#like. that man is made for the birdcage.

[coldbycrossfade]

modern astarion would do old school runway reviews with some other queen on youtube send post

[dw-flagler]

In this post, I will attempt to calmly, reasonably, and in-a-good-faith-manner argue all the points raised by tumblr user @library-bat-girl in the following posts. I am starting a new thread so as not to further destroy the original poster, @skitterenjoyer's, tumblr notifications. Worm (+MHA) spoilers ahead. This will be a long post.

Firstly, I would like to apologize on the worm fandom's behalf. We will not engage in ableism of any kind. I sincerely hope that this was a singular incident and @skittersdrippygirlcock will be better about this in the future.

"MHA has better characters,"

My Hero Academia's primary achievement, I think, is managing to make many decently well rounded characters in a fairly short time-span. It certainly has very good visual character design, with easily memorable character designs, like Mina Ashido or Tsuyu Asui. Most of Class 1A is shown to be more than single-note gimmick characters. For a story with such a tight schedule, and only so much page real-estate, that's impressive! For instance, a character decidedly outside of the main cast, Fumikage Tokoyami, is shown to have more to his personality than "is an edgelord," showing a humility and friendliness that is highly against-type. This is very different than a lot of its peers, especially in Shonen manga, where side characters (and sometimes even main characters) are never more than their tropes (see Fairy Tale, One Punch Man*, The Seven Deadly Sins, or Black Clover). My Hero Academia does clear that bar, by making side characters little more than their tropes. This is to say nothing of the primary cast, who, again, is largely defined by tropes and easily slotted into standardized interchangeable Shonen roles. Rival, Love Interest, Rival but Nice About It. Additionally, MHA has an uncomfortably sexualized main cast, for one composed primarily of minors.

This is compared to Worm, in which many characters are fully realized and could have been the protagonist (and often were in older drafts of the story, due to Worm's 10-year development hell). Every character that gets an interlude, and most that don't, all have fully realized interiority, traumas, and wants. In fact, this is one of the major themes of Worm. Every character, from the protagonist Taylor, to characters so minor they're seen only once (see Damsel of Distress, Dauntless), to major antagonists and monsters (see Jack Slash, Bonesaw) all have their own story, even if this is never shown on-screen. There are no "side characters" in the same manner as in My Hero Academia, because every character is a protagonist of their own story, and not in a trite "life is so beautiful" way.

Taylor isn't the center of the universe, there's an entire world outside of her 3-block bubble. The mechanism by which all characters get their superpowers means that the mere fact of having powers implies this about them. Even the seeming exceptions, aren't (see Alexandria, Garotte). Taylor is a good character. I don't even know how to elaborate on that. She just is. Worm does not have the character Minoru Mineta.

"a better plot,"

What... what is the plot of My Hero Academia? For the life of me, I can't seem to recall. I can tell you the general formula of most of the arcs for the first ~2/3rds of the story. Class 1A goes to do a hero high school thing, like do rescue training, or on-the-job training, or on-the-job-training, or on-the-job-training (they do it like 4 times for some reason), the League Of Villains shows up (even when it's seemingly not the league of villains it actually is the league of villains) they fight about it, the class beats all the villains, and Deku beats up strongest bad guy and also breaks his bones. Repeat step 1. But like. What's... the plot? The League of Villains is evil and wants to kill people and do bad stuff. They explicitly do not have greater motivations. There's generally themes of passing-on-to-the-new-generation, so there's Tomura Shigaraki as the arch nemesis to Izuku Midoriya, just as All Might's Nemesis is All For One. Eventually they fight a big fight about it and I stop reading because I find out about Worm. From what I understand (I have not read the conclusion) the series ends without addressing any long-running questions, wrapping up any character arcs, or concluding anything in a narratively satisfying manner. As if severely rushed.

Worm, there are maybe 15 main stories going on simultaneously, which are all tied into the final confrontation with Scion. The most obvious is Taylor's and the Undersiders' story, about taking over Brockton Bay and defeating Coil, which is a smaller part of Coil's story about taking over the bay, until their confrontation with him in arc 17, when it supersedes Coil's story, and then intersects with Cauldron's story, the Traveler's story, the Case 53s' stories, the Wards' story, all of it, in arcs 18-19. This is one example. A great deal of attention is spent making sure the reader knows that Taylor, the Undersiders, Coil, all of them, are bit players in a very large game. Despite this, it's never hard to follow, because Wildbow, while lacking some of the more flowery prose, manages extremely well at making his stories easy to understand.

"I feel like even people who like Worm can agree that Worm is not the most consistent piece of fiction ever written. The disjointed way it was written meant that emphasis was primarily put on 'What Wildbow thought was cool in the moment', [sic] and the story RADICALLY shifts gears every time a new arc starts."

What? Huh? Worm is extremely consistent. Like. 1.1 to E.x. It's, like. Not disjointed? Oh my god, are you talking about interludes? Is that what you mean? The interludes shift gears? Because that makes sense. It's one of the hardest things about worm, yeah. It's gripping! The interludes are a great idea to expand the world of worm, but the problem is that taylor's story is so intriguing that stepping away from it to focus on something else is hard, no matter how individually interesting. I want to read about taylor's escalation spiral, not the travelers! (As opposed to My Hero Academia having random escalation and de-escalation between arcs with no real explanation. We're reading about lives-on-the-line battles with child-slavers and then move to playing on a playground with little kids? Best I can think of is that this whiplash is intentional, but this is never communicated to the reader. Worm does not do this. Any de-escalation is met with the explicit understanding that this is merely a period of calm before things get even worse). Taylor's story wraps up in an extremely narratively satisfying fashion, following her story to its logical conclusion. There were so many ways it could have been avoided, but there was really only one way that it could have ended.

"better worldbuilding,"

This actually offends me. MHA could have had great world-building. It doesn't. Every potentially interesting bit of world-building is backpedaled out of or stopped before it could get anywhere. Or it's just never elaborated or expanded upon. Everyone having a superpower could have been cool, but the implications of this are nonexistent. The reasons for this having no real implications, that being the banning of quirks, also has implications that are also immediately backpedaled out of. It's been hundreds of years since our time, yet life is exactly the same. Nothing ever happens. Endeavor is a cool concept. I like Endeavor. his existence implies such interesting things about the world, how important hero ranking is to these people's lives, that he would create this horrific system of domestic abuse to try and get to the #1 spot. What does this say about this system of heroes that operates like a popularity contest? It could have said a lot. It says nothing. What does the League of Villains, a league of people who call themselves out-and-out villains, who base their ideology in opposing this system of heroes, say about society? Nothing. On purpose. Worm does something with this. One Punch Man does something with this. My Hero Academia puts it in the story, and lets it sit, unused, for a decade.

Worm has... unique world-building. Because it's both good and bad at the same time. Worm's #1 feature is its world. It's brilliant, full stop. Triggers, The Birdcage, the PRT, Exclusion Zones! Why does the status quo exist? what does it say about that society? What does it say about our society? Why hasn't society radically changed from how it is in our world? This is explained. This plays into the themes. The story wants to say something about this world, and so it does. There are characters whose stories explicitly delve into these themes that are set up in the worldbuilding, like Armsmaster, or Battery, or Bonesaw, or Coil, or Piggot or Alexandria or Taylor herself or Brian or Lisa or ANY OF THEM THEY ALL DO THIS. Sorry.

Anyway, the bad part is that the actual world is not well built (and is kind of racist). What's going on in Europe? There's a 3 blasphemies! a 3 what? never explained. What's going on in Asia, aside from Japan? China is a monarchy for some reason. Why? It's never elaborated on. India gets a little bit of elaboration, we're told its different but not how it's different. Wildbow uses machine translation wrong and names some guy caliph of dogs. This is like worm's #2 problem honestly (#1 is Amy). Wildbow tries to make the implication of a well thought out globe without actually making a well thought out globe.

"stronger themes,"

It really doesn't. As I said in the worldbuilding section, MHA makes a point out of not saying or doing anything. I don't know if editors made Horikoshi walk back the more ambitious story beats or what, but there are multiple points in the story where the author pretty much looks you directly in the eye and goes "This Story Isn't Saying Anything At All Even Though It Looked Like It Would. Lmao."

Worm has lots of themes. I think Armsmaster/Defiant's story is my favorite. His entire character arc (which is fully realized despite him being a background character for nearly the entire story) has a point to it. It says something. It's misanthropic and uplifting simultaneously, and manages to feel like it earns both. It's a shared theme with Bonesaw/Riley's story, explored in two different ways.

"Meanwhile MHA establishes an actual overall theme/message right from the start that expands and develops throughout the story. The worldbuilding is informed by the message, which informs the characters arcs and the people they become by the end of the story."

I notice that you never actually say what that message is. What is it? Like, for real. I'm not being confrontational or anything, like what is the message? Cuz' I can't think of one. My Hero Academia, at its very core, is a defense of the status quo. Much like its world-building, but much less forgivable, because it does do something new and unique with its world-building. MHA could have done some extremely interesting stuff with its early implicit critique of heroic society as shown with characters like Bakugo, or Shigaraki, or Endeavor, or Overhaul, or Midoriya himself! It just doesn't! It doesn't do stuff that Worm does do!

Worm does have a message. It has a lot of messages, actually, some that the author disagrees with somehow. Prison abolition, for one. We know Wildbow loves prison. Anyway, the big one is in the subtitle: doing the wrong things for the right reasons. Taylor's constant spiral of escalation, her dwindling attachments to her friends and greater focus on treating herself like a soldier is prevalent, and it is to be avoided. Taylor isn't a sin-eater. They don't exist. From what I remember, this is sort of explored in Deku's character arc for a short period of time, but much like everything else in MHA, it is backpedaled out of.

The funniest is "don't text and drive" though.

"Just on a basic level the way that the audience is meant to feel about Taylor oscillates wildly between being directed to think of her as a misunderstood victim of circumstance, or history's greatest monster."

That's kind of the point. Like. the audience isn't meant to look at Taylor the same way throughout the entire story. It's meant to change as she changes. Taylor's opinion of Taylor changes. The mistake here is saying it "oscillates wildly." it doesn't. It's a slow and steady change for the worse, as Taylor gets more violent and starts throwing away greater and greater parts of herself to become more like a robot and less like a person.

