#i don’t want to further villainize this stuff :[

[comicbookluv3r]

the urge to hc all my favorite characters as having NPD but also most of my fav characters being villains so not wanting to hc them being narcs cause I don’t want to villainize NPD even though I have traits of it/questioning full on NPD and I feel like its gonna be demonized anyways but like?? arghhhhh

[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so��”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[kitkat13001]

⋆｡°✩🎃 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚝

>> tomura shigaraki x civilian!reader

>> cursing, reader is scared of horror movies, mentions of serial killers, weapons, typical halloween stuff etc

tomura’s pretty sure your ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream can be heard across the entirety of japan. 

all he had done was tap on your window, same as he had every time he visited you. except that he had done so as you were in the middle of a horror movie, and now he’s pretty sure his ears are bleeding. 

he’s quick to climb inside and cover your mouth, shushing you gently with his arms around you while he waits for your heart rate to return to normal. 

“your neighbors are going to start asking questions,” he grumbles once he lets you go (after you’ve stopped shaking). 

you wave a dismissive hand. “they don’t give a damn. they’re all ten times worse than i am. ‘sides, if any of them give me shit, i’ll just send my evil villain boyfriend after them.”

this elicits a laugh from him. 

you settle back onto the couch while tomura makes himself comfortable, hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes before coming to lay out beside you. 

he squints at the screen, the horrified face of jamie lee curtis staring back at him. “whatcha watchin’ that’s got you so freaked?”

you bunch up the blanket all the way up to your face, burrowing into his side. “halloween, 1978. one of my coworkers bet i was too scared to watch a horror movie, so i’m gonna show her.” you murmur a spiteful ‘bitch’ under your breath and it makes tomura chuckle. 

“oh yeah,” he agrees sarcastically, nudging your leg with his own. “you and your little blanket against the world.”

you shoot him a look, sitting up to glare at him. ���i can be brave!”

tomura just stares blankly, not dignifying you with an answer. he knows you can’t, but he doesn’t want to burst your bubble. 

you huff at him before collapsing back against his side, hitting play on the movie. 

the actress is mid-scream—you had to have known based on the way the movie was paused—but you jump anyway when she screeches. 

tomura tries not to laugh. 

it goes on like this for the next hour. you’re watching the movie from behind your blanket, nails digging into tomura’s arm, and he’s watching you as you jump and flinch and bury your face in his side. 

you sit, horrified, as the credits roll. 

“that was awful.”

“yeah,” tomura agrees, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen. “the kill scenes were shit.”

“but the music was so damn creepy!” you insist, shivering. you lay against him for a while longer, letting the credits roll as you get comfortable. 

tomura’s nearly dozing off when he feels you tug on his sweater sleeve. 

“tomu, i have to pee.”

he peeks one eye open at you to give you a look before he leans his head back again. “okay?”

“come with me!”

“to pee?!”

“what if michael myers is in the bathroom?!” you cry, pulling on his sleeve insistently. 

he groans loudly, grumbling and complaining the entire way to the bathroom as you drag him with you. 

you shove him inside first, flicking on the lights with a yelp. 

“now check behind the shower curtain,” you tell him with a shooing motion. 

“you’re shitting me.”

“tomu!”

he huffs, knocking your curtain aside to check for serial killers. “see? no psychopaths in here.”

“except for you,” you giggle as he scowls at you. you make your way to the toilet, but he flicks the light off and you scream. 

he snickers at your cursing, dodging the roll of toilet paper you throw at him when you come out of the bathroom. 

“you’re such an asshole!”

he pulls you in as you grumble, but succumb to his warm embrace. 

“don’t be such a baby. you know i’d never let anything happen to you. some psycho with a knife’s got nothin’ on me, sweetheart. it’s me they should be scared of.”

you give a little ‘hmph’, but his words ease your nerves a little. that, and the warmth and safety of his arms around you. 

the way you burrow further into him, hands gripping the sides of his hoodie, makes him smile a little. tomura’s not capable of a significant amount of good, being a villain and all. but protecting you is, and will always be, second nature to him. 

i just watched halloween for the first time and was thoroughly creeped out. i hate horror movies, in case it wasn’t obvious. but i wanted to write something for tomura for the spooky season! stay tuned for spooky dabi :p 👻

- 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

[awkward-walking-potato]

Toupée Time with Wade

You had no idea how you’d gotten roped into this, but here you were, standing in the middle of a wig shop with Wade, as he examined a display of toupées with a seriousness that would make anyone think you were choosing an engagement ring.

“So, what do you think?” Wade asked, holding up a particularly ridiculous blond toupée that looked like it belonged on a Ken doll from the 80s.

You couldn’t help but snicker. “Wade, I don’t think this one is you.”

“Not me?” Wade gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Sweetheart, I’ve always thought of myself as a blonde bombshell just waiting to be unleashed on the world.”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your laughter. “It’s not really the color, Wade. It’s more… everything else.”

Wade squinted at the toupée as if it had personally offended him. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s too ‘Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall,’ and not enough ‘Brad Pitt in Fury.’”

“You know, you don’t have to get a toupée,” you offered gently, knowing that beneath all the jokes and bravado, Wade was more self-conscious about his appearance than he let on. “You look great just the way you are.”

“Aw, shucks, you’re gonna make me blush,” Wade replied, but you could see a glimmer of something real in his eyes. “But a guy’s gotta keep his options open, right? Maybe I want to channel my inner Fabio someday.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Then we’ll find the perfect one. But it’s gotta be something that screams ‘Wade Wilson,’ not ‘Bad Movie Villain.’”

He snorted. “You really know how to flatter a guy, don’t you?”

Wade turned back to the display, this time picking up a sleek, black toupée that looked like it had been stolen from a ’50s crooner. He placed it on his head, adjusting it with precision before spinning around to face you.

“Well?” he asked, striking a pose that was a mixture of Elvis and pure Deadpool absurdity. “What do you think, doll? Am I ready to serenade you under the moonlight, or should I just stick to killing bad guys?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face. “I think you look like you’re about to sell me a used car.”

“Ouch, tough crowd!” Wade chuckled, taking off the toupée and tossing it back onto the display. “Alright, alright, I see where you’re going with this. Let’s try something a little less… sleazy.”

He moved further down the aisle, his eyes scanning the rows of wigs and toupées until he found one that seemed to catch his interest. It was a simple, short style—brown, a little tousled, nothing too flashy. Wade picked it up carefully, almost reverently, and looked at you with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“Hey, what about this one?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if he wasn’t quite sure how you’d react.

You walked over to him, studying the toupée and imagining it on him. It wasn’t flashy or over-the-top; it was just… normal. It reminded you of what Wade might have looked like before everything—the experiments, the scars, the trauma.

“I think it’s perfect,” you said sincerely, meeting his eyes. “You’d look really good with it, Wade.”

Wade blinked, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes before he quickly covered it up with a smirk. “Well, let’s see if the ol’ moneymaker agrees with you.”

He slipped the toupée on, adjusting it in front of the mirror. For a moment, he just stared at himself, tilting his head this way and that, as if he wasn’t quite sure who was looking back at him.

“You know,” Wade said after a long pause, his voice unusually thoughtful, “I kinda like it. Makes me look almost… normal. Whatever that means.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “You don’t need to be ‘normal,’ Wade. You’re amazing just the way you are. But if this makes you happy, then I’m all for it.”

Wade turned to look at you, the mask of bravado slipping just enough for you to see the gratitude in his eyes. “You know, you’re not half bad at this emotional support stuff. Almost makes me want to buy you something shiny.”

You laughed, lightly punching his arm. “Just having you around is enough for me, Wade. But if you’re offering, I’ve always wanted one of those giant lollipops they sell at the candy store.”

Wade grinned, the playful spark returning to his eyes. “Done. But only if you agree to help me pick out a name for this bad boy,” he said, gesturing to the toupée.

“A name?”

“Absolutely. Every great hairpiece needs a name. I’m thinking something classic, like… Tony. Or maybe Leonard.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. “How about something a little more… unique? Like… Sir Fluffington the First.”

Wade’s eyes lit up. “You, my dear, are a genius. Sir Fluffington it is!”

As you both walked toward the counter to pay, Wade wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You know, if I’m being honest, this was actually kinda fun. Who knew shopping for toupées could be so therapeutic?”

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his presence, and smiled. “Anytime, Wade. Anytime.”

[cuppajj]

Thoughts about BY 5 and 6

So I finished the episode at an unhealthy morning hour, and now after getting my full sleep, I can fully share my thoughts!

And of course, spoilers for the newest episode!

