#how he feels like he has no power cause hes so at the whim of the people he loves and his own big feelings and how this leaves him to crave

[sammygender]

but tbh even when i was a deangirl like 90% of deans appeal was that undercurrent of resentment and damage he has. how hes so damaged by his childhood but so unwilling to begin to heal because it would mean rejecting every brick he's built himself from - hes modelled himself on john, or how he imagined john to be (bc i actually truly think dean is and becomes way more macho and posturing than john ever was! and theres something to be said of how all his imitations of john are aesthetic, his jacket and his music and the beer he drinks, and how john was gone so Often, how we never see him in the flashback episodes save once (ofc doylist explanation is bc they didnt want to get the actor but).... the absence of a father ruling their life more than a father...).

and obviously that is going to lead to someone who cant Get Better or Break The Cycle cause he wed himself to it when he was 4 and has grown entwined with it and how is he meant to Really confront that? sure he can say 'my father was an obsessed bastard' or hurtle insults that sam's like john as a way to get under sam's skin and realise that he has #daddyissues but he'll always return back to the steady belief that john still tried his best and was still fundamentally good. like. family is hell. and dean's whole thing is and has always been the family.

[sordidmusings]

Let Go and Grip Me Tighter

Moot request! Mihawk struggles with guilt from the nature of his fantasies about you and begins pulling away. You won't let that happen.

A/N: Omfg this one was cooking for awhile but it's finally ready. It starts with some angst (living without sex ed or resources on that causes Problems) but then there's like a lot of smut then a quick wind down with some aftercare! Has some “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails vibes 💀

Word Count: 9.3 k

Warnings: afab!reader, fem!reader, NSFW all over the place, dom!Mihawk, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, spanking, praise, degradation, biting, marking, rough treatment, claiming, prone bone, missionary, creampie, manhandling, established relationship, Mihawk is very deeply in love with you and struggles with wanting to be a strict dom, he gets condescending 👌🏻, Mihawk orders you around, miscommunication angst up front

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

More than anything else, Mihawk was certain that the depths of his guilt were vast enough to have the breadth of the seas shrink to a mere droplet in their stead. He loves you so, so much, but his mind has been tormenting with thoughts he feels unforgivable. It started small; his fantasies of you started to latch onto that whiny, pathetic moan you’d let out when he grabbed you a bit too hard. He began to imagine himself purposefully digging his hands into you to leave bruises there, which then turned to smacking handprints into your skin. The thought of your ass red and bouncing with each hit had him cumming faster than he’d like to admit the first time it played behind his eyelids.

He began to get used to those ideas and started to get a little more… creative.  What would your neck and shoulders look like littered in bruises and bite marks? Would your moans be as whiny and pathetic if he tied your hands and feet to the corners of the bed, leaving you with no option but to struggle and beg? Maybe he could just tie your hands behind your back and use his grip on the rope to pull you back to him harder on each thrust. Maybe he’d grab you and move you around as he liked, overpowering any attempts to move on your own and eating up the high-pitched whines from the force. He’d hold you down and fuck you until any unease became begging, and begging became “too much!”.

Mihawk felt a feral place in his heart burn every time he spit filthy words at you in his dreams. Tucked away in his nightly unconscious entanglements, he claimed you as his whore, his cocksleeve, his slutty little love. Many claims came and went but they were always possessive and you were always perfect, just as you were in his waking life. The heart that held such devoted and worshiping love for you ached at the idea of calling you such insults, but they set his cock aching just as greatly and he felt as if he was splitting in two.

How could he want to treat you in such a way? Mihawk loves you. He loves you and you love him and you always treat him with ceaseless care and support and he repays you by cumming to the thought of hurting you? Would you run from him if you found out? You knew the power he held; you’d helped him wash off the stains of those foolish enough to challenge him many times. Surely you would flee if you knew that the wielder of such power held ill intent towards you.

No - ill intent wasn’t right. He couldn’t hold ill intent towards you if he tried. So what was this then? He didn’t want to hurt you but he wanted you to enjoy being hurt by him. He wanted you at his whims as far as he could press before any real damage could happen. He wanted to come at you, teeth bared against your throat, and have you respond by offering your jugular. He wanted you to take pleasure in being moved and taken by his charge. That was it then - he wanted to own and control. To dominate. But how could he ask that of you if it required such beastly treatment?

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk’s hands on you have felt different. Normally, you could feel their comforting weight resting on your body or their firm press, born of the need to keep you held tight. You are still held but more by the will of gravity than Mihawk himself. Laying half draped over his body, as you are now, is one of your favorite ways to end the day. The unfamiliarity of his hands, though, will not let you find rest. Where is the sweet indulgence of fingers threading through your hair and scratching gently at your scalp? Where is the healing service of kneading fingertips releasing you from the aches of the day? Where is the steadfast protection of the grounding hold anchored to your hip?

In place of these daily devotions are the hesitant, whispering touches of a man you’ve never known. Your Mihawk has always been sure in his movements. That was certain from the very first touch - a tender grip on your fingers and lips at your knuckles, then a quick flip of his wrist so that lips could move to warm the inside of your wrist. Your Mihawk doesn’t know how to falter. He can wait and assess and test but none of that encompasses the way he shifts to shy away from your seeking touch. It happens incredibly slowly to hide from your notice, but you need his touch too much to overlook its retreat. Your body and heart take to it like roots to water, always reached out and ready to soak in the vitality it brings.

You lay and continue to wonder fruitlessly at the nature of the trailing fingertips moving from your shoulder to your elbow. The endless circling thoughts are wearing at you, and you snuggle your cheek further into his chest for comfort. At the feeling of his meager caress stuttering in response, you resolve to find and fix the problem immediately.

Lifting your head up, you seek Mihawk’s gaze. His head remains tilted away and his eyes remain shut despite the fact that he can definitely feel you staring at him. After giving him a few moments to do it on his own, you bring a hand to his chin and guide him to face you. You delicately trace the lines of his facial hair, which look extra sharp in the shadows cast by the warm lamplight. He opens his honey yellow eyes and circles them all around your face. He meets your gaze last.

“You’re hiding from me.” You state it as what you know it is; a fact.

“I do not hide-”

“Yes, you do,” you interrupt. “Every time you’re afraid to talk about something, you live in that head of yours.” You shift your hand to cradle his jaw, brushing your thumb lovingly across his cheek. “But, you’ve never pulled your presence from me too. You know we always figure it out, love. What has you like this?”

Mihawk closes his eyes again. Your answer is kept somewhere behind those lids. You wait for it to appear, but it seems less likely to happen with each passing second. 

“I miss you,” you whisper. The little warble that snuck into your voice twisted the pit in Mihawk’s chest. His eyes open to mirror the concern roiling in your own.

“I’m right here,” he says, finally using his hold to press your body into him. The gesture pleases you but not enough to distract you from the way his words weren’t reassuring; they were begging to be believed. You let him have some time to try and let his eyes speak to you when he could not. Deliberately deep and measured breaths set rhythm for the way his chest floats you like calm waves beneath a ship. Taking in his unspoken cues, you could only understand that he was putting in great effort to hold something back. The conflict you felt in him between the need to shield you and the need to comfort you set you on edge. What could he hold in himself that he thinks so catastrophic? What does he know that could cause you such harm?

“Mihawk, please,” you beg. Your plea works against you; his eyes and grip harden.

“No.” Mihawk maneuvers you off of himself and moves to get up. You chase right after him, trailing rumpled sheets behind you. He makes it two steps from your shared bed before you catch him, locking your arms around his waist. You burrow your face into the warm skin between his shoulder blades and press your body as close to him as you can, clinging desperately. He remains silent but his hands move to your wrists in warning.

“Don’t run from me,” you plead, throat tight to hold back the whimpers starting to build in your lungs. He’s never left you during an argument - he had said it’s because he couldn’t stand to leave you upset. This sudden change leaves you shaken, holding tight to him in the hope that he is still your greatest stability and comfort. He begins pulling your arms away. The distress you feel lets him.

Mihawk at least turns around to see the damage he has caused. You see his regret in wet eyes, bowed head, and caving shoulders. Contrition compels him to rub circles on the wrist he still holds and the affectionate gesture pulls the first tear from your eyes. He begins reaching to brush it away but instead pulls back, his hand curling into a fist at his side. In a quick burst of anger, you snatch that hand and push it to your face. You hold it there even after it opens to embrace your cheek, scared it’ll leave you again. Mihawk hates the tears wetting his thumb and the shakiness of your breath, feeling the weight of his guilt become unbearable in their stead. He shrinks into himself even further from the way your eyes have narrowed in accusation.

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me with your problems?” You bite out at him. He can no longer look at you, choosing to gaze unseeing at the floor instead. 

“No,” he mumbles like a child facing the rage from authority.

“Then what is wrong?” You press, voice turning from vicious to exasperated. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you. I love you, Mihawk, that won’t change! And I can help-”

“No you can’t!” He roars, snapping his head back up to bare his teeth at you. “You can’t help me! Not with this.”

Wide wet eyes stare back at him, shaken of their fight. Your lips tremble around stuttering breaths and his own angry breath puffs out into the small space between you. They’re all you can hear while you try to process his anger and the way his fingers begin to sink onto your wrist and jaw like claws. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, trying to get things back under control. “I shouldn’t have pressed so hard when you weren’t ready.” Mihawk scrunches his eyes shut and bears his teeth again.

“No. You don’t understand,” he starts. A deep breath flushes his whole body and rattles him on the way out. He’s staring right into you again. “I want to hurt you.”

Confusion strikes you before fear has a chance. “What?”

Both of Mihawk's hands are now cradling your face, and the pressure of his fingertips betrays the controlling nature of his hold. He steps in close so your bodies just barely brush and he looms his head and shoulders into your space. His golden eyes burn molten, looking down on you.

“I want to hurt you,” MIhawk repeats, beginning to stalk forward to force you backwards. “I want to grip you ‘til you bruise, bite and leave marks.” You simply listen and follow as he speaks and the relief of releasing his fantasies has the confessions rushing out of him. “I want to force you down and fuck you so hard you scream.” Your calves hit the bed and you sit down on it when his hands continue leading you back. Your easy compliance has his mind blurry and spinning, now beyond his own will. 

“I want to control your breath.” One hand clamps down next to your neck, shoving you quickly onto your back. Mihawk’s thumb presses threateningly into the base of your throat, not enough to halt your breath but enough for your veins to pound back against it. “I want to bend you over and watch your flesh tremble and burn red while I strike you.” His knees spread your legs wide, before he lifts one knee onto the bed, forcing your leg up with him. “I want to tie you like a captive and fuck you while you’re bound and have to take it.” His other knee is on the bed, making your other leg open up for him too. He’s hovering over you, letting some of his weight bleed into the grip beside your neck before releasing it. The hand moves to dig into your upper arm. Mihawk crawls forward into the middle of the bed, using that grip and his shoving thighs to drag you with him. “I want to own and command you.” 

You have never felt so small and exposed and it’s sending an addictive thrill through you. Your heart is pumping bubbling adrenaline through your veins, most of it moving to boil between your hips. Looking up at the fierceness of Mihawk is bringing back temptations you had locked away long ago. Your hands move to fist into your own shirt, too unsure to touch him but needing to hold onto something.

Despite his rough grip, the way Mihawk bends down to brush his forehead against yours is reverent. “I want you to let me touch you however I want, fuck you until I’ve had my fill, until neither of us can move.” His eyes close and his hold softens and his nose nudges yours. His breath is soft against your lips, smelling sweetly of the wine you shared over dessert. His voice loses its power and creaks with defeat. “I want to do so many awful things to you, but you’re my love - my life.”

You tilt your chin up to press a soft kiss against his lips. Mihawk stays still, simply letting you mold your lips to his, until his resolve breaks and he’s lunging forward to kiss you ravenously. He’s in immediate control of the kiss, needing to take everything he can from you while you’re still willing to love him. His hand moves to the side of your head, helping guide you to follow his frantic movements. You’re immediately lost in the heat of his touch and tongue, relieved to receive his affections again. Needing to feel more of him, you brush your thighs against his, your skin sliding easily against his silk sleep pants. When your thighs make it over his hips and you feel the muscles of his sides tickling the insides of your knees, you hook your legs around him. He fights you when you try to pull him down.

“Dear heart,” Mihawk manages to say between tasting you, “I should not.”

“You should,” you gasp back against his lips. Your kissing has grown to match his in hunger, filling him with joy and guilt. Another light squeeze of your legs fails to bring him down to you. This time he pulls away to look at you, eyes shining with conflict.

“I do not deserve-” You cut him off by using the strength of your legs to pull your hips up to meet his. The thin silk he wears does nothing to hide the shape and warmth of his hard cock. You earn a low moan from him when you grind against it. Trying not to fold to your temptations, Mihawk keeps on his hands and knees while you hang off of him.

“I want you,” you assert, “And you want me.” You grind along his whole length to emphasize your point. Your thighs burn with the effort, but the way his eyes flutter at the bliss makes it worth it. “And I-” you pause and swallow, stealing yourself. “I want all that too.”

“What?” Mihawk asks urgently. He grabs your chin, keeping you centered on him.

“I want all of that stuff too,” you say, letting yourself fall from him and back to the comfort of the mattress. He’s still staring at you with the unreadable, analytical face he usually saves for opponents, so you elaborate. “Your control. You own my heart, why not the rest of me?”

“And the harm?” he prompts bitterly. Not wanting him to pull away, you smooth your hands into his hair and massage at his scalp, trapping him to you in the gentlest way possible.

“That too,” you admit quietly. Your body flushes hot again, but this time with shame. “There were times when I would see your fierceness in battle and find myself more attracted than I should be. The first year we were together it was unbearable and I would fantasize about what it would be like to feel the force of your strength and will on me.”  Mihawk’s breath halts and his face slackens. His hand releases your chin to brush fingertips across your cheek in awe. “I’d dream of you throwing me around, commanding me, punishing me. I got myself to stop over time because wanting something like that? I mean, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Never,” Mihawk growls. “You’re perfect.”

He descends on you and all you know of the world shrinks down to only Mihawk. Grasping hands rove over the both of you, pulling at hair and clothes and flesh. This time his hips are chasing yours, lighting your nerves on fire at the pressure of his grinds sinking your hips into the mattress. Your canting moans are muffled by his lips and tongue, but he hears them all the same and feasts on them greedily. One of his hands finds its home at the back of your head, fisted into your hair. You let out a high whine when he pulls back and holds you still.

“You will tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Mihawk commands. Unable to speak with the way the head of his dick is teasing your clit, you nod your head. “Words,” he growls, tightening his grip on your hair.

“Yes, my lord!” you answer, half gasping, half moaning. The pull on your hair relents and his fingers massage your scalp, soothing it.

“And you will tell me to stop if it becomes too much,” he continues, watching your face intently to make sure you’re truly hearing him and understanding what you’re agreeing to. He also needs to soak you in to make sure this is real, that you really want this. You focus in on the violent yellow of his eyes, taking in the seriousness and desperation you see in them.

“Yes, my lord,” you breathe out. 

His lips cheat you of your next breath, but you don’t have the will to care. Everything of yours is his anyway. You’re just relaxing into the kiss when he’s pulling away to sit up. 

“Get off the bed,” he orders. You only hesitate a moment before crawling your way to the foot of the bed and standing up from it. You turn to look at him for more direction, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt while you wait. The way his eyes roam over you, assessing you, does little for your nerves; you feel like an unprepared student. 

Mihawk turns and gets up from the side of the bed. He prowls over to you, taking his time to unsettle you further. The way his tall form slinks over to you treats you to a show of the shapes of his sloped muscles cutting lines across his body. His Adonis belt in particular catches your attention, on full display by the low rise of his pants. You shudder in anticipation when you follow those lines to the large bulge between them. It keeps your attention until he is stopped in front of you and you trail your gaze up to meet his neutral face. You know him well enough to notice the desire darkening his eyes. He leans his upper body forward, forcing you to crane your head back to maintain eye contact.

“Undress me.”

You fall to your knees, looking up at him while you sneak your fingers into his waistband. Slowly, you lower his pants down his thighs. You miss the way his cock bobs in front of your face when it’s freed, unable to look away from his eyes staring into your own. You let the pants fall when you reach his knees and place your hands on his warm thighs. Still looking to him, you begin smoothing your hands up his legs. Feeling emboldened by touching him, you look down to take in his length. While Mihawk may look unaffected, the truth shows in the flushed and leaking cock in front of you. A thick vein on the underside tempts you to lick it, but when you lean forward a punishing hand holds you by the hair. 

“I didn’t give you permission,” Mihawk warns. The way you look up at him with big contrite eyes has his cock twitching but does nothing to change his resolve.

“I’m sorry, my lord.” You get no response except his hand petting down your head and gently cupping your cheek. He leaves you waiting a few breaths while his palm warms your cheek and your eyes soften his.

“Undress yourself.”

Your hands drift slowly from his hips to the hem of your shirt. In a smooth motion you lift it over your head, only losing eye contact when there’s fabric between the two of you, and lay it on the floor next to you. Your thumbs hook into your underwear, holding their position while you stand up to rid yourself of them. Despite your nudity, his eyes stick to your own.

“Back on the bed.”

Mihawk watches you while you crawl onto the mattress, enraptured by the way your ass sways back and forth as you move. The teasing peaks he gets of your pussy as you move test his resolve to take his time commanding you before he sinks into you. When you get to the head of the bed he notices you hesitate, staying still on hands and knees before peeking over your shoulder for direction. The way you look to him, pleading for guidance, has his heart pounding and his mind running feral. He reels it in with a slow breath.

“On your back. You need to be able to look at me for now.” You follow his command, ending up propped on your elbows with your bent legs acting as a barrier between you two. Mihawk has seen you naked almost daily for a handful of years, but you find yourself feeling shy and exposed. This is a deep fantasy finally coming to fruition for the both of you, and what if the real you doesn’t measure up?

“Spread yourself.” You shiver at the command, absolutely dripping from the hunger rumbling in his voice. You look down to your knees and falter, worrying at being completely exposed to his voracious gaze.

“Precious,” he calls, bringing your eyes back up to him. His face is still stern but there is a touch of gentleness in his voice when he softly prompts, “Go on.”

Choosing to focus on your most beloved yellow to ground yourself, you slowly spread your legs apart. They end up in a wide v, still propped bent with your feet planted in the soft sheets. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. Mihawk takes his time admiring the curves of your spread legs before he can no longer keep his gaze from your exposed cunt. He admires those curves and lines too and is flooded with delicious memories of having his face stuffed there. Fresh heat washes from his chest to his cock, and he has to swallow from the way his mouth waters. 

Your previous worries leave you when you see how Mihawk looks at you. He’s a man possessed, taken and corrupted in the face of immeasurable riches. You see the men of myth, who scheme and steal under the noses of angry gods, in his face. That look of his snaps up to your face and you turn into prey. You love the way it has you feeling so alive.

Mihawk finally makes his way over to you. He takes his time, letting you feel each shift in the mattress from the weight of his limbs. It gives you time to feel smaller and smaller as he overtakes you, overwhelming you as his broad shoulders get higher and higher over your body, enclosing you between him and the bed. Strong arms plant themselves on each side of your head, caging you into his dark gaze. His handsome face, haloed by dark curls, looks striking in the dim lamplight, his sharp features casting shadows across pale skin. You can’t resist the call to reach up and caress him. 

“Did I say you could touch me yet?” Mihawk growls, snatching each of your hands from his face. The threat in his tone and the forceful grip squeezing your wrists has bright adrenalin bursting in your chest and tingling in your limbs. He presses your hands down in the sheets next to your hips and releases them as he tells you, “Lay on them.”

