#impossible to win with them they just LIE like they breathe

[prunelier]

wild that aries x taurus as a pairing gets so much hate because i have never met a taurus i didn't like. 100% success rate. half of my besties are taurus.

[cherryswisherz]

neva end

toxic!paige x fem!reader

warnings: smut, dom paige, overstimulation lowkey, choking, paige manipulative as hell, they both nasty as shit

"ou boy you make me so mad, but i just come right back, it's like i can't get over you."

neva end (future ft. kelly rowland, 2012)

-

this is not why i came here. i came to end this... whatever this is. i came here to return her ipad and go about my business.

and now, here i am, ipad in hand, her front pressed to my back, her hands braced on the desk in front of me.

"y/n?"

her fucking. voice. soft and deep in my ear.

i didn't say a fucking word. i didn't move an inch. i only stood there as paige's hands moved away from the desk, now tracing her fingertips down the front of my thighs.

"you can leave." she reminded me, running her hands along the hem of my leggings that i for sure no longer found necessary.

did paige give me full range to leave? yes. am i going to? fuck. no.

i nodded, my eyes still closed, "i know."

"so we both understand what's about to happen."

"i mean there's no alot to misunderstand in this situation.." i trailed off. who would i be without my smart ass mouth?"

paige only hummed in amusement but nothing was funny right now. not with her body pushed even closer against mine. not with her fucking hands slowly pushing my skirt up.

her actions were all slow and calculated as she pushed the material to pool at my waist, exposing the poor excuse for underwear i have on.

i blinked my eyes open and looked down, noticing paiges hand sliding around over my hand that held her ipad. which she slid out of my hand in a matter of seconds.

i silently gasped when sh grapped both my hands and pulled them behind my back and bent me over the fucking desk.

my body burned as the ache between my legs grew damn near impossible to handle. especially when paige drew my feet apart with one of hers.

"if you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask." she said, her voice was almost unrecognizable, all rasp and something else i couldn't describe.

as she drew one of her hands up the inside of my thigh, i knew she had the upper hand, which just couldn't stand. "i don't." and we both knew it was a bold faced lie, given that she quite literally had me bent over a desk. but i still couldn't let her think she won. she wins everything. she doesn't get to win this.

"oh?" she questioned, running her hands over my damp underwear. "this is for someone else? because we're the only ones here mama."

i drew in a deep breath, feeling that ache between my legs grow as she moved her fingers back and forth over my clothed pussy.

"literally anyone else. " i forced.

paige only hummed, painfully fucking slowly, sliding my panties to the side and exposing me to her. then she bent over so her lips were a centimeter from my ear and said "tell me it's for me, and i'll treat it like it's mine."

bro.

in that moment i was supposed to be thinking a bout every tear i had shed because of her. every time she made me wear someone elses jersey because she didn't want people to think we were together. i was supposed to be thinking about literally anything other than her fingers inside of me.

in that moment where i was supposed to be fed the fuck up. where i was supposed to be done with the toxicity of our situationship, she had to say some dumbass, stupid ass, sexy ass bullshit like that.

i was supposed to win this time.

but fuck a W.

i want an orgasm.

"it's for you." i mumbled, hating the fact that i was boosting her ever-so-large ego.

paige didnt move. "i didnt her you baby." she said, obviously trying to prove a point.

its always about points with her ass.

"it's for you." i said a little louder this time.

i felt her hand cup my pussy, applying as little pressure as possible. "who?" she asked?

she must be one of them deaf hoes.

"you paige da-" i was cut of my my own gasp when her fingers began to rub my clit in circles. it was enough for me to raise my head a little bit before she gripped the back of my neck putting be back where i was.

"how do you want it mama?" she asked, slowing down the pace of her fingers.

"yknow how i want it p." i moaned softly, trying to remember that she hadn't even really started yet and i was acting like this.

all she said was "i do." and that put a little fear in my chest because paige never shuts the fuck up.

but that fear quickly dissipated as she slid a slender finger in me, forcing a louder moan to tumble out of my lips.

"why you wanna leave me?" she asked, hand still moving slowly, sliding in and out of me as she angled almost perfectly into my spot.

"because you treat me like shit." i bit out, deciding that honesty was probably the best policy in this situation. but then she slid a second finger into me, pissing me off, because i was trying to be mad at her. "god. i fucking hate you." i cried into the desk.

she only curled her fingers perfectly into me, making a tremor run through me. "say it like you mean it." she said, releasing my neck and gripping my hips all to deepen her strokes.

and deepen them she did. with each stroke, she guided my hips deeper and rougher onto her fingers.

i was gripping the desk under me as curse words and some more shit fell from my mouth, practically vibrating as she hit that spot over and over again.

"you're dripping." paige said almost matter-of-factly. fucking me even rougher as she stopped the movement of my hips all together and just held them still, forcing me to take everything she was giving me.

and i knew she was right. i could feel the wetness she always caused, allpwing her fingers to move in and out of me with ease.

"fuck" i forced out, trying to take deep breaths as i tightened around her.

"you still leaving me ma?" she asked moving the hand on my hip to my clit, rubbing circle that maxed the speed of her fingers.

her voice was so annoyingly sexy but i couldn't fight the shivers it sent down my spine.

"answer me or you don't cum." she ordered, slowing her pace slightly.

"paige-" i cried out, begging her to let me have this one thing.

she only pinch my clit, which made me jolt forward. "FUCK!" i screamed. "no. no i'm not leaving you. never p, i wont ever- fuck!" i cried as she sped up her pace faster than before and the knot in my stomach unraveled and all i could feel was bliss.

my eyes rolled shut and my jaw dropped as she moved her hand to the front of my throat, pulling me so my back was to her chest, fucking me with her fingers in way that can only be described as villanous.

paige wouldn't stop. she kept going as i trembled against her whispering in my ear.

"you thought you were boutta leave me? huh? you thought i was gonna just give you up?" she asked pulling her fingers out of me, sliding them between my parted lips.

"you taste that baby?" she slid her fingers against my tongue making me moan at the taste of myself. "you wanted to take that away from me?"

she removed her fingers from my mouth and moved them to my clit this time, rubbing fast circles.

"sh-shit! paige wai-" i fell back against the desk reaching back to push her way.

"nah you wanna leave people and shit." she practically growled, gripping my arm so i couldnt push her. "take it." and she continued until i came again, leaving me as nothing but a pile of skin and bones on this godforsaken desk.

and as i tried to come back down to planet earth, all she did was put my panties and skirt back in place and pat my ass.

"i don't even know you tried me like that."

this. bitch.

niyah speaks i wrote this listening to one direction

taglist: @patscorner @theriyshow @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @1onescu @mrsengstler @kmoneymartini

[allzelemonz]

Just What He’s Looking For: Demon X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 1, Overstimulation and Size Difference Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Demons, Hoodoo, crossroads deal, anal fingering, anal sex, sex for money, he doesn’t want your soul, unrealistic sex, magic gag, magic restraints Summary: A crossroads deal for money doesn’t cost you your soul, but something much more intimate.

The road is empty. Dirt and gravel long settled as if a car hasn’t passed over it in days. The time on your phone blinks into a new day, midnight coming to glow back at you. The dirt under your shoes starts to feel like something more solid, packed from how long you’ve been waiting in the middle of these roads. The Hoodoo X, the meeting place of devils and demons.

“Welcome, child.”

Your spine stiffens like a steel rod at the impossibly deep voice. It sounds as if bass came to life and learned to speak for itself. Everso slightly, you turn your head. Standing behind you is the man of legend, ‘the black man’. And that he is, pitch black. Like the infinite void of space wrapped itself around a man’s body. He’s impossibly tall with broadness to match, but every other feature is hidden in the black.

“Been a while since I’ve had a deal.” He smiles, his teeth unseen in the black. “What can I do for you, boy?”

You swallow your nerves, turning to face whatever creature it is that’s appeared, be it devil, demon, or something else entirely. “Money. I need money.”

He chuckles, deep and shaking. “Doesn’t everyone now?” He steps closer. “Folks used to ask me for skill. Playing guitars or winning Poker, but the tides are changing. Handsome young men gotta ask me for just plain money now.”

“What does it cost?” You manage to keep the shutter from your voice as he rounds you, his eyes feeling like fire on your form.

“Your soul, usually.” He hums so deep it sounds like music. “But yours doesn’t interest me.”

His hand feels like warm water as it drapes itself around the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to make you feel like a scolded dog. He pushes you down and onto your knees, the dirt immediately dusting onto your pants.

“No, from you I want something else.” He sighs, squeezing lightly at your neck. “It’s been centuries since I’ve had a decent looking man.”

Your mind settles on the implication. “You want--”

“To bed you, yes. Now lie down and take what you're given, money will come.”

It seems a small cost in the grand scheme. Letting a demon fuck you for a lifetime of money and ease. So, without protest, you settle face down in the dirt and let the warm hands position you properly. He pushes your head down, allowing you to turn your face, but props your hips up with some invisible force to hold them there.

The warm feeling of his hand slides through the very fabric of your pants as if they’re not there at all and slips into you unceremoniously. His fingers feel like water, warm and expanding, but you’re unable to make a sound with some unknown silencer muting you entirely. Effectively it all turns you into a living sex doll for the demon to use.

And use you he does.

Unmoving and mute, your mouth open in silent cry, he fills you entirely. Every inch is like warm water, but somehow solid. His massive size takes over your whole body, pressing around your insides until tears stream down your face at the tip peeking through your lips. The demon groans in your ear as his inhumanly large body drapes over you, yet no breath hits your ear. The thrusting feels like an entire digestion, fucking through your whole body as if it was made to be a simple cocksleeve and not an intricate set of organs.

It goes for hours. Hours of use, hours of filling you, hours of invisible hands pumping and palming you to completion after completion. When it finally ends, when the massive length of the demon finally leaves you, your mind is nothing but a cloud and your body nothing but an empty sleeve. The dirt covers your clothes, nestles into your hair, and dusts your lips, but you are unable to care as your eyes fall closed and it feels as though your heart stops.

But then you wake up. A sunny morning in bed, birds chirping, and a bank notification on your phone.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

"I want you to destroy me so I'll feel better"

Convincing Simon "Ghost" Riley to try something new. Well...not new for either of you, but a first for your relationship.

CW: name calling, degradation, violent choking (all consensual)

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

"You like what?"

Simon stands in front of you, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"I like being choked...until I pass out."

You repeat slowly. You know it was fucked up. You know it was bad. Everytime you did it you could feel your braincells dying. You sit on your hands at the edge of the bed. There's a moment of silence as he stares down at you.

"No."

He gives you that signature cold look of his: reserved for when you're in an argument you can't win. Or one he doesn't want you to win. 'You know this is useless. Give up. Quit while you're ahead.' It's like his voice was in your head.