"But a bigger issue in general is tone. It's very focused on being dark and gritty and edgy, and it makes the mistake a lot of consciously edgy media does. IE: it thinks that all it has to do to be smart is be bleak and/or graphic. It doesn't really try to say anything, in fact it contradicts itself throughout the book as I mentioned before, it just throws in extremely graphic scenes and content periodically to remind the audience how fucked everything is."

Did you read the boys and think it was worm? What? It's not being smart when it's bleak or graphic? I actually personally like the endbringers or the slaughterhouse 9, and not because I like watching people suffer. These things exist for a reason. It's not being dark for the sake of being dark. The heroes could stop the slaughterhouse 9. We see that, when they almost stop the slaughterhouse 9 (it's explicitly shown that they are stopped from destroying the slaughterhouse 9). The question then becomes why don't they? It's a grim, brutal calculus, and one that wasn't worth it. That's the point. The Endbringers are different. It's not until arc 27 that they're really explained. You could either read them as a criticism of Eidolon or of ableism, honestly. I mean, it wasn't intentional, he didn't create them on purpose, he needed something to fight, because without that he's nothing. His powers are all he has.

"Worm spends so much time trying to be edgy that as with a lot of edgy media the edginess loses all impact quite quickly and becomes sort of cringe."

I don't really think so, but like. Okay. I don't think this is a reconcilable viewpoint (none of this is really but this especially), so like we're probably gonna have to agree to disagree. The only thing I can really think of as edgy for the sake of edginess is Amy's arc. But even that's not really true. It's meant to be an utterly avoidable tragedy that could never have been stopped because of the people involved. Much like Taylor, actually. Amy could have stepped back from the brink, but she didn't, because Amy could never have done that, and nobody else was willing/able to help. It's supposed to be a thing where you sit back and think of all the tiny ways this could have easily been avoided, but wasn't.

"When body horror happens it still has impact because it's not happening constantly."

I mean, I guess. But like. I never got desensitized to the body horror in Worm. It hit pretty consistently for me throughout. As opposed to MHA, where it was usually walked back by the end of every arc. I never felt much tension or suspense because it felt as if there weren't actual consequences. In Worm, when Brian was strung up on his nerves, it felt disgusting because I was fully aware Worm would explore the ripple effects of this. It felt entirely possible he would die there, or never recover, because Worm didn't pull its punches. MHA did. This is a matter of opinion. We'll just have to agree to disagree about it.

"But most importantly - you root for the heroes because the world actually seems like it's worth saving."

that's just, um. sorry. I'm really trying here. That's just. Uh. Dumb. Do you root for Batman cause Gotham is a nice city? Everything's worth saving, that's, like, at its most basic what the concept of a superhero is about.

"Not only that but MHA simply does villain protagonists objectively better than Worm."

um. No? There straight up aren't villain protagonists in MHA. The villains are the POV characters for, like, one arc? You know what, here's a good spot for it. It's stated throughout the story that Shigaraki and the League of Villains have a goal, beyond just death and destruction. They're here to stop the corrupt society of heroes (that MHA hints at the existence of before backpedaling away from), and bring about a fairer society. But then, and this part pissed me off, one of the characters, I think Bakugo, says: "you're just using that as cover! you just want to kill people, you have no noble goal!" and shigaraki's like "dang you caught me." and then it happens again with Deku! Because My Hero Academia is allergic to saying something. Nope! They're villains! No moral depth here! They're Villains, We're Heroes, Go Put Them In Jail.

This is opposed to Worm, where- "The characters of the villains and their origins are used to highlight the flaws in the Superhuman society"

"Most of the villains are only villains because society failed them in some way, and the specific ways in which that happened become big plot points that then play into the future arc of our heroic characters."

I had to walk away from my computer for this one. It's hard to be civil. It's really hard. Polite and reasonable.

So Worm is about this. To even say this without a shred of irony makes me thing you've never once read a single word of Worm and are doing this purely as bait. Or you've read all of Worm and are doing this purely as bait.

"They're actually extremely complex in a way that ends up being fundamentally important to the overall story - where in Worm the villains are either based heroes fighting a corrupt system or they're histories [sic] greatest monsters... until they're presented as heroes again."

I think I get it now. I really think I do. You're not supposed to agree with all the characters. Like. Worm is inconsistent, in that it follows the perspectives of inconsistent people. Of course Triumph and Armsmaster don't agree on what is right! They're different people, they have different perspectives!

"See. Worm fans keep saying "This is Bait." It's not Bait, you all are simply ridiculous and obsessed with this series to such a degree that you feel compelled to say "This is Bait" instead of just... ignoring it, because you have no actual counterargument."

Perhaps worm fans are inclined to believe you posted rage bait because you brazenly walked into another fandom's post and wholeheartedly proclaimed that the thing they liked was Stupid Idiot Bullshit For Fucking Morons, and refused to elaborate until prompted, at which point you said several things that are demonstrably false about Worm.

"Your only response to anything I've said is pedantry, bigotry, and deflection. If it was obviously just bait why are you engaging?"

Well, I'm engaging because I've been in a foul mood since I woke up this morning. Also because you, again, said some very rude and patently false statements about a story that I really enjoy and find narratively rich, even in its faults.

"MHA's characters do fall into archetypal shounen character roles - but they are all given a solid amount of focus explaining why they are like that and developing them into something bigger."

Again, as I said, it's a genuinely impressive feat to have an ensemble cast like what My Hero Academia has, and give so many of the characters a degree of depth, with such little manga to work with. I think worm does it better, but worm doesn't have to be economical about it. MHA does. The problem I have with this statement is that it becomes a question of scale. How much bigger? They're no longer defined by their tropes, instead defined by their opposition to their tropes. It's still a one-note character, you've merely changed the note from C to C sharp.

"so almost every member of the cast has an arc that either develops them past the person they initially seemed to be or explains why they're like that."

This is probably my favorite part about MHA. They do have arcs! I love ensemble casts! it does a much better job in this than all of its contemporaries, even One Piece. However, they are comparatively simplistic arcs that all follow a similar formula.

"I've heard people say MHA is neocon or pro-establishment but the story literally concludes by showing that society HAS TO FUNDAMENTALLY CHANGE or the same problems that created the villains in the first place will keep happening. The entire time skip specifically focuses on the fact that for eight years the main characters have been forcing change in the world and addressing the issues the villains brought up."

Now, I'm going to be clear. I stopped reading My Hero Academia around chapter 275. I don't know the exact number, but it was the latest chapter in ~mid 2020. I would occasionally attempt to reread, in an attempt to catch up, but give up around chapter 200 out of boredom. I don't know exactly how the story ends, but I have read ~2/3rds of the story. I feel this gives me a pretty good understanding of the general tone of the story, unless it wildly changes tone at the 3/4ths mark, which you have explicitly said it does not, as it is extremely coherent and consistent. Therefore, I believe I can state with some degree of confidence that MHA does not do that.

I would certainly believe that it tries (and fails) to SFP it, but SFP does not promote a fundamental societal change. That's the problem. Strong Female Protagonist was willing to come up and say that Alison lived in a fundamentally unjust world, even if it was never willing or able to offer real change. And hey. You do what you can. I sincerely doubt My Hero Academia is even willing to call its world fundamentally unjust, from the 200+ chapters that I did read.

"In the case of the actual main characters, they have extremely comprehensive character arcs."

Adding this behind the last point just so that I don't have to reiterate I haven't finished the book. I am, however, very much not inclined to believe the actual main characters had extremely comprehensive character arcs.

Which plays back into the initial theory that ANYONE CAN BE A HERO.

man, spider-man did that better (not a real argument, but like, spider-man totally did that better). Not least because midoriya specifically could not become a hero were it not for all might giving him a power.

No, the Villains don't get happy endings,

Why not? Why do they go to jail, even the ones who changed and wanted to redeem themselves? Endeavor never goes to jail. He did some horrible stuff. He's redeemed himself in the eyes of the story, right? Anyone can be a hero, right? So why not them? Why haven't they redeemed themselves in the eyes of the story?

You may wish to turn this back on me and ask why doesn't Armsmaster go to prison? Because he's similar in some respects. But worm never calls prison justice. (for some reason, even though wildbow totally loves prison). Prison is punitive, a tool for those in charge to control those it manages to capture. Maybe some deserve life in the birdcage. Many don't. It doesn't matter. Because the birdcage isn't a tool of justice. It's not meant to be. it's a box to put the uncontrollable capes in, until they can be used as meat shields. So Armsmaster doesn't go to prison because the story says explicitly there is no point to it. But MHA? MHA says there is a point to it. Endeavor needs to go to prison if he wants to atone. He's escaping justice every second he's outside.

I have actually read Worm, and for the first half to two thirds I loved it.

Weird. That's exactly how long I really enjoyed MHA. Not, like relevant, to anything. Just odd. I mean, I don't actually dislike MHA. I think it's fine, actually. It feels like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade to me. Funny (when Mineta isn't around), bombastic, and a good time, even if I don't think it's super thematically rich.

I'm not coming at this from the perspective of someone who has never seen any of the merits of Worm, I'm coming at it from the perspective of someone who really liked it, gave it a fair shot, and was eventually disappointed when it ended up not tying together right.

See, this makes me more inclined to think it's bait, actually. since you said "Oh yeah. MHA is published. MHA's been an ongoing publication with a large following for ten years, in a notoriously competitive industry. Now this might seem kind of unimpressive, it's a very low bar to clear I know. But it's one Worm hasn't, so. I dunno, I'd say that's fairly objective. Now you may think "Yeah, but Trash fiction gets published all the time." And that's true but again - Worm hasn't. The worst piece of fiction you can think of got published and Worm didn't. You wanna be an asshole about this? The thing you love is so mid that it was self published in 2013, couldn't get picked up for professional publishing until 2019 and as far as I can see has stayed in development hell since then." in your previous post. Sure, perhaps we can say you were pissed at the time, but "the thing you love is worse than trash fiction, an altogether nothing piece of literature that isn't even worth the paper it would hypothetically be printed on" does not strike me as the words of someone who "really liked it, gave it a fair shot, and was eventually disappointed when it ended up not tying together right." In fact, going back through your other statements on the story, you seem to have genuinely disliked it from the very beginning, on grounds of being too edgy (which I can fully understand the logic of): "IE: it thinks that all it has to do to be smart is be bleak and/or graphic," thematically incoherent: "It doesn't really try to say anything, in fact it contradicts itself throughout the book as I mentioned before, it just throws in extremely graphic scenes and content periodically to remind the audience how fucked everything is," and utterly devoid of purpose or meaning. "When it does introduce new lore that new lore is almost always overly convoluted and acts as a catalyst for things happening, but not really things happening that play into a wider theme or message. It's just "Oh and here's this team of god-level serial killers who are gonna string a dude up by his nervous system." Like yeah, cool visual, but what is any of this actually saying?" This does not sound like a ringing endorsement of the first half of Worm to me. In fact, this sounds like you hated every second of it.