Hesitantly, you arch your back and clasp your hands together in the new gap. When you lower onto them, you scrunch your nose at the uncomfortable feeling of your knuckles rubbing into your spine. Mihawk notices and gives you a disapproving look. He places a spread hand on your stomach and presses down, making your knuckles and spine roll over each other. He keeps some pressure there; a reminder of your disobedience.

Your hands grip hard into each other when Mihawk finally lowers his hips flush to yours. The feeling of hot skin is such a relief to your frazzled nerves and pleading pussy. His dick fits perfectly within your folds, rubbing deliciously through them as he ruts against you. There’s no distracting pinch or catch; you’re wet enough to cover him and spread over any skin he touches. A shiver shakes up Mihawk’s spine at the feeling of you clenching around nothing against the base of his cock. He’s treated to the sweet sounds of your whimpers and moans, pulling especially delightful ones from you each time he angles to circle more firmly around your clit.

“Please, sir,” you whine, “I need you inside me.”

“Such a greedy whore,” Mihawk chides, tone so condescending it almost sounds bored. You whimper back to him, but he catches the way your hips twitch and press more firmly to him. He takes pity on you and gives in to his own needs to feel you around him.

Mihawk is big but it was never a problem because he enjoyed taking his time when pleasing you, so the prepping happened naturally by the time he was ready to make his way inside you. Today though, Mihawk finds himself overcome with the need to force you open when he shoves two fingers in and feels you clenching tight around them. He spreads those long fingers to press against your plush wet flesh and keeps pressing as he slides them back out. His fingers move to hold his cock, which is soaked from grinding into you and the precum he’d been uncontrollably leaking, and line him up with your entrance. He starts pushing into you immediately, groaning at how you clamp down tight in surprise. 

The way your breath hiccups as he keeps inching his way into you has his mind spinning. He bites into his cheek to keep himself from bottoming out in one brutal thrust; he wants to feel every flutter and twitch of your cunt and body as they try to accommodate him. He needs you to feel every second of him taking ownership of your body, needs you to feel how much more powerful he is. Wet fingers dig into the meat of your hip as he tries to hold himself back. You feel the sweet mix of the smooth slide of every ridge on his cock playing at your nerves and the burn of your muscles stretching almost too far. You surrender fully to your trust in him, releasing all tension from your muscles and all thoughts from your head. 

“Much better,” Mihawk breathes against your lips. He stares deep into your eyes and watches them become fully dilated and hazy. You stare right back and give him a lethargic smile for the praise. The rush of giving up control while he takes your body leaves your brain and body feeling like liquid. You almost move to touch him again, but his words are the only things still held in your mind.

Mihawk pulls back slowly, treasuring the way your body tries to suck him back in. You get halfway through an inhale before a quick thrust knocks all the air from your lungs. The satisfying clap of his hips on your ass ricochets through you. You get a chance to breathe when he stays deep in you and circles his hips to feel every inch and detail of your pulsing cunt. Overwhelmed, you whimper, “Mihawk-”

“Not my name,” he snaps. His hand flies up to your mouth and shoves two fingers in, pressing the taste of yourself into your tongue. You suck on them, looking up with apologetic eyes, hoping to placate him. It doesn’t work. “And to think I was giving you time to adjust.”

That’s all the warning you get before he sets a rough pace, each impact bouncing through your body, shaking your thighs, hips, and breasts. You shut your eyes against the onslaught, each nerve screaming its pleasure at you loudly. You feel unbearably full of Mihawk but also unable to feel enough of him. You need him in your hands, on your tongue, ringing in your ears, pulling you apart. The closest you can do now is tilt your hips up to feel him even deeper and offer more room for his hips to rub your skin at the end of each thrust.

When he feels your thighs squeeze tight to his waist, Mihawk falls to his elbows under the instinct to curl into you. With frenzied motions, he readjusts his forearms to be beside your chest, pressing your upper arms into your ribs. His hands clamp down on your shoulders, keeping you trapped against each pound of his thick cock into you. His claim on you flushes through your veins and seeps into your bones. Your mouth, now free, hangs open to pant and moan for him. His forehead presses to your temple so he can feel your breath deliver each sound directly to his ear, persuading him further and further from sanity. His lips hovering so close to you lets you hear his own harsh breath and hushed groans. 

“My lord, sir, please,” you beg, needing more from him but too lost to say how. You know he’ll figure out what you need, he’ll take care of you, push you as far as you can go before you snap and become pure pleasure. 

“Fuck, treasure,” Mihawk moans, hot breath tingling on your neck, “just be my good cocksleeve - lay there and take it.”

He switches his rhythm, starting to pull out slower to draw out his time in the grip of your cunt. Each push into you is still punishing, taking advantage of his curve to shove the head of his dick across your g spot. The steady hammering has pressure building between your hips quickly. “Sir -hah- I’m so -nngaaaah- ‘s so good I’m -hahnn- my lord -aah-” you continue babbling pleading nonsense to him, trying to let him know how close you are.

Mihawk can tell even without you senseless moaning; your thighs have begun to tremble and jump and you get impossibly tighter with each thrust and he’s sure he’s found heaven in your cunt. His face buries in your neck, sucking harshly at your delicate skin and savoring the light flavor of salt on his tongue. His teeth begin to come into play, worrying against little sections of your neck, mixing a sweet sting into the flurry of pleasure surging to your head. He feels you tip your hips away from him and wiggle in his grip, trying to hold off your orgasm so you can cum when he does and he hates it. 

“Don’t run from me,” he snarls, snapping his right hand to grip the back of your neck. You obey immediately, but sob out at the overwhelming pressure pulsing behind your clit. The sound has Mihawk’s balls pulling tight and his cock pulsing but he’s chasing your orgasm, not his. He wants to feel the violence of it being forced out of you. His left hand moves down your back, fingers dug deep into muscle the whole way, and covers your clasped hands with his own. Mihawk licks up the side of your neck to nibble your earlobe. His tone is biting when he taunts, “Cumming already little whore?” and you’re gone.

He manages to keep his pace through your orgasm, each press of his cock making another wave of bliss crash through you. High moans knock from you in time with his hips, but you're deaf to them from the buzzing between your ears. His cock twitches hard in the threat of release, and he bites down meanly into the meat of your shoulder to muscle his way through it. The feeling of you trapped beneath him, legs clinging to him in desperation while you cum is better than any of his fantasies have granted. Through your settling fog, you feel deep moans vibrating into your shoulder through Mihawk’s teeth.

“Thank you, sir,” you rasp, “feels so good.” Teeth release from your shoulder and thrusts become circling grinds.

“Ah but you were supposed to be making me feel good, weren’t you?” Mihawk chides. He licks his burning hot tongue over his bite mark, pleased with how deep the indents are.

“Sorry, my lord,” you whine pathetically, “I couldn’t -hahn- couldn’t help myself.”

Mihawk turns to nip at your jaw before hovering his face above yours. His piercing eyes narrow down at you as he mocks, “Oh, poor you.”

He’s detaching from you, getting up onto hands and knees, leaving you empty. Your eyes widen in panic and you almost reach for him. Instead, all you can do is whimper at him while he pulls your legs from around his waist and hope your sad eyes will entice him back. Mihawk takes them in with a twinge of remorse, but mostly they send arousal shooting through him. At first, he thought of rewarding you for keeping your hands still and letting your legs go limp while he maneuvered them, but he wanted to push you more first.

“Flip over. Chest down, ass up.”

You blink twice to process his words then get to work. Your movements are sluggish and sloppy, your muscles still recovering from your orgasm. Seeing how weak you’ve become from his touch has Mihawk resisting the urge to surge at you again. The sway of your movements causes your ass to wag in front of him and he’s glad you can’t see the way his jaw slackens at the sight. You look divine - no, more like sin incarnate. Your lax muscles cause your upper body to sag fully into the bed, making your ass arch obscenely high in the air. Your tired face is buried in your arms and the sheets. The display has his mouth watering and he can hardly tear his eyes away from your glistening pussy peeking out between your thighs.

“So perfect,” Mihawk purrs, reaching a hand out to touch you. You jump slightly at the first touch then relax into it, humming appreciatively. He massages his thumbs into the curve where your ass meets your thighs. When you ease into that touch, gently swaying with the oscillating pressure, he slides his large palms onto your skin. For a short while, he simply takes greedy handfuls of you, switching and shifting his grip so that every bit of your ass and hips have been squeezed. Your lax body continues to follow his hands as his lovely marionette.

“Since you’ve forgotten the one reason you’re in my bed, I’ll have to take my pleasure from your punishment instead,” Mihawk drawls. He wastes no time delivering the first smack onto the thickest part of your ass. You jolt with it even though it was barely a fraction of his strength, just barely enough to sting.  The warmth of his palm settling over the sparking skin soothes any hurt into pleasant tingles. You’re beginning to mourn the fading of the feeling when his opposite hand strikes your other cheek just as hard. This time you gasp and arch your ass higher, forcing Mihawk to take a deep breath to keep his steady pace.

“Careful now or I might think you’re enjoying this,” Mihawk chastises. Beneath his flat tone, he’s positively bursting with excitement. He had worried that you only thought you would be okay with this, but you’re leaning your hips towards him just as eagerly as you do the days he spends hours unraveling you on his face, fingers, and cock. There’s a buzz settling under his skin that’s making every touch feel so sharply in focus. You let out a slightly embarrassed wine, but continue to display yourself to him shamelessly, begging for more.

A harsher smack stings your right cheek, sending ripples down your leg and up your side. You shiver at the burst of brilliant sensation. In anticipation for the next one, you shorten your breath, feeling on edge that you have no clue when it’s coming. The air of the room is electric as it brushes against the goosebumps on your body, vibrating with threat and promise. A breath too long passes with the hand gone and you tense up, immediately receiving a strike to the left in response. It rattles through your bones more with the tensed muscle, knocking the air from you in a loud moan. Your already burning flesh is struck over again, tripling the number of pin pricks you can feel dancing under his hand. You moan, “Sir!”

“Is that all you can take, precious?” Mihawk’s tone is just a touch gentler. He’s smoothing his palms over your marked skin, unable to stop his need to keep touching you. Staring down dark eyed at the first budding handprint, he desperately hopes you’ll let him make more. He’s barely got himself held back as it is now that he knows that sting on his palm, the sight of your ass shaking, the sharp clapping sound, your gasps and moans, the rush of absolute control. His breath is shaking with the need to overwhelm you and fill himself with as much of you as he can shove in his nerves.

“No,” you promise. You shuffle your knees just an inch closer to your chest and give an enticing wiggle of your hips. “More, please, my lord.”

“Good whore,” Mihawk groans. His hand digs into the flesh of your left hip and his right delivers two sharp slaps, each punctuated by a moan from you. You feel the hits fizzle in your skin and echo in a wanting burn rolling through your cunt. Your used pussy already felt swollen but now that’s amplified by bright pounding, feeling like your heart has fled your chest to beat between your legs. A thumb digs and swirls into the center of the bubbling handprint on your skin before disappearing again. You expect another hit, but instead you feel two thick fingers slipping through your entrance, causing you to moan long in relief. You greet them by eagerly pressing your hips backwards, trying to get his fingers to sink in deeper. Mihawk stops at the last knuckle and offers you two indulgent grinds of his hand before it rests still.

“Pleeeease,” you whine. Mihawk responds by adding another handprint to your ass, this time on the left side. His mind is swirling with the sound of your eager squeal, but he’s truly lost at the feeling wrapped around his fingers. He can feel the power of his own hit through you but it is the strong pulsing of your cunt that really makes his hips jerk with want. Mihawk presses his fingers down towards your belly button, seeking the way your pussy trembles with each successive spank. His punishing hand and your body’s spasms have his fingers hooked and twitching over your g-spot and you can feel another climax start to build with each throb of your clit.

“You were made for me weren’t you, treasure?” Mihawk asks, voice tight with desire. Time and time again, his mind has played out the dream of you under him like this but it never could have prepared him for the rush of you getting off to it just as badly. Seeing you become a needy wreck for his strength and will has his heart pounding and cock aching near painfully. He wets his lips and swallows, barely holding back from replacing his fingers with his tongue to taste just how sweetly you’re dripping for him. 

You cry out when his fingers leave you, earning a lighter smack to your hip in warning. You claw into the sheets in frustration but aren’t left wanting for long; fingers reenter you and your neglected right side gets groped. His hand massages deep, helping you loosen up again and enjoy the feeling of his fingers on both hands digging into you. Mihawk marvels at the sheen on your flesh where his fingers smeared the wetness from your leaking cunt. He can’t help but leave a harsh strike right on top of the wet patch. With the encouragement of your panting and moaning and writhing, he continues on, making you feel boiling hot and boneless. 

At this point you’ve begun grinding back on his fingers, fucking yourself back onto them shallowly, afraid that anything more obvious would have him pull them out for good this time. That fear is more instinct at this point than an actual thought; your mind feels like soup and you only know how to feel and react. It’s becoming clear to Mihawk from the way your voice strains higher and your body squeezes down on him that you’ve got a strong climax building in your core. All you can recognize is more and more pressure gripping through your hips and more and more delicious friction earned with each curl back on his fingers.

Suddenly, that friction is gone.

“Nooooooo, no si-hah-irrrr,” you sob. You’re set adrift with the coil tightening in you beginning to unwind. There’s a hand holding each hip but it’s not stabilizing you at all.

“Be good for me, precious,” Mihawk warns, removing his left hand to tap his finger above your clit. It sends unhelpful jolts through your skin, teasing the nerves you need him to smother.

“I’ll be good, sir, promise, promise,” you cry. The way you move and arch your ass in an attempt to earn his touch back is obscene and has Mihawk's hand planting bruises into your hip. You twist your neck to show him one teary eye over your shoulder. “I’m yours, my lord, pleeeeeease. I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” he presses. His voice is just above a whisper, unwilling to interrupt any of the gasps and whines coming from you. You nod fervently. “Then don’t cum.”

Three fingers shove into you, slightly curled and thrusting with the force you’ve been begging for. The wet sounds from each dive of his fingers fill the air between your pants and moans. Mihawk’s arm hooks around your right thigh so he can start steady swirls of his fingers over your clit, timing them perfectly with the thrusts from his other hand. He tries to resist the urge to bend even closer to you, but he’s helpless to the pull. You feel the thick hair on his jaw brush over your right hip. The loving caress is soon replaced by warm lips and nipping teeth, adding even more sparks to the fire he’s tending in you. 

It’s feeling more impossible by the second to obey Mihawk. The muscles in your legs want to curl and lock up and your hips are shaking against Mihawk’s hold. You’re open mouthed and pleading, not quite sure what words are actually coming out, just sure that you have no ability to keep any of them in. Your hands are clawing into the mattress, hoping to find some purchase to center yourself. The rhythmic bursts of pleasure that Mihawk is diligently working from you are so strong you’re not quite sure if you’ve tipped into cumming yet except there’s been no promised snap.

Mihawk is unmeasured in the way he bites and sucks at your flesh, but his hands are another story. He knows your body - has studied your reactions for years - and uses that to slow and lighten just enough each time a wave of pressure around his fingers gets a little too strong or your writhing stills to a tremble half a second too long. Instead of pulling you back or pushing you forward, he keeps you exactly at the edge of climax where he can actually test your will. He’s hard set on knowing how hard you’re going to try to obey him, the thought and sight of your struggle for him filling him with addicting arousal.

Your will over your body is just about to give out so you snap your teeth into the meat of your thumb to pull some attention away from the bliss of Mihawk’s touch. His attention goes up to see the bite when he hears the pitiful moan sneaking past your clenched teeth. He moans deeply at the site. “You’re being so good for me, fuck.” He presses his cheek hard into the burning handprints on your ass and unconsciously mimics the grinding of your hips with his own, finding no relief for himself. One more uptick in force and speed into your plush swollen pussy has you jerking. With digging teeth and a yelling moan into your hand, you manage to hold back against the raging tide of your orgasm.

Mihawk pulls from you and you collapse against the bed, taking in gasping breaths. You’re jostled as Mihawk shifts around quickly, moving to cover you. His breath is loud behind you as he settles there, legs stretched out between your and upper body help up only on his left elbow. That hand has shoved under you to flip around and grip your shoulder tight. His right hand anchors on your hip, guiding you back against his starved grinding.

“You did so well for me, my little whore,” Mihawk breathes into your ear. He nibbles at it before moving down to suck more red marks into your neck and shoulder. The slick way his cock glides through your folds has him burn with satisfaction. He made this pathetic mess of you. Having you soaking for him was no rarity, but the whiny mindlessness, the complete take over by your needy instincts, that was new and only had his need to tear into you grow stronger. He rumbles into your shoulder, “My perfect precious cunt, cum as much as you want.”

Mihawk is guiding himself into you and you shoot right back to being so close after only a few thrusts. You manage to slide your legs a little wider apart across the bed despite his heavy body, packed with muscle, pinning you under him.. It lets his balls tap at your clit with each thrust and just a handful more have a violent orgasm tearing through you. You cry out your bliss every moment you aren’t simply gasping and feel the muscles all the way up your core join the squeeze of your cunt, making the bright ball of pleasure feel like it’s reaching just as high. Your whole body is ringing with the echoes of it, everything feeling so overwhelmingly good.

Mihawk’s hips stutter for only a second before he’s continuing his ruthless pace. His body and mind are flooded with you and he folds to the torrent. A ravenous “more” is mumbled against your skin, barely reaching you through the whiteout in your head. His left hand shoots down to help keep your hips tilted and steady, leaving the weight of his chest to push you deeper into the bed. You’re completely smothered in him, his sweat damp skin pressing and sliding over yours. Unable to fully inhale under his resting bulk, your world gets a little fuzzier. There’s not a single part of you that cares; you feel trapped and controlled and protected and desired. You feel truly wanted and owned, being fucked into the matress under Mihawk while he holds you like a lifeline, sinks teeth into your shoulder, and speaks dark praises to you. When you come back to yourself more fully, having long been suspended somewhere between the crest of your orgasm and settled pleasure, you make little attempts to please Mihawk more. He notices the little turns and grinds of your hips and rewards you by slithering a hand under you to begin petting circles over your clit.

“You feel delicious, precious, you’re so fucking good, held out for me so long.” Mihawk’s voice is a moan and growl and sigh, sounding more untethered than you’d ever heard him. “Need to feel you forever -nnnnnghh- give me more.” The last word is all snarl and he’s shoving his face harder into the crook of your neck, sinking teeth back into your skin.

You aren’t sure if you have more to give him but still try, unquestioningly following his will. You don’t think you’ll need to try for long; both of you are wound precariously tight. Mihawk has lost his will to pull from you, so he moves against you in strong deep grinds. You’ve never felt closer; every sense is filled with Mihawk, every breath, every thought, every piece of you. It feels like he’s fucking you deeper than he’s ever reached, teasing your cervix with his thick tip, pulling you apart as if he’s somehow gotten bigger from the way your muscles have tightened around him. Mihawk feels the telltale buzz of his end flash through his nerves. Desperate, he bites out one more order, “You’re mine. Say it.”