"Are you afraid you're gonna hurt me?"

You always get your way at the end of the day. You knew it. He knew it.

"It's a stupid idea. Best to get that out of your head. Now."

He adjusts his mask before walking off.

"Please?"

You hug him from behind while he cooks eggs.

"No."

"Please?"

You wrap your arms his neck and lie on top of him while watching TV.

"No. Stop asking."

"Please?"

You're in bed when he goes to turn off the lights.

"..."

He resorts to ignoring you. You're getting closer to cracking him.

It goes on like this for two weeks. Usually he gives in by now, but you're making progress. Instead of engaging, he just leaves the room now.

"How did you even find out you liked that?"

He doesn't look at you while he spoons cereal into his mouth, mask rolled up just enough.

"I think it's something about an abusive ex choking me."

You take a bite of your cereal.

"Something about 'reclaiming your power after past traumas'. At least that's what my therapist said. Not sure if I believe that, but I can't think of any other reason I like it."

You shrug as you chew.

"Hm."

He keeps eating.

Breakfast is silent after that. You always get your way at the end of the day. You knew it. He knew it.

"Can't believe I'm doing this..."

He mumbles, kneeling over you while you lie on the floor.

"C'mon you've done this dozens of times."

You smile up at him.

"That's different and you know that."

He looks down at you, slightly disappointed.

"Sorry."

"It's fine..."

It's quiet. He shifts and the floorboards creak.

"So just until I pass out, then you can stop. I'll wake right up after."

You rub your hands on his knees.

"Mhm. Tap out whenever you want."

His gaze is intense, like he was fighting with himself. He places a hand on your neck gently.

"Can you be a little mean?"

Your heart races.

"Fucks sake, choking ain't enough for you?"

He wraps the other hand around your throat lightly.

"Would it be fucked up if I fought back?"

You flash a cheeky smirk.

"Don't do that."

He rubs his thumbs against your skin.

"Ok. Ready."

You take a deep breath and relax. He clears his throat and puts some pressure on your neck. You nod, looking up at him.

"Hm."

He applies more pressure until you can barely breathe. You take shallow breaths and close your eyes. His grip gets tighter. You can't inhale. You shift your hips under his.

"Don't. Move."

His words send a chill up your spine. He never used this tone with you before. It was terrifying. You try to swallow nervously. The last few exhales you have leave your lungs.

"Look at me."

You keep your eyes closed, a few rough taps to your face snap them open. His eyes are glossed over and dark, a frenzied shark. You find it in your chest to whimper.

"Shut the fuck up."

His hands wrap around you harder. It's starting to hurt. You lift your hands to grab his wrists. He gives a solid shake, banging your head on the floor and making you see stars. He leans down, pressing his masked mouth to your ear.

"Told you. Don't. Move."

Your lips opened and closed like a fish out of water. Swallowing became impossible. Your eyes watered, you could feel Simon's hands shaking. Then, darkness. It's quiet, peaceful, only lasts less than a second. And just like that, you're conscious. A delicious head rush and breath of fresh air leaves a goofy smile on your face.

"Unbelievable..."

Simon shakes his head, leans back on his knees, and huffs. You stare at the ceiling for a moment, catching your breath. Simon scoots back and you watch as he adjusts himself.

"Have fun?"

You tease. Before you can rag on him more, he yanks both your bottoms off and sits you right on his hard dick.

"Fuckin hell. You really do like that shit, huh?"

He grips your ass and glides you up and down as your dripping wetness clamps down on him. You're already drooling from the sensation of him parting you wide open so easily. You always get your way at the end of the day. You knew it. He knew it.

[shaunamilfman]

Being the Captain of the Rival Team HC's

pairing: Jackie Taylor x reader

Jackie hadn't really paid you much attention the first time she saw you. She knew of you, of course, having played your team before, but she'd never really seen you individually. That was, of course, till Shauna fouls you ten minutes into the game and she has to come talk to you. It's love at first sight for Jackie as you lie dazed on the ground with a bloody nose. 

Jackie trying to trash talk you, but being abysmally bad at it. She's not all that skilled at it to begin with, too nice at heart, but she's somehow impossibly worse. She leaves all of those confrontations wincing as she realizes she just showered you in compliments badly disguised as insults. Shauna's in hysterics about it, which certainly doesn't help her mood about it. Huffing all the way back. 

Nearly trips over the ball while warming up because she can't take her eyes off of you. Tai comes marching across the field to yell at her about it and Jackie's just scoffing and glancing around because she can't meet her eyes. 

When it comes to the actual game, trust that she will be playing at absolute peak performance. She's competitive enough as it is before you add in a newly realized desire to impress you. Glances over at you to see how you're reacting every time she makes an impressive play during the game. 

Jackie visibly deflates any time you're substituted out. It's hard to justify staring at you all game if you're not actually on the field, after all. 

Keeps trying to find excuses to linger by your locker room after the game so she can catch you after the game. She walked over with the intention to talk shit, but is too afraid of hurting your feelings after your team loses so badly that she ends up just flirting with you instead. 

Stalking your Instagram during halftime and accidentally likes a picture from two years ago. You just vaguely hear an embarrassed “OH MY GOD!” coming vaguely from the Yellowjacket’s locker room. 

Jackie studies your play style more intensely than anyone else's, telling herself it's just for strategy, but knowing deep down it's because it's you. 

Jackie nearly skipping out of the bus on game day because she knows she gets to see you. Talked Shauna's ear off the whole ride there about how annoying (hot), and irritating (distracting), you are. 

You run into each other at a mutual friends party (Jackie crashed it because she asked around till she found one you'd be at) and finally get to have a real conversation. 

Jackie keeps subtly trying to see what college you're going to because she keeps daydreaming about playing on the same team together. She's put some serious thought into how the two of you could complement each other's play styles, but she mostly just imagines kissing you after a win. 

Shows up at your home games to cheer you on when it doesn't conflict with the Yellowjacket’s own standing. All your teammates are like “isn't that…?” and you just shake your head and turn away. She shows up with a sign with your name on it next time so she can wave it around. World’s biggest fan for your mostly mediocre soccer team. 

Finally asking Jackie to hang out sometime and her ass shows up with a soccer ball. 

Off the field, she's a lot more playful and confident when she talks to you. There's something about the uniform that just makes her so nervous. Jackie keeps teasing you about whatever member of your team is the worst. She's laughing hysterically talking about how one of them had tripped over the bench and brought half your team to the ground. You finally get annoyed and walk off and she's just chasing behind you like “wait!”

Having to deal with Jackie's irrational jealousy when she so much as sees you breathing in the direction of the opposing team captain whenever you play. Huffing and puffing because you had to say “good game” to the pretty captain you've never met before. 

Winning a game against a different team with a patented Jackie Taylor play and she's losing her mind on the bleachers. By the time she finds you after the game, she's practically vibrating with excitement. 

Jackie smiles for almost the entirety of a game because she catches you cheering for her in the bleachers after she scores a goal. She insists that it makes her a better player. 

She makes such a big deal out of choosing between her team and you when really no one even gives her a hard time about it but Tai. The seasons already ended for your team and Jackie's just out here trying to live out her Romeo and Juliet fantasy. 

Jackie insists that you have to kiss her before states or else she's going to lose. It's a good luck charm and not at all an excuse to kiss you, obviously. 

[procyonloser]

(orc/elf Adamsapple mini. warning for mentions of childbirth and violence/bloodshed)

Adam was exhausted, his breathing was only now starting to even out, but he couldn't sleep yet. One of the taller elves handed him a round crying bundle, which he pulled up onto his breast.

The infant looked massive in comparison to the elven children that watched on from the entrance of the room - but it was minute compared to any orc children. His eldest child sat beside him on the birthing bed, sucking his thumb, not fully understanding what was going on, but he was just barely walking yet. Like his eldest, this infant had shorter pointed ears, somewhere between elf and orc, and a short tail, which the elven children found wildly hilarious. He knew his children would have a hard time growing up here, already being called names, like piglet. The alternative was impossible, his own village would kill them immediately.

Lucifer leaned in, pressing a kiss upon his brow, and then onto the newborn. A little girl, with a shock of blonde hair, showing she did take after him just as much as she did Adam.

"You've done beautifully, my love." Lucifer said, and Adam wanted to be happy, but the elven wet nurses looked at him with disdain at best, disgust at worst. They weren't supposed to allow orcs into their lands, and Lucifer was far from the most popular elf, even before he brought Adam home.

Maybe they'd find somewhere, someday, for their family - away from all the names and looks.

But how had he even gotten here? Well, it started two years back.

The orc village Adam was from was one of the largest, and Adam was the firstborn son of the current ruler. That, of course, didn't secure his position. He had to fight to keep it, and it was only a matter of time until someone challenged his father, or he was killed out on a raid. His sisters too seemed eager to get rid of him, but Adam wasn't about to let that happen. There were multiple ways to win favor within his village, but capturing an elf was always a big one.

They were fast, they could use magic, they had more advanced weaponry, and they had jewelry. They were always bedecked in things that glimmered, things that Adam's village had little of. Adam needed a wife to secure his own future as well, he needed heirs, and he needed gold to melt down and turn into a marriage dagger for the orc of his choosing. So, Adam needed an elf.

And, he'd just so happened to have spotted one in this area recently, an open glen within the woods. It was very far outside the line of their own territory, which meant the elf was either strong, or incredibly stupid - or as his mother Asherah, would say about Adam, a stunning mix of both.

Adam sat up on a high oak branch, one heavy enough to carry him, watching from above as his target made itself known. He couldn't tell if it was male or female, elves all looked the same to him, but it seemed short, even for their species. It walked around the glen, picking up sticks, bending them like it was testing the brittleness, before throwing them away. Elven bows were one of their worst weapons, the orcs had nothing so long distance besides throwing spears.

Adam waited until it was turned around, before he jumped down from his hiding spot, and swung his club hard into the elven figure with a cackle. It went flying, hitting a rocky outcrop, and collapsing as a cloud of dust rose around it. Adam grinned, resting his club on the ground, and waiting to see if the elf got back up.

"You shouldn't have come out so far, little one. You know, if you're not dead, all you need to do is give me all your jewelry and clothing, and I'll let you live." That was a lie. "You can go home." Adam wanted to see first if it was a male or female, then he'd probably trade them off to the humans.

The elf pushed up onto a hand, and Adam's grin spread. It was stronger than he'd thought. As the dust cleared, the elf got to it's feet, and made eye contact with Adam. Red eyes, that was uncommon.

"Somehow I doubt that," the elf said wryly, in a deeper voice than he'd expected. He had no weapons on him that he could see, not even a knife.