"And frankly given the number of comments that are just people saying "Bait" - I don't think any of y'all have engaged with this in a fair or honest way"

I'm going to reiterate on my previous statement. I like my hero academia. Capeshit is my favorite genre, it probably always will be. They're my favorite genre of story. While I find the themes—or lack thereof—extremely frustrating, I still think of it as fun. I gave it a fair shake. I would probably really enjoy the ending if I didn't have a reading list that was 300 books long.

[hitokiri-izou]

I'm worried now this is the new worst low of my life

[luckycheesefoodie321]

Me watching them slowly begin to clean up the area: What a day!

*pause* it’s not even night time yet. Luffy overthrew a kingdom in the span of half a day.

[spotsupstuff]

OUGHHHRHGHHHHH MY LITTLE ASSHOLE FUCKS (and bessie little angel bessie)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGH THEY'RE SO PRETTY IN YOUR STYLE... watch out with cookin fish in a microwave he could explode like an egg

i am putting your little guys in my mental microwave @spotsupstuff

[lovingjingyuan]

Short Story Rambble

I'm not posting any work this month but brainrots ideas. So busy with studies. I'll start getting to requests after everything is over. Not edited.

Sunday

You're so beautiful he had to keep your beauty in front of his eyes somehow. To be displayed for him neatly. What better way than to put you in a birdcage? To keep you in there. "Sing for me my sweet angel," He cooed, lips at the surface of the bars playing with your strands of hair through the bar of the golden cage. Beautiful just for him. He smiles at you with his angelic features.

The instrumental of the song on his vintage record player tuned music as you sang the lyrics. He hummed softly holding your hands admiring your beauty through the birdcage. Next, he'll have to figure out how to preserve your beauty for eternity. 

Aventurine

"What should I do next?"

"All in"

"Then I'm going all in," Aventurine pushes all the chips in the middle of the table. This pushes your chest against the edge of the table as you sit sweetly on his lap. His left hand on your waist, his right hand playing.

The wealthy businessmen and women starred in unease. Was this another buff from the IPC executive? Aventurine sat with a relaxed smile holding you firmly in his arms and making you sit patiently on his lap.

Everyone went all in. They seemed confident but was it enough to end his never ending winning streak? His left hand held your waist firmly as it tightened a bit. His thumb traced circles on the curve of your waist to ease his tension. He was nervous yet hid it well.

"Remember this is all just for you," He leaned over to whisper in your ears.

He revealed his cards. A royal Flush! He laughed in ecstasy grabbing all the chips for himself.

"I'll buy you anything you want after this" He whispered sweetly in your ears. He always had his charms. Even from keeping you sitting sweetly on his lap and betting on you, he'll always win. 

Jing Yuan

"If you win I'll let you leave," he smiled at you from across from the chessboard. You make another move. "Bold indeed." He smiled at you but captured your knight. Damn, he led you right in his trap.

He retained you in the Luofu you can't even leave if you wanted to! Not if every single person on the Xianzhou will be looking for you the moment you're out of Jing Yuan's glaze. But, you'll always end up back in his embrace.

Every move you made was falling into Jing Yuan's upper hand. He always knows how to lead with the chessboard.

"Checkmate," your heart dropped the moment you heard the word you feared hearing. He widens his arms for you to lean in his embrace. "Come here, my love" He pulls you in his arms.

He holds you tightly in his arms not wanting to let go. You should have known from the start you'll never win against a man with 800+ years of experience. what a fool you are for even accepting this.

"I love you," He kissed your lips.

What nickname should Aventurine call his darling I don't like using Y/N :(

I can't decide on Nicknames for characters' darling and I'm gonna do a few requests when I got time <3

[rottedghuleh]

Naughty Brahmsy - Brahms Heelshire x F!Reader

"Right now you're mine, all mine."

A/N:  This is taking place after the first movie when Greta left. I might make this one into a series. Until I get some requests in, I'll be posting some of my own stuff I've written in my downtime. If you do have requests, look at my pinned post on my profile!

Warnings: some nonconsensual grabbing and grinding, blood, tit fucking, facial.

Brahms delt with the psychical ache of wanting to have you all for himself for weeks now ever since you moved in as new nanny. Your smell, skin, everything made him so thirsty for you that he could slit that pretty throat and drink you up. But he needed you alive, alive so he could make you his. In Brahms' mind, as long you lived in the manor, you were his to fuck and breed when desired. He was pathetic for you, spending nights of palming his hard on while watching you through the walls instead of just going out and taking you.

That what was going through his mind when watching you make him a sandwich. The filthy thoughts of bending you over the counter and breeding you until Brahms was collapsing on the floor. To have you shaking and mewling as he ravaged your skin. He never had actually done these things, just thought of it. All he had was the sex doll given to him by his parents so he could fuck out his frustrations and the porno magazines he kept in a messy pile. None of that was compared to the real thing. Brahms looked down from you at the aching between his thighs. The erection that reminded him that he had all the power to make you submit. Brahms had to do something. Even if it meant getting in trouble. Before you knew it, you were shoved up against the counter from behind, Brahms' massive hands gripping the edge of the counter. His nose tucked into the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Each whiff made him whimper, God he was fucking pathetic but it was cute. Brahms pressed his hips up against your ass, his arms coming tightly around your hips, grinding hard against you like the horny bastard he was.

"Brahms, what are you doing?" You gasped out when you felt his erection pressed up against the curves of your body. It was fucking big, and it was needy for a wet hole. "Please...please. Shut up. Let me-" Brahms whined harder, his cool mask pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck. You hands pushed at his arms around his waist, causing the man to growl out and start to whimper like a hurt dog. "Brahms! Quit! You're being really bad!" You shouted out before you were interrupted his Brahms slamming his palm over your mouth to keep you shut. Brahms bent you over the counter, one hand on the back of your head and the other holding you up by your hips.

It all came crashing down when Brahms felt the sharp pain of small teeth digging into the meat of his palm. He smacked your mouth, yelling out in pain as he pulled away. The perfect, bloody indents of your teeth in his palm told Brahms all he needed to know about you. That you were going to be harder than he thought. "Brahmsy! Bad!" You hated being mean to him, Brahms was a sweet boy sometimes. Brahms glared at you like you had just told the man that he was a fucking failure and that you hated him. His eyes going wide under his mask in hot anger and then into sadness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll be good. I promise I will." Brahms held up his bleeding palm to you like he wanted you to tend to it.

He was a big ol' baby.

"Why the hell would you do that?" You took his hand on frustration, still trying to prod at it with gentle fingers. You used the hem of your apron to dab up the blood that was bubbling up in his palm. Brahms tilted his head at you, those damned puppy eyes. He always tried them whenever you weren't doing what he wanted. "I'm sorry. I just...I want to..." Brahms mumbled off, his eyes darting away quickly from you. You looked up from the crimson blood on his palm as he started to go quiet, only the deep and brooding melodies that came out of the gramophone filled the awkward silence between you two.

"You want to what?" You placed a finger on Brahms' chin, bringing his face back to you so he could look in your eyes. You felt his breath hitch in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Brahms felt so sure earlier, so confident, now he was scared that you were disappointed in him and would leave. "I wanted to touch you." Brahms finally said, hissing through his teeth slightly as you applied pressure to the wound. His words caught you of guard, mostly because Brahms saying that wasn't normal for him. He was a bit weird and said out of pocket things, but he had a filter. "You have to ask to touch." You said firmly, hoping it would get the point across. His eyes lit up as you said that, that was what he wanted to hear.

"Can I..." Brahms held his hand up, making a squeezing motion with his fingers near your breast. You had to fight rolling your eyes, of course he was going for the tits. You just nodded, taking his palm and pressing it against your breast. Brahms' eyes stared at him palming your tit like it wasn't really happening. He eventually gave a soft squeeze, his breathing coming out harder from under the mask. Just a small touch and Brahms was already huffing like an angry bull over it. He reached his other hand up, squeezing the other breast. Brahms was gentle at first, his thumbs caressing your curves, feeling the smoothness of them though your shirt. Brahms looked down at you, his masked face inching closer to yours. It was the exact replica of the once perfect doll that was shattered just months ago. Brahms pressed the lips of the mask against your's. It was sweet, almost like he was kissing you with the small tits of his head. You reached a hand up, touching the bottom of it. "May I?" You asked gently to make sure not to tip Brahms off and cause him to freak out over nothing.

Brahms nodded quickly, he was excited. He never actually kissed someone besides his momma and Greta. But both left him. You lifted Brahms' mask up ever so slightly to just see his lips. They were small, chapped, his facial hair making the pink color of them stick out. You noticed the burn scars on the small bit of skin that was showing, it didn't bother you much, but it was a reminder of what he did. Brahms didn't give you a second to think, just crashed his lips straight into your's. His hands tangled up into your hair, holding it tight in his grasp to keep you in place. The kiss was like two teenagers making out for the first time. Sloppy, needy, breathy. Between each wet smack of your lips was a small gasp of air. Brahms palmed at your breasts again, grabbing them with a new heated fervour. His tongue protruded your mouth, prodding inside your mouth to try to taste you inside and out. His hands gripped the front of your shirt before pulling the front down enough for him to see. Brahms pulled from the kiss, his lips parted and glistening with the mix of your saliva with his.

Your breasts were beautiful to him. It was definitely worth the wait to Brahms, seeing tits out of his porn magazines was so much better. He didn't think before he spoke, the words just fumbling out. "Let me fuck them. Please." You looked up at Brahms with a shocked look, not bad shock, but just shock he would even want to do that. "Please. On your knees." He begged again. Brahms pulled the rest of your shirt up, letting your tits bounce out. You got down on your knees, raising yourself up just enough for Brahms to be able to easily shove his cock between them. Brahms moaned out loud, his mouth hanging open as his trembling opened his pants and pulled his cock out quickly. It was thick, heavy enough for it to still be slumped over when rock hard, a dark patch of curly pubes around the base. Brahms struggled for a bit to get it in position to the cleavage of your breasts before he got it. He pressed your tits together, shoving his cock up between them. The swollen, pink tip stuck out the tops of your breasts, the foreskin hugging slid down his shaft with each thrust.