First things first, I want to talk about Burning Spice himself. A while back, I made a post about my hopes for him and how I didn’t want him to be a temperamental meathead, but instead a smart and calculating person who took from his extensive knowledge of history to psychologically destroy as much as physically. Did we get that?

Kinda, kinda not. Spice isn’t another Purple Yam like I’d hoped, he has more character than being just angry, but the hotheadedness does remain most of the way through. He reminds me of a strongman anime villain, the kind whose braun speaks more than brain, but still capable of strategy. Most of that strategy comes from Nutmeg Tiger though, as Spice is mostly interested in fighting Cheese from beginning to end. There’s no moment where he messes with her mind directly and picks apart her vulnerabilities beyond surface level “you hold things dear to you that I will destroy”. Which, implication is that he was more focused on just fighting, which in the context of how/why he is the way he is, kinda makes sense.

And about that, I’ll address it briefly: So we learn that Spice’s corruption, at least the straw that broke the camel’s back, was that he got bored watching history unfold. I think it’s very cool! While I was interested in a little more nuance behind his boredom, sometimes villains don’t need a complex reason for why they do what they do. It does make Spice less sympathetic than Mystic Flour though, so it seems like not all Beasts may be equal in cause and backstory. However, stuff about him may be explored later, since he’s going to be back.

So I would say that Spice isn’t as one note as I’d hoped, but he is a simple villain. A simple and very very fun and scary villain, but there could’ve been a lot more to his character in this story that made it lacking for me. I know BY chapters are usually short, but there could’ve possibly been more time showing the parallels between him and Cheese beyond a dialogue or so. It would’ve been really cool if Spice addressed those directly, using it against Cheese. Making her rethink/relive the trauma of losing everyone and mentally destroying her… like what if there was an exchange in the prison cell when she was at her lowest? What if Smoked Cheese had either been incapacitated and unable to speak, or in a separate cell so Cheese could be entirely at the Beast’s mercy? (We DID get a bit of that when Cheese realized how apathetic he was and what he saw in her soul jam, but that was more of a disgusted shock than a mental breakdown.) Smoked could help her out of her turmoil later (an exchange between him and Spice could’ve also been awesome), but Spice leaving mental damage on Cheese would’ve further spread the idea that he also values breaking things internally.

But, I guess Spice is just destroy destroy destroy to the point where he doesn’t really care about anything else, which is… fine. Admittedly not my cup of tea because it’s so basic, but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy his motivation. I hope we get a little more nuance next time we see him.

Anyway love these sprites!! I wished we got more related to the first two, it shows a mellower and/or ironically colder side of him that I think would’ve really helped amplify his fear factor. Spice is all fun and destruction but the oh shit comes from him showing more of the calculated side he used to have.

But speaking of Golden Cheese, I’ll talk about her next.

Overall I really liked her story here! I love seeing her in action and on her own, and her interactions with Smoked Cheese were fun to see! Smoked Cheese was extra fun, I loved how he had sass while still caring for people beyond his kingdom’s entourage (his voice and mannerisms remind me of tfp knockout it’s crazy). I was also happy to learn how the soul cheese worked, since that was a question I had from last episode. It appears Smoked isn’t in his body, but his soul is projecting a physical form given mass that relies on Golden Cheese’s power. Very interesting, and I wonder if he’s just going to stay out now, or if he’ll return? And what of the others too…

Now, something I will say about Cheese is that while her character arc made sense for her in a bubble, I feel a similar thing like I did with Spice that it could’ve been much better. Personally, while Cheese staying true to her greediness and immense care for her treasures is a good thing to power her up, I don’t think it made her as bigger a person than Spice than she could’ve. What would’ve been cooler and more thematic for her character would’ve actually been accepting that destruction and the loss of things she cares about is a natural part of life.

What I mean by this is that while Spice embodies destruction, Cheese essentially embodies creation, which are two polar opposites that have their place in the universe. Antagonizing one or the other should come with a deeper approach to the message, and frankly, antagonizing destruction in its entirety is a very black and white angle. Destruction can be inherently bad and tragic, yes, but it can also pave the way for new life and new things to be created. Plantlife grows back after a forest fire. You can build something better upon the ruins of what was before. For Cheese, her kingdom could’ve been lost/destroyed, but she could’ve accepted it and strove for a newer and better kingdom. Which, in some parts she did, but my philosophy also applies to people lost too.

Death and destruction was a prominent theme in Cheese’s backstory, and much of her Golden City arc was confronting that. I suppose this is a separate talk for another time, but to put it simply, she didn’t have an arc about accepting those who were lost, moreso about striving to bring those who were lost back. The story ended with her promising to bring her friends back, instead of accepting that she lost them and focusing her strength on protecting those she still has with her. That last part could’ve actually been what the Spice story led to, with her first wanting to find a way to bring everyone back, but deciding by the end of it that she can protect the memory of her kingdom along with the living friends she still has. Smoked Cheese could’ve even helped her with that, showing that he cares for her over himself, leading to a heartfelt goodbye between the two. This is just a wishful image, but it would’ve been a really good way for CRK to tackle a deep theme and touch a lot of people’s feelings. But what we got was a lot simpler, with both Spice and Cheese’s characters and themes, which I guess makes sense. Some stories (or the game itself) don’t really want to be anything super deep in narrative, and that’s fine as long as they’re still fun, which this was.

Lastly I will say, I fear the awakening thing will get a little predictable and repetitive from here on out. Beast is a threat for the first chapter, continues to be a threat up until Ancient does a power of love and friendship introspection and transforms into a stronger version of themself. I hope one of them will be a little subversive in this—I don’t know how, I just hope these great stories aren’t bogged down by predictability!

But anyway, those are my thoughts about BY 5 and 6. Overall a great story, I’m so happy to get Spice and Cheese action because they’re two of my favorites, Smoked Cheese was fun, and I’m looking forward to the new Shmilk stuff we will be getting around the anniversary. After that I really hope Eternal Sugar is next, I have a bunch of thoughts/hopes for them too!!

Anyway thanks for reading!

[jthealien]

I was going to do a quick analysis on the comic’s title in relation to Buddy and uh. here I am now 900 words later. hope at least one person enjoys this,,

TLDR: Maybe the real Cinderella Boy was the weird goth friends we made along the way.

So I was doing my routine pondering of Dreams by Night (because symbolism and parallels are like crack to me) and this line right here might my favorite piece of dialogue in the whole comic:

Really this scene as a whole might be my favorite moment, but that line in particular — and its implications — are so fascinating to me.

Chase yet again breaks the conventions of a story, but this time it's the story of Cinderella Boy itself. In this case, Chase relinquishes his title of The Hero — or more accurately — The Protagonist. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that right after this moment is our first glimpse of Buddy outside of Chase’s perspective. Outside of the narrative up to that point of him being a villain.

I also don’t think it's a coincidence this is something as unreliable as a dream: a (quite literal) look inside Buddy’s head and thought process. Again, further establishing the unreliability of the story’s narrative as we know it.

I’ll stop before I go full blown analysis mode on the comic’s meta themes of narrative and conventions (saving that for another time). But I do bring up all this stuff about changing the view of the narrative, because I want to talk about another implication of ”This can be your story too.”

Which is that the title of Cinderella Boy actually refers to Buddy (or at least also refers to him).

Chase does fit a lot of the qualities of Cinderella and that story. I mean, it’s the very first story we see him in. But, I also think the Cinderella story fits Buddy even more.

List:

—A young person trapped in a horrible situation, stuck wearing rags and being treated as a pawn for a higher authority’s bidding. (Cinderella being a servant for her “family” and Buddy being a servant for Ex Libris).

—Said higher authority being cruel (The Evil Stepmother and the Old Man)

—The young person is assisted by a lady who gives her nice clothes and an avenue to escape reality. (Violet acting as a fairy godmother-like figure).

—Young person falls in love with a man who can rescue them from their troubles (the Prince and Chase), but doesn’t reveal their identity to the man

—Both Cinderella and Buddy are just nicknames, but that’s how everybody refers to them.

So yeah, lots of parallels to Cinderella with Buddy, at least based on the little we know about him.

I also want to bring up something we see in the very beginning of Cinderella Boy. In the first episode, we get a cliff notes version of Cinderella’s story. Colors (especially background colors) are really important in the comic, representing emotions and characters. And what is the main color that reappears again and again in this episode?

Purple.

The petals and roses that surround the snippets of story and the revealing of the main character, all Buddy’s signature color. The petals only turn pink — Chase’s color — when Chase actually appears.

Side note: The inclusion of both purple and pink side by side in this episode also alludes to the fact that, from the start, this is both Buddy and Chase’s story. (Seriously, go check it out, there’s so many instances it’s hard to unsee when looking for them).