"Are you male?" Adam asked, and the elf gave a small nod. "Well, I have to admit that's less interesting."

Adam raised his club again, ready to finish the job. "Make your choice, elf."

The elf raised an eyebrow, dusting himself off, like he was entirely uninterested in Adam's threats.

Maybe because he was.

With a flick of his wrist, Adam went flying backwards, dropping his club, and falling down the side of a riverbank. Immediately, he knew something was wrong, he'd not expected such powerful magic out of an elf so small. Adam coughed, and coughed until it came up red as he landed, feeling a sharp pain begin to radiate from his center. Adam looked down, and felt cold. He'd landed on a downed tree, and a jagged broken branch had impaled him through his stomach.

The elf appeared at the edge of the riverbank, expression going from tired, to shocked. In an instant, he'd silently jumped down beside Adam, looking over the wound. "Oh no...I didn't mean for this to happen..." He whispered to himself, chewing on his lip.

Up close, Adam could see he was very pretty. A small heart shaped face, large eyes, long sharp pointed ears covered in dangling gold and gems. Adam's breathing got more haggard as he watched him move around, as though he was trying to find some angle where Adam wasn't going to die.

"Hey, what's your name?" Adam asked quietly, and the elf looked up, startled.

"Lucifer."

"I'm Adam. Could you do me a last favor? You elves have honor, right?" Lucifer paused, but nodded. "Could you give me one of your necklaces? When my people find my body, I want them to know I fought. I want my mother to have it."

Lucifer watched him, brows knit together as Adam spoke. He looked more pained than Adam felt, because, in truth, he'd started to not feel much of anything. He was cold, that's all he felt.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, why did you have to-" Lucifer shook his head, before he raised a hand, and Adam began to raise off the branch. Blood began to pour out of his open wound, as Lucifer lowered him onto river stones. A golden glow surrounded delicate fingers, and he pressed them against Adam's stomach.

"I'm not going to let you die, Adam. I'm going to heal you, then you can see your mother yourself." Lucifer said, meeting his eyes with resolution on his face. He raised a bloodied hand to Adam's cheek, caressing it just briefly, before returning it to start the healing work. Adam closed his eyes at the soft touch, and waited for death to take him, but it never came.

Adam woke up, who knew how much later, weak, but alive. They were in a cave, illuminated by a soft red glow, and he heard gentle singing, and felt a hand running through his hair. He leaned into the touch.

It was the beginning of their life together.

[sugar-coat-it]

Do you wanna wake up to me every morning?

Little something I wrote for my lovely friend, this takes place right after Touch Tank

Contains: Aftercare, very sappy fluff, possibly corny??, soft Matty, braiding Matty’s hair, taking off his makeup, takeout and relaxing in bed, L word

WC: 1,500

Peace. That's the only word you can use to describe this feeling. He's your peace. You breathe him in deeply: sweat, his cologne, and something distinctly Matty. 

You lean down and bury your face in his muss of dark curls, not caring one bit about the slight dampness against your nose. He hums happily, the sound rumbling in his chest as he stays with his cheek pressed over your heartbeat, feeling the gentle thrum, listening to your lifeline.

“You wanna get cleaned up?” you ask softly, running your hands up and down his spine, your fingertips ghosting over each bone. 

He turns his cheek, pressing little kisses to the swell of your breast, his lips warm against your skin. You feel goosebumps rise on your arms at the sensation. Matty still looks slightly dazed from how overwhelmed he was by the sight of you perched on top of him. 

“What about your girl’s night thing?” he mumbles, lazily mouthing over your chest. 

You’d almost completely forgotten about the girl's night if you were being honest, your plans long lost in the haze of earlier that evening. And if you were really honest, they had been forgotten the moment he’d kneeled to undo your shoes, pleading with you to stay. 

“Not going,” you whisper. 

Honey-colored eyes rimmed with rich, shimmery blue flicker to meet yours. 

“No?” 

“No.”

He can’t lie, he’s pleased. Very pleased. Instead of saying so, he just presses another kiss to your skin, lingering a little longer this time, exhaling slowly against your skin. You feel his lips curve into a smile. 

You thread your fingers into his unruly hair and ruffle it, gazing down at him with tenderness, admiring how he keens into your palm when you touch his hair. Matty’s lashes flutter at the feeling, shifting on top of you to try and get impossibly closer. If he had it his way, you’d be attached like this all of the time.

“Don’t wanna get up yet,” he grumbles, looking up at you with pouty lips, still smeared with the residue of pink lipstick. 

“I know. But you can’t stay like this, baby.” 

He clicks his tongue, knowing he can’t argue with you there, the mess in his pants starting to dry uncomfortably on his thigh. Matty sighs softly, melting as your nails scratch over his scalp just how he likes it, holding you a little tighter. He always gets clingy after letting you take the lead. 

“Let me take care of you, then we can come back to bed,” you whisper, your eyes searching his with fondness. 

He’s still for a moment, listening to your heartbeat, gazing at you with unadulterated affection. Matty nods before pursing his lips. You know exactly what he wants. Affectionately rolling your eyes, you cup his warm cheeks, pressing your lips to his with a peck, just long enough to make butterflies riot in your stomach. Matty grins against your mouth, letting out a happy hum. He’s hardly able to kiss you with how wide his dorky smile is. He always wins. 

You linger together a little longer, basking in what feels like a dream until eventually, you both slide out from your sheet’s grasp despite the way they cling to you, beckoning you to stay. With one last kiss, Matty goes into the bathroom, allowing you to dote on him and gather some clean clothes from his closet. He knows fully well that he could get them himself, but you both get a little kick out of you looking after him, so who was he to deny you?

It’s not long before he’d had a warm washcloth run over his thighs and he’s comfortably sat on the bathroom counter in baggy sweatpants. He toys with a loose thread on his shirt while staring down at his phone to order takeout. 

“What do you feel like?” he murmurs, glancing up at you as you approach, standing between his legs. 

You hum thoughtfully, sliding your hands into his thick hair. The makeup you’d used earlier is still set out on the counter, the remnants of it smudged all over your boyfriend’s pretty face. 

“Sushi?” you suggest. He nods, already tapping away. 

You push his hair away from his face, gathering it into sections to begin tucking the tendrils into a braid. He sacrifices the convenience of having both hands to type so he can place one on your waist, appreciatively thumbing over your hip bone through the fabric of your dress. Carefully, you put strands over strands, weaving them until a neat braid sits atop his head, tied off near the base of his neck. You admire your handiwork, running your fingers over the path of his interwoven hair from his roots to the few stray strands at his nape. 

“Good?” he asks, interrupting your little haze. 

He holds up his phone to you, your favorite roll already customized to your liking and added to the order. He knows your usual by heart. It’s a small thing, some might even say inconsequential, but to you, it’s a different way to say: “I care about you enough to know this”.

“Yeah,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his forehead. 

With the order placed, he puts his phone face down on the counter, sighing dreamily as he places both hands on your hips now, his fingers tracing little swirls and patterns. You reach for your makeup wipes, pulling one out of the packaging before tilting his chin upward with two gentle fingers. A little cheeky smile pulls at his lips as you begin to wipe away the makeup that had melted down his cheeks, a mixture of blue glitter and black mascara streaking over the wipe. He still squirms a little despite his best efforts to stay still. 

“Bein’ so good to me. You’re spoiling me,” he whispers, closing his eyes before you begin to wipe at his eyelids. 

“You deserve a little spoiling, don’t you think?” 

“Mmm… maybe.” 

“No. You do. I’m telling you you do.” 

He chuckles, raising his hands in playful surrender. 

“Okay. I won’t argue with you, darling. Spoil away.”

You finish with one eye, beginning to carefully repeat the process on the other, watching him tense just slightly at the first touch of the cool wipe. You clean every trace of the night’s passion, leaving you with only the memories of his perfect face graced with streaks of shimmery blue. 

“I’m going to miss looking so foxy,” he sighs, blinking his eyes open again. 

You shoot him an amused look as you toss the used makeup wipes in the trash, finding your place between his legs again so naturally, your hands resting on top of his thighs. 

“Maybe you have to wear makeup more often, then.”

“But I can’t do it as good as you!” he whines, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Then I’ll do it for you!” 

He giggles at that, a little unfiltered, gasping sound of amusement that’s reserved for you and only you. Your heart swells at his laughter, warmth blooming in your chest. 

As promised, once the food arrives it’s shared cozily in bed, his back to your chest, you idly running your fingers over his braid between bites as you watch a movie, Matty occasionally interjecting with some kind of fact or criticism about how it was filmed. You can’t help but just stare a bit, appreciating him. The spattering of freckles and beauty marks on his face, the curve of his pretty nose, the gentleness of his eyes. He catches your gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips at the realization that you’re staring. 

“What?” he prompts.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.” 

“Mmm. Tell me more,” he grins, tilting his head back against your shoulder. 

You laugh softly, running your finger up the bridge of his nose, back and forth. His lashes flutter with bliss.

“You’re so pretty, Matty. Prettier than most girls, you know that? Nice lips,” you pause, tracing your thumb over his plush bottom lip, “soft skin…” 

You continue to list some of your personal favorite features of his, as it’s far too difficult to pick just one or two. You run your fingers over each as you mention them, fingertips gently running over his face. Matty’s heart flutters at the sincerity of your words, giggling and squirming a little as your fingers ghost over a ticklish spot on his neck, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s never felt so soft before. 

As you gently brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes, he looks like he might just fall asleep. He’s lovelier than words can describe. 

“Love you,” he murmurs, “you make me feel so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

He pauses, his sleepy eyes drooping slightly as he looks up at you, raising one hand slowly to caress your cheek.

“I think I’ve waited my whole life for you. For this. Every little piece coming together,” he says softly, feeling his heart thrum against his ribs, reminding him that he’s alive, he hasn’t gone to heaven in your arms.

“That’s sweet. Sweet boy.”

He grins lazily at the pet name, blinking slowly as he runs his hand down the side of your face with such tenderness that you think you could burst. 

“You should sit on my face again as soon as fucking possible.” 

“Oh my god, Matty.”

———————————————————————

We’re both kind of obsessed with when Matty’s hair got braided during that one interview so

Yay for touch tank Matty revival, I love him so dearly

[apollosdaydreams]

I would like a request with Max Verstappen and Y/N are siblings. She is his younger sister and she is MotoGP driver and…

Im sorry, I wasn't better.

Max Verstappen x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language 

Author's Note: Sorry if this isn’t 100% accurate. I don’t know much or really anything about MotoGP, but I will try my best. 

Wordcount: 1476 (kinda got carried away) 

DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to hurt Max Verstappen and the Verstappen family! This is just an imagine. Again this is in no way meant to harm the Verstappen family!