Brahms was already panting and whining like a dog, his strong hands gripping your tits together. You tilted your head down just low enough to take his cock head in your mouth, making him moan out louder. Brahms watched as his precum built up at the slit of his cock, the sticky fluid glazing over your breasts. He took a hand, pinching one of your nipples roughly, making you yell out in pleasure. You could feel the folds between your thighs growing wetter by the moment as he twisted and pulled at your nipple and sending electric pleasure for you.

With a loud groan, Brahms pulled away, his cum shooting out of his cock in thick ropes onto your tits and face. You felt the warm liquid dripping dripping down your lips and breasts, leaving hot streaks of Brahms' seed behind. He reached to your face, smearing his cum over your lips like it was lip gloss. "Again?" Brahms asked with a tilt of his head, making you laugh softly.

"Later, Brahmsy. You were a good boy."

[a-killer-obsession]

Pirate's Pet [Wire x Reader]

Pirates come to your town, and one decides you look too nice to leave behind.

CW: NON-CON, yandere!Wire, chubby afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, kidnapping, bondage, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, use of ‘daddy’, panty kink, slapping, spitting, oral (reader receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, forced orgasms, forced creampie, Stockholm syndrome, golden birdcage

WC: 2.6k

Masterlist || A03

You should have known better when the bell to indicate incoming pirates rang out over your small town. With no marines close enough to defend it, your town was at their mercy whenever pirates landed, and the bell was supposed to be the call to evacuate to the woods. You, stupidly, hadn't done so. You hated having to go to the woods, often having to stay there for hours, sometimes even days, until the all clear was given. Cold, wet, uncomfortable, getting pickled by sticks and small sharp stones whenever you tried to sit down. You thought that maybe this time you could just hide in the comfort of your home, instead of braving the heavy weather that had forced the pirates to dock in the first place. Big fucking mistake.

The pirates had broken down your door to search for goods, and when a tall man wielding a trident pulled you from under your bed and held you upside-down by your ankle, you knew you'd fucked up. He looked at you like a piece of meat, throwing you on the bed, ripping your blouse open to expose your bra, gagging you with strips he tore from your clothes, and throwing you over his shoulder like a slaughtered pig. Your relentless kicking and punching barely phased him, you may as well have been a fruit fly as he carried you back to the imposing ship he called home. You recognised his captain as Eustass Kid of the worst generation as the tall man carried you up the gangplank, the redhead merely laughing in amusement as you passed.

“Found yourself a toy, ey Wire?” Eustass laughed, “maybe this one will last a little longer.”

“Nice wide hips,” Wire reported, like he'd found a good sale at the market, and spanking your ass hard, “might be worth trying to get this one knocked up, she's got a good build for carrying a baby.” You screamed around your gag at the implication, Wire undeterred as you tried to fight your way off his shoulder.

“Aye, nice fat ass too,” another man, with pale blue dreadlocks and thorn like tattoos commented, “send her my way if you get bored aye?”

“Get your own, Heat,” Wire growled, carrying you up two sets of external stairs and through the door to the stern castle. He carried you through the short hall to his room, where he dumped you on his bed unceremoniously. Before you could scurry away he was grabbing your wrist and dragging it to the edge, where he cuffed it to a chain attached to a strong bracket on the wall. Before you had a chance to protest, he grabbed the other wrist and did the same with the opposite side, leaving you on your back in the middle of the bed, your arms spread out. It was clear he was set up for this, he'd obviously been planning to take a prisoner, and you'd been the only dumb bitch stupid enough to get caught. You kicked your legs at him, catching his face before he pinned your ankles against the mattress with his large hands.

“Do I have to chain your legs too,” Wire said flatly, removing your gag so you could answer him, “or are you going to behave?”

“BITE ME!” you shouted, spitting in his face.

“I will, later,” he purred as he wiped the glob of saliva from his face, “unfortunately I have shit to do before we can play, so you need to stay here and be a good girl.”

“Don't fucking touch me!” You screamed, trying to kick him again until he gave an exasperated sigh and chained you ankles as well, leaving you spread like a starfish. You tried to bite him as he pushed the gag back into your mouth, which earned you a hard slap that made your eyes water and quickly broke your spirit.

“You'll see soon that you belong here,” he cooed, running his hand down your front and breezing it over your breast, “perfect little thing, Daddy is gonna take such good care of you, and you're gonna look so pretty with my baby in you. Be good now sweetheart, or I'll have to skip bringing you dinner tonight, and we can't have that, can we? Gotta keep you nice and chubby so you're in good condition to grow my baby.”

You tried to scream but it was muffled by the gag, as Wire bent down and pressed kisses all over your face and down your neck, finishing at your breasts before he sighed contently and stood. “I'll see you in a few hours, then we're gonna have such fun,” he smiled before leaving you alone in the room, hearing the lock click into place as the door shut behind him. You fought against the restraints, testing for weaknesses, and when you found none there was nothing left to do but sob, hyperventilating as the gag made it hard to breathe until you ran out of air and passed out, your hindbrain taking over breathing for you now that you weren't awake and panicking.

You wake up to the sound of tearing fabric and a cold blade pressing against your skin as Wire cut and tore away your clothes, stripping you entirely until you had nothing but your panties on. He didn't want to waste your pretty lace panties yet, he could have a little fun with them before he tore them off too. “You're so beautiful,” Wire cooed as he pressed his thumb against your cunt to push the fabric between your folds, admiring how fat your labia were. He liked a girl with a bit of softness to her, what was the point of a girl if she wasn't lovely and soft and squishy? “I knew as soon as I saw you that you belong with me,” he smiled cruelly, “daddy's gonna make you feel so good. Such a lucky girl, you don't have to worry about anything anymore. No job or chores or other pirates, just gotta focus on getting nice and bred.”

You shook your head frantically, and he pinched your face hard in his hand, squishing your cheeks and making your lips purse. “No need to be shy about it,” he growled, “you belong here, you belong to me, you're not going anywhere so you can get rid of any silly notions of escaping. There's nowhere to go, we're out at sea and your town is nothing but ash.”

You whimpered as tears welled in your eyes, and Wire made soft shushes as he wiped the tears that escaped. “Shhh, shhh, daddy's got you now,” he cooed, “you're gonna be such a good mama, I know it.”

Wire settled himself to kneel between your legs, palming himself through his leather shorts, a noticeably large tent making your eyes widen. He unbuckled his pants and pulled out his long, thick cock, and you whimpered at the size. Wire noticed your fear and rubbed the head of his cock against your panty covered core. “Shhhh, don't worry mama, gonna be real gentle with you,” he soothed, “gonna get you nice and wet and begging for it first.”

Wire lent over you, caging you under his massive body and kissing you over the gag, before moving to your neck, groaning against it as he licked and nipped at your sensitive skin and relished your whimpers. Every little whine you let out made his cock throb, he couldn't wait to fuck your brains out. The head of his erection pressed against your panties, smearing precum over the fabric, the thin satin the only protection to keep his cock from forcing its way inside you. He trapped his length between your pussy and his hand, fucking the space between, rubbing against your covered clit. Your body began to betray you, clit swelling as arousal built from the friction, tears rolling down your cheeks as you struggled to refuse the stimulation.

Wire was quick to notice as the gusset of your panties grew wet, pulling them aside so he could run a finger between your folds to feel the slick you were making against your will. “Good girl!” Wire praised, “see, your body knows you belong here! Your pussy is so eager for me to breed you! Don't worry sweetheart, daddy is gonna give you what you need.”

The cuffs on your ankles dug into your skin as you fought to get away from him, unable to stop him as he tore the panties from your body, leaving you completely naked. He slid his shaft between your folds a few more times before deciding on something else, kissing and licking his way down your body until he was flat on his belly between your legs, his legs hanging off the end of the bed as he nosed against your pussy. “You smell so lovely,” he cooed, before licking a fat stripe up your cunt, chains rattling at your body went taut, “so sweet as well, mmm. I think I'll give you a reward before I fuck my baby into you.”

It felt like his tongue was trying to memorise every inch of your cunt, exploring every part of it, rolling against your clit and prodding at your entrance. You did what you could to pull tight the muscles there, but his strong tongue bullied its way inside you regardless of your efforts, lapping at your walls and making you produce more slick. There was nothing you could do to stop your body's natural processes when he was using his tongue so skillfully, if he hadn't taken you by force you would have been having a good time, but instead all you could do was whimper and struggle to bite back unwanted moans. You couldn't suppress the pleasured sounds forever though, especially not as he started sucking on your clit and pushing two fingers inside you, curling them to put pressure on your g-spot. The single moan you failed to hold back made him grin against you, knowing he had won, and quickly forcing a harsh orgasm from you.

You laid deadly still as your peak passed, making sad, defeated whimpers as he pulled his fingers from you. He crowded back over you, pulling down your gag and replacing it with his juice covered digits. “Taste how bad you want me,” he teased, “desperate little slut, begging to be bred. I'm gonna pump you full of so much cum it'll have nowhere to go but your womb.”

He gagged you with his long fingers before pulling away, focusing on lining his cock up with your entrance. “No!” You screamed, coughing from your strained throat, “please don't, please don't!”

“You mouth is saying no, but your soaked cunt is saying otherwise,” he grinned, grinding his length against you and letting his shaft get coated in your fluids, “don't worry, daddy will just give you the tip for now, until you can be a good girl and take all of it. We've got all night to mould your pussy to fit me.”

He pushed just the head of his cock inside you, slipping in easily thanks to his preparation, making short thrusts while you cried out for him to leave you be. He alternated between stretching you with the fat head of his cock, and rubbing it between your labia, each time giving you hope that he wouldn't put it back in before dashing those hopes away. Suddenly he sunk all the way in with a grunt, your warm wet hole being too much for him to resist, making you scream as he fully hilted his thick length in your tight cunt.

“You- you said you wouldn't!” You stuttered.