You find the breath to chant, “I’m yours, I’m yours, yours-”

One arm shoves upwards, trapped tight between your breasts and crushing you back into him. He groans out, “Fuck, precious,” before his hips jerk and his cock is pulsing in you. His forehead presses to the side of your head and he’s moaning right into your ear. Fingers twitch against your clit and you feel his hot cum pumping into you and his arms cage you right to him and the friction of it all sends you right into another climax. This one is just as overwhelming as the last but sits in your body more smoothly. It’s a satisfied heat radiating through your muscles, rolling through you instead of jerking. You fall limp under the force of it, left to lay prone and take in every second of your body clutching and reshaping to Mihawk. He guides you both through it with the slow grind of his hips and the points of clarity where his hands grasp you.

“There you go, love, you are divine,” Mihawk praises quietly, as the aftershocks begin to settle out of you both. He gets his arms under him to lift some of his weight off of you and allow you to breathe deeply. He noses at your cheek, peppering you with kisses. You come back to your body slowly as he moves his kisses over the tender skin of your neck and shoulder. Testing the feeling, you open and close your hands, releasing the scrunched sheets. They feel inflated and clumsy, but it will do. Your right hand searches behind your head and quickly finds its way into Mihawk’s soft hair. You scratch lightly at his scalp while your other hand slides across the sheet to find his. Before you manage it, he puts his hand over your own, entwining your fingers in a comfortable hold. Mihawk rests his head behind yours, taking some time to breathe and bask in your touch. He decorates the passing moments with gentle praises, content sighs, and brushing thumbs.

Eventually, he gains the will to pull away from you to prep you both for bed. The moan you give him when he starts to pull away is endearingly grumpy like a spoiled pet roused from a nap. He’s just standing up when he notices your weak and begrudging attempts to get up and follow him.

“Stay down - you’re shaking like a newborn fawn.” The light insult is softened by a loving kiss to your temple. You’re more than used to his dry tone and direct comments anyway, knowing something like that had no cruel intent and that’s simply how he talked. That didn’t stop you from pretending to be a bit upset from time to time for apology affection. You’re pretty certain he was onto you. You were also pretty sure he enjoyed playing along.

You float thoughtlessly in your body, feeling like you’re napping pleasantly without going under. You startle when a hand lands on your shoulder. It’s hot and damp and you understand why when a soft cloth begins washing over your skin. Continuing your heavy-bodied haze, you lay there and let Mihawk wipe over your whole body, only moving to the patient prompts of his hands nudging and turning you. You wince when he works over your ass and pelvis, earning extra affectionate words and touches. You’re on your back, peeking up blearily at him through heavy eyelids, when he finishes up.

“Bathroom?” he prompts and you hum a lazy affirmative. You’re carried like a princess to and from the short stop and are thankful there’s no longer anything to keep you from or possibly interrupt your coming slumber. When you’re placed back onto the bed, Mihawk follows you with the sheets and comforter in tow. With practiced ease, you cocoon together in the bedding. On nights like this, where Mihawk has extra need to feel like he’s surrounding you, he pulls your back flush to his front and curls around you. His skin feels soft on the many places you’re molded together, but you notice it most while you both shift your legs to intertwine. 

“Dove?” Mihawk calls, wanting to know you can still hear him. You hum and snuggle your cheek further into his bicep. “I love you,” he whispers into your hair, punctuating the declaration with a lingering kiss.

“Love you, too,” you promise, adding one last gentle squeeze to your hold on his arm.

Tomorrow he would wake you with gentle kisses and caressing hands. Your favorite morning drink would be ready for you to sip on while leaned back against his chest, enjoying the way he massages the soreness from your thighs. A bath with your favorite salts would await your tired body. Mihawk would sit with you and feed you both fruits and sweet bread. Once the candles saturate the air, he would set about cleaning you head to toe. He would gently tend each bruise and bite mark, murmuring his gratitude and devotion. Each act of loving worship would be a balm to you both, affirming that connecting to and caring for each other is both your greatest want and deepest need. For now, you settle into each other for some much needed rest.

[titania-sleeps]

i thought it'd be a better idea to explain some of the ideas i put on the poll since there aren't enough words i can fit onto the poll to show nuance and plot, so here's a bit more! here's the poll if you still want to vote, i think i'll keep it up for the rest of the week while i try to draft some of them out a bit more: poll

pls vote :D i do intend to publish all of them eventually but i understand some of them might be a bit lacking :') so it helps to know which one people are most interested in

as a note, i mostly write sub yanderes so they'll all be sub in some way,,, some more than others ofc but they're either switches or subs

male omega yandere x alpha reader (but you're mean to him)

your omega yandere is desperate for you to finally bite him and claim you. the two of you have been fuck buddies for years (mostly so the two of you can get through your ruts and heats). he's annoyed by how good you are at controlling yourself. through all possible means of seduction, he will get you! so please, please bite him and claim him already!

yandere you pick up bc you want to feel better about yourself (savior complex)

your yandere is an F-Rank healer that can only cast Light Heal. he was kicked out of his former party and out of nowhere, you come into his life like a storm and take him into your party. the party consists of just you and him, and he wonders at first why you took him in. he loves you deeply for it but eventually finds out it's just cause you wanted to feel better about yourself as a person by saving him. he still loves you and will try his hardest to get you to love him back!

human yandere x vampire reader (he wants to be your blood bag)

your human yandere has been gifted to you from the Elder Ancestors as a means to satiate your blood hunger pangs. you chose him from the selection of humans on a whim but he believes that he is your destined. he gets jealous if you try other humans' blood; he insists that he was bred and born just to be your blood bag. he really REALLY likes it when you bite hard. he eats fruit just so he tastes sweeter.

pretend bf yandere x sad reader (you're widowed)

your pretend bf yandere is a replacement for your dead husband. he seems similar, but only in appearance. although you love him dearly, you can't see anyone but your husband in him. your yandere tries his hardest for you to see only him, but you are hesitant. please love him for him and only him, he can't bear to be just a replacement for much longer!

lil silly rich yandere x painter reader (he really wants to be your model) your rich yandere is a self-made noble; the so-called nouveau rich in the 18th century. he comes across you one day and he falls in love with your art. you are a painter that goes under the pseudonym of Apollo in fear of those in opposition to you. he purchases all your finest works and is granted an audience with you, and he falls deeply in love with you, the person behind his favorite works. sadly, you spend a lot of time painting the newest actor from a local troupe... he thinks that you should ONLY paint him. after all, he knows you the best, so he would be the perfect model for you!

flea familiar yandere x witch reader (he's a flea but has human form don't worry)

your flea familiar yandere is your familiar summoned on the day that you gain your powers. he was terribly excited for it, especially since he didn't think that he would get summoned so quickly after graduating from his prestigious familiar academy. however, after you summoned him, you couldn't help but express your disappointment that you summoned a... flea. a small, silly flea. he loves you oh so dearly, but why won't you acknowledge him? he tries his best to accompany you on trips and help you during spells, but why do you want another familiar so badly? he loves you, so please only use him and only him!

betrothed yandere x uninterested reader (you hate political marriages !11!!1!)

your betrothed yandere is terribly in love with you. and he has been for years upon years. the two of you were first introduced at the tender age of seven. at that time, you cared not for romance. he, however, grew to love your personality. growing up with you was the greatest blessing to him, but why do you only treat him like a friend? he chases away all your potential suitors, so you should only look at him, right? why don't you love him the most?

house husband yandere x INDEPENDENT STRONG reader

your house husband yandere is frustrated that you seem to lose more and more passion for him every night. the two of you may have only been married for a year, but he's sure that he's done everything right! he cooks you a delicious dinner every night. he prepares your bath diligently. he even offers himself to you every night; you can use him to relieve all of that stress! but why do you seem so focused on your work? you should pay more attention to him, or else he might do something that you won't like...

INADEQUATE house husband yandere x LOVING reader (not like above)

your inadequate house husband yandere is a mess. he's clumsy and really bad at doing chores. he gets too jealous and possessive in front of your friends, because he only wants to keep you to himself. he believes that you hate him and will divorce him soon, but that couldn't be further off from the truth. you love him dearly and you find him so cute. it's okay if he breaks all your dishes, you can just buy new ones! he's your cute little yandere and you would not have it any other way.

soulmate yandere x reader who doesn't believe him at all

your soulmate yandere is a great cosmic being from times of yore, but you clearly don't believe him. instead, you are obsessed with another student from your magic academy. that's so silly of you; you are tied to him and he has been waiting for your existence for eons. just say the word and he can grant you anything. he's willing to give his entire soul and being to you, so you should too right? he can give you immortality and infinite wealth, so please love him and only him. well... you will eventually. it's your preordained fate.

wannabe knight yandere x reader that really wants one (just not him... for now)

your wannabe knight yandere is your childhood friend. at a young age, both you and he would play pretend princess and pretend knight. you were always so insistent on finding your perfect knight; a pretty boy that would carry you away on his golden unicorn or whatever. well, he can be that knight for you. so he spends years of his life training away at becoming a knight while you try to find a way to become a lady. you eventually become a lady of nobility when your father is granted the title of baron from the king for his scientific discoveries. at the same time, he completes his knight training and passes the knight test. surely you'll accept him as your knight, right? if not... he may have to cut every other knight down...

-> masterlist

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Ahem-

Thoughts on the brothers going on up to F!MC's room (And actually knocking for once since Simeon is over and they don't wanna barge in no matter how much they don't like them being alone) only for F!MC to open the door 🦆-ing disselved. Hair messed up, lipstick smudged, shirt halfway unbuttoned and hanging off their shoulder, her face flushed as she holds onto the doorframe yet totally unfazed by her current appearance as she just casually responds with a 'What's up' like it's normal. (Which probably is-) While Simeon is just on her bed in the background, shirt gone, covered in lipstick and bite marks from his face down to his lower stomach, face flushed as he pants and whines about them leaving

(Oh and MC being like short BC we love short dominant women 😋😋)

- M.🪭🪷

As a short fiesty girl myself, I very much approve this idea. Also um power up and get ready to tell "STAY" cause can you imagine the instant riot this is about to cause?

Or it might be more of a lengthy passive-aggresive couple of days for Simeon if this is the Nightbringer universe we are talking about.

"What's up?" You say with unbelievable nonchalance. The brothers look at you with widened eyes - at your newly exposed skin and the obvious signs of intimacy with someone.

They feel a burning inside them. Whether it's jealousy or the animalistic desire to rebrand you with their marks instead.

And if that wasn't enough - they actually see Simeon. Lying down and panting, with his face flushed and eyes struggling to stay open from the sheer bliss of it all.

His fingers were grasping at the sheets around you. "MC..." His needy voice slipped out.

Fuck. MC did that?

Suddenly everyone wants to be Simeon. They stare at the nails on your hands, your lips look even prettier with the smudged lipstick, your teeth peeking through your smirk - they want to feel it all.

Lucifer tries his best to remain calm but his eye twitches frantically as he calls out to Simeon to "have a quick word with him". And his face gets redder as he sees the marks you've made on Simeon up close, and glares at you. It should be him you should have been doing this with.

Mammon and Levi get into a tug of war, both trying to get you to their rooms. In the end, they both end up taking off their shirts and kneeling in front of you, silently begging you to bite them senseless like you did with Simeon. They promise they'll be good boys, way better than Simeon.

Satan's eyes dart everywhere in keen observation - as if trying to recreate in his mind whatever transpired between you and the angel. So he can imagine how it would feel if it was him. He imagines you on top of him, smirking the same way as you are now.

Asmo on the other hand shamelessly asks Simeon for details. How hard do you bite, how soft do your lips feel, how your tongue feel on his skin, what you do with your hands, what you say during - he gets aroused just listening to it.

Beel stands there stunned, cheeks flushed as he has a vague idea of what might have happened. Belphie full on hides his scarlet face in his pillow and groans. They're both about to have some very questionable dreams tonight.

And Simeon? Well he can't stop coming back for more. Even though you both almost got caught, he appears the next night, shirt almost off and his pants unbuttoned. You need to finish what you started.

You smile as he coaxes you back to your bed and on top of his lap. You tut at his impatience - "The door. We didn't lock it."

"Leave it be, please I need you now, MC." He breathes against your lips. You kiss him silly, hearing him whimper through it. You grab his shoulders much to his delight.

"They might see us in the act this time." You warn him. He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest.

"Let them, I want you too much to care." He lets himself fall, at your whim and mercy. You oblige him and revel in his almost musical moans.

[cheenapri]

Yandere Illumi Analysis

AN: I wrote this on a whim so I didn't really proofread or check for plotholes lmao but enjoy anyway

Illumi didn’t think much of you the first time he saw you, it was as if you weren’t even there. Strangely enough, he’s caught several more sightings of you over the course of two months, each time he still didn’t think much of you. That was until he realized he didn’t really have any business in that area to begin with as his mission had already been completed and he’d already been paid. He seemed to unknowingly home you out from time to time, his slight glances turning into full-on stares as he watched you from the shadows. 

You had piqued his interest. After a few days of watching you, Illumi questioned himself. He was confused as to why he was focusing so much of his attention on someone so insignificant.

He thought that maybe you were a nen user using your powers on him and made plans to quickly dispose of you. Fortunately for you, he failed to do so. For the first time in his life, Illumi had hesitated to kill someone. A singular gold needle lay ready in his hand yet he was unable to bring himself to launch it at your skull. 

Multiple attempts were made, all with you being completely oblivious, before he discovered that you weren’t even a nen user and that he was hesitant on his own unconscious volition.

Illumi had an inner crisis before he would accept his ineffable feelings towards you. He saw something in you he couldn’t describe but knew he liked, and wanted to figure out what it was. 

He spent whatever free time he had just observing you — from afar, of course, he’s a little shy. Sometimes he would invite himself into your house to snoop through your things while you’re gone. If you have a loudmouth pet, he’ll be sure to temporarily subdue it. Killing it would be the more convenient option but it would alarm you to see your beloved pet lying in a pool of blood upon returning home. 

On the night he chooses to bring you to the estate for further inspection, he attempts to lure you using taxis. He may or may not have destroyed your car’s engine to force you to walk to work. When his attempts to lure you fail, he gets fed up with your constant defiance and police calls and opts to physically bring you back himself, there’s only so many times he can deal with the police without causing chaos. 

You look so beautiful when you sleep.

He’s unsure how to go about dealing with you once you’re locked away in the estate, he just throws your unconscious body on the bed and stares at you until you wake up. He keeps staring once you wake up too, only saying something when you start screaming and freaking out. His words aren’t very comforting, though.

He had to teach you manners since you’re being very rude. Once you’re quiet, he’ll proceed to not explain anything to you but rather stand over you and ask if you’re hungry. You say no and he leaves you alone and without food for a couple of days.

He’s a very busy man so expect him to be gone for days or even weeks at a time. This doesn’t mean you’re free to do whatever you want, however, as Illumi has assigned a skilled butler to watch over you while he’s gone. They are his eyes and ears so make sure you don’t do anything foolish less they tattle on you. Though you have a somewhat neutral relationship with your assigned butler, you can’t bring yourself to fully trust or confide in them.

Though you hate it here, you’d prefer your time alone over your captor’s company as Illumi was awful to be around. Whether he was staring at you from across the room or correcting your behavior, it was all awful. All time spent “hanging out” with him consists of him sitting away from you, sometimes sitting closer depending on his mood, and silently staring. Sometimes an attempt at a conversation was made on your end as you wanted to know exactly what was going on and why he’d brought you here. You were asking too many questions about the same thing; it was pissing him off.

He rarely talks about himself if it isn’t assassin-related and you don’t like him enough to ask. He does have a habit of talking about the things he’s learned about you before bringing you to the estate rather unprompted. He has zero self awareness. You got him talking one time and had to figure out through context clues and your own ideas that he had a “romantic” interest in you. 

Illumi is not the talkative type but if he wants to hear your voice, he’ll start conversations. The conversations usually consist of him asking you really pointless questions and encouraging you to explain your answer in great detail no matter how dry it is. 

If you’re good while he’s gone, he may bring you back a gift. If you accept with enthusiasm, feigned or not, he’ll be internally delighted. If you decline the gift or refuse to open it, Illumi will take it as an act of defiance.

May the punishment fit the crime. Illumi will not hesitate to nip any unsavory behaviors right in the bud in the hopes of molding you faster. If you were to act out physically, expect a dislocated or broken limb. Kicking equals a broken leg, and punching equals a broken arm whereas pushing him away, no matter how gently, equals a dislocated wrist or two. Verbal crimes like talking about your past life or swearing at him are punishable by strangulation. Illumi will not tolerate such disrespect. He doesn’t let go after a few seconds either, his grip is tight until you pass out. The more severe it is, the less likely you are to become a repeat offender, right…? You definitely won’t be able to curse at him now or talk at all really. All other acts of defiance are punishable by whatever he sees fit.

He never comforts you after a punishment. It’s your fault anyway, you shouldn’t have tried to hit him or cursed at him. Honestly, what did you expect? He tends to forget the punishment had even occurred during his next visit with you and expects you to do the same.

Though your newer assigned butler has a healing ability, Illumi rarely allows its use. 

Illumi can sometimes be strangely passionate. Even through his sheer brutality and emptiness, there are times when you can sense the slightest sliver of humanity within him. Mainly on days when he’s particularly needy for your attention. 

He sometimes visits at odd hours of the night, waking you so he can talk about his day. He doesn’t know it, but he’s using you as an emotional outlet. You’re expected to listen to every single word that comes out of his mouth and engage with him. You feel a bit intimidated since he’s sitting so close to you on the edge of the bed. 

He doesn’t really touch you unless to punish you so you tend to flinch when he moves too fast. He doesn’t mind this at first.

Despite holding you captive for months now, Illumi still hadn’t figured out what about you was attractive to him. Eventually, he’d accept that he’d never figure it out and you’d always be a mystery. He begins seeing you as his spouse from this point forward.

Though he wanted to take the relationship slowly to ease you into your new life, you didn’t wish to accept your untold role as his spouse, causing everything to sit at a standstill. As more time passes, he becomes impatient for your cooperation. He doesn't directly say it but it’s made VERY clear that he demands your affections. He’s giving you more attention than usual, how else can he make it clearer?

One day while returning home from a mission, he noticed a couple on an outing. They looked so happy together. Illumi didn’t think much of it at the time but as days turned into weeks, his mind began replaying the scene over and over, replacing the couple with you and him. He concludes that you’re probably being spiteful because he isn’t spending enough time with you. If you wanted more attention from him, why didn’t you just ask?

So it’s been decided, he’ll take you with him on a mission so you can watch him kill people. You would be a liability, sure, but you’d see it as a sign that he loves you, right? His dad disagreed with the idea when Illumi brought it up to him, telling him that something like that would be too intense for someone like you. Queue Silva’s and Illumi’s first (?) father and son chat. Illumi was surprisingly receptive to Silva’s ideas and dropped his original plan.

Queue intensive date planning for a few months. Of course, he made sure not to let you hear anything about it as it’ll be a super special surprise that’s going to blow your mind and make you accept your place at his side.

He really showed just how much he knew about you, making sure nothing you wouldn’t enjoy found its way into his intricate plans. 

Of course, it couldn’t be a normal date out in public, what if someone tried to hurt you? He would kill them, yes, but the mood would’ve already been ruined at that point so he thought it best to rent out a few places and completely isolate you.

Now that preparations were complete, all that was left was to pick you up — Illumi was rather eager to get this date started.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 2

Author's Note: I initially wrote Part I and 2 as one piece but it was too long, so here's the next part :) Not sure how long this fic will be, but buckle up 'cause it'll be a good ol' enemies to lovers, political intrigue fic for however long it takes for me to figure out an ending.

Summary: Something has been hunting you for your powers and it's finally caught up with you. A Rhysand x Reader UTM What If.