Racing. Racing is something that you loved, something you lived for. Your family however always would put Max above you. Their reason to not care about your racing was that you are a girl, and girls don’t belong in racing, girls don’t belong to have a seat. No matter what you did, it wasn’t good enough for Jos, your father. You used to have a great relationship with your other siblings, especially Max. The bond you and Max had was something that couldn’t be explained. You two were closer to each other than you and your twin, Victoria. But as you two both got older, that bond broke. You both started to snap at each other easier, say nasty things to each other and never say sorry. You couldn’t take it anymore. The hate coming from your father, mother and your brother. You left. Moved out, when you turned 18. You cut off contact completely. Blocking their numbers and their social media accounts. You thought you were never going to see them again, oh how wrong you were.

Today was your 24th birthday. Today was also your home race. You were a part of the Red Bull KTM Factory Racing team, ironic. Everyone knew you were a Verstappen, they also knew you didnt talk to your family. People would ask, you wouldn't give them an answer no matter how much they begged. Everyone knew that the Verstappen kids were strong, powerful drivers. You were often being compared to your older brother, Max. When compared to him you would always tell the interviewer that you are your own person and you don't need to be compared to your older brother. 

You quickly pulled on your race suit, shoes and gloves. Trying to shake off the fact that today was your 24th, you haven’t spent a birthday with your family in 6 years. You didn’t care though, they had torn you down, thinking you couldn’t do anything in life. That this dream you had was impossible. Oh how you proved them wrong. You were making history. You were the first female rider in MotoGP, and you were amazing, this was your rookie year and you have already won three races. You dealt with contestant hate, with MotoGP being male dominated. They thought that you definitely had to sleep your way up to the top. Which was something that was just a lie. Something to make them feel better about themselves. 

You walked over to your bike, you shook your hands in a way to calm your nerves. You stretched out one more time. Then you climbed on to your bike. You then drove to your starting point. P3. You stopped your bike and put your feet down beside you. You were taking deep slow breaths to calm your nerves. As this was your home race you had felt a lot of pressure on you. Once you heard the final beep, and the lights turned green you started to move. 

You drove over to the number 1 spot, and got off your bike. You quickly put your hands up in the air and then ran to your team. You quickly hugged your team principal. As you hugged him you quickly thanked him. You then had to run off to the cool down room. Once it was time for you to go on the podium you walked out of the room and walked over to this lift, where they would lift you and your bike on to the podium. As you were being lifted you couldn't contain your smile, this was your first win at your home race. You have won a couple races in this season, but winning at home would always be a different feeling. You felt on top of the world. No one could wipe that smile off your face. Right? Once you got handed your trophy you raised it high in the air, with the biggest smile on your face. Once everyone else got their trophy you all three quickly put them down and grabbed the champagne. You then all started to spray each other, you ran over to your team principal to spray some on him as well. Eventually they stopped spraying. You wiped the champagne off your face and set the bottle down and picked your trophy backup. 

You were now back in your team paddock, you were talking to one of your teammates when you looked up and you saw someone you thought you would never see, see in person ever again. Your father, mother, brother and sister all stood in front of you. Your teammate knew that you didn't have the best relationship with your family. Before he left, he patted your back and told you that he would be over in his room if you needed him. You didn't know what to do so you just nodded. You just stared at them, not knowing what to do or what to say. 

“Y/n, sweety. You did amazing.” Your mother said. 

“Yeah… thank you..” You said. You were starting to feel overwhelmed. 

“Mom, dad, we should let her breathe, let Max talk to her.” Victoria whispered. 

You were starting to tear up, but once the other three left and it was just you and Max you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You were both angry and sad.

“Why are you guys here?” You had asked Max.

“y/n- I, we wanted to apologize.” 

“Well don't you think you are about 6 years too late.” You said. You were starting to get more angry than sad. 

“I know y/n and I'm sorry, we shouldn't have ever treated you like that. We should have apologized years ago.” he said while taking a few steps closer to you. You didn't move.

“Why?! Max, why?” you said. “I wanted a family, a brother who loved me, but all you guys did was tear me down.” You started to cry even more. Your anger is now turning into sadness. “What did I do to make you guys hate me so much?” 

Max’s heart broke at what you were saying. He quickly moved over to you and hugged you. He was expecting you to push him back or hit him. He wasn't expecting you to hug him back. “I'm so sorry y/n I'm so sorry.” He kept repeating. You started to take a deep breath. Trying to calm yourself down.

“Max, I want to forgive you guys, or at least you and Victoria.” You started to say. “You guys were also just kids, mom and dad on the other hand, i think it's going to take a while to forgive them.” 

This was the last thing Max had expected. He was not expecting you to forgive him so easily. “I promise y/n I’ll do better, I'm the big brother. I'm sorry I wasn't better at it until now.” He told you, tears now falling down his face. You smiled up at him and wiped his tears away. “It's ok, I trust you to change Max.” He smiled back at you.

“Can you bring in Victoria? I want to be able to talk to her as well.” He told Max. He quickly nodded and ran to go get Victoria. Once you saw her you both ran to each other and gave each other a hug. You couldn't remember the last time you two have hugged, all you knew is that it's been way too long.  

“Y/n im so sorry, I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you, i'm your big sister that's my job.” She told you. You couldn't help yourself. “You are only 7 minutes older than me V.” You had told her. She couldn't help but smile more, and she hugged you tighter. You saw Max standing awkwardly at the door. You motioned for him to come closer. You then all hugged each other. After a few minutes of silence you started to speak.

“I think I'm ready to talk to mom and dad.” You said. “But I want both of you to be here.” They both looked at each other and nodded. Max then went to get your parents. You then saw both your parents walk through the door. You didn't know what to do. You haven't seen or spoke to your parents in years. Victoria sat down on the couch with you, you heard hushed whispers behind the door. The door then opened, Max was at the front and you could see your mom, Sophie and your dad, Jos standing behind Max. You didn't know what to do, your parents stood in front of you. They tore you down, made you believe you aren't worth anything, that women couldn't be in moto sports. You saw your mom walk towards you. You didn't know what to do, you didn't know what she was going to do. Your dad stayed a few steps behind her. Max was on the side waiting just in case anything would happen. 

“Oh sweety, you look amazing. You did a great job on the race! I'm so proud.” You never thought that you would hear those words come out of her mouth. All you wanted as a little girl was to hear that your parents were proud of you. She went to sit down next to you, but you moved away. You weren't ready to be this close to her yet. Your father looked like he didn't want to be here, that he would rather be somewhere else. Typical Jos. You thought to yourself. Sophie understood why you wouldn't want to be close to her, that it would be hard for you to forgive her and Jos. 

“Mom, dad….. I don’t think I'm ready to forgive you just yet. I think that you have to prove that you changed, or are willing to change.” You said, while looking down at your hands picking at your nails. 

‘Of course honey, I promise that we have changed.” Your mother quickly said. Jos was still standing, with his arms crossed over his chest. “Can we go to dinner tonight?” she suggested. 

“We can do that.” you said, while looking up at Jos, waiting for what he would say. 

“I would love to.” Jos said. You looked next to you at Victoria and then up at Max and smiled. Maybe they were going to change. Maybe now my family is going to be my safe place. 

I hoped you guys liked this! If you did please let me know! Sorry if everything doesn't make sense. I don’t know much about MotoGp, but I tried my best!!

It would be greatly appreciated if you would like, comment and repost!! 

© 2023 on tumblr apollosdaydreams do not translate/remake/repost my works in any platform without authorized permission.

[dancingdonatello]

Hello! I love your work! I was wondering if you could possibly do an au for a girl being the human sister of the turtles, and since Splinter wants her to learn and be around her own kind a little more he has her go to high school, (against all four brothers wishes) so the go out to spy in her to make sure everything is alright and at the end of the day she meets a guy who ask her out and they all fume over it? It’s fine if you don’t want to! No pressure. ❤️

rottmnt x sister reader

“It’s time,” Splinter announced.

Everyone froze.

It had been a chill day in the lair. Everyone was hanging out in the living room. Splinter had been watching his commercials, Leo reading his comics, Raph watching football on his phone, so everyone was doing their own thing.

So it was very abrupt and frightening for Splinter to speak up and randomly say that.

“What?” Raph finally spoke up for all of you. Mikey slid into your side nervously. “What are ya talkin’ about, pops?”

“What we’ve been discussing for the past year.”

“You mean arguing about?” Donnie asked dryly.

“Tomato, tomato, Purple.” Splinter looked at you and you slid down against the couch nervously. “It’s time for you to go to High School.”

“No!” Leo wailed, throwing his arms around you. “I won’t let you take her!” He started to hiss at Splinter who looked at him with an unamused look.

“If she gets to go to school, then I should be able to, too!” Donnie complained, clearly more upset about a different aspect to this than what his brothers were upset about.

“You can’t!” Raph nervously waved his hands around. “Think of all the thugs in there! Is a public school? A private school? Where? What’s the crime rate in the area?! We won’t be there to protect her!”

“It’s safer to be in a school than a sewer,” Splinter rolled his eyes. “Think of all the diseases down here.”

“Hey! I keep it clean!” Donnie argued.

“No, you don’t. Your robots do.”

“Shut up, Leo—”

“Anyways. Your opinions don’t matter. Only mine does,” Splinter announced, ignoring how the shouting of his sons only grew louder at that. “In two weeks is the first day of school.”

You swallowed nervously.

Donnie had kept you up to what your age should know. Math, science, etc. So you would be fine with that. But you wouldn’t know anyone. Not a single person there, except for April. And everyone already knew everyone.

You were nervous. This made your brothers nervous.

For two weeks, the nervous energy built up.

When you went to school you were shaking.

You went through most of your classes barely speaking. You felt as if shadows were following you and you kept thinking people were whispering your name. But nobody knew it, so that was impossible, right?

Leaving your second to last class, in a isolated part of the school, you were quickly stopped by someone grabbing your arm.

“Hey…” You jumped and the ceiling creaked above you ominously. “Are you new?”

You turned to see a guy, maybe one from your class you just came from. You two were alone in the hall and you grew nervous.

“Uh, yeah!” Cute boy. Cute boy. Cute boy. You panicked. Oh god. “Uh. Yeah.” You were an idiot.

“Kinda rough how he’s already giving us a test, right? Did you study?”

“No,” you lied. Why did you lie?

“Me neither!” He laughed. What a win. “Wanna go study with me while eating some icecream?”

Your eyes widened. “Yes—”

Raph’s claws punctured the ceiling tile. What had been barely holding his weight snapped, sending all four turtles crashing through the ceiling, crushing the guy underneath the rubble.

You stared at your brothers and they stared back.

“Oh my god,” Mikey breathed out. “We killed him.”