“I lied,” he grunted, “but look at you, you're doing so well sweetheart! You've got my whole cock inside you, I bet that feels nice huh?”

“No!” You spat back. He grabbed your face harshly and pinched it.

“Don't lie to daddy,” he growled, giving you a harsh thrust that forced a breathy moan from you. “See, it's good, huh? Nice and full! You'll be full of cum soon too.”

“No, don't!” You cried out as he started pumping you with his cock, your pussy making wet squelches as he fucked you. “No- hnng- s-stop, l-leave me alone! Hnng, fuck.”

“There it is,” Wire cooed, letting go of your face as you relented to his fucking, making soft moans as you failed to refuse how good it felt any longer, “there you go baby, I told you daddy would make you feel good. Let go sweetheart, you belong here, speared on my cock, taking all of me like you were made for me. Your pussy is fluttering around me, you're gonna cum on my cock soon huh?”

“No!” You denied, but your body was giving you away. The coil in your stomach was pulling tight, and you made heavy pants between moans as Wire gripped your hips and fucked you harder than you'd ever been fucked before, no doubt having the biggest cock you'd ever taken. You started feeling like maybe it wasn't so bad, being trapped here to be fucked and bred by a pirate, he said he'd keep you safe, right? Fuck, how long does Stockholm Syndrome usually take to kick in? Maybe you were just insane, or he really was actually fucking your brains out, so much that you no longer had the ability to think straight.

His thumb drawing circles on your clit pulled you from your thoughts, giving you the last push you needed to clamp down around him, coming with a scream and a gush of fluid neither of you expected. The not unwelcomed surprise made Wire groan and unload inside you, filling you till your overstuffed cunt was leaking. He took a few moments to rest against you, warming his cock and keeping his cum plugged up inside you. Eventually he pulled away, tutting softly as he saw the way his sheets were drenched.

“Oh sweetheart, you've made such a mess,” Wire cooed, “it's okay, daddy will take care of you. You've been such a good girl. Are you gonna behave if I unchain you?”

You gave a weak nod, your spirit entirely broken, disgusted at yourself for cumming not once, but twice, by your captor. You didn't move as Wire unclipped your shackles, pressing soft kisses to each limb where the cuffs had bit into your skin. He picked you up in a gentle bridal hold, carrying you to his bathroom and keeping you in his lap as he filled the tub, before lowering both you and himself into the water. He washed you slowly and methodically with luxurious smelling products, massaging your aching joints and your scalp as he worked shampoo into it. At some point you dozed off, waking in his bed, laid with fresh sheets, dressed in an expensive feeling satin nighty and tucked under mountains of blankets and furs. Next to you on the side table was a tray of food, not just scraps like you expected but good, tasty smelling food. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. He only wanted a baby right? You knew you wanted kids anyway. Maybe being the pet of some pirate who treats you well, spoils you and makes you cum hard wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Maybe you really did belong here.

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[benijbol]

ꞌꞋ Give In

A/N; Mayhaps based on Rule #34 by Fish In a Birdcage,,, also Davos definitely gets nose bleeds at the most inconvenient times. Godless men with frequent nose bleeds although u might wanna look into a doctor's appointment love xx

✣ Summary; Davos being a sneaky cunt and hopping in your bed. Davos Blackwood x Fem!Reader.

✣ WARNINGS; Smut 18+, mentions of blood and blood play, biting, bruising, oral f receiving, dark themes. (pls don't castrate me)

✣ 2510 words

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The room was dark, shrouded in the shadows cast by flickering candlelight. The night had settled in with a heavy silence, a calm that belied the storm brewing under the covers. You had barely settled yourself under the thick furs of your bed when you felt it—a shift in the air, a sensation that crept along your skin like a cold shiver.

There was no mistaking it; you were not alone.

A weight pressed down at the edge of the bed, slow and deliberate, the soft creak of wood under pressure. You could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation like the sharp edge of a blade drawn tight against your throat. And then, just as your breath hitched in your chest, he was there.

Davos Blackwood.

You didn’t need to see him to know it was him. You knew him by the way the shadows seemed to wrap around his form, like darkness was his second skin, cloaking his lithe body in mystery. The scent of wood smoke and iron clung to him, mingling with something more primal, something that made your skin tingle and your breath catch in your throat.

There was no warning. No sound, no whisper, not even the brush of fabric against your skin. Just his mouth on your throat, hot and wet, his lips latching onto the tender skin just below your jaw. A gasp escaped your lips, an involuntary noise of surprise and need. Gods, you’d wanted this—wanted him—for so long, and now he was here, his hands rough against your nightdress, his fingers sliding up your sides, his touch both demanding and hungry.

His teeth sank in just enough to sting, and you shivered, every nerve alight with the sharp pain that quickly melted into something deeper, darker—a throbbing heat that coiled in your belly. Davos seemed to sense it, that flicker of desire, and he growled against your skin, a low, primal sound that sent a rush of wetness pooling between your thighs.

Your head fell back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth moved lower, his teeth scraping against the thin fabric of your dress. You felt the sharpness of his fangs as he bit down, harder this time, and a strangled moan slipped from your lips as you felt the skin break, felt the slow trickle of blood seep from the wound.

He lapped it up like a man starving, his tongue pressing against the fresh wound, tasting you, claiming you. You whimpered, your hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. It was obscene, the way he sucked at the bite, his mouth moving with slow, deliberate motions, savoring each drop of your blood like it was the finest wine.

And you loved it. Gods help you, but you loved it.

His hand was suddenly between your legs, fingers grazing the damp fabric of your smallclothes, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body. His touch was firm, possessive, pressing against the heat of your core in a way that made you gasp. You could feel him smile against your skin, a cruel, knowing smile that promised everything you’d ever dreamed of… and more.

His fingers hooked under the waistband, tugging them down with a rough yank, and you were bare before him, vulnerable and exposed in a way that made your heart race, made your skin flush hot with embarrassment… and something more.

He took his time, his fingers tracing the slickness between your thighs, spreading your wetness with deliberate slowness, making you whimper and squirm under his touch. He teased you, circling your clit with light, barely-there touches that left you aching, desperate for more.

And then, without warning, his mouth was on you.

Your back arched off the bed as his tongue lapped against your folds, the sensation sharp and electric, sending a shockwave of pleasure rippling through your body. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, but it was impossible, the way he sucked at your clit, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes, coaxing every sound, every moan, every sigh from your lips.

He was relentless, his mouth hot and hungry against you, licking and sucking with a fervor that left you trembling, your thighs quivering on either side of his head. He held you down with a firm grip, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as if he needed to anchor himself to you, to the taste of you.

Your hands were in his hair again, fingers pulling at the dark strands, guiding him, urging him deeper, harder. He obliged, his tongue plunging into you, tasting you, fucking you with slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping, your breath coming in short, ragged pants.

You could feel the pressure building inside you, the coil tightening in your belly, every nerve alight with pleasure, with need. And he knew it—knew exactly what he was doing to you, the way he teased and tormented, dragging you to the brink of madness before pulling back, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes that left you shaking.

You whimpered, your body arching, hips bucking against his mouth, desperate for more, for everything he had to give. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, his teeth grazed your clit, a sharp, delicious pain that sent a shockwave of pleasure racing through your veins.

You came apart with a cry, your body convulsing, thighs clamping around his head as the pleasure tore through you, a wave of ecstasy that left you breathless, panting, trembling in his grasp. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his mouth working you through it, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were nothing but a quivering, panting mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled away, you felt the loss of him like a physical ache, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. He crawled up over you, his mouth slick with your juices, his lips stained red with your blood, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at the sight of him, dark and dangerous and utterly, completely yours.

His hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head, his body pressing down against yours, and you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh. He didn’t say a word—didn’t need to. His eyes burned into yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that took your breath away.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, and then he was inside you, thrusting deep and hard, filling you to the hilt in one smooth stroke. You cried out, your body arching, back bowing off the bed as he stretched you, filled you, claimed you.

It hurt—a sharp, burning pain that tore through you, mingling with the pleasure, the sensation of him so deep inside you it felt like he was splitting you apart. But it was a good pain, a delicious ache that made you gasp, made you clench around him, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to adjust to the size of him, the fullness, the sheer intensity of him.

He didn’t give you time to adjust, didn’t let you catch your breath. His hips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, thrusting into you with a steady, unrelenting pace that left you panting, gasping for air. He pinned you down, his hands gripping your wrists tighter, his body pressing you into the mattress, and you felt like you were drowning, drowning in the sensation of him, the heat of him, the way he filled you, stretched you, made you his.

His teeth found your throat again, biting down hard enough to break the skin, and you screamed, your body jerking beneath him, the pain mingling with pleasure in a way that was almost too much to bear. He licked at the wound, his tongue flicking against the broken skin, tasting your blood, and you felt a fresh wave of arousal flood through you, pooling between your thighs, soaking his cock as he thrust into you with a renewed intensity.

He was relentless, his hips slamming into yours, his pace quickening, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, more desperate. You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and ragged, could hear the low growl building in his throat, the way his body trembled against yours, the way his fingers dug into your flesh, leaving bruises in their wake.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he shifted, his weight pressing down on you, his hands moving to grip your thighs, pushing them back, folding you in half. He drove into you with a force that left you breathless, his body pressed flush against yours, his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, made your vision blur with tears of pleasure.

You were close again, the coil in your belly tightening, your body tensing, every muscle taut with anticipation, with need. And he knew it—knew exactly how to push you over the edge, how to bring you to the brink of madness and hold you there, teasing, taunting, drawing out every last shred of sanity until you were nothing but a trembling, begging mess beneath him.

His breath was hot against your ear, ragged and uneven, his voice a low growl of possession as he whispered words you couldn’t quite hear, couldn’t quite understand, but that made your body shiver, made your core tighten with need.

Davos's hands shifted to your hips, gripping you with bruising force, fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you with a renewed intensity. The bed creaked beneath the force of his thrusts, each stroke sending a jolt of pleasure racing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You were lost in him, in the feel of him, in the sensation of being so utterly, completely filled by him.

Your thighs quivered, muscles straining as he drove deeper, harder, pinning you down with his weight, his strength, his sheer presence. His gaze bore into you, dark and intense, filled with a possessiveness that made your heart race, your breath hitch in your throat. He wanted you—needed you—in a way that was almost terrifying, and yet you couldn’t help but crave it, couldn’t help but want to be his, to belong to him in every way.