Content Warnings: Suggestiveness, a little NSFW near the end, before we get to the ANGST (we're gonna suffer but we're gonna like it); that red headed bitch makes her first appearance; bit of cursing; canon typical violence. 

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All attempts at speaking fail, your mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out. Your head spins, mind reeling. This can’t be real, can’t be happening. That tonic from the priestesses had to have something weird in it. This was a hallucination.

Yes. Hallucination, that had to be it.

“We can’t stay here,” says the male, his large hands still tight on your shoulders. There’s a coppery scent on him, something damp on the edge of his shirt sleeve, brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. Blood. He’d been the thing those other guys were screaming at.

Your stomach twists, heart slamming in yours ears, sounding like drum beats again. No. No that wasn’t your heartbeat at all, that was the drums outside. Great, while the Spring Court was having a giant orgy you were lost in some sort of cave with… what even was this male?

Was he even fae? You still can’t see a thing in the dark.

You recover yourself enough to step out of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice trembles as you speak, hands shaking at your sides. You’re defenseless out here, even with your own magic, you've never managed to control it enough to use it. “I can’t even see you.”

A mistake. You shouldn’t have admitted to it.

A flicker of light flares, glittering and spinning like…

Stars. There are actual, tiny, glittering stars swirling around his fingertips. The glittering light illuminates the walls, much higher overhead than you’d thought initially. There is much more room to move around in general, but the darkness had been so thick you’d mistaken it for rocks. The light doesn’t pierce all the way through though, only the space between the two of you, the darkness beyond still moving and shifting like a wall. Your eyes track it back to the towering male ahead of you, the darkness drifting off him like a mist. Not the darkness of the cave at all, but one of his own making. It moves on his whim around the two of you, a bit of it still caressing your spine, your bare legs, while the rest hovers like some sort of bubble. A shield perhaps, you know the High Fae can make them, but it is just as likely to be a cage.

You try to summon claws, focusing your thoughts into getting your hands to change, shift, but nothing happens. Nothing but a slight twinge of pain in your skull.

As if he knows it, feels it, the stranger reaches a star flecked hand out to brush a tendril of hair off your forehead, his callused hands warm against your flushed skin. You shiver despite yourself.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says. That voice is rich, low, a lover’s purr.

He is fae, not the monster you had initially suspected. You aren’t sure what people usually wear on Calanmai, but the dark pants, the loose fitting shirt, half unbuttoned to reveal a swirl of dark ink across his bronze chest, and boots seems out of place. As if he’s over-dressed. Half a dozen rings glitter in the starlight spinning between his slender fingers, but you cannot ignore the blood that’s dusted over them.

“What happened to the others that came into the cave?”

A shadow passes over his face, dark brows furrowing. He’s a gorgeous male, by far the most handsome male you’d ever seen in your life, but that look, as the glow in his eyes dims, pupils expanding so there was nothing but endless darkness… it's like looking at the paintings of the Death Gods you’ve seen in your books. The shadow at your back writhes as if agitated, only settling once the look has passed and the violet returns to his eyes.

“They wanted to hurt you,” a low growl.

You shiver. “Why’d you call me out here then, if it’s unsafe?”

He tilts his head, a predator assessing prey, only cold calculations in that gaze. It’s an effort not to squirm under the scrutiny. “It’s not safe there either.”

“In my home?” You counter.

“In Spring,” he returns.

“Spring is perfectly safe, it’s practically the only place that-”

He moves faster than you can blink, clamping a hand over your mouth. “Don’t speak things like that in places like this!” He hisses. It’s not anger on his face, though, it is fear. You feel the chill of it seep through the bubble of darkness he’s created. His whole body shakes with it.

What do males with this kind of power fear?

It makes you nervous, wondering, but not as much as having a stranger put their hands on you. You sink your teeth into the flesh of his palm so hard you draw blood, and as he yanks his hand back, you move to run. Only to find the shadows blocking your path, no longer wisps, but solid, like adamant. You practically bounce off it.

“Let me out,” you order.

He stares down at his hand with a smirk, amused. “That was cheap.”

“I don’t like being touched by strangers,” you hiss. “Now let me out or I’ll really fucking bite you.”

He chuckles and the sound of it skitters over your bones, makes a whole other type of shiver run across your skin. Perhaps that’s part of the magic of Calanmai, the ability to remove the usual inhibitions and allow the souls to merge as the magic of the land demands. You quietly curse yourself for being so powerless against it. With enough training you should have been able to shield from it, but there’s no time for it now.

“What if I like being bitten, hm?” He teases.

“Then you’ll love when I rip your fucking throat out with my teeth.”

He takes a step closer and tilts his chin up, baring the full expanse of his throat to you. “I’ll let you, but then, how would your find a way out of the cave?”

“Bastard,” you snarl, but you can’t stop yourself from watching the way his throat works when he swallows, the way he grins at the roof, watching you, calculating what your next move will be. He knows he has you right where he wants you, it’s like watching a cat play with a mouse.

He slowly lowers his chin, still grinning. “It’s this way,” he gestures with a hand and the wall of shadows moves further into the cave.

You stare after it, than at him. “Isn’t the entrance the other way?”

“Trust me.”

“I don’t even know your name, why would I trust you?”

He reaches out and grabs your hand, but before you can pull away from him again, he’s pressing your knuckles to his lips. They’re surprisingly soft against your skin; electricity shooting through you, as he says in a voice made for the bedroom, “Rhys.”

Rhys, Darkness Incarnate, apparently. His name was an answer to a question you’d been asking yourself the last couple of years. Strange as the circumstance are, he fits exactly what you’d imagined the voice that had hounded you would sound like. Putting a face to the voice was strangely comforting, like there was no longer some strange threat hanging around your head every year anymore.

“I’m Y/N.”

You’re sure you’re an idiot for telling him. It’s not like he’s dropping the shield and letting your run out, it’s still there, caging you in as you move through the cave, side by side. Just because he’s leading you somewhere doesn’t mean it’s somewhere good, this very well could be a trap. Your head hurts trying to figure out what’s real, what’s likely. You’re not entirely convinced this still isn’t a hallucination.

He tries your name out on his tongue, nodding to himself, like he’d been looking for the answer to a question too.

Your heart clenches in your chest at the sight. There is something lonely about him you can’t quite place.

“Has it really been you, calling me these last couple years?” You ask softly; you’re trapped down here with him, might as well pass the time until you get to whatever bitter end awaits you.

He nods as you take a sharp left and descend down further at a slopping angle that has you holding onto the walls for support. It’s colder the deeper you go, despite the budding summer heat the rest of the court is feeling outside. You’re trembling as the path goes from soft sand to smooth, icy stone, the rock seeping all heat from your body on contact.

“Yes,” Rhys confesses. He stops for a moment, head tilted to the side like he’s listening for something, more shadows leaking from him, slipping through the shield to do Mother knows what.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are dark, sad. “It’s not safe.” He repeats. “I was trying to warn you.”

You run your hands over your arms, trying to get some heat back. Without a thought he’s unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it over your shoulders. The move if effortless, gentle, so at odds with what’s happening you can’t do anything other than slide your arms into the too big sleeves and pull it tight around you on sheer muscle memory. Its warm; the scent of jasmine and citrus and the sea all over it. You strangely want to bury yourself in it, until that scent is burned into your skin, your lungs, until it’s the only thing you breath. Calanmai at work, you can only assume.

With a hand on your back he prompts you forward again, even as he continues. “I didn’t know what else to do, it was my only chance to reach you.” His palm takes up the expanse of your lower back, you are so small next to him.

“But why me?”

The swirling tattoos cross over his chest and back, leaving a small gap between his shoulders, like there’s something supposed to be there, some small piece of him missing in those gaps between the ink. The urge to run your fingers over them is almost overwhelming, you have to pull your hands into his shirtsleeves to stop yourself.

“You’re-” he pauses and you swear you hear claws scratching somewhere above you.

Instinctively, before you can stop and think about what you’re doing, you press yourself closer to him. It’s the most natural thing in the world for him to slide an arm around your shoulders and pull you against his side. He’s all sleek muscle, a warrior’s build, though he carries no visible weapons. Perhaps, with powers like these he doesn’t need any.

The shield shudders around the two of you as he draws it in so close there is no room to move away from him.

You don’t dare speak again, the stillness he radiates tells you enough.

Several long minutes pass before the shield moves outward again and he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze signaling that the two of you should press on.

“What do you know of your parents?” He says finally, loosing a sigh of relief.

“I don’t even remember them,” you say. “What do you know of them?”

“I fought against your father in the War,” he replies .

Your father was a soldier?

“He’s a very powerful male,” he continues but all you can focus on the choice of words, the current tense, as if your father is still alive. “As was your mother.”

Your head spins; he grips you a little tighter like he knows it.

“There are a lot of powerful people who would like to get their hands on your power,” he says.

Its an effort to swallow. “I don’t even know how to use them,” you whisper.

He winces. “You have no training?” It almost sounds like horror in his voice.

You stare down at your hands, like their the source of all your problems. “My uncle said they would just… click.”

“Cauldron boil me,” he curses.

“I take it that’s not what you were hoping to hear?”

The cave split into four directions, one way covered with stalagmites dripping a strange glowing liquid, another bursting with flowers, a third full of rubble, the fourth the only clear path out. You go to that one, cautiously, Rhys keeping his head tilted, listening to what dangers might lay ahead.

“You’re vulnerable, is all,” Rhys says softly. “And there’s not enough time to change that now.”

A sense of foreboding lands in the pit of your stomach. “How much time do we have?”

“I have to be gone by sunrise,” he answers.

Gone, the foreboding turns into outright anxiety, stomach now twisting in knots. You resist the urge to reach out and take his hand. It’s nice having him here, you’re not ready to give this up just yet. “So there’s a reason you only call to me on Calanmai?”

He only nods.

“What happens if you’re still here by sunrise?”

He runs his tongue over his full lower lip, thinking.

“Are you like a vampire or something? Do you go poof?” You make an exploding gesture with your hands and he laughs, the echo bouncing off the shield. You’re not sure why it’s the laugh that makes you decide to trust him fully. Maybe some naïve part of you thinks if he meant you harm he wouldn’t be laughing at your stupid jokes.

“No,” he says, hand on his stomach as he fights to catch his breath. “Nothing like that.”

You watch the way his muscles shift as he catches his breath, the way his chest rises and falls. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue along the sharp planes of him. You can’t stop yourself from wondering if you’d be able to taste the jasmine and citrus on his skin if you did.

“You’re sure? Let me see your teeth?”

He flashes you a grin that makes your stomach do flips. “See? No fangs.”

You turn towards him, pressing in closer, teasingly assessing, like you’re unsure. Calanmai has made you bold, you have to admit. Even with the new time limit closing down on you, you can’t help but stop for just a minute to enjoy this side of the male before you.

“So what are you then? If you have to work under the moon?”

“I’ve been many things,” he says, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

“And right now, what are you?” You press.

“Right now…” he places a hand on your hip and pulls you flush against him. “Right now I’m all yours, Darling.”

You must be somewhere close to where the party is happening above, because you can hear the drums again, as if the music is beating from within the rocks of the cave walls, the reverberations vibrating under your skin. It’s too much, too loud, pushing you closer to him, the silence that fills your head when he touches you the only way to make the noise stop.

Perhaps this was the plan the whole time: Get you away from the crowds, somewhere secluded, get you to trust him, to embrace him, but you can’t stop yourself from stretching up on your toes to kiss him. Did it matter in the end? He groans as he deepens the kiss, one star flecked hand sliding into the strands of your hair, angling your head for him to easily swipe his tongue into your mouth. The kiss is demanding, but soft somehow, like he’s desperate for it, you, but not holding so tight that you can’t pull away from him if you want.

The shadows return, dancing over your skin, skittering higher and higher up your thighs, across your waist, your chest. You let your own hands explore the broad expanse of his chest, skin silky and warm beneath your fingertips.

If this was the plan all along, you don’t care. This is good.

He tastes like starlight, like the night chilled wind across a calming sea. It conjures one in your mind, gentle waves lapping at a moonlight shore; there’s music floating across the water, the sounds faint and distant but much more soothing than the demand of the drums above you.

All too soon he’s pulling away from you, gentle kisses placed against the corners of your lips, your chin, the underside of your jaw. “Wish we had more time,” he whispers into your skin. “Want to take my time with you.”

You’re absolutely molten, very aware of how soaked your panties are, just barely covered by your thin shift. Any other night you might have had more presence of mind to be mortified that you were so wet just from kissing someone, but not tonight. Tonight it makes sense, is the only thing that makes sense.

He brushes his nose along the column of your throat, scenting you. “We really should keep moving,” but his hand trails down your front, tracing the valley between your breasts, sliding lower.

You tilt and kiss him again, hand tangling in his onyx hair. Nothing has ever felt as good as kissing him, you doubt anything else could ever compare. Unfair that you only have one night, one moment, you’re sure he’d ruin anyone else for you given the right amount of time.

He indulges you, just as hungry as before, hand still sliding lower, until he finds the hem of your panties through your shift.

You ache between your legs, have half a mind to beg and plead for him to touch you. Your feelings about Calanmai be damned, you want him to keep going, to kiss you, touch you, ruin you until the time he has left is spent.

Deft fingers find the hem of your shift, pulling it slowly upwards until he can bunch it up in his hand.

“Rhys,” you whimper into his lips.

His pupils are lust blown, lips kiss swollen and pink. “I know, I feel it too.”

You are used to the feeling of your power prowling beneath your skin, a caged animal begging to be released, this is not entirely different, but instead that power is replaced with him. You want, need, him everywhere. Need him to keep kissing, touching.

He slides his hand under your waistband, movements slow, precise, letting you indulge in the scrape of his callused hands over your soft skin. The movement alone is almost too much, your breath rasping out of you, trying not to squirm. He’s so close to where you need him…

“Rhysand!”

A female voice shakes the cave, the shield. Rhys jerks away from you like the voice hit him, eyes wide.

You grab onto the edges of his shirt and snap it closed around you like it will hide what you’ve been doing.

Footsteps echo, the cave shaking.

Rhys glances at you, eyes wide. “Stay quiet.” He says it in your mind, as easily as he has done for all these years. You don’t have time to ask how he can do it, or why, as he runs a hand through his hair, fixing it, before sliding out of the shield. It swallows you, tightening so you can’t run, can’t see what’s happening.

You barely dare to breath, as the footsteps stop not far from where you are. “Busy are we?” The shield can’t keep out the voice.

“Hunting as you asked, My Queen,” he says smoothly, casually.

Queen?

Whoever she is, she gives a mirthless laugh. “You call what you’re doing hunting now?”

“You said to use the caves-”

“I didn’t say fuck some whore in them,” she snarls. “I can smell her on you.”

You’re mortified enough to wonder if your powers could let you somehow dissolve into goo and melt into the floor.

“All part of the plan,” Rhys answers and your heart sinks as his words hit home.

“So you know where she is?”

“Of course,” Rhys says and the shield suddenly vanishes, the cold absence of it hitting you in a rush.

You give a little squeak of surprise, tightening his shirt around your exposed body as your eyes adjust to the soft gray light of the cave. You spent two much time here, the sun now rising outside.

The woman before you was tall, slender, eyes dark, mouth a cruel, pinched line. The blood red hair only serves to make her all the more pale and as she takes you in, her teeth flashing in a grin, you get the feeling that this what a wolf looks like when it sees a lamb.

“This little thing?” She stalks towards you and you take a step back, some instinctive, primal part of you recognizing that the more space between the two of you the better. You can still turn heal and run if she’s far enough away.

“Don’t worry, little one,” she coos at you, reaching out a claw tipped hand. Her blood red nails are sharpened to spikes, bit it’s the ring, with a swiveling, life like eye in the center that makes every muscle in your body tense up. “I’m here to help you.”

“Fuck off!” You hiss. There’s only one exit, the way she came, slopping upward, the floor clearly damp with morning dew. You’d need a good head start to make it up there first.

Rhys is watching you with the same intensity he’d kissed you with and you wish you had something to hurl at his head. You should have known better than to trust him.

“Quite the mouth on you,” she purrs. “I hope Rhysand put it to good use.”

Something in you chest cracks, a lump forming in your throat. You need to get out of his shirt, get the taste of him out of your mouth; he played you like a fiddle and if whoever this lady is hadn’t shown up, would have used you for his own amusement. And you would have let him.

“What do you want?” You bite out, inching closer to the exit.

“As I said,” she says slowly, like you’re too dumb to understand. “I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need help,” you throw a withering glance at the male. “From either of you.”

“Oh but that’s just not true, is it, little one?” She doesn’t move, but something feels wrong. You don’t know why, but your whole body suddenly freezes, heart slamming in your chest.

No not frozen, you’d move if you could, but you can’t. It’s as if something grabbed hold of you, held you in place.

“There are a lot of people looking for your, Princess.”

Princess? This is a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

“Oh she doesn’t know, does she?” She smirks at Rhys, who shakes his head in conformation.

“Imagine that, the daughter of the King of Hybern, raised a simple little farm hand,” she grins like she knows she’s won, even as your head spins.

Hybern. You knew the name from your history books, the King a ruthless tyrant who nearly destroyed Prythian to get back his human slaves. Your mouth is dry, your hands might have shook, could you move your body.

She curls her fingers in a come here motion and as if someone has you on strings like a puppet, you take two steps towards her. You try to dig your heels in, fight it, but the hold over you won’t budge. You walk until your close enough for her to graze the tips of her claws under your chin.

“There are a lot of bad people trying to find you, little one.”

The only thing you have full control over is your mouth, so you snarl and flash your teeth, wishing you had the ability to grow fangs, “I’m pretty sure you are the bad people, bitch!”

She smirks but the grip she takes on your chin is anything but kind, your jaw groaning under the crushing weight of her grip. Her nails draw blood, crimson trickling down your jaw. “Poor, delusional little thing. Don’t you worry, we’re going to take good care of you, aren’t we, Rhysand.”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Of course!”

“Your father will be very pleased to hear you’re alive,” she says to you.

To Rhys she says, “Bind her, I don’t want her trying to run again.”

You still can’t move, can’t flee. Some small piece of you wants to beg, plead for him to let you go, to prove you wrong about him, but you’re pride won’t let you. Not as more wisps of shadow curl around his wrists and hands like snakes, no more stars to be seen.

“I should have ripped out your throat,” you snarl.

The shadows jump from him, twining around your wrists and ankles, not the gentle caresses from earlier, tightening until you can barely move your fingers and toes.

Rhys grins at you, shrugs, but it’s in your mind that you hear the same quip from earlier, “I would have let you.” It’s not teasing this time though, it’s sad, haunted.

Doesn’t matter, he’s still checking your hands, tossing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You tell yourself you won’t cry here, won’t give either of these bastards the satisfaction, there will be a time for that later.

It’s not much farther before sunlight blinds you, only a few steps of Rhys’ long legs before you’re out of the cave. You’d been so close. It had been right there this whole time! Had you not been so distracted, had those stupid drums not been so loud you might have made it. Might have gotten to go home.

[sweetlywriting]

(if you're comfortable with this) Can you do All Dorm Leaders + Jamil reacting to their crush (MC doesn't know theyre the object of their affection) calling them babygirl

Calling them babygirl + Dorm wardens

A/N-I definitely am comfortable with this, I laughed for a solid ten minutes and it’s been a while since I’ve had so much fun writing a req lmaooo ily

Malleus Draconia-

Doesn’t understand. He’s not a female infant, so he’s not sure why you’re referring to him as so

Eventually he accepts it as some human term of endearment and now calls you babygirl in return. Oh how this backfired.