“No, we didn’t. We likely concussed him and knocked him out.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “He deserves it anyways.”

“How about instead of chatting and standing there, get off of him!” you screamed at them. They scrambled off of him and Raph picked the poor guy up. He limply flopped like a wet noodle. “Guys?!”

“I’ll leave him outside there nurse’s office…” Leo reluctantly sighed, opening a portal. Raph carelessly threw the boys through the portal.

“Raph?!”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Get out of my school!”

They ‘left’ and continued to watch you from the ceiling.

At least no school day could be worse than this one. It could only be uphill from there.

[smolandweirdwriter]

Hi I just think you're really cool so I have this suggestion for you

Adaine with POTS.

ok hear me out this isn't just "giving the character I'm obsessing over my chronic illness" I have a cool idea

adaine and ailwyn are fighting and adaine's feeling really shitty, like her hands are feeling limp and she knows shes gonna pass out, but she keeps fighting because she can't just give up and let her sister win.

she passes out, and wakes up laying on the floor, ailwyn gone. she reaches for the bottle of water and chips she keeps on her bedside table but she cant move enough to get them.

an unseen servant joins her in her room, and it looks different to the ones she normally has in her room. it gets the water for her, and helps her recover.

later when she goes into ailwyns room, she finds her book open to the chapter for summoning an unseen servant.

sorry if I phrased this really wrong I just don't really know how to get words onto a page

Adaine knows she passed out and wakes up with a jolt. She gasps, jarred; there are no hard tiles beneath her, no cold air against her body, she has not been left on the floor. She is... in her bed.

Alright, she reasons, she passed out and Aelwyn told Mother and Father who had Unseen Servants take care of her.

She blinks hard, expecting a headache, a bruise from having hit the floor. Nothing. There's no way Aelwyn could've summoned an Unseen Servant in time to catch her--and no way she would, either.

None of her family have healing magic.

It feels impossible, but she has the slightest sensation, maybe a flashing memory before she passed out, of Aelwyn lunging for her. Catching her. If she had the breath to do so, Adaine might have laughed at the absurdity of the idea.

Adaine's gaze catches on the clock across the room. Her mother has a conference and her father has meetings with the Council of Chosen. They won't be back until dinnertime.

That leaves...

An Unseen Servant slips into the room, holding a tray laden with a tall glass of water and pitcher, as well as salt tablets and some crisps. The servant is brusque, forces her to drink two glasses of water and take the tablets with sharp, condescending motions that Adaine recognizes so very well. The servant leaves the chips on her table and disappears.

Adaine wants to speak, but her blankets are comfortable, and she's tired, and, well... She fades back to sleep.

When she awakes hours later, she hears her family beginning down the stairs for dinner and rushes to join them.

She arrives in time to hear Aelwyn sneering, "--still asleep I think. She's been dawdling around in her room all day."

Adaine freezes on the landing.

Angwyn spots her and says, "Adaine. I hear you had a relaxing evening."

Adaine stammers, "No, I wasn't, I-I didn't, she- I'm- I'm not- I--"

"Very eloquent, little sister," Aelwyn purrs. "Truly, the benefits of being raised by a trained politician have not been wasted on you."

"First off, politicians aren't eloquent just because they lie convincingly," Adaine snaps.

"So you admit you're trying to lie?" Aelwyn raises a brow.

Bitch. Bitch, bitch, you fucking bitch, choruses in Adaine's head, drowning out any memory of her sister's Unseen Servant or kindness, squashing it down into nothing.

"No, I--"

"Girls," Arianwen breaks in from the table. "Sit and be civil. That means you, Adaine."

Adaine glowers at everything in her vicinity and slumps into her seat. Aelwyn does not look at her for the rest of the meal.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

One of The Boys: Takeomi Akashi, Keizo Arashi, & Wakasa Imaushi x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You're just one of the boys. You hang out, eat, and drink with them like they're your childhood friends. Except... when you're all drunk. Then... you're something more.

wc: 1.3k

tw: dubcon, drinking, smut

masterlist

"You act like I'm not with you three twenty-four-seven." You tip the beer bottle up to your lips and take a sip, your face focused on the glowing television screen.

"Oh, come on," Takeomi mumbles, lying on the couch behind you and swirling a finger around your shoulder. "We let you have some time to yourself, don't we, guys?" Waka and Keizo grunt in unison, one splayed out on the floor beside you and nursing a glass of scotch. The other, larger one is sitting in the reclining chair, his eyes kidding ever so slightly.

"You're all old men and fucking drunk." Wakasa belches in response to your quip, but no one argues back.

"But you like old men," Takeomi replies slowly. You turn to face him and look into his eyes with defiance.

"Says who?" Three pairs of eyes look around at each other. There's something unspoken in the air, some conversation that had occurred without you present before this evening. But no one says a word. Waka settles back into the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"You just know us so well," Keizo slurs, frowning. "You're kind of like the little buddy that tags along our quests."

"You're damn right. I know you three so well, I could tell you apart in my sleep."

"Let's play a game," Takeomi blurts, sitting up suddenly.

Waka calls out, "No Uno," while Keizo huffs, "Or Monopoly."

"No, no," Takeomi hisses, waving them off with a limp hand. "It's called, 'Guess Who.'" Everyone groans, including you. "You haven't even heard what the game is!" Takeomi stumbles in front of the TV, blocking the only light source as he reaches for something. "Okay, y/n, you're the guesser. I'm going to blindfold you, and you have to guess which of us is touching you since you know us like the back of your hand."

"Touching me?" Your pussy throbs at the thought of any of them touching you outside of a fight. You'd never spoken about your desire for fear of ruining your perfect dynamic, but it would be a lie if you said you didn't think about them in more than just a friendly way.

"You're with us twenty-four-seven, right?" Takeomi resurfaces with a bandana. "You get five tries. If you get three wrong..." He smiles at you wickedly. "Then you have to do whatever we say."

"I'm not going to lose," you admit confidently. "Go ahead. And if I win, you guys have to do whatever I say for a week."

"Three days," Waka counters.

"Alright." Takeomi shrugs, placing the blindfold over your eyes and tying it tight behind your head. He takes the beer out of your hand, sits you on the couch, and then shuffles around. The recliner creaks - Keizo is getting up - and Waka gets off the floor with a grunt. There's whispering, but you can't hear it over the TV that's been turned up considerably.

Feet shuffle toward you after a long pause, and you try to measure the gait of each step. But it's nearly impossible, and you feel a hand move over your arm. The feet move back, and you try wrapping your mind around any distinguishing factors. They were thin fingers, so it had to be either Wakasa or Takeomi. Beyond that...

"Guess who?"

"Wakasa."

"Lucky guess," Takeomi mutters, no doubt crossing his arms. "Alright, next one." There's shuffling and whispering, and then another one approaches you. This time, they touch your shoe, taking it off and revealing your socked foot.

"That's not fair," you grumble. "I can't even tell."

"Just guess."

"Then it was you, Omi."

"Wrong. It was me. Your shoes are on my carpet, and that's gross," Keizo replies.

"Typical."

"One wrong," Takeomi laughs. "Two to go." More movement. Then someone comes up to you and leans down. Breath fans across your face before lips touch yours, and your mind goes blank. Oh, fuck.

A moment passes before the lips disappear, and you're left breathless and unable to guess.

"That was... you, Omi."

"Oh, so sorry," Takeomi answers, chuckling again. "That was Waka."

"That's..."

"I've wanted to do that for ages," Waka admits emotionlessly. You're stunned into silence as the next guy approaches you, smoothes a hand over your hair, and then kisses your cheek.

"Two wrong answers," you hear as the blood begins to rush to your head. "This could be your last chance to win."

"I..." Your head begins to swirl as if the beer finally took hold of your senses. "I don't know..."

"Final answer?"

"Come on, y/n," Takeomi teases. "You know us so well."

"I guess I don't," you gasp, and fingers pull at the blindfold, lifting it off of one eye.

"So you admit it," Takeomi smirks. "You thought you knew us." You nod, and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "You can't even tell my touch apart from Keizo's or Waka's. Such a shame." He replaces the blindfold and sighs. "You lose, then. Now you're ours for the night."

You're not sure how your clothes came off so quickly, but fingers are sliding into your soaked pussy while one of them sucks leisurely on one of your exposed nipples.

"I'm feeling generous," Takeomi whispers in your ear, his half-naked body pressed into your backside. "You should take another chance to guess whose fingers are inside you."

"I know they're yours," you reply softly.

"Of course you do," he mutters back. "You really do know me after all, hm?"

It's Waka that's pressing your head down into his lap and holding the tip of his cock against your lips. And it's Keizo that's got one of your tits in his mouth while he hums.

How did you get so lucky?

Takeomi's fingers slip out of you as Waka's fingers knot in your hair, helping you bob up and down on his veiny length. A cockhead presses at your entrance, and you moan loudly, hoping Takeomi wouldn't stop as he sinks into you with care.

"Fuck," he whines, beginning to thrust into you. "You like that cock stretching you out, yeah?" You can only grunt around Waka's cock before it pops free, saliva and precum smearing over your lips.

"You'll be able to tell us apart in no time," Waka chuckles before shifting around. "At least, Omi and I. You'll have no problem knowing when Keizo's inside of you, right, Kei?"

"Right," he breathes, the cool air fanning across your chest as he moves into Waka's empty space. Your lips wrap around a bigger cockhead, which you're sure is twice as thick. "Take your time, baby," Keizo coos, holding your hair in one hand. Takeomi picks up the speed of his movements, his hips smacking your ass as you meet him thrust for thrust.

"You have to feel this pussy, Waka," Omi breathes. "It's like silk."

"Maybe next time," you hear Waka mutter from afar. "You're enjoying yourself."

"Shit yeah," Takeomi hisses, gripping your hips tighter. "You'll learn the difference between us, won't you, princess?" Keizo curses, angling his hips to take control of the blowjob you're giving. And you're stuffed full, praying that it would never end.

Keizo pushes you down on his cock, making you gag for a moment before letting you up and exhaling roughly, cum shooting on your face. "That's it," he pants. "That's it. There you go..."

You reach a hand down as you feel your own orgasm cresting to rub at your clit furiously. "Play with yourself," Takeomi encourages you, lifting your leg a little. "Yeah... that's what I like to see."

"Fuck, Omi... Gonna cum..." you whimper. Takeomi says nothing in response, but you can feel his cock twitch and hear him groan. "I'm cumming!" Your pussy clenches around Takeomi's cock just as he huffs and grunts and sighs loudly, his hips stuttering as he cums inside you.

There's a long wait before Takeomi slips out of you, his cock softening.

"We'll do this game again soon," he murmurs, taking the blindfold off. "We'll play fair next time, too. Deal?"