Also, where else have we seen purple roses? Oh yeah, Chase’s dream in Dreams by Night. I’ve already rambled about its importance to shifting the narrative. Granted that’s not the only place purple roses appear, but it’s the most relevant.

Beyond just the colors, the actual descriptions of the heroine in the first episode should sound pretty familiar. A person “unknown to all” and “dressed in humble rags.” Sounds a lot like Buddy, from what we see in his dream at least.

Ok, so having discussed all of Buddy’s connections to Cinderella and the comic’s title maybe being about him, this is the part where I start speculating and jumping fifty different sharks. I want to make some predictions about Buddy based on the Cinderella story.

List (the sequel):

1- Buddy is an orphan. (Not far-fetched of an assumption to make about him in general, since in Beach Boys VI he expresses what seems to be confusion about the idea of having a family).

2- The palace’s clock is important in Cinderella, and Buddy’s dream heavily features a clock. So, Buddy’s likely running out of time for something. To find the keys or just being able to see Chase, either/or. What’s going to happen when that time is up? Well…

3- Mimicking Cinderella running away at midnight, Buddy’s going to be forced to leave the stories for good, likely as the season finale.

4- I think Buddy’s going to leave behind a metaphorical glass slipper, an identifier. What do I think it’ll be? His name. (Considering the current relationship between Buddy and Chase. And the fact we’re getting close to the end of the season and therefore a Buddy name reveal, I don’t think this is too improbable).

4.5- This is the most out there one, but Buddy’s name might be related to the name Ella, which is Cinderella’s original name in many interations. Maybe Ellis, Elliot, or Elijah.

It’ll be fun to see if any of these are actually close to what’ll happen. And with that, I’ll end my red string board session for now. :]

[altocat]

I am starting to see that Sephiroth was not really the leading and confident type that I thought he was. Everyone in fandom called him “general” and I went along because it made sense that the great hero would be a leader of men and soldiers. But Sephiroth was barely the leader of his own team in Rhadore. They made many of their own choices and led him too. When Sephiroth meets Glenn as an adult, Sephiroth follows Glenn’s lead right away.

Now we have Angeal as team leader and he commands authority that Sephiroth does not. Even if Sephiroth were the leader I don’t feel like he would be the one with Angeal’s presence. I don’t think Sephiroth was the leading one in AGS either. My old image of Sephiroth is crumbling and I don’t mind. But it’s weird to me. Sephiroth never took control of his own life until Nibelheim.

Yeah, it's basically confirming what I've always thought. I think Sephiroth commands a lot of respect due to his position and reputation. And he probably holds some level of authority over younger soldiers when the chips are down. He's given the biggest tasks and he's even assigned the honor of personally guarding President Shinra during heavy fighting. So he holds a lot of importance based on his capabilities.

But personality-wise? He's not the commanding daddy-dom so many people portray him to be in fic lolol he's actually a very passive, submissive sort of person. He really seems to have a very low opinion of himself, at least in the sense that he doesn't seem to find value in himself beyond his skills in combat. He's not arrogant. He doesn't think he's better than others--only different. And he's probably not the dominant leader of the trio beyond battlefield tactics. Sephiroth isn't a push over, per se, but he's probably something akin to the group baby in the trio, just sort of going with the flow. Sephiroth seems to have lost a lot of his more timid personality as an adult around the time CC rolls around. But he's also not really all that willing to take control of a situation, at least not beyond basic mission stuff. He seems to fall back on Angeal a lot. And possibly did the same for Genesis. He certainly does so for Glenn.

So yeah. The "real" Sephiroth was never an especially dominant person at all. Nor was he really greedy, egotistical, or someone who enjoyed the spotlight. The real Sephiroth was kind of shy, occasionally soft-hearted, a bit aloof, and more reliant on his companions in order to function on a day to day basis. Which makes it very interesting when he loses it in Nibelheim because it only further adds to his transformation into the villain we know today. And THAT Sephiroth MAKES his presence known, so incredibly arrogant and focused on his own evil desires that he no longer cares for anyone else at all. Willing to sacrifice EVERYONE and EVERYTHING just so HE gets what he wants. Complete character 180.

[aneryasblog]

Heart beat.

— Rafe Cameron x Reader

Tags: Toxic!Rafe, Angst, Implications of infidelity.

Plot: You finally decide you’re done with Rafe’s antics yet when you try to break it off with him, he won’t let you.

a/n; Based off of the song by Childish Gambino (Mainly the bridge part I guess) I’ve been watching toxic Rafe edits so please don’t actually find this behaviour acceptable.

“So what? We’re done, that’s it?” Rafe is seething as he says the words bitterly, his hands clenching and unclenching as he paces back and forth in front of you.

For the last hour and a half you’ve been stuck arguing against a brick wall, the stubborn wall being your boyfriend who won’t accept the fact you finally want to end things. It took catching him and a girl practically making out at a party last Saturday for you to come to your senses.

Given his constant mood swings, heavy reliance on drugs and now being unfaithful, you couldn’t stand by him any longer.

“Yes, Rafe. We’re done. I’m done, I can’t— I won’t be with you anymore. You’re not good for me” You let out a heavy exhale, worn out and absolutely drained from the constant back and forth.

“What so I’m the fucking Villain now? Typical, I’m always the bad guy”

His defensive tone only makes you lift your hands to rub your temples, the rest of the words he spews aggressively reducing to white noise as you block him out.

It’s a broken record that’s been played too many times for you to forgive. Not even yourself for allowing it to be spun yet again, even though you promised the last time would never happen again. You feel foolish as you glance up at the boy you supposedly fell in love with.

In this moment he doesn’t resemble even a fraction of the boy you’d met your first summer here. His charming smile is a scowl, his features pulled into a tense expression as he berates you. Hands pulling through his blonde hair as a sign of his frustration at your silence. Still you don’t have it in you to utter a word, all your energy has been spent.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Wake up, sweetheart” You don’t realise he’s shifted closer until he’s kneeling before you, clapping his hands together directly in front of your face to gain your attention.

You scoff at his condescending tone and finally raise the white flag you’d been struggling to give in to. Wordlessly, you push past him and grab the duffel bag from the closet. You begin to stuff your clothes into the bag, your back turned to Rafe who’s finally starting to calm down. The sight of you packing your belongings sobering him up.

“What are you doing?”

You ignore him, moving to his bedside drawer to collect your jewellery and other possessions you’d stored in there over months. He follows you into the bathroom, close on your heel as you skim through his cupboards and pull out all that is yours.

“Stop, you’re not doing this” Rafe tuts, attempting to stop you by ripping the bottle from your hand. He’s met with no response as you back away from him and move across into his room.

“You’re not leaving” He seethes again as he follows you like a shadow, his hand moving to grab ahold of the bag you tug closer to your body.

“Rafe, let go” You break your resolve when he stubbornly grasps ahold of it, his strength trumping yours as he successfully loosens it from your grip.

Holding it away from you, he forces you to halt your movements towards the door, now facing him with a scowl on your face.

“Give me the bag” Your tone is cold, void of emotion as you stand your ground. The sight only makes him hold the bag further away.

“You won’t find anyone else. I’m the only one for you, I’ve ruined you for every other guy out there” His gaze burns into yours as he speaks, words bitter and cold as he projects the pain he’s feeling onto you.

“You’re mine, we both know that” He lets out a humourless chuckle, a false smile plastered on his face as he watches you in anticipation.

Your throat tightens, tears brimming your now reddening eyes as you struggle to even think. Shaking your head, arms wrapping around yourself, you decide it’s not worth it. You can always replace everything in the bag, you weren’t going to put up with this any longer.

“We’re done, Rafe” Your lip quivers as you utter the words, your voice barely audible as you turn away and inch closer to the door.

“Don’t leave me” He’s tossed the bag aside now, striding toward you and catching you just as you open the door. His arms cage around your waist, pulling you back into him as he pleads into your ear.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean any of that shit. I’ll be better, I promise” He pleads, his mean demeanour breaking as he grows desperate. Desperate for you to stay, to not walk out on him even though he knows he deserves it.

You were serious about leaving him and the thought terrified him that he would no longer have you. As a crutch, as his support, as his. He’s finally run out of all the chances he’d been given for every mistake he’s made.

“I’ll be better for you. I promise” He’s turned you around this time, his hands moving to press against your cheeks that are now wet with tears. He murmurs the words over and over again, his eyes searching yours for any hope and even when he finds none, his hands still caress your skin.

