permission. But instead, you moved some of his hair away from his face with gentle touches, then tilted his chin up a little to make it easier to plant your lips to his.

Kissing was a big no-no. You shouldn't have done it, but you felt so drawn to him, compelled to give him a part of you like he just had.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you back, quickly overcoming his shock in favour of savouring something he was sure you would probably never do again. It ignited something within you, a fire raging in your body. You couldn't help escalating it, your kisses turning desperate. Copia wanted nothing more than to hold you close to him, to pull you into him and take you on the chapel floor with an equal balance of power; even if it were just for one night...

But his hands were still tied, and you had a scene to play out. He was sure you'd snap out of it soon and punish him harder than you ever had. Perhaps you'd call this whole thing off, and he'd never get to be with you again. The thought terrified him.

You pulled back from the kiss, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and forehead pressed to his. You sighed, twirling your fingertips in the locks of hair at the nape of his neck. It was growing out - you liked that.

"Copia..." you breathed, chuckling softly at the absurdity of the situation you found yourself in. Feelings were never supposed to factor into this, but you'd be lying if you tried to tell yourself there wasn't something there. "We should talk," you whispered, finally meeting his eyes.

"Maybe another time, when I'm not kneeling at your feet with my arms tied behind me?" he laughed quietly, shy and unsure of himself.

"Oh, of course..." you moved to untie the ropes behind him, but eh stopped you. "N-no... Please," he begged, "I need this. I-I... don't want you to stop."

You stopped fiddling with the knot, resting your palms on his shoulders and searching his face for any sign that he wasn't sure about this. But there was nothing but pleading; he still wanted this, and so did you. This was as much of a release for you as it was for him. There was plenty of time to talk later.

"Whatever you need," you curled your finger under his chin, lightly tilting it up as a gentle re-introduction into the scene. "Now... do not speak again until you are asked to. Understand?"

He nodded, knowing better than to verbally respond.

The scene in the Chapel continued, but neither of you could deny the little extra softness in your dominance that night. You were more careful with him, less brutal. Still lording over him as he wished, still assertive and clearly in power.

But your harsh persona had turned into something softer, slower in every move you made. Copia couldn't help but be even more in awe of you, watching you take control of him in such a delicate way that felt more fuelled by passion than anything you'd ever done together before.

He was more sure now than ever that you had been moulded in the image of the darkest, most beautiful goddess.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere John Shelby Would Include:

He's a possessive and obsessive type, especially when it comes to the one he's obsessed with. He has a tendency to be protective and controlling, often going to great lengths to keep you close and ensure your safety. He can also be quite manipulative, using charm and charisma to get what he wants.

He's fiercely loyal and dedicated to the one he loves, but he can also be jealous and suspicious. He may act cold and distant, but deep down he has a sensitive side. He doesn't hesitate to use violence or intimidation to protect the one he cares about.

He's also prone to fits of jealousy and anger, especially if he perceives any threat to your relationship or if someone else gets too close to you. He can be quite passionate and intense in his affections, sometimes to the point of being overwhelming. He has a strong need for validation and reassurance, often needing constant affirmation of your love and loyalty.

He sometimes struggles with his own insecurities and doubts, which can lead to moments of vulnerability and clinginess. He tends to have a strong sense of ownership over you, seeing you as his property rather than an equal partner.

Another aspect of his yandere behavior is his tendency to be overly possessive and controlling in all aspects of your life, not just your romantic relationship. He may try to dictate who you spend time with, what you wear, what you do and don't do, and even where you go. He often sees himself as the ultimate authority in your life and may struggle to accept any decisions you make without his input or approval.

He has a habit of keeping tabs on every aspect of your life, often monitoring your activities and interactions with others closely. He may even resort to stalking you or hacking into your devices to keep track of your online activity. He’s also extremely territorial and believes that he owns you, often reacting aggressively to perceived threats or challenges to his claim on you.

He can be quite possessive of your time and attention, getting angry or upset if you want to spend time with others or do your own thing. He'll try to limit your social interactions or make it difficult for you to keep in touch with friends and family.

He also tries to test your loyalty, setting up elaborate scenarios or creating fake issues just to see how you respond. Despite his possessive behavior, he can also be fiercely protective, always willing to stand up for you and defend your honor.

He's also likely to have a deep-seated fear of abandonment, which can lead to clinginess and possessiveness. He might get distraught if you even hint at leaving him or if you're not giving him enough attention.

He's surprisingly good at masking his true feelings and behaviors when around other people, especially if he perceives it as a risk to his relationship with you. He can be quite charming and charismatic in public, but it's all a facade, hiding his darker side. He's likely to be quite possessive and protective, subtly asserting his claim on you even in front of others. He might also try to keep a close eye on you when you're interacting with other people, ready to intervene if he perceives any threat or competition.