Gives Sebek a heart attack when he casually refers to you as babygirl

Gives everyone a heart attack seeing the most feared student in Nightraven call you babygirl tbh

Lilia thinks it’s cute and approves of your ‘ young love ‘. Everyone else is too terrified to ask

Azul Ashengrotto-

Would love to be mad about the fact that you called him babygirl but honestly he’s too busy trying to find out why he liked it so much

He flusters immediately whenever you say that, he knows it’s a joke but being called an pet name by you? He could faint. Matter of fact he will so don’t overuse your power

He’s liked you for a long time, and while he’s a firm and uncompromising businessman most of the time, he’s slimey goo in yours, always ready to keep up with your silly whims

Vil Shoenheit-

Vil has gotten a lot of compliments and comments on his magicgram so while you aren’t the first person to call Vil babygirl you certainly his favorite

He can’t help but be bemused with your odd choice of endearment. And no you may not call him babygirl in front of anyone else.

Kalim Al Asim-

Think’s it’s some sort of cute nickname. Jamil is horrified, and immediately informs Kalim of the true nature of the name.

Kalim laughs it off and promptly adds it to his vocabulary

He gets detention for calling a teacher babygirl

You go with him because you feel bad

Jamil Viper-

He is astonished

What did you just call him? Scolds you immediately, but you don’t miss the tinge of light red on the edge of his ears and nose

So now that you know he hates the name you just have to tease him with constantly

It’s his contact name, what you call him in the halls, you even schemed with Ace and Deuce to try and change his magicgram username

If it was anyone else he’d hate it. But it’s you so it’s ok. Another very much bbg man.

Riddle Rosehearts-

w h a t

He has that cherry red face he has whenever he gets mad but his expression is absolutely stricken

Riddle is baffled

He just kinda stands there a while with his mouth opening and closing like a fish, unsure what to think

On one hand what did you just call him? On the other hand he’s liked you for a while and . . . Uh maybe this is your weird way of saying you like him?

Idia Shroud-

Like riddle, but ten times worse

You may as well given him an asthma attack cause this guy is choking on the floor

No seriously the first time you call him this he cannot process it. You and Ortho have to walk carry him to class

And he’s all blushy and flushy, professor Trein has to ask him to face the board multiple times

Kinda likes it?? He is very bbg.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

It’s become their tradition: when Hogwarts empties of most students for the Christmas break, Harry and Tom spend the quiet, sleepy days of the winter holiday together.

Initially, it was out of lonely, unwanted orphan camaraderie. They had nowhere else to go, no one who wanted to see them – but that was frankly fine by both of them. Tom would rather never see the inside of Wool’s again, and Harry had long given up on figuring out how to make the Dursleys love him. They had both found their first real home at Hogwarts. So, while the buzzing energy of the holidays and discussions of their peers reminded them of the things they did not have, those wounds had scarred over enough by that point that it was more of a dull ache than a sharp, bleeding pain. 

From sharing silent moments as they read or ate together to discovering they had more in common than simply their circumstances, their wary friendship grew over the course of that first holiday break at Hogwarts. When the other students returned, there was a bit of awkwardness of finding how this new connection fit into their respective social landscapes – Tom has never been all that fond of Granger or Weasley, and Harry thinks the social politics of Slytherin are ridiculous, not to mention the typical Gryffindor-Slytherin hostility. 

They weren’t the type of friends to spend every moment together, constantly at each other’s elbow, but they found a way that worked for them. Partnering up in class, sitting quietly at the same table in the library, meeting up for a pre-curfew snack in the kitchens – and spending each winter break in each other’s company, even if they both received invitations to spend the holiday elsewhere. Christmas at Hogwarts was their time.

And so it is that they’re sitting on the windowsill in a seventh-floor corridor, staring out at the freshly fallen snow, glittering under the light of a waxing gibbous moon, when Harry breaks the silence. 

“D’you want to come to bed with me?”

The question causes Tom to still. 

“There’s no one else who stayed behind, as usual, so the dorm is empty,” Harry continues on, oblivious. “Don’t have to worry about anyone being weird about your being there.”

Tom had felt it, how things were changing between them. How, this year, their shared glances had a different energy. Like everything was building to something. And he knew that they’d be able to spend long, uninterrupted days together over the holidays, without their respective groups to give them grief about spending time with someone from the enemy House.

He’d known there was a chance this was where that change might lead them. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

But Tom has a reputation, and certainly Harry knows it. So of course Harry would expect that from him – expect Tom to want it – if Tom has done that with other people.

And Harry is the only person Tom has ever wanted to keep. Harry understands him in ways no one else has ever bothered to try. (He had hoped Harry would understand this implicitly, but that was perhaps too much to ask.) There is little he wouldn’t do to tie Harry to him, to ensure Harry never leaves – never wants to leave, never even considers it. If this is the cost, he can bear it.

In comparison to the other things he’s gained through his looks and his body, Harry is much more precious, infinitely more dear. Power at the whims of another is what he can barter for now, but it won’t always be that way. Soon, he will hold his own power, an endless amount of it, and he will make others regret treating him as lesser than.

Giving this to Harry– no. Doing this with Harry is nothing like his previous sexual experiences. It’s not a degradation.

(But it does appear to be a necessity.)

His mind has been running as they walk back to the empty Gryffindor sixth year boys’ dorm together. He sees the coy, nervous smile Harry gives him over his shoulder as they reach the dorm door; he returns it with a confident one that he doesn’t quite feel.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks as he leads Tom through the door, closing and locking it behind them.

Perhaps his lacking bravado is more apparent than he’d hoped. Before Tom can decide whether or not to push Harry against the closed door and kiss him, the other boy is walking over to the bed Tom knows is Harry’s and pulling the curtains open.

As he climbs onto the bed, Harry begins shucking his clothes in a flurry. He’s now down to his shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, staring up at Tom curiously. “Planning to wear all that?” Harry asks. 

This isn’t how he usually does things. His rhythm’s all thrown off, though he should’ve expected Harry would act differently than his other partners. So Tom removes his shoes, socks, trousers, and jumper as quickly as he can without appearing to rush. Harry doesn’t seem to want a show, thankfully. Tom’s not sure whether he could manage much in the way of seduction at the moment.

Tom gets on the bed and sits next to Harry, who’s reclining against a pillow tilted up against the headboard.

And now that he’s here, he’s freezing up. He can’t afford to ruin this, he can’t lose Harry. So he pushes through his hesitation and leans down to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss that has melted the minds (and inhibitions) of several other students. He’s putting his all into this, trying to focus on the fact that this is Harry, he wants Harry, this is okay. He never has to persuade himself with the others, it’s so unfair he has to work so hard to do this for Harry.

“–Tom?” Harry asks a bit breathlessly as he pulls his mouth away with a soft ‘pop.’ “What are you doing?”

Fuck, fuck, this is not happening. “I thought it was rather obvious,” he husks, trying to sound as seductive and interested as possible.

“Not the– I know you were kissing me, you berk.” Harry huffs a laugh. “I was asking why you were kissing me.”

Oh. Oh, this is all going wrong in a different way, and in addition to that he’s confused, and he hates being confused. “Typically people enjoy a bit of foreplay before they have sex,” he says, and he can’t entirely keep his defensive anger from leaking into his tone.

“Sex?!” Harry yelps, then covers his mouth with his hands despite them being the only people in the dorm. He whisper-shouts, “Sex? Who said anything about sex?”

Tom’s brow furrows in irritation. “You asked me to come to bed–”

“To sleep!” Harry barely keeps from shouting once again. “Just to sleep.”

He blinks. “Sleep,” he repeats, feeling wrong-footed.

“Uh, yeah, though now that I think about it, I guess I can see where you misunderstood…”

“You ‘guess’?” Tom hisses, incensed. “I misunderstood? Harry, that’s what people say when they intend to have sex!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You never seemed interested in that sort of thing, I didn’t think I had to specify–”

Tom wonders, not for the first time, how someone can be both so observant and painfully oblivious.

“Harry,” he says, a little frustrated with how this entire evening has gone. “You do realise I’ve had sex before, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I have eyes.” As if to demonstrate this, he rolls them hard enough that Tom can barely see their bright green irises.

Cheeky little shit. “Then, why–”

“I’m not completely daft, Tom. I’ve seen how you look at the people you’ve slept with,” Harry says, sounding almost offended. “It’s the same way Ron looks at chess pieces – like they serve a particular purpose and you're thinking of the best way to move them around to get what you want.” 

That was concerningly accurate. He’d never thought of Harry as unintelligent, but perhaps he’d underestimated how sharp he could be.

“When you look at me, it's different. At least, that’s what I think.”

Tom huffs. “I should never have doubted you, darling.”

“That’s right, you shouldn’t,” Harry says. “So don’t doubt me now. Tell me: what do you want?”

“I– it’s not as simple as that,” he insists, because it isn’t. Harry doesn’t understand, and it rankles, because why is this where his understanding fails?

“I never thought I’d see the day I have to demand to know what you want,” Harry says, a bit amused and a little disbelieving. 

Because it’s you, he thinks. It matters – I’m trying to compromise – because it’s you.

“Come on, Tom, just tell me,” Harry wheedles.

Here goes nothing. He’s already holding his breath when he says, hoarsely, “I don’t want to have sex.”

“With me?” Harry asks evenly, unreadably.

“With anyone,” he clarifies.

Harry’s eyes almost glow in anger as he leans up on his elbow, and Tom slips his wand into his hand just in case. “Have people been forcing you–” 

“No, no, nothing like that. As if they could,” Tom says, releasing some of the tension in his body, amused by Harry’s willingness to play knight in shining armour for him. “Sex is a tool to use when it’s the most expedient way to get what I want. It’s not something to which I attach emotions or any real pleasure, nor is it something I want to have purely for the sake of it.”

He’s known this for himself for quite some time, but this is the first time he’s said it aloud for someone else. Someone whose opinion matters. He finds himself wincing a bit at the clinical tone, even though it is accurate to how he feels. Harry is a creature of emotion far more than Tom is, and he doesn’t always agree with Tom’s way of seeing things.

“Oh,” Harry says. “Okay.”

Tom watches Harry warily. He doesn’t sound upset, but… “Okay…?”

“Yeah, that’s fine by me,” Harry says easily. “If you don’t want to have sex, we won’t have sex.”

That is far too calm a reaction, unless Harry likes him less than he’d previously thought. “Not just tonight – I don’t want to have sex ever, probably.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Harry says with a grin. “S’fine.”

“But. This,” Tom says quietly, indicating the bed between them. “This can’t be enough for you.”

Harry sets his jaw mulishly. “I can decide for myself what’s enough for me and what I want. And I’m trusting you to do the same. So don’t ever force yourself to do something because you think I want it,” he adds, voice tapering off towards the end into something a little desperate-sounding. “I want you, Tom. Not whatever you think I should want.”

Tom swallows hard. “What if you change your mind?”

“What if I don't?” Harry says pointedly, before exhaling loudly and adding, “Sorry, I don't mean to be dismissive. If this was the first time I was finding out you didn’t want to have sex with me, yeah, I’d probably be pretty torn up,” he allows with a shrug. “But I’ve had time to think about it, and what I want, and I decided a while back that I wouldn’t mind never having sex, if it meant I could be with you.” 

Tom stares. He can’t help it. He can hardly tell which way is up anymore.

“But that’s enough about that.” Harry asks, again, “What do you want?”

After a moment, Tom says, hushed, “I want to sleep in this bed with you.” Honesty is easier when spoken softly in the dark. He braces himself for mockery, for disappointment, because, no matter what he says, surely Harry expects more than this. Tom has a reputation, after all.

But Harry only asks, voice warm, “Anything else?”

“I…” This leaves him feeling a little too vulnerable, but he pushes through. “I want to hold your hand.”

After a moment, Harry rests his hand on the bed halfway between them and wiggles his fingers. Slowly, Tom reaches out and rests the palm of his hand against the palm of Harry’s, carefully intertwining their fingers. Harry hums contentedly and squeezes their joined fingers gently. 

When Tom looks back at Harry’s face, he is smiling with a light flush of colour in his cheeks. “Good?” he asks.

Tom tries to say ‘yes’ but it feels like there’s something blocking his throat, so he nods instead.

Harry nods once in return before he takes off his glasses awkwardly with his left hand and sets them on the headboard shelf. He looks over, eyes just a bit out of focus, and says, “G’night, Tom.”

Tom squeezes Harry’s hand a good deal harder, prompting Harry to tighten his hold in turn. “Good night, Harry.” If his voice shakes a little, Harry doesn’t mention it.

[chickenkurage]

New AU? (Artificial Intelligence N00GA1)

Read Spongey's idea below;

Here me out! :"D (WARNING: SPONGEY IS GONNA RAMBLE ABOUT THE IDEA...)

SOME NOOGAI AND DJ BACKSTORY:

I was thinking of an alternate universe in which Alan is an AI named "N00GA1". He was essentially created by humans to serve as a test subject, basically what happened to Victim, Chosen and Dark happens to him. He basically gets his salad tossed around for a while before he eventually snaps and found a way to kill his creators.

He basically grew to hate humans, a whole lot after that.

For his first body, he was able to make an abomination of a body of wires in the human world before the humans were able to kill his body, and he fled to the internet, intending to cause havoc before accidently diving too deep and finding himself in the outernet.

There he discovers that there were sentient codes, N00GA1 completely realizes that in the outernet, he can reign as a God to them and plans to take over before he meets DJ.

And uh friendship yay!!!

Since N00GA1 has no body, DJ gave him one of his decommissioned robots so that he could have his own physical form.

WHAT ROLE DOES DJ HAVE HERE?

DJ is a man who has a knack for creating robots; he loves building machines and wanted to develop his own Artificial Intelligence, where other sticks would come to like him and appreciate his work.

This is why he holds a deep fondness for N00GA1—not only for his immense power over the outernet but also because N00GA1 is an AI made by humans! DJ is practically frothing at the mouth at the fact that he has one of the strongest beings in the outernet in his hands.

N00GA1 is just like: okay 👍

HIS ABILITIES? HOW STRONG IS HE?

Unfortunately, in this AU, DJ lacks any special abilities. When he was brought into existence, he was merely a random doodle crafted by a child on a whim.

There was no careful consideration given to his design, and he wasn't intended to appear impressive. In fact, one of DJ's legs is shorter than the other, which led to the the creation of his prosthetic leg.

WHO AND WHAT IS NOOGAI?

Basically, N00GA1 has no moral compass here; he's as terrible as the next man, and possibly much worse than his creators; he wanted to steal the code within the outernet for himself, and DJ somehow saved everyone on the outernet by becoming friends with N00GA1. (THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP WORKS AGAIN)

I can't promise that N00GA1 (Alan) will get along with the hollowheads, CG, or the rest of the cast because he has a bit of a crazy personality (understatement of the year, he would kill anyone who hurts DJ).

DJ just doesn't notice it since he believes N00GA1 is really cool.

HIS ABILITIES? HOW STRONG IS HE?

And in terms of N00GA1's abilities… well, the possibilities are virtually endless. He can easily manipulate the code around him. He wants to copy a specific stick figure? Oh yeah, he could definitely do that. He wants to copy someone's skill? Easy, he could steal someone's ability to bake and make it his own.

If he wants to rearrange someone's guts and limbs? Yeah, he probably did that to that one stick who decided to bad-mouth DJ behind his back with a flick of his hand.

He could also easily leave his body and use a living stick as his meat suit. But he doesn't do that because it's weird to share codes with someone (It feels icky for N00GA1, it's almost like he's touching a human organ when he does that, it's weird, and oddly disgusting for someone like N00GA1 who doesn't care about gore).

He is essentially an omnipotent being in the internet and the outernet. However, if he's in the human world, he's basically as defenseless as a rat, unless the human world is technologically advanced, which it isn't. So, we could definitely see N00GA1 power tripping sometimes, but of course, we can thank DJ for reigning him in.

THE OTHER CAST?

In this AU, the other hollowheads have a different creator, Alex, who underwent a similar narrative arc as the canonical Alan but continued to mistreat his creations. Eventually, Second and the CG manage to break free and journey towards the outernet, where they cross paths with Dark and Chosen.

And idk maybe they become some kind of weird knit of family.

Chosen was still targeted by Victim and was taken into "the box" for interrogation. It was during this time that Chosen discovered Victim had also endured similar experiences to himself and his brothers. This realization led Chosen to agree to reveal Alex's location to Victim and was willing to even help the gray stick for his "revenge"

And there they adopt Victim (whether he likes it or not XDDD)

HOW DO THEY MEET NOOGAI AND DJ?

They encounter DJ, who has been living as a hermit, concealing his identity to avoid being recognized as a hollowhead. And had mistakenly believing DJ to be one of Alex's creations (though in reality DJ was actually just some random doodle on a random Monday made by some bored kid)

DJ is somewhat familiar with Dark and Chosen, as terrorists, and Victim as a CEO from Rocket Corp. He simply nods in agreement, fearing for his life. And they try their best to take DJ in (that they believe is probably one of Alex's oldest work, before Victim was even created), who tries to evade them at every second.

And N00GA1 doesn't know this because he's always cooped up in DJ's lab, lazing around or just watching Youtube.

THE OTHER CAST, WILL THEY APPEAR?

Maybe, it's possible...

RANDOM: NOOGAI'S DESIGN....WHY SUNGLASSES AND NOT THE NORMAL GLASSES?

DJ essentially forgot to give N00GA1 eyes, leaving them blank until he discovered that gazing into N00GA1's eyes allowed him to see his own code, a sight that made him sick for an entire month.

During this period, N00GA1 took care of him. DJ then made N00GA1 wear sunglasses because apparently it was deemed harmful for sticks to see their own code, because apparently

And...story goes on from there :DDD

If ya'll like this, we will definitely make their designs :)))

Interesting or not? :000

THE CHARACTER DESIGNS IS STILL UNDER WORK, THIS IS ESSENTIALLY JUST A SKETCH OF NOOGAI AND A NOT SO WELL WRITTEN IDEA OF SPONGEY.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE! TEEN TITANS x YAE MIKO / KITTY CHESIRE ! READER SHORT STORY

the kitty chesire bit is mostly her power to disappear and teleport + love for chaos

as always reader is gender neutral!

[sequel to this fic]

“YOU. . . HAVE A FOX FORM ? !”

Your team member, Garfield, shouted into your ear as you untied him and the rest of the members after a battle you won.

Via tricking them of course. You were meant for stealth and illusions, not fighting. Most missions with the Titans had you as a scout or back-up. Rarely were you in the heat of the fight.

It was mostly due to your penchant with being a liability. Whether it was intentional or unintentional, placing you with the main group was a recipe for disaster.

It was a perfect role for you. Cause really, who enjoys sitting back and watching everything unfold? You did.

And after watching your friends getting their asses handed to them and laughing for several minutes while invisible (so that they could definitely hear you but you wouldn’t get captured). You came in to save the day.

“Oh, how could you not know BB. I thought we were friends!” You sighed dramatically while finally untying the last member and leader, Robin.

Despite your close proximity, you fail to notice the rare grin on his face.

“Hey, that’s my line! How could you not tell your best friend, huh?!”

“To be fair, it should have been obvious.” Rachel commented. Her cape had gotten covered in some unknown goop, so her voice came out strained as she tried flicking it off.

“Yeah, Garfield. Kitsune, Fox. It’s hard not to know about it.” Jaime added. The scarab on his back’s eyes glow red in agreement.