You use the last of your strength to grasp ahold of his wrists and pry his hands away from your face before slipping away from him. You hastily leave the room, wiping away at your tears as you realise that this time Rafe wasn’t going to chase you and this time you weren’t going to turn back.

[automeris-io-moth]

I told you this would happen

Version 1

“Oh love, I told you this would happen.” 

Hero looked up with wide eyes, legs trembling as they tried to push themselves further against the wall. 

Their eyes burned with the heat of tears they denied themselves to shed in front of their captor, Supervillain thrived in vulnerability, they fed off of it like a leech and Hero would not give them such satisfaction. 

They watched with shaking breaths as the other approached, cold sweat running down their back as the looming figure of their master’s enemy leaned down, towering over them even when bent over right in half, having them feeling like a scared mouse in the corner of a cage. 

A warm hand cupped their cheek, and Hero was far too scared to flinch back, caught frozen. Supervillian’s thumbs stroked their cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, I can’t remember if I locked the door this morning,” Supervillian said, kneeling down before them, gently twisting their head, forcing Hero to look straight at them. The pure worry in their eyes made Hero dizzy. “Is that how you got out?” 

Hero found themselves absentmindedly nodding. 

Supervillain sighed “I’m sorry, love, I know how impulsive you can be when given the chance, it won’t happen again.” 

Slowly, as if with a scared feral cat, the criminal approached their victim. Pulling them in by the neck, and leaning to kiss their forehead. 

Then, they felt it. The prick of a needle, the sharp pain of metal breaking the skin, a weave of nausea, and the feeling of laying in wet fabric. 

The hold tightened, they were being rocked. 

“I know you don’t like it when I use it, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Supervillain whispered, pulling Hero impossibly closer “but I know you won’t behave on the way back home, you get so angry when this happens. So this is for both of us, okay? To make the way as comfortable for us as we can.” 

A foggy drowsiness started to overtake, and whatever words Supervillain offered as comfort muddled together into a pile of nonsensical gentleness accompanied by the soft touches of hands responsible for so much bloodshed.

Hero trembled still.

Their head fell full weight over the other’s shoulder. 

*

“What happened to your pet? They look horrible,” asked Villain, entering the studio. 

“Escape attempt,” Supervillain answered, eyes not leaving the sleeping face of the hero laying in their lap, brushing their head off of their face “didn’t get too far, those traps really roughed them up.” 

“I didn’t go to the trouble to get them for you just so you can break them, take care of your things.”

“I do, Villain, I’ll make sure they never want to pull something like this again once they heal. Now, what did you want here?” 

Villain smiled halfheartedly, throwing the front page of the newsletter to the couch Supervillain sat on.

A YEAR AFTER THEIR DISAPPEARING, EFFORTS TO FIND [HERO] HAVE ALL BEEN DISMISSED.

Gently despite the enthusiasm, Supervillain pulled Hero up, pressing them against their chest and smiling with their face buried in the other’s hair. 

Finally.

_

Masterlist

More short ones people, I need to practice after like two months of writing nothing but scienc-y stuff.

I wanna do a little small bunch of short pieces starting with the "I told you this would happen" dialogue, just because.

[judesmoonbeauty]

IkeVil Act 2 Prologue Thoughts & Theories

This will contain spoilers, and some 18+ remarks at the end, so MDNI. Please see under the cut. As usual, these are just my thoughts and feelings.This is a word salad. And not that this is important or anything, but I was totally listening to Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake while writing this.

My first thought is: That's it?! With the Act 1 prologue being as long as it is, and even with other IkeSeries games like Pri, I felt it was too short. I was expecting and wanting more. Perhaps, Cybird will release more later, but I doubt it. Seems that they are keeping Vogel underwraps as much as they can. Less is more, maybe that's what they were thinking?

Next: The spotlight is on Vogel (as it should be), since they're apparently debuting with Roger's route. We're excited to meet them, still I didn't like that other than Victor and Harry (with his two lines of actual dialogue), no other Crown members had any lines. Their sprites just pop up (sans William because he's away per Victor), to show that they were present. Where is that amazing stare-off that went down in Roger's PV?

Tell me this wasn't it! Hopefully, we get more of their first meeting within the first chapter of each of their main stories. Which leads me to......

When Act 2 Takes Place: It takes place a week after Kate's tenure of being the Fairytale Keeper begins, and honestly, I LOVE that. We need a change of pace. Now, don’t get me twisted, there's nothing wrong with seeing her start her journey from the very beginning, but consider:

Act 2 is supposed to delve deeper into the topic of the Curse itself from what I understand. If that's the case, we need to move things along. It would make storytelling easier (I feel), if Kate has already spent a week with the villains and isn't completely ignorant about curses.

Also, we're moving further along in the routes, which tend to become progressively darker with each route passing (my opinion), not starting from the day after she arrives at the Castle will allow the writers to delve deeper into things, and give us more chapters for - hopefully - more lore.

I mean when Roger's route finally releases, I'd expect maybe some flashbacks in chapter one of the night after Kate bumps into them on their mission, and then she agrees to be his assistant. I don't personally want an entire chapter or three of that, and I would love to see Kate already with a week's worth of experience of working with Jude & Ellis (when Jude's route releases). I want her to be someone who is already capable, not stumbling around with (How do I prove myself?), we already know how she needs to do this, as she's demonstrated in their events. Let's skip that and get to the good stuff. Now about the new meat on the market.....

Darius: Well, we all know that we can't trust him, and he's super interested in William for some reason. I'd love to see that meeting happen. His disappointed face made me chuckle when he was told that William was away, and you can clearly tell that he isn't a fan of Victor. WHY?? Is it the scones? Is it because Victor keeps his precious Cursed babies safe from those who may try to destroy his family? Can't wait for the explanation, because as Victor has said in the past, he doesn't want his time with Crown to end, and Darius seems like the one who is going to end it. I know Darius hasn't done anything yet, but I feel like I need to say this: Don't be mean to Vivi!

He seems to be focused on recruiting other cursed members into his "family", and his vision of the cursed and non-cursed joing hands together and work alongside each other (so he says).

He seems to be the big-bad (Gilbert tragic backstory vibes from this one?), I could be wrong, but that's what my gut tells me. I mean they all have one, but I feel like his is going to be twisted. A type that I am weak for.....so I am trying not to look at him at all.

Anyways....He's certainly angelic looking, and because he's wearing such an obviously painted smile, I would like to see him irked (not that I hate his character or anything), I just think it'd be funny as hell to see a blood vessel pop up on his forehead.

Nica: Right, Nica is gorgeous and he is the one I look forward to the most out of the three. His sprite has teeth when it's a full smile (congrats, my man), and a part from him making a comment that he's happy that Kate is present because he doesn't want to be stuck with a bunch of guys, he's very sharp.

He discerned by himself the real reason why she was at the castle. Also, he seems to love money and power....my other weaknesses are men who enjoy those things (stares at Jude & Silvio).....he doesn't seem to have a tyrant attitude, but I look forward to learning more about him.

Also, I have a theory I believe he may be involved with Roger's betrayal of Ellis' cursed predecessor. In Roger's main route preview:

Roger: Oh, me and…..this person……We aren’t friends. This person and I are strangers.

Mysterious Youth: ….Thank you. - “That’s enough”. (screen shakes)

Now, this could be Ring, but I think it's Nica also because of the relationship chart. I re-read the relationship chart. .

So, it'll be interesting to see how this plays out and how off I am. On to our darling......

Ring: Beloved, sweet, cold, blunt and Disney Princess Ring. He is the next villain I look forward to the most. I mean, a shared cursed ability with your twin? Moody emo vibes? Adorably quiet and strong? Please, I love him and want to cuddle him. Not to mention that skin-tight, black turtle neck....yummy. A part from this, Ring doesn't seem to like making speculations based on limited information, and I appreciate that about him. I think it's also notable that is very upfront with everyone at Crown, that if they try to harm Vogel, he won't sit quietly. Love a man of action. My question is: Why is he Darius' puppet, but not Nica? Ok, last but not least......

Sprite Designs: As usual, Nana-sensei has incorporated symbolism of their fairytale group into their clothing with lots of sharp edges. Personally, I love her art style over all, I think it's beautiful. Of note, Darius has a feather as his belt buckle and I quite like that. His brooch on his neck is the recognizable symbol of Vogel (seems like a swan's head with feathers to me), and the brooch on his floofy coat looks like the face of a swan staring at me. *Ahem* And I think his little neck window could be bigger....just saying.

Nica & Ring both have identical tassels, although they are different colors. One of their tassels likewise feature the symbol of Vogel, but the other looks like cross-hatch marks(?) Feathers(?). They apparently share the same curse, perhaps it represents their shared cursed since they are connected as twins??