[wesleysniperking]

Usopp Rant 😡 TL:DR

It pains me…

“If Usopp doesn’t do anything in Elbaf, I’m giving up on him. I love Usopp. I do. But if he’s useless in Elbaf, I’m letting him go.”

Or better yet…

“Even if Oda were to throw Usopp a bone, it won’t make up for 10 years of uselessness.”

Heck, this takes the cake…

“When Usopp told Nami to lie that’s when I lost all respect for him. The crew should have left his lowsy a** back in Water 7. He became what he was so afraid of.”

Nah. I was wrong…

“If Van Augur loses to this useless bum, it’ll ruin all of One Piece for me. It’ll be a major a** pull.”

Regardless of wherever and whatever direction Oda goes in with Usopp, I’ll always stand behind Usopp. No doubt about it. It honestly gets my goat when people in snark threads or even official One Piece pages (*cough cough* Reddit, YouTube, Worstgen) continue to criticize Usopp for small things, like they just really want him to lose (nitpick the h*ll outta him). Like, no kidding. But there’s one thing that really bugged me about Wano….

And what that was—was in a famous scene when Nami’s about to get annihilated by Ulti, and Ulti tries to force Nami into denouncing Luffy’s dream, and Nami remains firm by opposing the villainess…and Usopp wants Nami to lie and say Luffy will not become pirate king. He thinks this and urges for this to happen. For her to do so.

Now, I do honestly understand why he said that, and why he did it. If people had good reading comprehension and knew how to pick up on context clues this wouldn’t have to be brought up in anything regarding “Usopp’s bum-a**”.

Point blank, Usopp didn’t want Nami to die.

Lying means nothing to him. They both know Luffy is going to become Pirate King. They’ve seen their captain make the impossible happen!

Ergo, my main gripe is that it seems what Oda did is that he had to paint Usopp in a bad light in order for another character to look good. Nami is awesome. Kudos to her for staying head-strong. But in the same breath I stand by Usopp’s actions and see nothing wrong in them. Luffy wouldn’t look at Usopp badly if he found out what he did, because as the strawhat himself said, there’s no such thing as playing fair in a pirate fight (I may have paraphrased this), and what’s important is Nami making it out alive.

A dead navigator? How else are they getting to Laughtale. F*ck winning the raid/battle when the Strawhats are down a member. It was already looking rough with Luffy…

So, the misconception that Luffy would be mad at Usopp for saying that to Nami is illogical. Besides, how can Usopp force his ideals onto others? Yes, if he’d been in Nami’s same exact situation, he would’ve done what she did. But the point in that scene FOR HIM was about wanting to protect a friend. He loves Luffy, and has already defended his dream (e.g. Arabasta). The first one to do so! But for Usopp, what’s important in that moment is Nami making it out alive. He CAN’T watch a friend die. He can’t watch a friend die in the hands of some b*tch with a power trip; trying to force Nami’s hand. And sure, Nami remained head strong, and she did the d@mn thing. But when other people and fans decide to commend Nami for that moment while also putting Usopp down, things get really ugly for me. Nami fans and Usopp fans should be allies. But it doesn’t happen because they praise Nami and kick Usopp down to the ground.

No, this doesn’t go for EVERY Nami fan, and I’m not saying Usopp fans aren’t guilty of this.

So, I don’t criticize Usopp for his actions. Nor do I criticize Nami for her actions. What I’m trying to come to terms with is how it seems like it’s the whole classic case of painting one character in a very bad light in order to paint another character in a very good light.

Very SEEMINGLY so, Usopp regresses (no he did not regress!), and Nami progresses (cheers! 🥳😕…haters ruin it).

It’s a bit disheartening to have to defend Usopp over such pettiness. But I’ll continue to trust in the process. It just seems like Usopp fans are running on switchblade faith. And sometimes that faith isn’t enough.

But there’s indeed a beauty in the whole concept of retrospect, and at this point, it really does appear that in the overall One Piece narrative, in the overall grand scheme of things, Usopp is the true underdog.

And if people are so certain that Usopp doesn’t a stand a chance against Van Augur then why even entertain the idea? People always maintain (and it STRONGLY appears) that outside of Luffy vs Blackbeard, Usopp vs Van Augur is the most anticipated duel in the Blackbeard Pirates vs Strawhats battle.

Again, why even insult Usopp, if y’all are associating this “sniper with the ice cold drip” with “bum Usopp”? And if Usopp winning would be such an a**pull, will that keep y’all from watching? Will y’all not stop and look? Y’all low key have some big expectations for Usopp (who y’all consider fodder).

The fight might not even happen, yet haters are still looking forward to it. The speculation is strong with this one.

I honestly don’t understand it when people say Usopp is holding the crew back. How??? If that was the case Usopp would be given more focus. The camera would stay on him a little longer.

It’s like Usopp can never win.

Like this BS…

“Yeah, but Luffy and Law wouldn’t have been turned into toys because Haki can counteract DF powers. So, they would’ve been able to successfully mitigate the situation without Usopp’s help.”

Why???

“No. Usopp is still useless. Perona could’ve been defeated by Robin if she were there. Strawhats can make it without Bum Usopp.”

But in all seriousness, I think most of the hate is honestly just bitterness and impatience. And overall, misguided expectations. But people just don’t know how to articulate stuff proficiently in a debate (the comment section) without hate.

If you’re going to like a character, you have to know what you’re getting yourself into. And if you don’t want to do the research, then just pick up on the fine details and know what you want (know who you are). Usopp has flaws, but to just straight up say “I wish he could f*ckin die” and some other hot mess? No dice! If you don’t like him, move on. If you like him, but can’t love him at his “lowest” then get to steppin’.

There are a lot of bitter fans who’ve been unimpressed with Usopp post time skip. But there are even some far more bitter enough to the point to say that whatever he accomplished pre-timeskip was his peak, and that the whole fight with Perona was Oda “just throwing him a bone”. Some aren’t even satisfied with Enies Lobby Usopp, because he didn’t get a decent 1 v 1. “He should’ve had Sanji’s fight”. Typical shonen fan, I guess.

Yet, this bitterness also stems from the upset of Water 7’s narrative working in favor of Luffy instead of Usopp (apparently Longnose was the bad guy here 😒).

Ugh…The Sniper King joke isn’t fun anymore…

“Yeah. I truly just separate Sniper King and Usopp now. Meme aside. They really are separate people, and Usopp is just a bum.” [Proceeds to show panel of when Usopp was on the ground, heavily injured after the Franky family “dealt with him”. And the crew found him. And other racial slurs follow…]

Final + Conclusion

Usopp is still my favorite One Piece character (unconditionally), and I hope he’s given the justice he deserves. I love Sniper King, but I don’t want him to comeback because of the haters.

Usopp needs to get the last laugh.

His fans deserve the last laugh.

We will get the last laugh.

Just wait and see, he’ll come in clutch again.

[blacksupremacy86]

Lovers A Film Noir

This is completely beautiful,a totally vintage experience because I am literally in a Hotel chain named in Hollywood Experience Hotel chain and now I might add I am riding up the hotel elevator. At last we are stepping off of the elevator on to the main hallway walking down in sleepy haze wiping my eyes for a bit of a reprieve and reaching for my keys just slip it in to the doors key hole. The door swings open but the minute I step in one foot at a time immediately something is off, because I feel a my eyes being altered with some sort of contacts that act like a film filter.Everything in my world now here is a far too obvious now an exceptional black and white early Hollywood film and television I can tell the smell it is the smell of boiling or burnt film and sounds of crackles can be heard. I am a bit frightened and frustrated at my own experiences because I can sense it a lone figure looming through the room as it shines so brightly without any questions The room grows darker the anything I have ever seen or thought possible but a hand is now laying on to my shoulders holding on to me tight and embracing my back with his body. His palms starts to slip down from the shoulders down to my hands holding on to them I can feel him move slowly closer to undo my shirt. I use my hands to shove him back serving to the side to see this weird, pretty white boi about my age or so in this typing 1930’s or 1940’s clothes and also in black and white. He shooks his head at me as he burst out loudly laughing so hard as he looks up at me then checking me before he licks his lips. One deep breath before he is strolling to both window shades undoing them just a tiny bit and allowing the light in with such gorgeous illumination spilling in to it. He spins swiftly about to me making eye contact with me as it burns through my soul sweeping me in to his own orbit he begins to kissing me. I remain in full control of the situation once again in an utter state of excitement he calls me by tenderly placing his hands on a shirt button and walks closer to me.

Hello Master Lawrence!”

“What the hell is this?”

“Our realm “

“A time in between space “

“One of my own”

“I am yours “

“You created me”

“I couldn’t have”

“This hotel creates Ai based on you”

“Did you read my bio rhythms?”

“Correct!”

“What is the outcome?”

“You can save me?”

“Save you “

“Your will alone can make me”

“Real?”

“Impossible “

“You are doing it right now”

“I am your dream man”

“Is that not so?”

“No!”

“Don’t lie”

“You are my everything “

“Simply give in”

“I never do that “

“Kiss me and win me Sire”

“Let me be the only one worthy of you “

“I love you”

“Ugh! I love you too”

“I am alive Master Lawrence “

The end

Grant’s Possession

Grant Gustin laying in a hotel room after a very long day ending a FaceTime call with his wife and his kid is ambushed by some strange force cutting the call off as every thing in the room shook.The lights fluttering on and off blinding him on and off blinking like crazy driving himself in a jolt and jump upward in to the air propel even harder and he falls onto the bed in a deep a haze.He has a overly exaggerated sigh as he falls yet again flat on the bed exacerbated by the day’s events and goes into a deep slumber for the longterm unaware of the spirit about to inhabit his mind forever. Midnight hits as he squirms in bed rolls from one side to the other on his hotel sleeping in to the night as the hour takes a lifetime to end and the nights event have barely begun to occur.His eyes flutter open, close, in a deep heat as the sweat consumes him rolling down his face and he is completely overheated in his body dripping down his body wetting his bed up. A thin large white figure floating high above his massive queens size body imploding in a burst of energy shooting through the hotel room and lifts his body off in to the air cools it in a span of time.This Ghostly figure encircling him descends in to his body shivering with compulsion out of nowhere and Grants eyes flitting once more as he struggles to regain controls over himself. Suddenly! Grants life surrenders to him as he sunk in to unknown levels from his real consciousness, reveling in to subconscious throughout Grant is to suddenly find whohe is.Watching his authentic shadow bounce wall to wall he is forced to see it step in to a gold mirror and it become his reflection shining so bright with a golden ray of light booming on to him.

“Who on this God flourish earth are you ?”

“The new owner of this body “

“Why do you have my image?”

“I just explained it “

“You know full well”

“Fuck you! Set me free”

“Unfortunately! I can’t let you “

“Why not you freak?”