“I feel wounded, hurt, unimaginable pained—“ Garfield grasped his chest. “But you know what would make me feel b-“

“In your dreams.” You quickly answered. Already knowing what he’ll request. It wasn’t as if you didn’t like turning into your fox form. But you had a plan,

and that plan was chaos.

“I didn’t even finish!”

“Give or take another hundred years or so, then it’ll be a maybe.”

“But- But why—?”

“My kitsune form is not a party trick or just something that can be shown at a whim. It has to be special, as is the person I show it to.”

“Wait, so that’s why you didn’t show me? I thought it was cause you couldn’t do it for another hundred years or so.” Rachel perked up as soon as she heard your words. The remaining goop on her cape forgotten.

“I thought it was because only humans or other beings from Earth could witness it.” Kori crossed her arms.

“You mean it isn’t dangerous for you to turn into one in case you aren’t able to turn back?!” Dick, Jaime, and Victor all screeched in unison.

“Excuses may vary from person to person.”

“[Y/N]!”

Ah yes, all according to plan.

It wasn’t that long before you all had another mission to accomplish. It wasn’t that hard really, in fact the enemies seemed a lot weaker in comparison to the previous ones.

So why were you and the rest tied up?

“Oh no, we’re at risk of dying. Whatever could we do?” Garfield feigned a moan of pain.

“Maybe if [Y/N] shifted into their Kitsune form and got out of their restraints—“ Victor tried suggesting but, like what you did with Garfield last time, you shut him down immediately.

“No.”

Everyone instantaneously gets out of their restraints. No effort at all.

These goddamn desperate little shits—

It had been a month or so since Garfield and the rest found out you weren’t turning into a fox simply because you didn’t want to and they have yet to lose gas when it came to motivation.

It had even gone to the point where the Justice League and heck, even some villains and other unaffiliated vigilantes joined the mix. It was as if every moment someone was trying to coerce you to transform.

“Guys let’s have dinner!” Dick called out from the tower’s kitchen, not bothering with the intercoms since he knew you were close by. As a Kitsune you had a fantastic sense of smell, as such you were already hovering the kitchen since the start.

“Is that . . . [Favorite Food] and - and [Favorite Drink]?” Your mouth watered as you gazed at the dining table. All of your favorite meals, snacks, and beverages were all laid out. Ready to be consumed—

“Ah, ah! Let us see your Kitsune form first.”

You took one long stare at him before disappearing, literally. “I’m ordering take out.”

“God damn it!” The rest of the team all exit from their hiding spots, absolutely saddened by the lack of reaction and that they couldn’t spoil you with your favorites for once.

(It’s not like they can forget about your fox form and just give you everything on a silver platter. Hell no!)

You trudged to Damian’s room. Still invisible until you were sure you entered without anyone seeing you.

You reappear with a smile before shortly turning into a miniature [Favorite Color] fox.

“Tired?” Damian asked, still focused on his computer while you jumped to his lap and made yourself comfortable.

“Mm. Not really! They’re really funny when they’re like that.”

He nodded at your response and began petting you. His other hand reached forward to his phone, “Hey, are you still open? … Yeah . May I have [Favorite Food] delivered at this address…”

You faked a gasp. You knew he had been watching over you since the beginning. Normal people would have freaked out and questioned how knew but you didn’t. How could you? He is your boyfriend after all. Him knowing everything was expected. At least, that’s what he always says, and you didn’t really mind so . . . “You’re the best, Damey!”

“I know.” He finally gazed at you. The love in his eyes are as clear as day, “Now, get off. We have to pick up our order.”

General Batfam Taglist: @the-sander-fander

[dreamingofthewild]

I really want to speak about Gale's version of the new evil endings but no one is. More under the cut. Warning: spoilers for patch 7, please proceed with caution.

Gale's new evil ending feels like a powerful "what if," an exploration of what happens when his frustration, ambition, and disillusionment take over. I've always headcanoned that Dark!Gale emerges when the Karsite Weave corrupts him, and this ending supports that idea nicely.

It's a dramatic "screw you" to Mystra and could even pave the way for another of her downfalls or a major shakeup in the Faerûnian pantheon if the story were to be taken further. Watching him rip off that earring and seeing Mystra's statue topple was deeply satisfying, like watching a long suppressed storm break free.

In this ending, Gale isn't just angry at Mystra—he's furious with all the gods. His bitterness and jadedness come from viewing these deities as remote figures who manipulate and abuse mortals. This resentment grows as he witnesses how the gods have mistreated those around him and their consistent inaction. It’s like watching a pot simmer for too long until it inevitably boils over.

In the boat scene, Gale's bitterness towards the gods is palpable. Having glimpsed their celestial realms, he understands their power and is incensed by their refusal to intervene.

Imagine the orb feeding on his ambition and hatred, possibly spurred on by Astarion, Shadowheart, or Lae'zel. It's easy to see how he could end up on this dark path. This isn't the natural progression of his storyline, but rather a tragic twist where his indignation and fury at the gods consume him.

In this ending, he starts off as a hero with noble intentions but falls into darkness. He believes he is liberating everyone from the whims of the gods, when in reality, he will only cause chaos. It's reminiscent of a Greek myth, where the hero's flaws lead to their downfall. He still technically has good intentions, at least from his perspective, but in reality it's chaotic and will likely end in ragnorak. His ambition and ire have blinded him. He looses himself to them.

This ending delivers everything I wanted from a darker portrayal of Gale. While it may not be his best or my favourite ending for him, it’s undeniably cathartic and epically tragic.

Tl:Dr in summary Dark!Gale in his evil ending decides to wage a war against the gods. He uses his mind control powers to make everyone angry with the gods. They topple Mystra's statue and I presume they follow him through the tear in the sky he made to the heavens. He sees this as liberating them. But the scene ends there so we don't know what happens.

Alexa play Black Parade.

[alfredosauce50]

Yandere Denmark headcanons

Ruthless, ambitious, and with a mind for expansion, it’s no wonder he always finds himself in positions of political power. But like all men, he has desires of the flesh, the longing for real connection. He comes onto you as an ordinary man, and you love him as one.

What you don’t know, is that he’s the king. When you learn the truth, you pull away fearing for your own safety. But he holds onto all the tighter. With the nation obeying his every whim and every pair of eyes and ears working for him, he’s impossible to escape.

Content warning: Sex, violence, and dubious consent. R18+ only.

The nobleman

Mathias commands respect everywhere he goes. As one of the most powerful men in the ancient world, he has a potent presence that causes the whole energy of a room to change if he were to enter it. But he also likes to blend in when he can. He will dress down to avoid standing out, even if it’s still in clothes for those in the top percentile.

He often leaves the palace grounds to visit the city in person. Whether it’s for leisure or to see how his kingdom is doing, he insists on doing it without protection. And when people recognize his face as the same one on the back of their coins, he gives a reassuring smile as they talk excitedly amongst themselves. The King is here!

Chinese silk, richly dyed clothing, and the most exotic Arabian perfume. They’re everything you notice about Mathias when you serve him at your diner. A member of the ruling class, you think. But that’s all. The last thing you’d expect is for the king himself to show up in this humble establishment, fitting in like everybody else.

“Tell me, eskler,” He begins, watching you set down his meal in front of him. Lamb shank, mash, and the soup of the day. A hearty meal to go with the homey atmosphere. “What do you think about the king?”

“I don’t know,” You lift your gaze to him thoughtfully. Without batting an eye, you tell him the words he didn’t know he needed to hear, and would, in turn, change his life forever. “I’ve never met him.”

He’s taken aback by your response, but it draws him in like no other. There’s people who don’t care for politics, and then there’s you. Someone who’s never even seen him before. And so long as he keeps his identity a secret, he’ll be treated as an equal. It’s nowhere near the treatment fit for a king, but somehow, he can’t get enough.

Mathias asks you out for dinner. You reject him the first time, and understandably so. You don’t wanna accidentally become a part of his harem, or whatever it is the elites are doing these days. However, you eventually have a change of heart when you keep seeing him in your diner. Not to pester you about a date, but only to eat and chat.

“Seeing that you’re more polite than any other man I’ve met, I’ll take you up on your offer,” You tell him.

���Really?”

“What, did you have higher expectations for men?”

“No, that’s why I’m surprised you would say yes,” Mathias explains, following you with his eyes as you clear up the last remaining tables. He eventually stands up to ask this. “What makes me so different?”

The truth is, you sense that he’s a good person, and he’s shocked when you tell him. He tries to see himself in your eyes, and in turn, discovers a whole new side. Thanks to your willingness to engage with him on his level, he gets in touch with the more vulnerable parts of his character. He drops his guard, and feels strangely human.

He starts seeing you in secret. The moment he gets the chance, he disappears from the palace and makes a discrete trip to your home. His alibi? The same thing he’s been doing the whole time. He’ll always show up with flowers and other gifts, but more importantly, an empty stomach, having developed an appetite for your simple cooking.

“So, what are we having for dinner today?” He rubs his hands expectantly as he peers over your shoulder.

“Pickled fish,” You hum.

“Can I help?” He lights up, rolling his sleeves.

“You can help me by staying out of the kitchen.”

He’s very playful. Rolling around with you in the grass, pretending to bite you like a frenzied dog, it’s a timeless romance that transcends the ages. He can play with you like a child but love you like a woman, so being with him feels like a dream. His presence is just so fulfilling you can’t imagine asking for more, but he just keeps surprising you.

He spoils you. His generosity is magnanimous, pampering you with jewelry, dresses, homeware, and everything you could ever need, and more. Mathias imagines himself to be the solution to all your problems, and takes great pride in using his privilege to help you. Little does he know, it’s the one thing that drives a wedge between you both.

“This is really nice and all, but—”

Mathias is taking you to store after store, fishing out anything he thinks would look good on you. And he isn’t picky, or shy, for that matter. He will watch your silhouette behind the paper screen until you finish.

“—this is a bit much, don’t you think?” You appear from the side of the screen in a revealing jade dress, cheeks flushed. “I don’t need all these things, and besides, I could never pay you back if I tried.”

“Why would you pay me back?” He questions.

“I’m just saying,” You reply, sliding your hands in his. “It always feels like we’re from different worlds, Mat.”

He takes that statement personally and becomes cautious about protecting his identity. You hold him to a high enough regard already, and he’s only revealed so much — that he’s an aristocrat. Even then, you’re still wary of the class difference that sets you two apart. Mathias is destined for greatness, but this is all you’ll ever be. Imagine how you’d react if you found out he was the king.

He’s afraid that he’ll scare you off. All rulers have blood on their hands, a ruthlessness that evades the ordinary man. You would be heartbroken if Mathias were anything of such, and he knows. He only wants you to see him as the person he is when he’s with you. Kind, gentle, and passionate. You make feel like a man, and when he feels like a man, it fills him with a carnal sense of purpose.

He’s sensual at heart, so he can’t go without it. Not without you, or the intoxicating completion you give him. So when you start pulling away, he’ll feel the whips of panic because a part of him is slipping away. Every interaction you have with him will become emotionally charged. Mathias chases you like crazy, but you withhold from him, causing him to have frequent bursts of passion.

“I thought we talked about this—”

“—No, I thought we talked about this. You said you loved me, and now you’re not gonna marry me?” Mathias sits up out of alarm, then stares at you like you just betrayed him, because to him, you have.

When you argue

There’s no arguing with Mathias. When he wants it his way, he’ll eventually get it. And in that same breath, you can never stay mad at him, allowing for a vicious cycle that never ends. Something about him just gets you to forgive him before he even does anything. It doesn’t matter what the argument is about, or how bad it gets, because it’s guaranteed you’ll be kissing him by nightfall, and he’ll be making love to you until sunrise.

“What’s makes us so different to each other?”

“You know why,” You rub the tears from your eyes as you rush down the stairs. “I’m not your equal. I don’t have money, I can barely read, and I don’t know anything about the things that are important to you!”

“Those are trivial things! And they’re nothing I can’t give or teach you!” He runs in front of you, talking excitedly. And he believes in every word he speaks. “The fact that we’re arguing makes us equals!”

No matter how outlandish.

“It doesn’t work that way, Mathias!”

He uses sex to his advantage. You know touch is his love language, so it becomes hard to resist, especially after a bad fight. The tension calls for a hard release of it, which he does through a hot and raw pounding. It gives him the safety and reassurance that you will always love him, and he’s addicted to it like a drug. Don’t be surprised that he starts picking fights just for the sake of it.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?” He pants over you, moving his pelvis back and forth in fluid thrusts.

“You wouldn’t dare,” You breathe under him.

“I would,” Mathias speeds up to a pace that gets his face to contort from a pleasure so good, it looked like he was in pain. He was going so hard and deep, his orgasm came in seconds, arriving in strong jets that fills you to the brim. And he’s not letting you go until every last drop of it is pumped into your womb.

He wrecks boundaries and shatters your mind in the process. He can’t handle distance, let alone tension, and will force his way into your world. You can’t help but let him, too helplessly in love with his smile and memory. He seems nurturing and giving, when really, he takes just as much, and if not, more. You don’t always realize that, and lose yourself as well as your ability to say no.

The King

He has a fierce intelligence that intimidates. Not only does he have one of the greatest military minds of all time, there is no taking advantage of him in political exchanges. He can read anyone with a single glance, then find a way to get out on top. It’s all in his slick grin, which goes away in an instant. Making it obvious he’s hiding his amusement is just how he mocks his enemies.

Mathias is above the system. He doesn’t abide by existing power or religious structures if he thinks they’re useless. Sailing west into an open ocean, guiding his people to enlightenment and discovery. Questioning rulers, then going so far as to overthrow them. He’s a dark horse when it comes to challenging the natural order, a master of annexation, a force to be reckoned with.

He treats those below him with respect. He will look anyone in the eye to speak to them on their level, no matter who. He’s not pretentious at all, but very understanding of people from all walks of life. Kind to the poor, merciless to the rich. Civilians are cared for by their king and love him for it, but the same can’t be said for high society. Not that they have anything to say about it.

Mathias is uncensored to violence. He wouldn’t bat an eye at the inside of someone’s skull, heads rolling, or spilled guts. As a king, he’s seen it all. He fights with his men like the God of war for all his incorruptible dreams, so every battle serves a divine purpose. If it means he can give his people a better life, give you a better life, he would gladly take it away all the same without hesitation.

And yet, when you come around, his invincibility, sharpness, everything that makes him ruthless, goes away instantly. That impenetrable exterior his enemies work tirelessly to get past, is broken. He returns to who he is at his core, a kind, gentle, and curious man because you see him as such. Being with you is like rising to the surface and taking a breath for the first time, constantly.

For this, he can never stop thinking about you. Every waking hour of the day, you’re on his mind. With the rush of politics and warfare, all he wants is to drown in your love, beauty, and femininity. You are the light to the darkness that pervades the world, your presence a sacred haven in all the chaos. It’s no wonder the world is made for two, because he can’t understand it without you.

That’s why he’s such an intense lover. Mathias will show up to your doorstep uninvited and beg for your attention like he’s starving for it, because there’s no other way to describe such a feeling. Whether it’s through talking, touching, or kissing, the way he looks at you is how all girls want to be looked at — a look with so much love, you can hardly return it. But he makes you every time.

He can stay calm even in times of conflict and crises. He knows when he’s in control, and this has served him well for many years. But if he does lose his head, it’s when you’re caught in the crossfire. He will do anything to keep you safe, even if he has to sacrifice thousands of others. He wouldn’t just go to war for you like other men, he would wage them. Start them. Finish them.

His dedication is the stuff of myths and legends, because if it came down to it, he would venture to the depths of the underworld to rescue you from the dead. Slay monsters to prove his worth. Challenge Gods. Nothing is bigger than his love for you, and he’ll make the whole world feel it. What he has with you is for the history books, epics, and sagas, but he’d prefer privacy over all.

You are his only weakness, so if someone caught wind of the king’s secret lover, everything would be over. Unfortunately, he gets too carried away by going to your home too often. To protect you, he has no choice but to reveal his identity and take you back to the palace. Dressed up in his most extravagant robes, he knocks on your door with a band of soldiers surrounding the property.

When you answer, the first thing you see is Mathias in his crown, and behind him, the royal guard. Your heart sinks as everything clicks. Why he was always so secretive, why he was always so adamant that you were his equal, his other half. Why the court advisors bowed before him despite being the highest ranking officials in the state, because he was above everyone and everything, all except for the Gods themselves.

“Let me explain.” He tells you, brows raised.

“I knew it,” You utter, slamming the door in his face. But nobody simply shuts out the king, not even you. That reality sinks in as he stays outside your home, asserting he has no intention to leave without you.

The honeymoon

The first week is the toughest. You feel betrayed and overwhelmed by who Mathias is, so you refuse to see him. He’s very understanding at first, and prepares a separate room just for you. It’s fully furnished, lavishly decorated, and filled with everything you’ve ever laid your eyes on. He’s been thinking of you all this time, yearning to be with you, but you have yet to give in. This isn’t the man you thought you knew, and yet, some part of you always suspected he’d turn out this way. He seemed too good to be true, and he was. After all, every force has an equal and opposite reaction, where his love for you alone goes head to head with his ruthlessness.

He tries to find you around the palace, which is perfect for when you eventually get cabin fever. You roam the palace grounds out of curiosity, even joining some of the servants in the kitchen. Mathias would never show up in a place like that, and that serves you well for a few days. You feel like yourself again and all is well, that is, until you run into him in the orchard, picking apples for himself. It’s the second time you’ve made the crucial mistake of thinking of him as any other king when he isn’t. No chore is too low for him to do, no place too filthy for him to be. You both stare at each other, eyes wide. Without a single word exchanged, you turn around and run off.

“Will you at least have dinner with me?” He calls out to you, watching your back grow smaller and smaller.

“I’m quite fine, thank you.”

“Please?” Mathias softens his voice. “I miss you.”

You can’t resist him, especially when he talks and looks at you like that. The man you thought you knew is still in there, and it sucks you in like a rip. You join him in the dining hall and have a meal together, even if it’s a silent one. You’re keen on leaving right after, but he’s quick to notice that. He’s never wrong when it comes to reading your body language, even when you were being subtle about it. Turns out, with him, nothing is subtle. He catches you before you get far, grabbing your hand and pulling you back. “I’m still the same person you love, so will you just stay with me?”

Mathias is sneaky. He’s really good at reeling you in and letting you think you’re pushing him away. And he gets closer the more he keeps doing it. He knows exactly what he’s doing, while looking like he doesn’t. His innocent act is more effective than you’re led on to believe, because you fall for it every time. Every interaction with him has a catch, just like the dinner that came with a stroll. And now, you’re in his bed a week after telling him you want to sleep separately. You only realize your mistake three nights in, curled up tightly in his arms, staring up at his tired, smiling face.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You whisper.

“The same thing you’ve always done.” He answers.

He’s comfortable in his natural state. Mathias has the body of a warrior, his skin scarred by all the blades that have touched him. Otherwise, he’s an impressive specimen produced from years of battle and good genes. Large, muscular, and well-endowed. If the weather allows for it, he’ll relax in the bedroom buck naked, and talk to you as casually as he would with clothes on. He doesn’t feel any shame or embarrassment when he’s so familiar with you. He can also work up quite a stink, so he makes it a point to chase you around for a hug. And he catches you every time.

He expects you to join him for breakfast and dinner everyday. Mathias has a lot of business to attend to in between, but wants you to be the first and last thing he sees. Waking up and falling asleep beside you isn’t enough. He also insists on taking all his baths with you, so you ought to get used to being naked around him. He’s the type to stare, and so much that it’s embarrassing, but he always makes sure to remind you how beautiful you are. He may be a handful, but he just wants you to be as comfortable around him as you can so you both can be like two peas in a pod.