They also share swan-faced holster clasps. The one on Nica holds his gun holster, and Ring's holds a book holster (?).....it looks like a book holster. Is it a book about flowers? I mean, it could be a snack pouch, but really it looks like a book holster to me. Just saying.....

Last, but not least, Nica's rings. My first thought: That's hot as hell. Next thought: Shit it's going to hurt like hell when he fingers Kate. This entire time I've been worried over William's and Jude's long ass fingernails cutting Kate up when they enter her, but this this amount of rings (assuming he doesn't remove them), that's going to scrape her so much inside. They're like a toture device.....wait.....maybe he's a sadist too? Oohh, yay if he is! Either way, he is a fan a jewelry.

Well, that's it. There's a ton more that I could write about, but I'm sleepy and I'm rambling.

[Master Lists]

[a-whisper-in-the-forest]

Rules

Part 1 (Disgraced apple pie) Part 5 (A way out)

TW: mind control, whump, mentions of murder

Villain walks through the front door of Supervillain's lair panting heavily. The alley was further away than they thought. They quickly take their shoes off and walk towards the living room. The room is dark and only lit by the reading lamp in the corner. They try to cross the room as fast as possible to get to their room. They had kept Hero a secret way too long. They’re going to be in so much trouble. Maybe if they can reach their room in time, Supervillain might leave them alone for tonight. 

“Hello, dear,” A voice that made Villain shiver travelled through the room. “You’re home quite late,” Supervillain is petting Villain’s cat on the couch and all Villain wants to do is rip it out from under their claws and protect it. “I thought i’d let your little friend out of your room, since you took so long to get back,” Villain puts on their carefully crafted mask of emotional distance that they had to create years ago. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I got the USB and the Sidekick is dropped off,” Villain manages to say in their cold tone, although that’s becoming rather hard. The Supervillain stands up from the couch and lets the cat go. While Supervillain walks towards them, their cat runs off to their room. “You are always so good for me. The best one of our family. Good strategist, deadly powers, never loses control,...” Supervillain says as they walk closer and closer to Villain. “So, tell me, why would you hang out with a hero?” Shit. This is bad. This is really, really bad. “Well?” They insist. 

Villain takes a deep breath. “I- I don’t know. We met after a fight and they wouldn’t leave me alone and then that one time turned into a couple of times. It meant nothing, just something to pass the time,” Villain answers, not daring to speak above a whisper. Supervillain hums in response. “Meant nothing?” Villain silently nods. “You do realise you broke one of the rules?” Villain nods again, a lump forming in their throat. “How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers, especially heroes? And now that Hero of yours suspects something and might find out what my power is. Do you see the problem?” Villain can only nod. They did this to themselves and they are going to have to pay the price. “You broke the rules, dear. You know what that means right?” Tears are forming in Villain’s eyes. They know what this means. “You obviously can’t be trusted with the freedom I gave you.” Supervillain sighs as they caress Villain’s face. “And you were so good for so long, I really thought I would never have to do this again.” Villain lets their tears fall freely and sobs quietly. They don’t want this. Not again. They had to do so much awful stuff last time. Please, not again. Their mask was broken and every bit of their hard work from the past years fell on the ground and shattered in a thousand pieces. They had to start from zero again. 

“Shhh, It’s going to be okay,” Supervillain whispers in Villain’s ear. They had pulled them into a hug, putting Villain’s head on their shoulder. “It will be over soon and you won’t even notice. You can just let your mind rest while I do the hard work for you. No need to think or worry anymore.” Villain continues to sob in Supervillain’s shoulder. They were so scared. They are going to have to do bad things again. Worse than they were already doing, and they couldn’t stop it. As much as they tried, they couldn’t stop it. “Shhh, it will be over soon,” Supervillain continues to sooth while placing a hand on Villain’s head. They try to match the Villain's breathing and let their powers do the rest. Supervillain’s eyes turn white and Villain’s heartbreaking sobs fill the room. They plead and cry out asking Supervillain to stop but they don’t listen. They try to push them off but the tight hug in which they are trapped doesn’t let them. They trash around and fight trying to find a way out. After a few more seconds the sobbing stops and Supervillain can feel Villain’s muscles relax. They let go of Villain and looked into their eyes. A white glaze covers them. They look unfocussed and as if they were staring into a void. Supervillain sighs in delight. “There you are, my dear. No more distractions, just the two of us.” Villain looks at them with a numb expression, nothing behind their eyes. Supervillain kisses their cheek and caresses their face again. “Now let's see if your hero still finds you so sweet now you have nothing holding you back.” Supervillain traces circles with their thumb. “Let them see why I keep you close.”

~

From their room, a tear stained face watches the scene unfold. The villainous sidekick wonders what it was Villain and Supervillain were doing. Just as Supervillain lets Villain go, Assassin walks by, probably going to the kitchen. As soon as they see what's happening in the living room and Sidekick lurking from their room they push SIdekick inside their room and quickly follow. “What was that? What were they doing?” Sidekick immediately asks. “You don’t want to know, believe me.” Assassin answers pacing through the room. “No, I do. They were hurting Villain,” Sidekick says sitting at the edge of their bed, looking up expectantly. Assassin sighs. This wasn’t going to be an easy talk. Assassin sits down on the bed and starts telling the story. “Just like you, we were all asked to join Supervillain. Some in their early twenties like me and Other Hero, others like yourself and Villain when they were only teenagers. You were convinced pretty easily. So was Other hero. I pushed back a bit more and when Supervillain can’t get you to do what they want, they take control over your mind.” Sidekick looks a bit shocked at Assassin. “I know,” Assassin continuous, “They only had to do it a few days for me to comply and I never want to experience that again. Villain is the one that pushed back the most, but also was the one that Supervillain wanted the most. You’ve seen them when they are angry, they are deadly if they allow themselves to be.” Sidekick silently nods as they remember the time Villain ripped an intruder in pieces from the inside out. They got a few nightmares after that, not that they would tell Villain because they didn’t want to hurt them. “So you understand why Supervillain wanted them?” Sidekick nods again. “Villain didn’t go down without a fight. When Supervillain controlled their mind they were able to break free a few times before they broke. The first time the mind control lasted six months. The second time they refused an order and it lasted eight months, and then it happened a few times more and the time varied. The last time was brutal. They made Villain kill all the heroes in the city, not only the ones from the Agency. That’s why there is an entire new league. I don’t think they ever recovered from that,” Assassin says as they look at the door, feeling sorry for their old friend.

“I thought all the old heroes retired.” Sidekick says looking at their sheets. “That’s what the Agency wants you to believe. They were too ashamed to tell people that their great heroes were killed by a then eighteen year old,” Assassin answers.

“I know I am not naturally calming like Villain, but do you want me to stay with you?” Sidekick nods. “You’re not going to hit me with a pillow again, are you?” Assassin chuckles as they pull Sidekick into a hug and lay down. “I can’t promise you anything,” They answers smugly and with that they fall asleep together.

Part 6

Hi! It has been a while since the last part but I really wanted to do this right. I hope you still enjoy the series and I am really thankfull for all the nice feedback I got on this series!

[jamiethebee]

(In which I spiral down a rabbit hole with Midoriya that has little to do with @codenamesazanka 's original post that started this (x).  FYI I sorta separated Deku/Izuku to indicate Deku as the hero and Izuku as the person outside of heroics.)

I started thinking about this post again (see the link above) and how Deku doesn’t really understand that non-perfect or sanitized victims exist AND still need to be saved and not by destruction. (The "maybe killing someone does save them" thing is a great way to assuage guilt but it's a stupid copout.)  Deku (hero) and more importantly Izuku (person) doesn’t really understand that though because he WAS a “perfect” victim.  Midoriya stayed quiet and inconspicuous and didn’t make a fuss about the bullying or discrimination he faced, he just kept his head down and hoped that something would change without any real effort on his part.  And if he had died as a result from the bullying he would’ve been hailed as an unfortunate victim (of who? or what? Don’t worry - isn’t his death so tragic? oh well now on to our next news story -), so any critique of society and the individuals who reinforce the status quo don’t actually have to do anything.  I know there’s more nuance here and lot of cultural things happening with this all but I’m not gonna dig into that right now.