His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, the rhythm of his thrusts a steady, relentless beat that matched the frantic pounding of your heart. You were close, so close, your body trembling on the edge, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the precipice.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he shifted again, his hands moving to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, smearing something wet. You opened your eyes, blinking up at him, and saw the blood trickling from his nose, a slow, steady stream that dripped onto your skin, mixing with the sweat and the tears and the mess of fluids that coated your body.

He looked wild, feral, his eyes dark and intense, his face flushed with exertion, with desire, with something darker, something deeper that made your heart race, made your breath catch in your throat. He grinned, a sharp, predatory smile that made your blood run hot, made your core clench around him, and you realized that he didn’t care—that he liked it, liked the sight of his own blood mingling with yours, liked the way it smeared across your skin, marking you as his.

And that thought, that realization, was enough to send you spiraling over the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a bolt of lightning, tearing through your body with a force that left you breathless, gasping, your body convulsing beneath him as you came undone. You screamed his name, your voice hoarse and raw, your nails raking down his back, leaving red welts in their wake as you rode out the wave of pleasure that crashed over you.

He didn’t slow, didn’t let up, his thrusts growing harder, faster, more desperate as he chased his own release. His breath was hot against your skin, his teeth grazing your throat, biting down hard enough to draw blood, and you felt another wave of pleasure crash over you, your body shaking, trembling, lost in the sensation of him, of his touch, of the way he consumed you, claimed you, made you his.

And then, with a low, guttural growl, he came, his body shuddering, his hips slamming into yours with a final, desperate thrust. You felt the heat of his release fill you, felt the way his body trembled, the way his breath hitched in his throat, and you couldn’t help the way your body clenched around him, milking him, squeezing every last drop from him as he spilled into you.

His nose was still bleeding, the red smearing across your skin. He stayed inside you, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release, his hands still holding you down, pinning you in place, his gaze still locked on yours. His eyes were dark, filled with something that looked almost like satisfaction, like triumph, like he’d won some unspoken battle, claimed some uncharted territory.

And maybe he had.

You lay there beneath him, panting, trembling, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure, your mind still reeling from the intensity of it all. You felt… raw, exposed, laid bare in a way you’d never felt before, like he’d peeled back every layer of your being and seen you for what you truly were. And the look in his eyes said he liked what he saw.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled out of you with a slow, deliberate motion that made you shiver, made your body clench in protest at the sudden emptiness. He leaned back, his hands still gripping your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

You stared up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps, your chest heaving, your body still trembling. And then, for the first time, he spoke.

His voice was low, rough, a deep rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll never get enough of this,” he murmured, his lips curling into a satisfied grin, his eyes still dark, still hungry, still filled with that unspoken promise that made your heart race, your breath hitch in your throat.

“Never.”

And you knew, in that moment, that he meant it—that this was only the beginning, that he would come to you again and again, would find you in the dark of night, would claim you, possess you, consume you in every way possible.

And gods help you, but you wanted it.

Wanted him.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[pinkusmaximus]

I absolutely love your Wade and Logan protecting their partner post 😍 How do you feel about their partner can't help but scold both of them while crying? You know that they have their healing factors but it doesn't mean you want them to literally shield you with their bodies! Your body is fine but your heart hurts! You even try to make both of them promise to never do that again 🥺 but both of them admitted that they would do it again in a heartbeat 😤 Please tell me your thoughts if you don't mind!

Well, you already know the problem, anon. Of course they’d do it again.

And I’m sorry, this won’t be as pretty as you’d hoped. It never is with them.

Despite the fact that it left you housed in a birdcage made of ribs glistening with blood, gristle hanging off each bone like scraps of fabric clinging to old curtain rods in a long abandoned house. A peek of Logan’s heart pulsated through the holes in his chest— this wasn’t what you’d meant when you’d asked him to show you how he felt inside.

Saliva tinged pink with hemoglobin slipped from Wade’s wrinkled lips, deep red settled in the cracked skin. The only thing keeping them upright was the way their hands desperately clung to one another’s arms, bruises blossoming under Wade’s fingertips and Logan’s claws sunk into Wade’s shoulders, settled deep beneath the scapula. There was no breathing besides your own, just deep, wet rattling— unsettled that your ears registered the sound from their gaping chests, not their mouths.

Utterly tranquilized, eyes so wide it felt like your eyelids were stuck to the sockets, you felt a deep sense of helplessness as you realized they’d be stuck like around you that until their bodies repaired themselves enough to move again. Sure, they could typically keep moving through the worst of torment, but when it was every inch of your body used as a sponge for- god, you could barely remember what had even happened, your memory suddenly blinking out- and maybe they weren’t even still for that long? Maybe the seconds were passing like minutes, like hours, because suddenly the sound of a sick shlick alerts you to Logan retracting his claws from the meat of Wade’s shoulders, dropping from kneeling to sitting on his calves, head slumped against the back of your neck.

Just as quickly, Wade collapses into your front, his head lolled into the crook of your shoulder and arms at your sides, a hand managing to grasp weakly for Logan’s fingers. Your face feels wet and hot, covered in tears that drag through the blood and offal. You find your arms raising without telling them to, bringing them to Wade’s sides in a faltering embrace.

“Thank you,” your vacillating voice chokes, thank you, because how could you say anything else? You couldn’t leave them. They needed as long with you as possible with your fragile, short life. You needed as long with them as you could manage, too.

The organic, gristling sound of flesh mending itself, cartilage reattaching to bone, fascia connecting to muscle, fills your ears as Logan places a weak hand on your hip. His breath hot and fetid against the back of your neck, the smell of rapidly repairing soft tissue indescribable. Not that it mattered. The pulp of their decimated bodies was threading itself back together, little by little, cell by aching cell, as you held each other in a vulnerable, frighteningly feeble embrace. How could you feel anything less than grateful? Afraid, yes, queasy, qualmish, absolutely— but every atom of your entirety trembled with thankfulness.

This was something beyond love, what you three had. Something transcending any kind of devotion comprehensible or able to be upheld by man.

[leonw4nter]

could you do a fic for re4 leon where he and fem!reader are in a relationship (secret bc they can’t let the agency find out) they are on the spain mission together and luis starts flirting with her and its taking everything in leon for for him to not say “thats my girlfriend” or something like that?

sorry if this is specific i just thought of it in the middle of class

Music For Two People in A Secret Relationship

RE4R!Leon x F!Agent!Reader

Leon is a stickler for the rules. Well, he was– he made sure that he followed the rules he was made to obey, even when he didn’t exactly agree with them. One fine training day, you lunged at him with a combat knife, a deadly fire in your eyes and he felt the ground beneath him shift. He had to move and dodge away from the next offense, even if he wanted to give himself time to admire you. You moved like a panther, your gaze much more penetrating than the blade you held in a reverse saber grip; you embodied one too, light footfalls as you circled him before pouncing with your claws out towards the man in front of you. If giving in to the calling of his heart is a crime then he’d gladly be an outlaw.

Here he is now, dancing around the rules in order to be your boyfriend; twisting, bending, and extending his will to resist the temptation to hold your hand in the walls of the USSTRATCOM headquarters, proudly referring to you as “his” and for him to hear you call him “yours” towards colleagues and higher-ups. He had to settle for the tension-filled stares across the briefing room, the kinds of looks that set off sparks in his chest, and the electric accidental brushes of his finger against yours as he reaches for something.

Although Valdelobos is everything but idyllic, he’s thankful for the opportunity to be with you despite this decrepit village being another reminder of Raccoon City; he wouldn’t want to relive Raccoon City again but it’s less triggering for him because he’s with you … and a certain Spanish gentleman with a penchant of flirting with his girlfriend; he didn’t trust the man one bit but what choice did he have? The man held vital information regarding the villagers and Umbrella; a former scientist, Luis claimed. Despite him being a little different from the usual scientists behind BOWs, he seemed to know a lot regarding the cult and the parasite– Las Plagas. Charming and charismatic too, the perfect man all in all. He also served as the brains behind the group, oddly familiar with the puzzle mechanisms that the Los Illuminados employed.

Now, all of you were stuck in this misty baroque ballroom somewhere in Salazar’s palace. As soon as everyone was inside the room, the big wooden doors closed and several locks were heard clicking in place. Silence followed, Ashley huddled in the middle by you, Leon, and Luis’ bodies as you formed a protective circle. The fact that silence followed and not the groans and cultic chanting unsettled everyone, unused to this odd peace. After a few moments of guns being out, Luis’ Red 9 is holstered back into its brown leather confines.

“Do you smell that,” he softly whispers. “The rusty air. This ballroom was an old bastion for the Los Illuminados, held their sacrifices here but albeit more… morbid. Sacrifices were released like bulls in a bullpen, they all tried to escape while trying not to die on the way– had to escape booby traps and avoid stepping on the wrong tiles. There’s a lot more with the trap system they set up and they’re all elaborate.”

The atmosphere that hung over everyone was heavy and miserable now that Luis had to point out the history behind the room. No one stepped foot away from where they were standing, afraid to trigger something to fly out and impale someone.

“What ballroom is this,” Ashley asks.

“The Birdcage,” Luis responds. “La Jaula de Pájaros.”

“I’ve read somewhere about certain macabre ballrooms being connected to cult hide-outs and traps and usually, the ways to beat those traps is somehow connected to culture like dances and poems,” she begins to explain. “Basically, we might need to dance or make music to make it out alive for this one. Just like… just like a bird. Wait– this place’s name is ‘birdcage’ so we have to escape like birds by means of making music and moving around like how birds chirp and fly!”

“Make music? How exactly,” you ask.

“Rhythmic tapping might be one of them,” Luis suggests.

You look at the people around you, eyebrows meeting in the middle as their foreheads crease in focus and worry. Leon bent down and observed the ground, calloused fingers grazing over the cracked tiles. With each lengthy swipe of his finger, he noticed that the imprints on the ground had a pattern. He leaned closer to the ground and observed what looked like musical notes; he turned to the ground Ashley stood on and noted the same patterns of notes and symbols used.

“There’s musical notations on the ground, maybe we can use that for the rhythm of our tapping,” Leon informs the group. “Who here can read music–”

“I can,” you interrupt. You bend down, fingers skimming over the etching. After a few seconds of remembering which notes sounded a certain way, you get back up and relay the information you just got. You get everyone’s attention and start humming the tune before softly stomping your boots on the ground, asking everyone else to follow along to make sure that they remember the beat.