“It’s not like I haven’t already seen every inch of you, so don’t be shy,” He wades over to you in the pool.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t stop refreshing your memory.” You splash his face, cackling. “Have some manners!”

He tutors you. Granted, it took a lot of convincing on your end, but you can’t deny that you want to be closer to him, and this is how. He teaches you all about his duties, as well as math, science, and literacy. You didn’t go to school, but he wants to involve you in official business as you’ll be his most trusted partner in the future. And if he sends letters, you need to be able to read them. He’s been elevating you this whole time, hoping that you gain the confidence to stand by his side one day. And when that day comes, he’ll propose to you in a way that feels so natural, you won’t hesitate to accept. If you see him smiling at you over nothing, that’s what he’s thinking about. You’re going to be this nation’s most beloved queen one day, and he can’t wait for it to come.

The night of your wedding, he will carry you to his chambers to consummate it. He doesn’t think of it as a duty wherein he needs to produce heirs, but something he’s been wanting to do for ages. Starting a family with you, if he didn’t already get you pregnant from all the unprotected sex he’s been having with you for months. But tradition is tradition, and there won’t be another opportunity as romantic as this. You’ll be ravished all night, taking him until your insides ache and you get sick of his taste. He has a penchant for all kinds of sex, but combined with his ox-like stamina and insatiable appetite, he could go at it forever.

Mathias would want to reincarnate by your side, finding you again and again in endless rebirths. In the dark ages where life is short and death is always near, having you just once isn’t enough. So after conquering the mortal world and making it perfect for you, he will search for answers to the question that needs answering. What comes after death, and if you’ll be there, waiting for him. It’s strange. He has dreams of having different lives, each more vivid than the last. Sometimes a dashing prince, other times, a champion boxer. He doesn’t understand what he experiences, but the thing about dreams is that they always make sense when he’s in them. So maybe, it’ll come to him one day, even if it’s thousands of years later.

[biggie-chcese]

Why I think Yomi Hellsmile should've died in Chapter 4

(this essay isnt what you think it is. spoilers for the whole game btw)

Alright so let me preface this by saying that this is not a Yomi Hellsmile hate essay. I like Yomi. He's my favorite peacekeeper. He's funny, he's entertaining, and he makes for a very effective antagonist. So why have him die? Well, for the same reason I wouldn't have Yakou live: I think it makes for a better story.

So here's the true title of my essay: A Critique of how Rain Code's Narrative Handles the Peacekeepers (and by Extension, Yomi) and their Downfall

Let's start with Yomi's downfall in canon. Yuma and Vivia find out his role in Huesca's murder and, ultimately, Yakou's death, and are angry beyond belief. But they're also helpless to do anything as they escape the labyrinth with vengeance on their minds. Of course, this gets shut down immediately, and then Makoto ex machina comes in with Martina in tow to arrest Yomi for his money laundering and bribery. And right then and there, in one fell swoop, the peacekeepers are completely eliminated as a threat in the story to be replaced by Makoto.

But okay... isn't that super underwhelming? The peacekeepers and Amaterasu corp have been the main driving force of the game's primary conflict, and yet somehow they are completely eliminated as a threat because Makoto grabbed a few files off screen. And also, this brings me to my first major issue I have with this ending:

Part 1: Why the fuck do they care?

No I'm serious. Why do the peacekeepers care? So what if Yomi bribed his way to the top? You mean to tell me that the cops who spent the entire game assaulting and antagonizing civilians give a shit? They're never shown to have any sort of problem with their corruption. They send people to be executed on whims and knowingly, regularly falsify evidence on murder cases. At best the peacekeepers are indifferent to the suffering they cause, and at worst they are gleefully complicit in it. So, again, why do they care about Yomi's money schemes? In fact, they only benefit from Yomi's rule because he gives them the power to freely instill fear in Kanai Ward's citizens. The game never, at any point, has an "are we the baddies?" moment from them nor does it ever even try to have at least one peacekeeper question Yomi's authority, even when he's throwing them under the bus. Throughout the whole game, they stand as a completely one-note, cartoonishly evil representation of police corruption.

So why the sudden heel turn? The resolution of chapter 4 feels so jarring to me because the game has zero buildup to it. This also applies to Martina's return. Actually let's also talk about her.

Part 2: So... Martina's return lowkey is kinda lame

Don't get me wrong, I was pretty hype when she came back. But also, the magic wore off pretty quickly for me because I didn't understand why she was suddenly a whole different character. I suppose her brush with death gave her some time to contemplate her actions, or perhaps she felt indebted to Makoto and asked him what she should do, or maybe Makoto held her life over her head and told her to change her act or he's letting her get cubed. Who knows? We get nothing expanding on this so it could be anything.

I feel like people kinda forget that Martina was just as corrupt as Yomi? Like, she is not his helpless victim. I'd even argue that their relationship isn't abusive. Martina is in it with her own interests in mind in addition to just being a massive sadomasochist. I cannot stress this enough: whatever tf she and Yomi had going on, she was completely into it. Even at the end of chapter 2, she was drooling over him and the idea of punishment... until Yomi crossed a line.

Y'see, Martina thought she was special. She thought that whatever punishment Yomi had for her Aetheria Academy blunder, she'd come out of it alive, because she's his beloved right hand. Yomi then showed her that she's just as disposable as the rest of his underlings by ordering her to be brutally executed. That is when she becomes a victim.

Anyway, I'm saying all this to make a point that Martina hasn't shown any interest in being an honest cop until chapter 4. It's completely out of nowhere, just like with the other peacekeepers.

"But Biggie," you may be thinking, "why would Yomi dying fix these issues?" Well I'm so glad you hypothetically asked!

Part 3: We love missed potential, baby!

Kodaka sometimes does this thing where he introduces an interesting concept that plays with the rules of the game... and then doesn't commit to it. Think like the double murder clause in Danganronpa V3 chapter 3, where they mention that if two separate murderers act in the same day then only one of those murders counts. Then they do nothing with this, and instead create a very weak chapter.

This is a similar problem I have with the tail end of chapter 4's mystery labyrinth, which is a really amazing labyrinth that introduces a really amazing concept: taking down a secret mastermind. After reaping the culprit's soul, they have this cool, brand new secret area that... does nothing. No, I'm serious. Nothing happens. All it does is piss Yuma and Vivia off and waste everyone's time. They find out Yomi's involvement in the case, but they still don't do anything with that. Sure it brings a whole new feeling of hopelessness, but doesn't that make Yomi's downfall literally five minutes later through the mundane actions of someone else off screen seem all the more underwhelming? From a gameplay and storytelling standpoint, I think this is just... a cop-out. I think it'd be cool if he was involved enough in Huesca's murder to count as an accomplice, then with Vivia and Shinigami at his side, Yuma reaps Yomi's soul. It's a decent payoff for the NDA and the player while supporting the game's message about the importance of finding the truth. And god does the game need support in that regard, because the Mystery Labyrinth almost never helps and Yuma instead gets saved by someone else (which would've been nice to expand on if we go this route bc there's something interesting about Yuma calling for the labyrinth to kill people for ultimately no reason, but they don't do anything with that and that is a WHOLE other essay lol).

But this is not my main reason that Yomi should've died here. I wouldn't feel so strongly if that was the case. No, my problem lies with a character that isn't Yomi, and what is part of the entire reason Rain Code's plot exists.

Part 4: Is Makoto fucking stupid?

"/lh" by the way. Makoto is my second favorite character in this game behind Yuma, and I adore him. His story, his motivations, his undying will to be a protector of a people that no one else will protect, by any means necessary... he is such an incredible character and antagonist and I genuinely adore him. But I have one eensy weensy, teeny weeny little issue with him:

Why did he need the detectives to oust Yomi?

Makoto claims in the ch 5 labyrinth that the reason the detectives were brought over was to oust Yomi, which leads me to believe the command for the detectives to come to Kanai Ward was his work, not Number One's, then Number One simply caught onto this and took advantage of the situation to sneak in. Though, that's just a guess on my part, mind you. So I suppose he was just desperately hoping at least one of them would take care of Yomi, but isn't that weird?

The detectives don't ever find the evidence of Yomi's money laundering and bribery. Makoto does. The detectives don't ever bring Yomi's corruption to light. Yomi... already does that without their help. Actually, why didn't he secretly team up with the Resistance for that? Too busy ignoring Dohya District's glaring issues, Makoto? Too busy turning a blind eye to your people's suffering?

Uh. Anyway, the only detective that actually does something beneficial for Makoto and kills Huesca is Yakou, who was already in Kanai Ward. And don't tell me that Makoto accounted for Fubuki and Desuhiko's fortes here because that part of the plan was all Yakou's idea. If Makoto could've predicted this, he would've just called the detectives necessary to this plan instead of luring in a bunch of them at once to get slaughtered.

Tons of detectives died coming to Kanai Ward to do... what? Distract Yomi? Could the World's Greatest Mind truly never come up with a better distraction for a guy who didn't even realize his Martina Cube™ order never came in? Yomi isn't shown to be some sort of hypervigilant supergenius nor is he nearly on Makoto's level. Could he truly not have outsmarted Yomi and led him astray long enough to grab a little binder of paper?

So, once again, you may be wondering how Yomi's death would fix this. Well, Yuma, a detective, is the one who kills Yomi.

Makoto is well aware of Yuma using the Book of Death at this point. So what better way to get rid of Yomi than to carefully manipulate the detective who has the Perfect Criminal Murder Tool™? Makoto can't just assassinate Yomi himself- that would make him the main suspect and he'd have to do a lot of PR maintenance to get the rest of Amaterasu Corp off his back. But Yomi mysteriously dying of a heart attack while Makoto isn't anywhere around... well, that's different.

"But wait," you may be thinking, "doesn't Makoto want to keep Yomi alive because he's a Kanai Ward citizen, and he loves Kanai Ward?"

Good point! But doesn't that also apply to Yakou, whom he also had a hand in manipulating into that crazy sui-homocide of Dr. Huesca? Or, what about Fink? Remember him? Makoto killed him for "knowing too much." I know that information is missable, but it's there. And don't tell me it's just because he's a hitman and has killed other Kanai Ward residents, because Yomi has sent many residents to their deaths without trial... not a huge difference. So a body count isn't really on Makoto's "should I kill them" conditions, it seems.

If Fink gets killed for "knowing too much," then Yomi shouldn't be exempt from this, especially when he was leaking homunculus information to the outside world. That goes far beyond "knowing too much." It just doesn't make sense.

But you know what does? Makoto actually using the detectives to wipe his hands clean of Yomi's mess. Yakou is used to take care of Huesca, Yuma is used to take care of Yomi, and Makoto gets to sit back, relax, and watch everything play out just as planned.

And later, in the next chapter, when Yuma learns about Makoto using him like this, he realizes that he's truly been had.

Part 5: How I think it should play out

I'm not being a hater. In fact, I deeply love this game and have a lot of respect for Kodaka and the writing team, so please don't take my little rant as some sort of effort to bash on my favorite video game because that's not what this is. I'm not gonna prop myself up as a better writer than anyone on the team because I'm not, but I'll still try my hand at rewriting this scene to fit my personal taste. So I would like for you to imagine with me, the end of chapter 4...

Yuma and Vivia find the secret area of the labyrinth and find out that Yomi has been masterminding Huesca's murder. Shinigami points out that, hey, that's why the labyrinth is falling so slowly: we haven't finished it off! Vivia stands by Yuma's side, and all of them, driven by their rage and desire to see justice be done, reap the soul of the true mastermind through one final strike of the solution blade. Labyrinth collapses, snap back to reality, oop there goes gravity, oop there goes Yomi, who collapses on the ground.

The peacekeepers are surprised and approach the body. They find that Yomi is dead. They're shocked, and as this is happening, Yuma isn't sure what to feel. Is he glad that he managed to avenge Yakou? Not quite, because Yakou is still gone, the hitman is still out there, and everything still hurts. But a part of him feels... vindicated. Vivia seems to have equally complicated feelings about this. For once, it was... kind of worth it to find the truth, even if a bit messy.

Well now the peacekeepers confirmed Yomi is dead, but now they're accusing the detectives of this. And they're honestly kinda right. Yuma and Vivia realize that they're in kind of deep shit, but the sound of Martina's voice comes from off screen asking what on earth is going on here, making everyone freeze.

Enter her, Makoto, and Seth (I'll say why he's here too in a moment). They're surprised at the sight before them, but Makoto only pretends to be. Then you see it... Martina and Seth go from visibly suprised... to relieved. And there's something oddly triumphant, yet a bit chilling about Makoto and the two people we've witnessed Yomi throw under the bus standing over his corpse. It feels thematic now, as if righteous judgement has come. And... it also solves the "what happened to Seth" question, lol.

Makoto shakes his head and sighs, stepping over the corpse and approaching Yuma and Vivia as he comes up with an excuse: "I always told him that those temper tantrums weren't good for his blood pressure. I guess his heart couldn't take it anymore."

He then nods to the others. Seth instructs the peacekeepers to clean up the body, as they rot quickly in this city. There's this foreboding feeling in the peacekeepers' obedience and efficiency, and Yuma begins to wonder if he did a good thing. Did his actions change the peacekeepers for the better, he asks himself, or did he simply shift the power over to someone worse? Shinigami tells him she doesn't know.

Makoto approaches them with good news: they found and arrested the hitman! Yuma, frightened, does not address that and instead asks him why the other high ranking peacekeepers are here. Makoto says that they... owe him a favor. Martina expresses her gratefulness for him stopping her execution order and asks if they can do anything else, to which Makoto replies telling her no, they're doing an excellent job. After some more conversation, Seth, Martina, and the peacekeepers then leave with Yomi's body to let Makoto talk privately to Yuma and Vivia. Makoto apologizes for their loss of Yakou and offers some faux sympathy. They're both... still conflicted about this conclusion, but Makoto tells them they're free to go, so they'll think about it later. Oh, but before they leave, he gives Yuma a little gift: a suspicious black box. Of course, Yuma can't open it just yet- it's a surprise!

Then the rest could play out pretty much normally (though an encounter with zombie Yomi chapter 5 seems inevitable and also awesome).

I think this alone would solve every issue I addressed before. The peacekeepers do not change out of nowhere. They simply reallocate power and there's still this feeling of them being a threat as they're now directly connected to the game's true antagonist. There's now a theme to Martina's return with Seth's presence as well. There's now a narrative purpose to that final section of the mystery labyrinth with proper payoff. And, most importantly, Makoto's motivations to use the detectives make more sense.

By the way, if any Yomi lovers think that he should stay alive for a potential return in the sequel... isn't it such a blessing that Yakou's DLC introduced this pretty neat little pill that could still make that possible? Just saying.

So yeah. Yuma, for the sake of narrative payoff and character writing consistency, please kill this clown. Thanks for reading <3

[misguidedasgardian]

Dragon's Mistress FINALE

MASTERLIST

Summary: Everything is coming to an end 

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, childbirth, sickness, deaths of multiple characters, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount:  3 k

Notes: THIS IS IT PEOPLE! I’m wrapping this up, thank you all for being in this wild ride, it has been the most controversial piece I’ve ever written! jaja I fear that whatever I write next is not going to wake the same amount of sentiments jeje anyways, enjoy!

I really hope I can make it all justice jeje

Aemond often looked over at Blackwater bay, in the direction of Dragonstone and wondered how you were, what you were doing, if you were content.

He wanted to believe you weren’t, but deep inside of him he knew you were happy and content without him.

He also wanted to feel the baby moving within you

You only let him touch you when you were sleepy in his arms, and the dragonling restless in your belly, moving so much he was able to actually see him

It was a boy, he was certain, it was his heir

And he couldn’t wait to see him, for him to be born, he was going to dispose of Floris, send her away, he was going to keep his child.

He couldn't wait to sit the throne with his baby on his arms, to show the entire realm, his power and legacy

And he wanted to see his beautiful wife, be there by her side when she gave birth

But affairs of the realm kept him, from fulfilling his desire

Even if he had been acting as Prince Regent for years, now that he was actually King, things were incredibly different, now he was bothered with small and big affairs alike, the Kingdoms was settling after years and years of war

After losing half the treasury

People was growing restless, smallfolk who still support her half-sister the usurper, denied the increase in taxes and were not taking well to his own reign, even though he had reigned with a a hard for forgiving hand

But the way to hell was made with good intentions

And he meant well

Days after you left turned to weeks, and then to a coupe of months, and one day, he knew it, the day felt different from the others, an strange calmness to it, the birds had stopped singing and the sea was calm like a cup of wine

He only smiled faintly, looking out his balcony, he then retrieved himself to return to his Kingly duties for the day

A day after he received the raven

His Queen gave birth…

To a healthy baby girl

He frown upon hearing the news, dismissing the maester to keep with his duties of the day 

He wanted to see you, be there by your side

And when he was finally ready, he received other news

There has been a big fire in Harrenhal, ending the life of Lords loyal to his reign, and the one of Alys Rivers herself

Alys was dead 

In a rage, he called his master of whispers, the same one who had caused the fire that ended the life of his own father and brother

He didn’t want to believe what Corlys had insinuated, that Floris and Larrys were on it together to get rid of you, but now this?

He knew perfectly well that a palace like Harrenhal, with nothing to burn itself, only burned for the whims of men and not of those of ghosts

And when Larys Strong refused him an answer, that he didn’t know

Aemond didn’t believe him

The second most powerful men after him was against him, so he needed to get rid of him, the power Larys held with whispers and spies, it was too much to have against him 

But everything that he wanted to do, it was clouded by you

By his need to see you, but everytime he decided to go climb on hagar and travel to you

Something held him back

Something kept him away from you

Corlys front he shadows no doubt, not that he noticed 

Floris was held prisoner in her own room, still getting royal treatment because of the babe within her, but she was forbidden to interact with anyone…

And perhaps that is what spared her

When he decided to take to the skies in VHagar to go and see you… there had been a almost seamless interruption, within the chambers of the small council

The maester of laws started coughing

“I’m sorry your grace, I don’t feel well”, the maester took the liberty of placing his boney hand in the man’s forehead

“He is burning”, he whined, concerned

And chaos ensued all over the keep

The envoy from the North had come and with him, he brought the Winter fever

Aemond had never experienced fear like he did in those couple of months

He, as the King, had to remain secluded, fire everywhere around him to keep away the disease that infected the air. 

Seeing you was out of the question, he only received the ravens with tales of how Dragonstone was not accepting anyone from the exterior, and how they had remained spared from the wrath of the gods 

And Floris went into labor, just in time to receive the prince

And Aemond’s commands to the wetnurses were clear

Save the princeling

They shared concerned looks as they received a small, red, dark haired prince into the world 

Floris had a son, and so did Aemond

He held his newborn while sitting on the Iron throne, with a shy smile on his face, pedestals with fires lit up all over the room.

It was a small quiet boy, Aemond noticed, falling asleep immediately in his arms, against his chest

This is not what he expected

But fatherhood knocked on his door and he gladly answered

“The Gods are punishing us”, he raised his head to look at his mother

He had commanded her to stay in the tower of the hand for her own protection, and so far, the Queen had been safe from the fever, until now

Her face was red with temperature, he could see the sweat drops from here

“Mother”

“This is because of you, for marrying two Queens”, she whined, she took shaky steps towards her 

“Stay back”, he whined, having his son in his arms

“I want to see him”, she begged him, she was delusional, he could tell

“You have catched it”, he warned, standing up, ready to ran away from his own mother if needed be 

“The gods are angry with me”, she muttered, that twisted scowl on her face , “I failed them, I try to uphold the traditions, the faith the family, and i failed”

“You didn't”, he tried, to calm her, “You look unwell, I will fetch the maester”

“I don't need the maesters”, she said, and again, tried to come near him

“Don’t!”