Moving on!  Quite frankly the boy didn’t live long enough to get out of his childish mindset and get some “righteous" anger at the wrongdoings and failings of society.  All Might came along when he was still starry eyed and hopeful to lift Midoriya out of the trajectory of his life and Izuku never had any time to get to the point where he comes to terms with the hurt caused society’s rejection of his self and get angry about it.  As such, he can’t understand the league.  It probably doesn’t even occur to him that he's missing that understanding because for him it worked out - he got the attention and support to be able to escape the circumstances of his birth/quirklessness and to leave the box (deku) that society shoved him in. Twice and Toga never had that support – they both lived how they needed to in order to survive in a world not meant for them until they broke down.  (Maybe that's why Vigilante Deku AUs were so popular back in the day - they speedran Midoriya past the hopeful kid stage and to a point where a lot of the fanbase was in their own lives - seeing the issues in the world and wanting to affect change.)

Izuku, for all that he claims to want to connect to the villains, hasn’t given enough thought or empathy to understand how continuing to live a life where you don’t fit in with society can be deeply hurtful as well as the emotional repercussions of having unchangeable parts about yourself be reviled.  This isn’t to say Izuku had it easy -  of course Izuku went through hardships but.... there’s a big difference between living through stuff as a kid and finding a way out of it vs living through that, growing up, maturing, and in turn looking critically at society.  But I can’t bring myself to fault Midoriya for those exact reasons because he's just a kid. He doesn’t have the perspective to see outside of himself – at least not for the villains.  Because that seems to be too far of a stretch for him?  But Todoroki was close enough to Izuku’s mindset for him to help back in the sports festival arc.  I also acknowledge that he's a teenager and IS capable of critical thinking, but from what we've seen, his schools have never actually made the students examine the world they live in - which is a different skill from quirk analysis or historical or literary analysis or the various writing exercises that students go through. 

(Believe me – you can have the brightest kid but, most of the time, unless you point out the shortcomings of their mindsets, it won’t occur to them to look further.  (Not necessarily assuming that they’re wrong, but rather that their consideration of life is not as expansive as it should be. Especially for a kid wanting to be the greatest hero and save everyone.)  For example: many abled bodied people don’t realize how inaccessible places can be until someone brings it up to them or they find themselves in that situation (like a temporary crutch or wheelchair).  It’s through no fault of the able bodied person that they weren’t aware enough to consider it in the first place, but what they do once they realize physical accessibility is an issue, is on them.)  Back to the point – hero society never calls attention to it’s own shortcomings despite the proof quite obviously existing and the people within society don’t seem to spare much thought either. The adults who have seen more of these instances are then of course more culpable in this than the kids who haven't.

So, Midoriya was also failed by society (cough all might cough) as well, but he chose the hero path - to save people. We see him starting to consider the deeper issues in his talk with Uraraka, and the few times he “tries” to talk to various villains shows that he is aware enough of underlying issues - which makes it his duty as a hero to do something about it.  In that way, he is at fault. He chose a profession to devote his life to that should require this of him.  And through his hero work, Midoriya has seen the problems in society and yet he’s chosen to turn away from them (and by problems/them I’m referring to the villains “too far gone to save” and the issues they represent). 

(Sorry Midoriya, but considering we’re nearing the end and you haven’t shown any growth in this area….. I am faulting you for metaphorically pushing your head in the sand.  I do want to be wrong though.  I really want the kid to prove me wrong.)

And he’s able to turn away from them guilt free, in part, because he’s gotten the proverbial thumbs up by his classmates that it’s ok and that they’ll just be better and be model minority heroes and that will fix the problem! Because they’re positive representation!  Or something?  If you can put your mind to it that will fix things! Just try harder! Again, very idealistic but they are kids, so it comes with the territory.  (Horikoshi didn’t have to make them unquestionably right in that approach though.  Toga and Uraraka coming together for the win! The Shoji and Spinner match up not so much.)

Overall, there’s something about how Deku still fit into society's boxes in an acceptable way and never truly faced what existing outside of "acceptability" was like.  Don’t get me wrong it’s tough to live in the mha world as a quirkless person and of course it has its problems and restrictions, but that’s still a box that society provides for, even if the society in question doesn’t like it. 

And I'm not saying that Izuku had to live through a terrible life to understand the villains!  Just that, he has the capacity to look outside himself and be empathetic, but the application of it is lacking, despite knowing there’s problems, despite having LIVED with some of those problems. Extrapolate, boy!!!! You don't need empathy to reach out to others but the whole compassionate/kind Midoriya thing has been touted since the beginning! So I want to see it!

(Not sure how much sense this will make to people, but there’s a maturity that comes about with either time or certain circumstances that can be hard to grasp unless you’ve lived through it.  And quite frankly, Midoriya hasn’t. He went from a perfect/acceptable victim to the top tier of society (heroes).)

(Basically: Midoriya never **matured in the restrictive environment he grew up in and can't emotionally connect with the league who did, because of that. Instead he seems to have internalized the "if they were better" or "if they were truly good" then there wouldn't be a problem because just look at his classmater!, so villains being villains is their own fault and no one else is culpable.)

**centers on the idea that someone starts off as hopeful in regards to their discriminated position in life and over time matures to understand how society supports that discrimination and come to terms with the hurt that it's caused them personally (and in this case to fight back against it)

also, if you made it this far, i'm just having a fun time reading codenamesazanka's posts about the latest chapters

[franki-lew-yo]

ALL my feelings towards Friendship is Magic could be so easily summed up as:

" -Twilight Sparkle should never have become an alicorn princess in season 3 of a series with 9 seasons - ''

She should have always had it in the books to eventually become an alicorn, but her becoming one in season 3 is where literally all (my own) problems with the show stem from and almost all of those problems are about the show in execution, NOT in theory. 

Everything about later seasons Friendship is Magic’s writing reeks of the writers trying to make their ideas, fan ideas, and Hasbro’s ideas work all at the same time with so little time. They were told to make Equestria Girls, Princess Twilight, Flurry Heart and the movie “work” while also juggling writing in Starlight and her whole arc (and the characters attached, like Sunburst), the CMC getting their cutie marks, the reformed changelings, griffons and dragons, their Starswirl the Bearded stuff; WHILE ALSO making sure Discord and the Princesses (mostly Luna) and the ‘fan fav’ characters worked on their own and come together.

In my opinion, it just didn’t.

There was always too much going on with little to no time to breathe or appreciate the characters -how far they’ve come, how much further they have to go- at all. And it made later bit of lore and characters feel frustrating. It made potentially great characters deeply unlikable. Starlight and Discord are the biggest victims.

I want to like them. I really do. I can’t though because Starlight is not only a ‘madeawittlemistake’(aka ran a cult)-villain redemption, BUT she has to share her stories with the main six. They underdeveloped her while also trying to make her important and it just made me dislike Starlight and Twilight so much. It made me get mad at Starlight for being in the way of a Twilight episode, it made me wanna scream at Twilight for getting in the way of what should be Starlight’s time to shine!

Discord now had to share his ‘redeemed baddie’ spotlight with Starlight and others meant he had no time for his development which, when it was done* (ALL of Season 4) was abysmally fast, badly paced and in my view insulting. It made Discord, even in episodes where he had a point to be there, feel useless because fundamentally was overall. Season 4 assassinated Discord’s character to me and I didn’t remotely like him. For years I thought I just didn’t like FiM simply because the show and the fandom clearly preferred Fluttercord to Dislestia and I was just butthurt. Which, to be clear, I am. My mega revelation regarding this show was realizing that, no- what I hated wasn’t Fluttercord, it was Discord himself. How he was being handled, how he was written from s4 onward (ALL THE EPISODES WHERE HE’S YANDRE TO FLUTTERSHY SHOULD HAVE BEEN BEFORE HIS BETRAYAL. ALL OF THEM. NO YOU WILL NOT CHANGE MY MIND IT’S FINAL) pissed me off so much as a person who really loved his potential character in season 2 and 3. Discord and Fluttershy being besties and possibly more could and should have been adorable...but it wasn't because the Discord we got was a horrid character. Fluttershy deserves better.

I know you guys don’t wanna hear this same old worn-out critique about FiM, but I’m sorry I have to agree: when they weren’t being crowbarred into stuff that didn’t need their stories, Starlight and Discord were both forgiven -by the show- WAAY too soon. The problem wasn’t that they had redemption arcs and/or that other characters didn’t. The problem was their redemptions were badly done. The show didn’t treat them like they had been redeemed from something hurtful, it acted like they had never done anything wrong. And that was bad because it made it so, when the three baddies at the end of the series were officially crowned "irredeemable", the show felt biased. It felt mean spirited towards Tirek, Chrysalis and Cozy when their end should have actually felt fitting and funny. It’s not about ‘morals’ or ‘punishing’ fictional cartoon horses voiced by John DeLancie for warcrimes or whatever tf Lily Orchard goes on about-- it’s about how the show FELT LIKE IT FAVORED some characters more than others. That was a thing that I loved Friendship is Magic for not doing in seasons 1-3, what made it and it’s character’s endearing and wholesome to me, and it’s why the handling of the main cast in later seasons felt so mean.