“Uh guys,” Ashley speaks up. “We have to start soon.”

She points to the ceiling, several ganados kept in cages dangling overhead. The ceilings may be high from where you all stood, but there was nothing separating your group and them. With a determined yet wary nod, you nod to Luis. He approaches you and bows, to which you respond with. He slowly places his hand on your waist, the other gently holding your gloved hand. You glance at Leon, seeing him do the same with Ashley with the placements of his hand in areas that don't make Ashley feel uncomfortable. You give Leon another nod, signifying the start of the dance. Your pair and Leon’s slowly drift to opposite parts of the room, dancing a fierce tango with rhythmic footfalls. You could dance but not in this way and you were lucky that Luis was there to guide you. In the drop of the beat, he spun you and for a quick moment you saw Leon glance at your direction before turning his gaze back to Ashley and making sure he doesn’t mess up his part and involve Ashley in whatever fuck-up he might make. You wouldn’t admit this to Luis but you wished that it was Leon who was spinning and dipping you, that it was the large hand of Leon’s that was perched on your waist. Maybe you’d like to go dancing with Leon once this shit is all over, maybe invite Luis too but you’ll spend most of the evening slow dancing with Leon when you’ve both had one too many drinks. You knew that Leon felt the same based on the gawking Leon unintentionally does, those types of gawks that once you blink, you’d miss and assume that you were just seeing things differently. As much as Leon admitted that Luis was a gifted dancer to his standards, he wished that he could just swoop in and swing you around, to feel your hand around his neck and for you to gaze up dreamily at you when he dips your body. It doesn’t take long for you to get into the dance, the twirls and spins along with the echo of the taps of shoes helping you get into the feel of dancing even though this dance could very much determine whether or not everyone will make it out of this ballroom.

After a few minutes of dancing, all of you finish the beat and you hear a faint click. The eyes and mouth of a tarnished Tarasca statue moves, its neck opening to reveal an ornate conical capsule. Hastily, you run to the statue and take the capsule and twist it open. An intricate copper key falls out.

“We might be able to get out of this,” Leon points out. Hurriedly, he runs to the doors and inserts the piece of metal to the keyhole.

“Careful, Sancho. This thing is brittle,” Luis reminds him. “All that dancing will be for nothing if the key snaps while it’s inside!”

“I know what I’m doing,” your partner seethes.

The faint sound of the door lock’s mechanisms clicking to unlock causes everyone to breathe a sigh of relief, Leon pushing the doors open to let everyone out before himself. You mouth a small thank you to him, to which he responds with a small smile. He finally gets out and urges everyone to run, since the cages holding the ganados were being lowered. After a few minutes, everyone is now out of the palace. All of you stop by the ruins of an old stone house, sinking to the ground to catch your breath.

“Hah… D-didn’t know… hah… you looked lovely in pink,” Luis points out with a tired yet smug smirk bringing a finger up to motion to the flush in your cheeks. “Etérea.”

The Spaniard doesn’t miss the way the blond’s gaze slightly darkens, moving to you as he places a hand on your back as you still catch your breath. You look at Leon as he asks if you’re okay, to which you give him a small smile and a thumbs-up. Leon withdraws his hand from your back to radio back to Hunnigan, giving her information on where you just came from and how everyone’s doing. Since you managed to catch your breath, you check on Ashley who’s doing a lot better now. You offer her the remaining water in your flask, to which she gulped down audibly.

“Water never tasted so divine, holy crap,” she exclaimed as she handed you your flask back.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Since you and Leon were unsure of the safety of the area, you decided that it would be best for you to start moving somewhere less dangerous. Ashley was growing tired, grumbling about her feet hurting but she was still soldering on, walking without breaks. Luis’ chatter made the trip less boring, occasionally talking to Ashley and then flirting with you. After seeing Leon’s subtle reaction to him complimenting your flushed cheeks after running, the cheeky side of Luis decided to flirt with you some more to see how far he can push the reserved and stoic man.

“Hey,” Luis begins. “After all this, what do you say to a little Spanish countryside getaway? You and me.”

“Sounds nice,” you say. “But I’ve got a little night out scheduled with someone when I get back.”

“You aren’t exactly saying ‘no’.”

“I’m going to have to confirm this with my boyfriend. You’re a chill man but I still have to let my man know.”

Luis simply chuckles, his steps slowing down so he��ll fall in step with Leon who is busy craning his head here and there, trying to spot any threat before a possible threat spots you. Well, this is only half true. As soon as he heard Luis proposing the future prospect of him showing off the Spanish countryside to you, he forced himself to pay attention to something else other than the fact that you’re smiling and laughing softly at the Spaniard. The agent brushes whatever he heard off, knowing that his girlfriend loves him and only him but the fact that he can’t do much, especially that their relationship isn’t exactly encouraged at their agency and the fact that they’re both at work; he’s relieved that you aren’t returning his flirting. All he can afford to do is to ask if you’re fine by masking it behind the simple concern for a coworker and nothing more. 

“How’re you holding up, Sancho Panza,” Luis whispers to which Leon responds with silence.

“Ah, I think I know why you’re silent,” the chatty man beside him observes. “It’s because… you like her!”

Leon stops in his tracks and looks at Luis with a slightly baffled expression, head tilted with his eyes slightly squinted before proceeding to walk again, the squelch of his boots against mud resuming again.

“I know just the remedy to this, Leon,” Luis excitedly begins, lowering his voice just before he continues the rest of his sentence. “Y’know, I know a nice bar somewhere in Madrid. Good drinks, good music. I’m sure she’d love it there.”

Leon stays silent again but mentally notes the ‘good drinks, good music’. It would be nice to take her somewhere upbeat.

“But if that’s getting a bit too ahead of our current predicament then you can offer to tend to her wounds, best done in the evening when the night is cold and the fire is the only thing keeping us warm. It’s a sincere tender moment, just imagine it: you, her, and the rustling of trees. She–”

“She’s my girlfriend. I’ve done plenty of that and more so she’d go out with me,” Leon interrupts.

Luis freezes on the spot, eyes the size of golf balls, with his mouth ajar. Leon simply smirks and scoffs at the sight, trudging on. After a few moments, Luis comes rushing back to him. Luis is just staring at him, going off at him in Spanish while he just continues walking and tries to hide a smug grin. Luis wraps up on whatever he was saying, now staring back and forth at you and him before walking a little faster to join you and Ashley several steps ahead. The usual cocky expression makes its way back to Luis’ face, shooting you and Leon a knowing look now before chuckling along. Moments later, Leon decides to speed up walking to be able to catch up with everyone. He hears Ashley and Luis exchanging jokes with you occasionally laughing and butting in with your own. Out of the blue, Leon nonchalantly wraps an arm around your waist, much to Luis and Ashley’s shock.

“Ash, don’t tell HQ about this,” you whisper with a wicked grin before getting on your tiptoes and planting a kiss on Leon's cheek.

NOTE - Thanks to the lovely anon that requested this, I hope you enjoyed reading this :) I had a lot more fun writing this since I had to think a little more than I usually do when I write (if it makes sense), especially for the ballroom part of the fic. I'll try to write for other versions of Leon soon since I mostly write about RE2 Leon. Also, does anyone know the manga 'Veil' ?? I've recently (yesterday) got into it and now I'm hoping that physical copies are being sold where I live... Aleksander is cute I'll say that (I NEED AN ALEKSANDER IN MY LIFE IM SO ALONE AND SINGLE RIGHT NOW- SINGLE SINCE BIRTH EVEN). Anyways, that's it and thank you soo much for reading my fics!! I <3333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The dividers are made by @benkeibear , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[chimkennuggies]

Again with the Raphael x Cazador agenda bc I'm still losing my mind over them‼️‼️‼️

Anyway, thought I'd share some headcanons bellow the cut as well:

- I just KNOW they both have hour long conversations about some play they've seen or book they've read. Their taste is similar in that aspect.

- Raphael knows about Lady Incognita's books (that's canon btw) and mentioned it to Cazador once, who instantly started ranting about how the girl didn't appreciate the "gift" (he doesn't appreciate it either if you think about all that datamined/beta stuff + how much he just wants to be "normal" BUT he is also a hypocrite sooo), also, he used to give advice to her whenever he found one of her drafts.

- In a modern setting Raphael would probably be like those annoying filmbros who doesn't stfu about some niche film they've seen and Cazador would be the same with some celtic metal group that has like 24 monthly listeners (kinda projecting in this one, I'm both).

- They would talk shit about anyone + if they go to some ball together after the first 40 minutes they'll probably end up talking only to each other.

- On the hc that both of them are trans, Cazador hasn't had any operations and isn't on t (although it's not bc he's comfortable in his own body but bc he doesn't want to have anything to do with it, he just prefers to live with an idealized version he made on his head after centuries of not seeing his reflection), Raphael is literally the opposite, he has had all the operations and has been on t since he ran away from Cania, hating the self he left behind.

- Now, some shoutouts to the fact that they're both SO AWFUL, I love them being so so toxic.

- Cazador usually doesn't like being touched and Raphael just thrives on being an asshole so he's always breaking the man's boundaries. PDA in the worst possible way.

- Cazador enjoys to compare Raphael to his father because he finds it extremely entertaining the fact that he takes it at heart and gets so offended by it (he knows how much the other has suffered because of his progenitor).

- Cazador having scars on his body from before being a vampire and Raphael biting them‼️‼️

-Raphael listening to Cazador talking shit about all of Raphael's features he despises just to make him even more insecure (let's be real, Raphael is SO fucking self-conscious, because there's no way all his paintings and Haarlep themself being so completely different to his real self is a normal trait).

- Both of them being prone to violence and fighting for every minor disagreement would make them the worst neighbors possible ngl.

- Raphael having the lower canines really really sharp while Cazador has the cuspid canines being almost razor-edged, iykyk.

Lastly, here are some songs I associate w/ them because I haven't seen any playlist include these:

Cazador:

Rule #34 - Fish in a Birdcage

Femtex - Therapy?