“Asshole”

“You will get use to it “

“Absolutely not! It’s my body “

“It’s my property “

“My life “

“No! My will”

“People will know “

“I will take care of that “

“You have a answer for everything “

“No duh!”

“I am not some dumb jock”

“You assume so”

“You will be soon enough”

“I won’t allow it “

“Oh please! Your mind is reassembling at this point.”

“You will see things my way”

“Take a nap”

“No! I refuse…I “

“A long slumber “

“No I….aaaahhhhh”

“Close your eyes, hit the bed “

“Succumb to my will”

The end

[mathanlin]

Foster AU where Phil emergency fosters three kids — twins, plus Tommy, who doesn’t know them. 

But according to the social worker, Phil only wants to keep one of them. 

And the twins are ready to fight Tommy for it.

“You heard her,” Tommy snaps, a week after meeting Phil — the softest week he’s ever had. “He said he only wanted one in his file.”

Both Techno & Wilbur glower back, but it’s Wilbur who speaks, voice like steel.

“Then we’ll convince him to take two.”

Two. Not three.

“He wants *one,*” Tommy repeats, voice wavering. 

“You’re louder than both of us combined.”

“Well, I’m younger,” Tommy spits, fumbling for a single thing to support himself.  “People want younger kids.” 

“Not if it means he has to spend more time with you.”

They go back and forth for ages, picking out everything that could possibly make Phil want them more. 

But they end up frighteningly even, their first battle of many — and for this, they’re all willing to fight dirty. Want the others *less.*

Starting with sabotage. 

It starts at breakfast.

The second Phil leaves, Wilbur bats his coffee cup from the table. It shatters across the floor, and Tommy’s jaw drops open in shock.

Even before—

“Tommy,” Wilbur cries out, just loud enough to catch Phil’s ear.  “Why? That was his favorite.”

“It wasn’t— I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Phil says, hurrying back in, eyes impossibly soft as he says, “You hurt, Toms?”

Tommy softens, stunned. 

But he still shoots Wilbur & Techno a glare as Phil cleans up the shards.

Challenge accepted.

Like that, the war’s started.

Phil buys a special snack for Wilbur? He buries it in the trash, making sure to leave the wrapper in Tommy’s room for Phil to find.

“I think Tommy ate it,” Tommy catches him whispering to Phil. “Can you get two next time?”

Tommy’s hands tremble. He forces them to steady. 

*My turn.*

That night, Techno’s water bottle is spilled across Phil’s business papers. Phil’s face is pinched, just a little. “Try to set it somewhere safer next time, mate.”

Techno nods frantically. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Tommy almost laughs.

The twins don’t have *anything* to be afraid of. They have each other, a team Tommy envies (even if they’re united against him).

Tommy has nothing. No one to teach him gently, to defend him from the bullies at school, to hold him.

But if he wins, he’ll have Phil.

He’ll have everything.

The emergency foster contract comes to an end far too fast. 

But… Phil extends it.

For *all* of them.

Two more weeks of softness, safety, love.

Two more weeks to fight to keep it *forever,* with new desperation.

The attacks get more personal. 

Tommy’s grades start to slip? Techno smiles at him over dinner. “I’ll help, Toms. Mind if I come to your room and walk through it with you tonight?”

Phil beams. “That’s kind of you, Techno.”

Even Tommy almost believes it.

Techno never shows up. 

It’s Tommy’s turn to attack.

“Can you drive me today?” he says, forcing a tremble into his voice. “Wilbur drives a little fast, and I… I don’t like it.”

“Of course,” Phil says, frowning. “I’ll talk to him, too.”

Tommy hugs him, hiding his grin in Phil’s chest. “Thanks.”

But that particular lie was a mistake.

Phil’s staying late at work. Just thirty minutes, but that means time alone at school.

No. Not alone. 

Tommy’s bullies make sure of that.

It’s not anything he can’t take.

Bag thrown on the floor. Shoved against a locker. Knuckles pressed into his chest, chasing his breath away even before a fist lands in his gut. 

Tommy almost closes his eyes, ready to take it—

—and a brown-haired blur tackles the bully.

Tommy can’t see much through the mess of fists. 

But he knows. It’s Techno & Wilbur. *Defending* him. 

The bruises beneath his sweater don’t sting in the slightest, softened by the haze of relief that lights up Tommy’s heart. 

He’s… never had this.

Someone loving him. Someone protecting him — and god, do the twins do that. Techno might avoid the hits, but Wilbur takes them head-on without flinching.

For once, Tommy’s not the only one hurt. 

He’s not alone.

“Tommy,” Wilbur says, after the bullies have fled. He extends a hand, red from wiping his bloody nose — Tommy takes it, heart leaping as Wilbur helps him up.

“Thank you,” he whispers, beaming. “Thank you, you didn’t have to— I really—”

“Wilbur. Wait.”

It’s… Techno.

He gestures to Wilbur’s nose. To the blood pulsing from it.

And, voice cracked by fear, he whispers, “We can’t get into fights. Your record.”

Wilbur pales. Tommy stills, watching his expression.

Fear. No, *terror.* Realization. 

Then cold, hard determination. His hand tightens where it still holds Tommy’s.

Lightning-fast, it snaps to Tommy’s collar.

And pins him against the lockers.

“Look at me,” Wilbur spits, gesturing at his face. “You did this.”

Tommy wriggles, trembling & utterly confused. “No, I didn’t. You fought, you— you fought for me—”

Wilbur’s grip tightens, cutting him off. 

“No. You *hit me,*” he snarls, voice shaking with fear & fury. “Got it?”

It takes a second for the words to sink in.

And then Tommy understands.

Phil will be here any minute. He’ll see Wilbur, battered & pale, Tommy’s fingers stained red from taking his hand.

It’s two witnesses versus one. Tommy has no one to defend him.

Stupid to think he had Techno & Wilbur fighting for him.

Stupid to think he’d get to have Phil.

.

.

.

"You hit him?"

Tommy nods, shaking. He can't meet Phil's eyes — or Techno & Wilbur's, drilling into him from across the couch.

Phil sighs, breath shuddering. "Tommy... why?"

And...

Tommy can't force himself to speak.

So Wilbur lies for him.

"He's been mad," Wilbur says, voice wavering. "He has a temper, Phil, he— he lashes out. Remember the cup he broke? My stuff he stole?"

Phil's brow furrows. "Tommy, did—"

He cuts off. Tommy follows his gaze.

To the bruises peeking out from beneath his sweater.

"Wilbur," Phil says slowly, voice quiet, "did you hit him back?"

Wilbur freezes. "What? No, It wasn't— I didn't—"

Phil's gaze flicks to Techno, who flinches hard. "Did *you?*"

Techno shakes his head, paling.

Phil's gaze hardens.

"Alright. All of you, the truth. *Now.*"

"I told you, Tommy hit me—"

"He did," Techno cuts Wilbur off, voice shaking, "Phil, we're telling the truth—"

"Stop."

The twins obey. (Of course they do. They're still fighting to be good, even as their world crumbles.)

"I want to hear it from Tommy."

And Tommy...

Tommy can't say a thing.

He's too scared to say a word against the twins. Too ashamed to whisper, *I just wanted you to keep /me/.*

So he stays silent.

And that's damning in itself.

"All of you, upstairs, now." Phil stands, gesturing at the stairs. "I need— I need to think."

All of them flinch, hearing the same words Phil surely means.

*I need to decide which of you I'm keeping.*

Tommy sucks in a breath. "Phil, please—"

"It wasn't Tommy."

It's Techno that whispers it, painfully quiet.

Wilbur's head snaps toward him, voice cracking. "Techno, no—"

"Tommy didn't hit Wil," Techno repeats, blinking away tears. "Wil didn't hit him, either. Please. That's the truth."

Phil's silent. It only makes Wilbur's choked sob even louder.

"Techno, why— we could've—"

"Wil." Techno's voice breaks. "He wants *one.* Make this easy on him."

He glances at the stairs, their room. Like he's already imagining packing up.

Leaving.

"Make this easy on *us.*"

"One?"

It's...

Phil.

"Is that what's this about?" he says, hushed. "The fighting? The lying? Blaming things on each other?"

He lets out a wavering breath, somehow managing to get quieter.

"You thought I only wanted one of you?"

*Yes,* all of them think, and none of them say aloud.

Phil sighs, short and pained. "Upstairs, all of you. I need to make a call."

There it is again. *I need to decide which of you I'm keeping.*

And this time, none of them argue.

All of them think they know who Phil's chosen.

(And Phil...

Phil has a social worker to yell at, and a school to request security footage from.

And after that?

Three sons to comfort.)

[makotonaegiunderstander]

going to tear my room apart thinking about how Makoto Naegi genuinely is a normal guy. Even more so in the games where he doesn’t quite have the same explosion he does in the anime adaption— he made up his mind before the trial even started that he wasn’t going to give up no matter what happened to him because his friends had given their last trying to live, and he had to survive for them. He didn’t see surviving but choosing despair as surviving, he wanted to do what they entered the room prepared to do, he wanted to fulfill the declaration he made when he survived his execution: as long as he was alive, as long as he was breathing, he wasn’t going to give up. He saw Junko, he saw everything she presented, and he’d already felt that utter despair. He had the chance to give in as early as Mukuro’s first trial, where he could have chosen to suspect Kirigiri. But he refused to be manipulated anymore, he refused to play the game, even if it meant everything he had, and that’s where he changed from hiding to fighting. When he made the decision to hide Kirigiri’s lie (he did NOT know he was going to die, actually!!! He thought they’d be able to work out the trap bc there was never a time limit before that trial!! That said it’s still incredible that he refused to break even when he realized it would cost him his life.) that was when he broke from his fear completely. That was when he officially bowed out of the game. He wouldn’t be subject to the game’s demands anymore, he was going to win no matter what. He chose to have reckless faith in his friends no matter what, he chose to pursue a truth that would end the game for good. It’s not entirely normal for anyone to do, for sure, but that doesn’t mean he was the only one capable. I’ve said that before in a previous post, that Makoto didn’t do anything that was impossible for any other person. Just like despair was innate in every person and everyone was capable of it, so was hope. That’s what Makoto brought out. But even he stumbled. Even he needed his friends there. And the other survivors are the ones that took Makoto’s prompt and used it to break free of Junko’s influence, Makoto didn’t force them to. He didn’t brainwash them or manipulate them or do anything to influence their thoughts any more than reminding them hope was still there for them, that it wasn’t over yet. They did the rest themselves.