But to get back to the alicorn in the room; Twilight could have graduated or something for season 3 and then the whole show could build up to her actually outdoing Starswirl’s wrongs as she does in the pony of shadows plot. THAT could have been her ‘upgraded to alicorn princess moment’; but it didn’t. As much as I wish it were that way, it isn’t and that’s not what the writer’s did because they didn’t have the time or foresight for that. Sadly, even though lots of flaws and problems were always baked into the loaf from the start (Celestia being useless or 'sinister', ponies being racist towards everything else, bad and/or basic friendship lessons) Twilight becoming an alicorn princess, which DID ultimately change her character, her role and her presence even amongst her friends and the rest of Ponyville, was the start of all the problems.

We’re stuck with what we got and what we got was a series that -to me- only ever kept adding more and MORE until it felt overstuffed, hectic, and unfortunately mean spirited when it wasn’t trying to be. There’s nothing we can do now. Personally, I highkey am annoyed at other adult bronies saying I “didn’t get” the show and its decisions which is why I didn’t like it. No. Trust me I get “it”; the problem is that “it” wasn’t well done which is why I didn’t like “it”. “It” deserved better.

Of course, I also get some of why those bronies are so defensive. After all I was there when the whole 'Twilight becoming a Princess'-controversy happened. I remember how ugly it got and how annoying and entitled you guys were about it and Equestria Girls' existence (don't even get me started on ur #savederpy).

Something I want to make especially clear whenever I criticize writers, especially of kids shows, is that a criticism IS NOT an attack. Ever. Boycotts and callouts should be reserved for stuff that's actually morally wrong and yes they also count for stuff I like, not just stuff I want to be mad at. Lookin at you, Didney.

There was never and still is never a reason to bother, hurt or ask the writers for MLP gen 4 why they did what they did. No, not even if you're being 'friendly' about it. Leave M.A. Larson alone.

Granted, fans being entitled to creator's attention and creator's being entitled to fans' affection is it's own rabbit hole, but I truly think that FiM set an ugly standard for that with animated shows today.

Besides still being too thin skinned and not liking that a thing they've divested so much real life time into could be bad, a thing about cartoon commentary and criticism in the 2010s-2020s is they're really parasocial and demanding of writers and artists behind a show. The was always the biggest, ugliest, most uncomfortable aspect of Friendship is Magic to me: because it's creators were online and fans knew they were listening, could approve of fan's creations, and especially because they felt 'responsible' for a show's success, they were really into @ing writers about everything. When critics would call something out for being badly written it somehow always made it's way into becoming a personal accusatory thing. People were blaming writers for being human and working within time constraints and network decisions. You didn't have to be like that TinyToons guy who stalked Tress MacNeille about sexualizing Fifi in the 90s to be a harasser. You could just be an aggressively oversupporting 'stan' or angry nitpicking critic to make a writer who's just doing their job, uncomfortable

tl;dr: I disliked the writing of the later Friendship is Magic. I think it was bad because it was bad. None of that is meant as an attack on the writers who were trying their best and don't need to be roped into any fandom nonsense, positive or negative, and never should have been in the first place.

Hopefully, that's one deadhorse finally beaten.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Alright, last time ever that I’ll talk about Velma. I promise.

Because I’ve been extra salty towards this show all week, and I don’t want to take it further than that. Talking nothing but bad stuff about this show for the entirety of its run is exactly what the writers want. They want us to hate watch it so we can talk about each new atrocity the show brings up week after week, and call us haters or anti-woke propagandists. When, in reality, they don’t give a FUCK about any of that. They don’t care about other races, genders, or sexualities. They just WANT you to think they do. Know how I can tell? Because I’ve SEEN genuine attempts of representation.

THIS is a genuine attempt of representation. Matt Braly, the series creator of Amphibia and a Thai-American, felt like Thai culture was underrepresented in media. So, he not only made his main character and her Thai, but he also dedicated subplots and entire episodes showcasing the culture he wanted to represent.

THIS is a genuine attempt at representation. Dana Terrace, series creator of The Owl House and open Bisexual, wanted a main character that was explicitly bi to finally help kids feel like they’re seen. To help give the representation SHE always wanted.

But when I look at Velma? None of it hits the same.

This isn’t a genuine attempt for representation. This is Mindy Kuling turning a character into a self-insert to make herself look smarter than everyone else and the most important person in a narrative. Truth is, this Velma is nothing more than a sociopath, narcissistic dipshit who thinks she’s better than everyone else but is actually more aggravating than endearing.

So...Good job representing YOURSELF there, Mindy.

And this?

This isn’t representation. This is a shield.

A way to protect the show from any criticism because it couldn’t possibly be bad. They have gay characters! Gay characters are good in everything!

Except that is the LAST reason you should include gay characters! Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE more LGBTQA+ representation in media. What I don’t love is obvious attempts to pander to audiences just to avoid criticisms. And keep in mind, this is NOT the first attempt a creator wanted to make Velma gay.

James Gunn wanted to make her gay in the live action movie, but WB said no.

Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated (the GOAT of the Scooby-Doo franchise) wanted to make Velma gay, but could only imply it because Cartoon Network didn’t greenlit Steven Universe yet.

THOSE are genuine attempts to make Velma gay, to represent people because the creators of both products agreed that it was the least they could do.

But making Velma and Daphne a thing just to protect a show is nothing more than shallow and inconsiderate of the hard fight dozens of people put up with for the sake of representation.

And, honestly, I’d be a little more forgiving if the writing in Velma was good. But it’s not.

Within the first minute, this show features...

Cockroaches having sex...

And fifteen year olds taking a shower to make a joke about how over-sexualized a series’ pilot can be.

First of all: FUCK YOU FOR MAKING ME FIND THIS SCREEN SHOT FOR A POINT!

Second: You lose every ounce of credibility that you actually care about people when one of the first moves you make in your series is to sexualize minors for the sake of a joke.

A joke that doesn’t make sense at that. Point me to a series pilot that’s over-sexualized. If you get more than ten, I’ll say you have a point. I won’t say that sexualizing minors to make it was a good thing, but I’ll at least say that, “Yeah. You’re right. So many pilots do this. SO STOP DOING IT!”

That’s the level of writing Velma has. And it’s why they have their “representation” to protect themselves. Meanwhile, you want to know the level of writing you’ll find in The Owl House and Amphibia?

Villains who prove that the most dangerous people are the ones who make the rules.

Jokes that are actually funny.

Likable main protagonists who are kind and caring to the people around them.

Protagonists who have heartfelt relationships with other great characters, to the point that it breaks your heart to see them leave each other.

And on top of that, actually good representation. But here’s the thing: The representation isn’t only genuine. It’s a bonus. Something great to add onto everything else the writers and the creators do right.

What it isn’t is an attempt to protect a show from what it does wrong.

And that’s it. That’s the LAST time I’ll ever talk about Velma. I really mean it this time.

Talking about this show past it’s premier is already more attention it deserves. And if you were smart, you would not only stop watching, but stop talking. The best attention to give something you hate is NO attention.

If you really want to waste time, waste it by watching something good, like The Owl House and Amphibia. They may be kids shows, but they have more maturity than a single second of Velma.

[nocturnalazura]

Just a Little Celebration

Dabi x FemReader

Just a little birhtday post for our broken boy.

WC: 1883

Warnings: Oral (Fem Rec), Birthday sex

Summary: Dabi doesn't really celebrate his birthday, but you manage to convince him to have just a little celebration.

“Come on! It’s your birthday, let’s do something!” You chirp as you shake Dabi’s arm. He grunts and slaps at your hand. “I haven’t done anything for my birthday for years, now stop it.” 

“Even more reason to do something now!” 

“No.” 

“Yes! Come on!” “Doll, I’m a known villain, what could we possibly do?”

“Ok, so maybe we can’t really go anywhere, but we can do something here! I can go to the store and get some stuff and cook whatever you want for dinner.”

“You can cook?” He questions as he peeks an eye open to look at you. 

“I’m not going to win any awards or anything, but I’m not going to kill anyone with my cooking.” 

“Fine. We can have dinner then.” 

“And cake. You need a cake.” 

“If cake will make you leave me alone and stop talking about my birthday then fine.” 

Leaning over you kiss his cheek. “It will, at least for now. Katsudon okay?” 