He's someone who constantly needs reassurance and validation - he craves it like oxygen. He might often ask you to reassure him that you love him, that you're not going anywhere, and that he's the only one for you. He can be extremely insecure and paranoid about losing you and will demand constant affirmations of your feelings for him. He'll also try to reassure you constantly that he loves you and that he's the best person for you.

When you do fight, he can be quite intense and stubborn. Fights with him can be emotionally charged and heated, particularly if he's feeling insecure or threatened. He'll likely have a hard time backing down and will push back fiercely, refusing to admit any wrongdoing on his part. He's also likely to play the victim, trying to shift the blame onto you and make you feel guilty for upsetting him. He can also be surprisingly manipulative, using guilt trips and emotional blackmail to get you to back down first.

Rewards for him are likely to come in the form of physical affection - hugs, kisses, and intimate moments. He might also shower you with gifts and tokens of his affection, especially if he's trying to win you back after a fight or if he's feeling particularly insecure. He might also take you on special dates or outings as a way to show his appreciation and affection. He's very focused on making sure you're constantly reminded how much he cares.

His punishments tend to be a mixture of emotional manipulation and displays of jealousy or anger. He might give you the silent treatment, make you feel guilty, or get openly angry or frustrated with you. He might also threaten to end the relationship or isolate you as a way to get you to do what he wants. Sometimes, his punishments might also be more physical - he might grab your arm roughly, or even lash out physically. But his main tactic is definitely emotional manipulation.

His family is likely to be very supportive of his behavior, either willfully ignoring or even encouraging his more toxic tendencies. They might brush off his controlling behavior as his way of showing love, or even suggest that you need to be more understanding and compliant to keep him happy. They might also enable him by covering for him or making excuses for his actions, rather than calling him out on his problematic behavior, unlike Ada. They could also be completely unaware of the true extent of his possessive and obsessive nature and see it as normal love and care.

He's someone who absolutely craves physical affection. He'll constantly be seeking out ways to touch you, whether it's through hugging, holding hands, caressing, or even more intimate contact. He might also demand constant hugs and kisses, and get upset if you don't give him enough affection or attention. He's always trying to keep physically close to you, almost like he can't bear to be apart from you for too long.

Dates are likely to be carefully planned out and meticulously controlled by him - he'll want to choose the places you go to, the activities you do, and even the food you eat. He'll often insist on picking you up and dropping you off, not allowing you to arrange your own transport or independence. He can be very romantic and charming during the dates, doing things like showering you with compliments and gifts, but there's always an undercurrent of possessiveness and control. He's likely to get upset if the date doesn't go exactly as he pictured in his head.

For him, marriage would be all about solidifying his control and ownership over you. He'd be insistent on having a big flashy wedding, with all the bells and whistles - a way to proudly proclaim publicly that you're his. But behind closed doors, he'd likely want to keep the power dynamics of your relationship firmly in his hands, with you entirely dependent on him and submissive to his will.

He'd want you to have as many children as possible, mainly to further bind you to him and extend his control over you. But he'd likely be extremely possessive and jealous of any new arrivals, seeing them as threats to his position as the primary focus of your attention. He might even try to use the kids as a way to manipulate and control you, using them as leverage to make you do what he wants. He'd expect you to be the primary caregiver, while he maintains the role of the breadwinner and ultimate authority figure in the family.

If you weren't able or didn't want to have children, he'd likely be really upset and might even see it as a betrayal. He'd probably try to pressure and manipulate you into changing your mind, arguing that having children would make your relationship even stronger and more fulfilling. If you didn't cave in, he might try to use emotional blackmail or even accuse you of not being truly committed to the relationship. It would be a major point of contention and might even lead to big fights and emotional outbursts on his part.

"You are mine, understand? You belong to me. I won't let anyone else near you. They're all worthless compared to you. I have total control over you, and you will do whatever I say. You're nothing without me, and you're nothing to anyone else. You're going to stay right here by my side, where you belong."

Erotic humiliation - The idea of being degraded or treated as a mere object of lust during sex is a significant turn-on for him.

Hair pulling - Gripping his or your hair, either tenderly or roughly, during sex is a classic move that never fails to excite him.

Phone sex - Describing intimate acts over the phone, hearing your reactions, and imagining your responses is an intoxicating form of foreplay.

Cuckolding - Watching you crave and receive attention from another, knowing he's the only one who truly owns you...it's a complex, dark fantasy that draws him in.

Breath play - Cutting off oxygen flow through choking or breath restriction, the high from being pushed to the brink of unconsciousness is indescribable.