And then they left, and the title Ultimate Hope got away from them all, into a world ideologically influenced by Junko’s despair, and in its absence after her death, it latched into the next powerful force one to replace what it has lost, but it needed a figurehead. So Makoto was chosen, as the one that refused to submit in the face of Junko. He was viewed as an ultimate, elevated, the world placed on his shoulders, and the same wave that brought about the Tragedy turned towards Makoto. People may have needed something to hold onto that felt as powerful as what they’d been facing, but Makoto wasn’t the only one that fought, and he wasn’t possessing some inhuman ability to always resist despair or anguish. Makoto is both exceptional in his determination and stubbornness to keep moving forward and being optimistic, and also not in the slightest, because it isn’t a talent. It isn’t an ultimate ability, it isn’t something no one else can measure up to. His uniqueness comes from his ability to choose that even if he’s standing alone. But, like I said, he’s not immune, he’s not incapable of falling. He will just do everything in his power to resist up until the end, because that’s the decision he made.

It’s weird how he’s Schrödinger’s normal. He’s the most normal guy in the world, but his view of himself as such is also flawed. He isn’t nothing. In fact one could say it’s abnormal that he’s so normal. And he DOES have something that is unique about him, even he can’t deny that fact despite trying to downplay it. He’s optimistic. He’s chosen to try and be positive or at the very least choose to keep going forward in life. That IS abnormal to an extent, despite not being some ultimate, or something no one else is capable of. It is abnormal to never entertain the idea of slowing down, getting bored, or giving up. But at the same time, Makoto DID have moments like that in the game. The only time he really stopped doing that was in the final chapter, when he was pushed to his absolute limit and those parts of him exaggerated themselves so that he could feel like he could survive. He’s the weirdest normal guy alive, I guess.

Anyway I’m rambling and this probably doesn’t make sense bc I pulled an all nighter for the final class trial but I’m losing my mind over Makoto Naegi all the time

[bestworstcase]

anyway. something interesting about how the thematic narrative unfolds with regard to the opening narration (and ozpin’s rejoinder)

in her v1 soliloquy salem invokes strength twice—once as an intrinsic quality of mankind and once as a characteristic that emerged "in the shadow’s absence"—and the context in which she goes on to say that "there will be no victory in strength" makes it clear that she means the latter kind of strength; she’s referring to ozpin’s "guardians" and "monuments" and this is reiterated again in her v3 soliloquy and in divide and in her strategic approach to the war generally, in that she strikes at ozpin’s isolated guardians and symbolic monuments because she understands them to be false projections of strength masking his true weakness, which is that he lacks faith in mankind’s intrinsic strength—what salem defines as wisdom, passion, resourcefulness, ingenuity, hope.

ozpin’s retort that victory is found in the "simpler things that [she’s] long forgotten" which "require a smaller, more honest soul" misses her point altogether and is revealed very quickly as a statement of belief in the importance of finding the (correct) chosen one; his "smaller soul" is merely the rhetorical distillation of his guardians, a single heroic figure who achieves true perfection and so inspires the whole world to follow.

salem is correct on all counts—there is nothing special or unique about ruby herself that makes her capable of doing the impossible; she succeeds by banding the world together against a common enemy, which is precisely what salem mocks ozpin for refusing to do—not just in the sense of understanding the story’s themes but also in the more practical strategic sense. you cannot win a real war with symbols and martyrs.

gestures at v7-8.

"victory is in a simple soul" (this will be the day) -> "but through a simple soul, we lie complacent" (until the end).

"strength will not bring victory" (divide) -> "strength’s not victory" (for every life).

the "smaller soul" idea is given the appearance of being the narratively correct position by its inclusion in the first opener, while "no victory in strength" is the villainous—and therefore presumptively wrong—retort. the common trope of evil cannot comprehend good predisposes the audience not to think deeply about this or pay close attention to the specifics of what the villain is really saying.

then in atlas the narrative throws this reversal down like a gauntlet; suddenly we have the heroic voice in agreement that the "smaller soul" engenders complacency and that strength is not victory. how can this be? the villain understood all along that ozpin’s "smaller soul" was nothing more than a belief in salvation through the strength of a single heroic paragon obfuscated by poetic language. "there will be no victory in strength" and "when [your guardians] fail and you turn to your smaller soul, know that you send her to the same pitiful demise" are the same statement, spoken first in salem’s own words and later repeated in ozpin’s.

i’ve made this point before but taken into context with the whole soliloquy, "there will be no victory in strength" implies its own converse: there will be victory in the virtues salem sees innate in mankind, wisdom and passion and resourcefulness and ingenuity and above all, hope.

she reiterates this again more overtly in her v3 soliloquy, naming hope as mankind’s greatest strength and mocking ozpin for his failure to put his money where his mouth is and ACT on his professed faith in mankind. "your faith in mankind was not misplaced," she says, dripping sarcasm. if only you had given the people a common enemy rather than sowing doubt and distrust among even your inner circle by keeping them in the dark.

and on the foundation of this reversal: “balance is not two forces locked in never-ending battle. balance is an ecosystem, an organism, a living, breathing thing; thus, balance cannot be restored by force or calculation. true balance finds its own equilibrium. it only requires love, and the patience to see things through to the end.”

NOW this is where the recontextualization of the "victory in a smaller soul"/"no victory in strength" conceit starts to become really interesting: there is no victory at all.

there is only the state of being in equilibrium, or not. this is a story about balance.

as with salem, the specific language the blacksmith uses here is important (and it helps to have some familiarity with hellenistic philosophy, heraclitus and plato in particular, because that strongly influences rwby’s metaphysics): she doesn’t mean that opposition or strife is antithetical to balance. the first emanations of the tree were darkness and light, given destruction and creation. the central conceit is chiaroscuro. one cannot be without the other.

equilibrium is found in the tension between weight and counterweight and lost whenever these two opposites become unequal, such as (for example) if light decides that darkness should obey him rather than seek compromise with him when they disagree.

that in turn is passed down from the gods to ozlem through ozma’s belief in light’s (false) conception of balance as a state of perfection without strife. within this framework "unity" demands the complete absence of conflict or disagreement and becomes synonymous with obedient submission, and thus salem—who wants nothing but to be free—is rendered as the great evil who must be destroyed.

there is no question that salem understands the narrative themes with respect to humanity and the injustice of the divine narrative; she does. it is absurd and unserious to argue that she does not fundamentally believe the things she says in soliloquy just as it would be absurd and unserious to suggest that ozma doesn’t believe what he says in his.

what is in question and what does have crucial implications for the story’s resolution is whether salem herself seeks victory (to defeat the gods) or equilibrium (to remove herself as the blade held to remnant’s throat by ending the divine mandate); does she intend to win the war or to end it?

and that is a more difficult question. the fact of her commitment to war does not in and of itself provide an answer because ozma has existed in a perpetual state of (imaginary) war with her for thousands of years, with or without her participation. if she comes into the open and tells people the truth about his mandate and what the huntsmen academies are for, there will be a war. he already knows why she rejected the divine mandate and she has no reason to believe that he will react any differently this time if she appeals to him again, not when he’s had thousands of years to think about it and reaffirmed his commitment to the mandate over and over again.

or she can cut him down and strike at the academies one after the other in quick succession to claim the relics and be done with it before he returned—remember that neither the siege of atlas nor razing vale were part of her original plan, and she intended to leave atlas for last. it is likely that her plans for shade and atlas resembled her minimally-destructive plan for haven.

and even when she panics and commits to open warfare, she exercises a great deal of restraint; it remains to be seen what the exact situation is in vale but razing vale mere weeks after oz decimated hundreds of thousands of not millions of her grimm is in and of itself a demonstration that she’s fully capable of burning the whole world down to get what she wants by brute force. perhaps she felt emboldened once she’d claimed two of the relics but even then the sheer disparity in power between herself and ozpin is so vast that it is becoming absurd to believe that her restraint is motivated by "caution" alone.

she rips a continent open and uses the liquid core of the planet as a siege weapon. oz explodes every grimm for miles around with a blast of magical energy that took lifetimes to accumulate and that slows her down for maybe two hours. salem knows that humanity is strong when banded together in common cause but she also knows that didn’t stop the gods from wiping them out in the blink of an eye, and the difference in power between herself and modern humans is in that ballpark.

"in pursuit of a new world, no cost is too great," she says… in praise of cinder’s restraint. i couldn’t stop them from evacuating the city, i couldn’t stop them from using the last question, i couldn’t stop the maiden from escaping without putting the relics in jeopardy—you’ve done well.

so in salem’s view, for the sake of a new world, allowing thousands of innocents to evacuate to safety and laying aside personal grudges or ambitions is worthwhile. conceding a partial victory to one’s opponents is a fair price to pay in pursuit of a new world. what does this tell us about how salem thinks?

gestures, also, at witch. what does it say about salem that upon learning one of her five hostages is her general’s daughter, she gave up on recovering the lamp and lost a fight on purpose to let all of them go?

"there will be no victory in strength," she says. the rest of her soliloquy implies the converse that victory is found in human virtue and hope. in her second soliloquy she gloats about dedicating all her power to extinguishing ozpin’s hope; two volumes later she cautions cinder against relying on power to "take what [she] wants by force" because power comes with a cost but the "usefulness of others" cannot be overstated; three volumes after that she’s all smiles when ruby reveals her to the world as a rallying cry for hope and tells cinder that sparing lives is a worthy price for a new world. she intends to gather the four relics—that is her game to win, as she puts it to cinder—but what’s her plan?

is it to summon the gods for another confrontation? because there any number of things that salem could do, or try to do, with the relics in hand in pursuit of a new world: destroy the relics, end ozma’s curse to prevent him from coming back, release the imprisoned spirits, use the relics to carve open a doorway to a literal new world where the brothers can’t follow—she’s had millions of years to research and thousands to consider a way to escape the final judgment—use the crown to force ozma to stop, if it works like the golden cap. or even tell the world what will happen if anyone brings the relics together and use the implied threat of her having all four as leverage in negotiations, much as ozma did after the great war.

if salem believes she can beat the brothers and is dead set upon using the rest of the world as bait to lure them back, that makes her more dangerous and more difficult to persuade to talk—it’s what i’ve been anticipating on the grounds that it is the most straightforward way to keep the narrative stakes high.

but the other way ’round is also compelling—salem having a specific minimal-risk plan to dispose of the relics and/or ozma or otherwise end the mandate by making it impossible to summon the gods, and team rwby hitting upon the idea of bringing the relics together in the ever after to persuade the god of light to ascend—and seems more in line with salem’s characterization whenever she isn’t venting her rage at ozma; risk-averse, restrained, pragmatic, willing to compromise. if her most important priority is to end the eternal crusade against her and she doesn’t care about the brothers as long as they don’t ever come back, and these children get it into their heads to confront the brothers face to face… well it makes the negotiations crunchier, that’s for sure.