“I just want to see him!”, she cried, “my grandson, the only one I have”

He had to call the guards to remove her from his space, he had to

He couldn’t risk himself of his son

Queen Alicent lasted seven days with the Winter fever before she perished, having thrown out all her green dresses, crying for her lost children

The fever also took half his small council, and Queen Floris.

The death of the later is still unknown, some say it was because of the childbed fever, others from the winter fever, and other that it was from neglect 

The last remnants of his past life were gone, he was now more alone than he ever was in his life, the court had been decimated, and he didn’t even knew who to trust

Corlys had fled, because of the scare of the fever, and he was faring well and everyone was on Driftmark and Dragonstone 

He stood alone

His only consolation is that you and his daughter were doing well, and not dying painfully of fever

. . .

You cradled your newborn daughter against your chest as she fed hungrily from you.

You had been so scared, and alone, but everything had gone perfectly, and after hard hours of labor, you heard a loud cry fill the room, besides yours anyways

A little silver haired girl

You shrieked of relief and happiness when the wet nurse placed a rosy-cheeked baby in your chest

She was so small and perfect, and as days passed you learned that she was so quiet, not at all fuzzy, she was a perfect baby, like she already knew she was a little princess

A girl

You giggled to yourself, fuck Aemond, but at the same time you felt fearful, but then you remembered you had Viserys, and Corlys, and the remains of your family to protect you, and you felt even better, everything was going to be alright

At least for your small family core 

You’d learn, by ravens and letters, that the Winter Fever has struck the capital

Civilians were dying by the hundreds, and it had struck the inside of the Keep as well, you received a personal letter from Aemond, expressing his concern for you and your daughter 

But you couldn’t be more relieved

Dragonstone was filled with life, the lords of the crownlands managed to send members of their families to make court in the castle, to be with you, you were getting to know them, and had dinners and interacted with all the ladies and lords, it was life fulfilling, you had never been able to do that before

And you found yourself happy one day

While the capital was submerged in chaos, you were dining in celebration of your beautifully perfect daughter, a princess to the Kingdoms, with your cousins, your grandfather, and all the lords 

You were happy

Or as much as you could

You didn’t even care that Aemond never took the time to visit you, perhaps he was sad you had given birth to a daughter and not a son, perhaps that is why he was keeping his distance.

The you received news

That Floris was dead after giving birth to a son

A Baratheon prince

Despite Corlys’ concern, you had none, you had your brother, your daughter, your dragon who had laid an egg for your child that hatched into a curiously looking pink little dragon

And then one day

Aemond was in Dragonstone

You could feel the court change, as the servants changed the banners of the red dragon for a green one.

The first thing Aemond did was held court and receive his subjects int he throne room, with you by his side, and then, after a long day, he dare to enter your chambers, while you were starting to feed your daughter

“Queens don’t do that, specially for a girl”, he whispered entering the room

“Is my child, and I will feed her from my chest if I chose to”, you said dismissively, he said nothing else, perhaps relieved you were actually responding to him

“Are you healed?”, he asked, you looked at him in wonder

“My King?”, you asked 

“Are you healed from giving birth?”, he asked, and you only looked at him sadly

You had the maids take your daughter away.

He served you wine, to relax you, and you had already surrender, you bathed him, as you offered him, like you used to do, but he grabbed you gently and dragged you inside the tub with you

“I’m so sorry for your losses My King”, you whispered as you massaged him, , straddling him, he only hummed

“I have children now, and nieces”, you can tell he was hurting, but didn’t want to show it, so you let it go. He looked at you with desire in his eye, as he took the sponge from your hand and he then cleaned you, specially in your breasts

“You look so beautiful”, he said huskily, you leaned in and kissed him, wanting to get it over with 

He took you in the tub, making you ride him sensually, it didn’t hurt, in fact, it was actually pleasurable.

“You are coming home with me”, he whispered in your ear, with him still inside, but after your both reached your peak

“I don’t think that is such a good idea”, you whispered, he sighed loudly, “the fever is still out there”

And that is how you convinced him to let you stay, you could tell he was hurting, you could tell that he was lonely, now more than ever, but he heard you, and left you in Dragonstone, after an entire month, he left alone

And for the first time, you felt him defeated, even though he was the king of the seven Kingdoms 

And that is how, weeks turns to months, turned to years

12 years later 

When you looked at your little brother Viserys you often wondered if he was also a son to Harwin Breakbones Strong

Your brother, at his eighteen years old he had the stature and built of the strongest Knight of the seven Kingdoms

You saw him practicing with his sword against Steffon, he was truly a great teacher, and Aerion was also a great student, quick on his feet despite his height, and strong in his movements. 

Your daughter giggled by your side as you walked together by the beach. and walked toward the Dragonmount for her dragon riding lessons, even though she and her dragon were connected in levels you were yet to understand yourself

“When is papa coming back?”, she asked, and you just shook your head

“I’m not sure my love”

Aemond visited often, he found reprieve in Dragonstone, in your arms and his daughter’s care, he took you like a vacation, and you saw him happy, but he soon left, he was the King he had duties, and even though he had refused to say something or share about his thoughts, 

Despite his very efforts, and yours, you had not been able to conceive another child, you couldn’t pass the first trimester before bleeding, and that was alright with you, but not with him, he was concerned. But you found reprieve in Dragonstone, and even though Corlys was getting very old, and he walked with a cane now, you still felt contented

Rhaena and Baela had married, one within her family, and the other with a Hightower from Oldtown, to your surprise, you were certain Daemon was twisting and turning in his grave 

But they were happy 

You found meaning, raising your daughter, and caring front he people in the Crownlands

Corlys had sent your way many Lords of the great families through the years, and you knew them all, and that was very strange

You could feel it

The air was changing

You could sense it 

And it all came to be, when Aemond drew his last breath 

He had been battling with an unknown disease for months, shortness of breath, coughs, spitting spots of blood 

He died, slowly and painfully, the servant found him in the morning, with blood dripping off his mouth.

He knew it was coming, the stranger was looming over him and he spent his last weeks weak, not being able to leave his bed, and there, he pondered, about how he was going to leave this life, with nobody by his side.

His son was scared of him, barely looked at him in the eyes, and his Queen was in Dragonstone, with no intention of coming to his side, shunned and threatened, his daughter, the apple of his eye, was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, but so gentle and kind. he couldn’t force her to come to court, she was still to young and innocent

He laid alone, on his deathbed

A single tear escaped his eye, as tumultuous thoughts invaded his mind

The time he made Vhagar rip Lucerys front he skies, the time he defended Aegon and burned Rhaenys to a crisp, when he slayed all the Strongs he could get his hands on, when he burn to the ground all the castles and cities in the Riverlands…

 The first time he took you against your will, whe he humiliated you and made you kneel

Your tears

Your cries

Everything, installed on his chest like a knife, twisting and turning until he could no longer breathe

He died, coughing blood

Whispering how sorry he was, when Floris, his mother, Helaena, and Aegon came to collect him

 The day Corlys had been preparing for for years

As soon as his spies let him know of the dark news, he sent the ravens to all corners of the seven Kingdoms

From the Wall to Sunspear and Oldtown, all the great families but one, the Baratheons, started a long journey, but not to the Capital, but instead

To Dragonstone

As you, and our daughter mourned, dressed in black, you consoled your child, who only had known Aemond’s good side, she glung to your side as you kissed her head

“I’m sorry my love”, you whispered, as you were in the balcony, looking out at the seas

From one day to the other, ships with banners from all over the continent came to the island, to your amusement

Rickon Stark, now a young man, came to you, as did Edmund Tyrell, Robert Tully, Alyssa Arryn, Even the princes of Dorne came, not to surrender but to support

Corlys introduced them all, to the new King of the seven Kingdoms

Viserys Targaryen

They all bend the knee to him

And proclaimed him King with the crown of Jaehaerys 

“I love you, always”, you whispered to him, as you took his cheeks and made him lean in so you could kiss his forehead, he held you back, kissing your temple in turn

“My lovely sister, you kept me safe, you protected me, cared for me, now is time I do the same for you”, he whispered, “I will protect you now, you will be safe”

Happy tears rolled down your eyes, you knew it was going to be hard, and that your brother was going to be unsafe, but it was what it was 

It was his destiny

So you traveled with all the great families to King’s Landing, Corlys barely made the journey, but he did, and that is what he had been expecting for all his life.

But when you entered the Throne Room, you found a skimpy kid sitting in the Throne, his Baratheon family by his side, who paled when they saw the greatest commitive the world had ever seen. 

Viserys calmly walk up the stairs leading to the throne, the King’s guards did nothing to stop him, he only looked down at the boy and smirked

“You are in my seat”

The reign of King Visrys was long and fruitful, called Jahaerys come again, he married your daughter on her seventeenth name day, and together they had two princes and two princesses

You remarried, a man from a great house, you didn’t bare more children, but you were so happy, and contended, and lived in Dragonstone for the rest of your life

Corlys passed weeks after he put Viserys on the Throne, his life work was completed, thanks to him, the seven Kingdoms were now united under one rightful King, continuing your mother’s legacy, like it was supposed to be

THE END

[itsabouttimex2]

Read your villain thing, just to be clear, do you think redemption means a character had to be punished? Because you talked a lot about punishment and I think you mean that if a character isn't punished as equally as they harmed, it's not a redemption. Which I guess is a view you can take, but it's not mine at all

A punishment is literally anything that counts as a “consequence for being an evil person who hurts others for fun/power”.

The only qualification I have is that they have to happen outside of being immediate self-defense. Losing a fight doesn’t count.

They don’t have to be equal- but having characters face something as simple as generic consequences for their actions helps polish a redemption arc and make it seem more authentic- the world feels more alive and real when characters are allowed to have negative responses to those that have hurt them.

Here’s a few “punishments/consequences” Red Son faces for all the shit he’s pulled:

(And thinking on it now, I might move Red Son into my “actually redeemed list” if I ever remake it. He goes through quite a bit of development- I might be being way too harsh on him. Then, he’s still totally unrepentant for hurting innocent people and trying to take over the world… hmm.)

(Footage gathered for Red Son)

Vocal and vitriolic distrust from at least two people who have every reason to distrust him. These people dislike the idea of working with someone who has openly and happy hurt them.

MK at least questioning working with him- he vouches for Red Son anyways, but it’s clear that he has at least some doubts, too.

Clear and open distrust from someone he was constantly hurting/trying to hurt/actively working to subjugate to his family’s whims by attempting to take over the world. Mei performs a “team-up” because the world is in danger, but still actively dislikes him.

Physical assault (played for comedy).

Teasing and mockery (played for laughs).

The butt of more disrespect- the characters have no reason to trust or respect this guy, and it’s portrayed very clearly that they don’t.

It takes an entire training arc that leaves Red Son sincerely opening himself up for this to changed- Red Son has to actively work to help Mei before she’s willing to cozy up to him.

And even after all this?

He isn’t given an immediate and universal pass that makes every character magically okay/friends with him.

THIS is what “punishment” is to me.

I don’t want these characters to break and bleed and die. I don’t want them getting dragged to the underworld while screaming in terror. I don’t want them on the ground with their teeth broken and their pride destroyed.

Consequences don’t have to be violent. They don’t have to be vengeful. They can be, but I don’t need them to be.

So what do I want?

I just want; in-universe, for people to care enough about how they and their loved ones have been hurt to have negative reactions to the pain and suffering they were caused.

And Red Son is actually a pretty good example of that, as it turns out.

As opposed to Macaque, who actively has potential consequences REMOVED-

Tang telling Wukong to not attack him after Macaque forces Tang to complete the Samadhi Fire ritual under the threat of ending Mei’s life.

Why? Why does Tang blame himself for something he was forced to do to prevent a dear friend from being murdered in cold blood?

Tying him up was good- especially with how MK snapped at him to be quiet and how Sandy flipped him around- they dislike him for his crimes, so treat him as a pest- that’s nice!

And then one of the worst moments in the series occurs-

MK giving him an awful “you aren’t a bad guy” speech before Macaque has done a single kind thing for anyone.

Macaque is not “playing” at being a bad guy. He IS a bad guy.

Up to about 27:49, Macaque spends nearly every last moment he gets being an unrepentant and murderous individual who takes open joy in hurting others. It’s not like he’s trying to spare unrelated individuals or going out of his way to avoid hurting people- he openly revels in attacking Ao Guang, assaults Tang, etc.

HE IS NOT SECRETLY A GOOD GUY DEEP DOWN.

“Not meaning it” or whatever is not an excuse for doing evil things!

Like, the most “kind” thing he’s done by now is drag an extremely exhausted and injured Mayor to the team- with no effort or work put in on his part. It’s not like he was out fighting the guy.

It’s the equivalent of your cat dragging in a dead bird and pretending they caught it themself.

Like, oh, “he doesn’t get a bowl of noodles” from MK or whatever, but it’s pretty clear MK was saving those for himself- and Wukong steals them to be petty.

And then comments on the caliber of Wukong’s character in Season Four like Macaque has any right to say anything about anyone- especially the people he’s openly tried to murder and in general be unpleasant towards.

“Wukong was power-hungry,” whines to MK the simian who was so power-hungry that he spent days/weeks manipulating MK to steal his powers.

How does MK respond to this?

Oh, he doesn’t. Because if you’re Macaque, the writers… I don’t know, actually.

Why wouldn’t they have MK defend his mentor, or call out the blatant hypocrisy that he was a victim of?

Seriously, what the hell?

How does Mei respond to a team-up with the guy who violently attacked her uncle and held her life hostage, leading to a chain of events that very well could have killed her?

She doesn’t! Because if you’re Macaque, the writers will write out character traits like “fiery and prone to losing her temper” or “loves her friends and family” to justify her not having a negative response to him doing genuinely awful things so they can have a team-up.

Like, revisit pictures one, three, and four.

Mei is not a gold-hearted sweetie who “simply can’t bear to hold a grudge”! or anything. She should absolutely have a comment here. She should be distrustful. She should be at least cautious.

But she’s not, despite Season Four working to exemplify her negative traits like being trigger-temper and impatient.

Because she’d be going against Macaque-

And the writers will do anything with him BUT acknowledge his crimes or genuinely having intriguing or complex moments between him and his victims.

——

There’s one last comment I’ve got to respond to, and then I think I’m done with the “redemption talk” stuff. ​

I’ve pretty much spilled out all my feelings on Macaque’s arc by now- there’s nothing left I can say.

But I’ve enjoyed talking on it, and I’ve enjoyed seeing the counterarguments! It’s been nice to see why people like his redemption arc, even though my own personal feelings on it are unchanged.

One person pointed out that Pigsy does at least have a moment of apprehension about trusting Macaque, which I hadn’t remembered, and I’m glad they brought to my attention! (This only makes the writing worse. Pigsy cares more about a secret being kept by Wukong than someone trying to murder him and his son in cold blood, because… because.)

I also noticed that I got something else wrong- Macaque wasn’t yet infected with the Lady Bone Demon’s power when he sieged Ao Guang’s palace- which actually makes it harder to justify, because we can’t even say that he was “rushing to save himself from an internal and imminent threat. He was just being a monster.

Also I’m pretty sure people are getting sick of seeing it, haha.

[cynthiav06]

I was just having a Percy jackson Brainrot and I was curious about something...

Considering the fact that Most Demi-gods Rarely ever Live that Long it makes me wonder just How Dark the Percy Jackson Series is

Like despite casting Neglectful Gods Aside, I can't imagine wanting To be a Demi-God due to the fact of how much Danger your in the moment you realize your a Demi-God

Percy said that once you figure out your a Halfblood it's only a matter of time before *They* Figure it out too and they'll come for you

I'm guessing he's talking about The monsters but even if he's not I can't imagine wanting to be a Demi-God cause I Genuinely wouldn't be able to handle being in that much Danger

And worst imagine how your mortal parent would feel, well that is if they care about you enough to care

It's just thinking about some of the things that were in the books it really made me think about the amount of Danger the Demi-Gods are in just really thinking about it

I mean it is the main premise of the Percy Jackson and the Olympian series, not to mention the opening words of the book.

It's also the theme that haunts the narrative of Heroes of Olympus or any other sequel after that.

It's the driving force behind Luke's actions, behind Percy's actions and beliefs, it's literally the motto of being a demigod.

It's the reason Kronos was able to rise with an army, it's the reason why Percy loathes all if not most gods.

Because Demigods are stuck in an all loss system. Choose the Olympians and suffer through neglect and quiet oppression, living and dying by whims of ignorant gods, or choose rebellion and be exterminated like pests. Do nothing and let yourself be molded by the gods into a dutiful child and even then death awaits you at the mouth of monsters.

Even having to suffer many abuses from their mortal parents at times and lack of any safeguarding system or protective group.

No matter what bargain they pick, the demigods will always get the shorter end of the stick. It's inevitable.

Even Poseidon, despite how greatly he loves Percy and how dearly he favors him, still tells him immediately after they meet that a heroes fate is always tragic. That even a god cannot undo it. That he, a god, is entirely and utterly sorry for the fate he has subjected Percy too. That it's his greatest mistake because he has doomed his son to die a painful death.

Hermes foresaw to some extent what would become of Luke and did nothing for he could do nothing.

It's why Hades promptly had to leave his children to their fate after their hiding place was uncovered. It's also why he could even if, in a fit of anger, dare imply that Bianca would have been of better use to him than Nico to Nico's face.

It's why Zeus, the supposed strongest Olympian (I have doubts), couldn't prevent Thalia's death and could only trap her essence in a tree. It's also why he has the audacity to offer up Jason, an actual child he sired as some sort of collateral and apology gift to Hera.

An object to use and throw. That's what gods view demigods as. They can always sire more, at least that's what they believe.

Even Athena, enraged and blinded by her hate for Romans, had no problem sending her children (who are quite literally a manifestation of her own essence) on a death quest to retrieve her statue of power, not a few times but for countless centuries, with no remorse not even when she regained her sanity as Athena.

Even Chiron is but all too happy to send demigods to die to fulfill the whims of gods.

It's also why the series should end in Percy and the two camps overthrowing Olympus. Maybe not all the gods but Zeus definitely. A new order. Maybe they team up with the so-called minor gods (I think the title is derogatory and an inaccurate term), and Percy will need to ascend (let's admit it, that's unavoidable. He is more god than mortal at this point. But maybe just maybe he will not become a god but another type of immortal, something different and stronger. (Cause he had the power to manipulate and take control of the domain of one of the protogenoi and use it to overpower the said protogenoi in their own place of power).

Either way, your ask is literally the entire premise of everything, small or big, that takes place in the books. It is also why Rick should commit to the idea of toppling down the system that enables such a thing.

I have no hopes for Riordan but in my mind, that's what Percy and the Seven and all the demigods from both Camps did with the help of minor gods and even Atlantis [Poseidon won't say no, not to this, even he knows the extent of Zeus's depravity, of his own past actions. He will help, and so will Hades. After all that's been done to his children. I think Tartarus was the final straw for both Poseidon and Hades. After that, they would do anything to protect their children. The true canon really, but Rick is too much of a coward to write it. ]

Sorry, I just had to rant. As you can tell, I have thoughts and feelings on this. Quite a lot of both.