Dabi gives you a noncommittal nod and closes his eyes as he relaxes back onto the bed. Rolling your eyes at him, you quickly get up and grab your bag, heading off to the store to gather ingredients, a small cake and some of Dabi’s favorite snacks as a small surprise. Before you start the walk home a second idea hits you. Turning around, you head off further down the street of shops until you find the little lingerie shop tucked away in the corner. Grinning, you quickly disappear inside and pick out a blue set with black lace trim.

Happy with your findings, you make your way back home and check to make sure Dabi is still asleep before you get started on setting up his birthday surprises. Filling a basket with the snacks, you move on to a quick shower. Making sure to slip on your new lingerie before dressing in one of his shirts and a simple pair of leggings to not tip him off to what’s underneath. You take one last peek at Dabi, still passed out on your bed before getting to work on preparing dinner. 

Just as you start to plate the food you feel warm hands slowly creep along your waist. You can’t help but smile as Dabi presses along your back, face tucked into the crook of your neck. “I thought you were still sleeping.”

“I was, but the food smelled good.” He mumbles into your neck.

“See I told you I could cook.” 

“Just because it smells good doesn’t mean it’s going to taste good.” 

“Keep up that attitude and I won’t give you your presents.” 

“Doll, you didn’t have to get me anything. I don’t even celebrate this day.” 

“Well I got you stuff so deal with it. There’s a basket of stuff on the table for you. Go look through it while I finish plating.” 

Dabi lets out a small huff but lets you go and head over to the table to investigate the basket. The quiet sounds of bags of chips, instant ramen, and sweets rustling can be heard as he digs around. A small smile makes its way across your face as you listen to him mumble about the different foods you’d picked out. Grabbing the finished bowls of katsudon, you make your way over to the table and set a bowl in front of each of your seats.

“So? Like what I picked out?” You question as he pushes the basket to the side. 

“Yeah, you got a lot of my favorites.” 

“I know, I do pay attention to what you like.” 

“I’m aware.” He says, pulling his bowl closer to him. “It actually looks good. Maybe you can cook.” 

“I told you I can cook! Now stop being an ass before I take away your birthday dinner.” 

He rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his food, nodding as the flavors erupt on his tongue. Smirking at his clear approval you take your own bite, humming happily at the taste. The two of you fall into a content silence as you focus on eating. There’s something very calming about watching Dabi be fully content that makes your heart flutter. Once you’re finished eating you set the dishes in the sink and turn to him.

“So, cake or your last present?” You question, leaning back against the counter.

“Mmm, last present I guess.” 

Nodding, you walk over to him and quickly pull your shirt over your head and push down your leggings. “Last present it is.” 

Dabi looks you over and eagerly pulls you into his lap, hands greedily grabbing at your ass. Resting your hands on his shoulders you smile down at him. Before you get a chance to say anything to him, he’s standing up and carrying you off to the bedroom. He unceremoniously drops you on the bed and crawls over you. 

“I ever tell you how pretty you are?” He says as he leans down to kiss your neck.

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice.” 

“Always pick the prettiest things to wear too.” 

“And I only wear them for you.” 

“Better only wear them for me. I’ll roast anyone else who sees you like this.” He grunts before sinking his teeth into your neck.

You arch off the bed and moan as he squeezes your hip, teeth biting down a little harder. He grinds into you as he moves along your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. His hands slide up your torso and slip under the soft lace cups of your bra. Suddenly he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it off to the side. He looks down at you then looks towards the kitchen. 

“You said you got a cake, right?” He questions. 

“Yeah, but uh can’t we do cake later?”

“Nah, I think I want some now.” 

Before you can protest he’s climbing off the bed and heading into the kitchen to grab the little cake. You sit up in disbelief as he walks back in, already taking the lid off the little plastic container. He raises a brow as he looks at you and sets the container on the end table. Climbing back onto the bed he undoes your bra and tosses it off to the side. 

“Oh, so this is how you want your cake?” You grin up at him as he grabs the cake and sets it next to the two of you. “You know, a few hours ago you didn’t even want to celebrate your birthday.” 

“Yeah well things change. Now hush so I can enjoy my cake and present.” 

Giggling, you fall onto the bed and nod at him. Dabi gives you a wide grin and swipes a finger through the frosting and smears it across the top of your chest. Leaning down, he runs his tongue along the line of frosting. Your body relaxes as he gathers more cake and smears it across your breasts. Cupping your breasts, Dabi eagerly leans down to lick off some icing, making sure to pay extra attention to your nipples as he moves. His tongue swirls around a nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, groaning around it as you arch up into him. 

“Dabi, god that feels good.” You moan, threading your fingers through his hair as he switches sides. “It’s your birthday. I should be the one making you feel good.” 

“And you will, I just want some more cake, then you can ride me like the good girl you are.” 

“Deal.” 

You can feel him grin against your breast before gathering more frosting and smearing it down your torso. Dabi follows it down, leaving open mouth kisses before licking away more frosting. He slowly clears all the frosting away and spreads your legs to fit himself between them. Giving you a quick grin he dives and licks a long strip up your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it as his fingers dig into your thighs.

Looking down at him, you can’t help the loud moan that passes through your lips as he stares up at you with hazy blue eyes. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging softly as he sinks down a little more to lick along your folds again. He pulls you closer to your face, tongue swiping between your folds like you’re his favorite treat. His nose rubs and bumps against your clit as he goes. 

“Dabi, Dabi! Gonna cum oh god.” You squeal, thighs shaking around his head. 

“Good, that's kind of the goal here.” He grumbles against you.

“S-stop! I wanna cum with you in me!” 

“I think that can be arranged.” That quickly gets his attention as he shoots away from your center and shoves his pants down. He flops onto his back and quickly pulls you over to straddle his waist. “Now it’s my birthday, and you said you’d take care of me.” 

“Oh so now you want to celebrate your birthday?” You tease as you reach between the two of you to hold him steady. 

Lining yourself up and drop down taking all of his cock in one go. Dabi chokes on a retort as your walls wrap tightly around him. Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself only a moment to adjust properly before you lift yourself up and drop down fast and hard. Planting your hands on his chest you lift yourself again and drop down, grinning as his hands squeeze your thighs in silent praise. Picking up your pace, you swirl your hips around and moan at the feeling of his piercings rubbing against your walls. 

“Fuck, doll. You’re so fucking good, so fucking pretty.” Dabi moans.

“Yeah? You like when I ride you?” 

“Fucking love it. Love you.” He groans out as he thrusts up into you. 

“Love you too.” 

Leaning down, you kiss him deeply as your walls clench around him, nails biting into his pecs. The sound of skin slapping together fills the room, mixing with your moans to create the perfect melody. You keep bouncing at a rough pace, occasionally clenching tightly around him when he hits just the right spot. Dabi’s hands sneak up your torso to cup your breasts, thumps circling over your nipples, occasionally tugging. Moaning loudly, you slip your own hand between the two of you to circle over your clit as you near your end. 

“Dabi, I’m close. So fucking close.” You whimper.

“Go ahead, I’m not gonna last, doll.” 

Nodding you sit up and circle your clit faster as you pick up the pace of your bouncing. Dabi meets your thrusts as they slowly start to lose their rhythm as your high gets closer and closer. Your walls spasm as his hips shift angle ever so slightly causing your orgasm to crash over you suddenly. Your walls clenching around him forces Dabi into his orgasm, cock twitching as he paints your velvet walls white. You collapse against his chest as you attempt to catch your breath. 

“So do we do this every year for my birthday?” He mumbles as he attempts to catch his breath. 

“Yeah, but only if we celebrate.” 

“Alright, so maybe just a little celebration for my birthday will be fine then.” 

“Happy birthday, Dabi.”

[moodyvoid]

I headcanon that afo isn't as big of a hurdle as he's made out to be sometimes when it comes to dating Tomura. Sure if you're trying to get Tomura out of the villain life and live in the countryside with your own little farm house and all that cute stuff THEN he'll interfere but I don't think Tomura would fall for anyone that didn't have even slightly similar ideals to him and thus his partner would more likely egg him on either directly or indirectly through osmosis so I don't think Tomura would end up with anyone that would be a 'distraction' to him in afos eyes. Sure he'd his partner to further manipulate him but that doesn't necessarily have to mean getting rid of them

Oh yeah, AFO would definitely try to use Tomura having a partner to his own benefit somehow. I’d bet once he’s in prison and can’t oversee their relationship, he’d be pissed lmao

Personally, I’ve always pictured whatever partner Tomura has seeing through AFO’s bullshit and that’s what becomes the problem. Not that they don’t share Tomura’s ideals, but that they see how he’s being used by AFO.

Otherwise, he basically let Tomura do whatever he wanted with the League, so I could see him letting him do whatever he wanted with a partner— as long as it doesn’t go against anything he’s planning lol