Never Wanted to Dance - MSI

Under the Spell - Me And That Man

Heel On The Shovel - 16 Horsepower

Raphael:

The Hell Of It - Paul Williams

Low Estate - 16 Horsepower

Nunemaker's Parable - Everybody's Worried About Owen

You're So Vain - Carly Simon

Bensonhurst Blues - Oscar Benton

An this one is just bc I find it quite funny but Mi Gran Noche from Raphael (the spanish singer) is quite iconic ngl.

[razorblade180]

Negotiations

Stelle:*making a sandwich*

Caelus:Hello, criminal.

Stelle:What did I do this time?

Caelus:Everything I do more or less. Only not as smoothly.

Stelle:Hmm you talk like you fight, second to me.

Caelus:*hugs her from behind*….

Stelle:…No, you may not have a bite. Not making a second either.

Caelus:Not hungry for a sandwich. Where’s March?

Stelle:Shopping with Dan-

That’s all he needed to hear before Stelle felt him turn her around and kiss her so passionately she actually leaned against the counter. He put her arms around his neck before taking hold of her hips with one before breaking the kiss. Annoyingly, still instinctively moved her head forward, chasing the kiss for half second. Caelus put his head on her shoulder in a frustration she was all to familiar with.

Stelle:Oh, that kind of hunger. Sir, this is a dangerous place. You could’ve texted me to go to the airship.

Caelus:You would’ve said “but my sandwich” and then proceeded to go nowhere.

Stelle:Hey, shut up.

Caelus:You smell nice. Firefly’s conditioner?

Stelle:Is it that obvious?

Caelus:Hehe, yeh. So, wanna hangout? It’s been awhile since it was just us.

Stelle:Pfft, you think one kiss would-

He kissed her again, earning a laugh from the girl. Stelle kissed him back with an irritating amount of affection as she got into his childish antics. She was about to fold until the click of a door made them quickly separate, the boy going about his business like nothing happened. Stelle immediately turned around to focus on her sandwich. Unfortunately, the plate and its contents were gone.

Stelle:…..

March:*walks in* Hey hey hey! What’s going on?

Stelle:*staring at counter* I think I was used for my sandwich.

March:Ah…well I told you not to entertain Aventurine’s texts. I get he’s handsome but-

Stelle:..*slowly looks at March*

March:….*sweating* Wh-What are we talking about?

xxxxxx

Stelle:*sitting sadly*

Bzzz Bzzz

She takes out her phone to see a message from the worst traitor known to man. Stells opens Caelus’s stupid message to see a picture of her sandwich uneaten inside of dramatic looking golden birdcage.

Caelus: “I have your beloved”

Stelle: “…Don’t hurt her! What are your demands?”

Caelus: “Meet me at the Captain’s Cabin on our ship. Come alone and there might be chips with a drink you can save as well.”

Stelle: “You heinous monster!”

Stelle: “I will be there in ten minutes.”

Caelus: “I look forward to our negotiation. Be swift, hero.”

Stelle:(Why is this working on me?) *smiles*

xxxxxx

For the sake of her sandwich, Stelle arrived just like she promised. Yes, there was absolutely no other reason. She put on her game face and walked in the moment the door slid open to see her adversary smiling while sitting in the couch. To his right, her lunch; as well as an entire assortment of sandwiches on a platter with bottles of Soulglad as refreshments.

Stelle:*locks door* Where are the chips?

Caelus:*points to self*

Stelle:…Really? Like “I’m all that and a bag of chi-” you are so dumb. Dumb I say! *removes jacket* For the record, this isn’t charming. You didn’t succeed. *removes gloves* I’m just feeling a little silly.

Caelus:Of course.

Stelle:I’m eating first. I need energy for the “negotiation.”

Caelus:By all means. Help yourself.

Stelle:*red*….*dims lights*

Caelus:You’re going to eat in this lighting?

Stelle:It’s to hide my shame.

Caelus:Hahaha!

[allwormdiet]

Extermination 8.7

In which nobody is happy and everything is pain

Wuh oh, the worst chapter of Taylor's life has just received a series of footnotes that provide further context, and none of them are making her feel any better

And now things are getting even worse

Hey Colin, looks like you've lost some weight, trying something new with the asymmetrical look?

Also I like how even Taylor's paranoid ass is like "no you know what, they didn't need to know Sophia was a superhero for them to fuck me over"

Really copping it up in here, huh you two?

This is bad for everybody. A supervillain who's taken explicit actions against the PRT and Protectorate has discovered the identity of a Ward, and a teenage girl is being surrounded and lambasted by adults who could make her life Hell with very little effort.

God, Birdcage would be nightmarish, especially with Lung in there probably nursing the mother of all grudges

Also, interesting that Taylor changing her mind translates to Armsmaster as her being a master manipulator and spinner of lies. There's no possible way that she stopped trying to be a hero because he acted like a gigantic asshole the second time they met or something.

Skitter has gotten the absolute worse perspective that the heroes can offer, so she's suffering a biased stance here, but even without that her anti-authority streak is way too strong to tolerate it for long

Don't throw a fucking shitfit, Colin

You're an adult, fucking act like one

Yaaaaaaay, the crew's alright and they're backing Skitter up, there's no way this immediately blows up

Grue is making himself look bigger in this moment, scarier, more authoritative. If I'm understanding right that means he's way on the fucking edge about all of this and feeling tense and a little scared.

Glad Regent got out of it with only some stitches, wonder if that cut is anything noteworthy or if he just got gouged by some glass or shrapnel or something

Bitch is handling things about as well as could be expected

Hey Tattletale, glad you're not dead

Oh boy!

Sophia would fucking lunge across the tent and go for the murder attempt then and there, I'm pretty sure

Also, Legend is technically right, insofar as Taylor has made a lot of situations more difficult by digging her heels in

Unfortunately, he would.

Look at her getting her little debut to the Protectorate leader

The greatest asset and weakness of the Protectorate: image

These people are about to get their shit rocked by a teenager with access to a PA system and I'm not convinced they didn't bring this on themselves

Also, love an ultimatum, very heroic

Tattletale you're so cool and real for this

We love an ultimatum, very villainous

Colin, you dumbfuck

I think the most damning part of this conversation is that Miss Militia literally doesn't have any trouble connecting the dots

There's the setup

And there's the knockdown. Armsmaster has once again been outplayed by a teenager, and now the best thing to do is probably to quit while he's behind

So of course he decides to double and triple down

Let's review facts here

Armsmaster is a grown-ass man who is really upset that a pack of teenagers are beating him

He has admitted, out loud, that he broke truce conditions and got villains killed in order to try and get a moment of glory

He knows full well that at least two of the Undersiders have killed before and may kill again if suitably motivated, such as, I don't know, finding out a teammate tried to betray them

So with everything in consideration

he throws a tantrum that could get a girl killed because of wounded pride

This hurts, a lot

Also hey early hint that Tattletale knows what's up

Panacea like "wow this girl is some kind of disaster, thank god my worldview guarantees that I'm way better than her"

Also Jesus fucking Christ what a way to end the chapter

Current Thoughts

God fucking dammit Colin, you could literally get a teenager killed because you had to throw a fucking tantrum over how you got your kill stolen and your super cool plan to win glory and recover lost pride got foiled by the common fucking sense of "you can't kill an Endbringer"

I know that isn't what happens, but hey guess what he doesn't know Taylor's story goes for another twenty-plus chapters, he's willing to roll those dice because his feewings got huwt

I hope they make him choke on whatever book ends up thrown at him for this

[biceratops7]

So here’s the thing,

Being visibly queer to the point of ostracism is historically synonymous with gender nonconformity and I don’t think that’s a conversation some are ready to have.

Gender nonconformity as it pertains to Stede is a hot button topic of debate in the fandom rn, and I love that! So much! Queer theory shit is in right now? Sign me tf up! But I see a lot of posts answering “no” to “does Stede wear feminine clothing?” as if it’s the same question. It’s also being talked about as a binary “to be” or “not to be” as if gender nonconformity is not a concept experienced on a spectrum.

Even if Stede’s clothing can be considered reasonably “masculine” with all the anachronisms, picking flowers, not being able to stomach a “man’s” job, and wearing robes that cause other characters to misgender him are harder sells. The number one thing I see the “Stede is NOT gnc” side say is that these things are only associated with femininity if you’re seeing them from a stereotypical lense. And well… yah. Gender nonconformity is a social construct. That’s what a social construct is. Enjoying bright colors, preferring non-confrontational solutions, wearing a skirt, having long hair, these are all things that are not biologically innate to women. They’re extra characteristics our society uses to construct the idea of a woman. That’s also why gender nonconformity hinges on the cultural context as well. Different societies, different rules.

In order to understand where people are coming from when they say Stede is gnc and use the queerphobia he experiences as evidence, you have to look at the metaphysics. What is homophobia in its original form? What is it made of? I’d argue it’s purest components are the fear that the divides between men and women will break down. It’s considered “an abomination” because sleeping with a man is seen as the natural duty of a woman, and for women, sleeping with a man. Beyond that, all of the baggage that comes with those extra characteristics I mentioned follows suit. Lesbians were by and large excluded from womanhood, in some points of history specifically bottoming was illegal because it was “placing yourself in a woman’s position”, etc.

And that’s not to say masc gay men don’t experience homophobia, they absolutely do. I’m just saying if Stede is experiencing specifically the same bigotry as non-passing queer people do in the form of being excluded from his own gender and even from others in his group, then I don’t think he’s one of those men.

Honestly a thousand kudos to @eluciferate for already bringing Albert from “The Birdcage” to the conversation. Cause he really is the perfect example of not only gender nonconformity beyond the literal surface, but the fact that for many it’s a state of being rather than a conscious choice of queer empowerment. When Albert’s son brings home a girl with very conservative parents, and Albert attempts to “play straight” for his sake… he can’t do it. Even in ultra masculine clothes and trying his best, the nonconformity shines through like toes poking out of old shoes.

Fuck, Stede wasn’t kidding when he said he was “uncomfortable in a married state”. Even the way he carries himself back home looks carefully minded, like his whole life is a play he was horribly miscast for. In other words sometimes you didn’t purposely decide to stick it to the heteronormative man. Sometimes with great gayness comes great responsibility and that’s that.

Jokes aside, we can nickel and dime all his frilly little affects all we want, but at the end of the day Stede is gender nonconforming in a way that goes beyond aesthetic. And I think a lot of people may be hesitant to read him this way because it requires you to acknowledge homophobia in the show, that Stede’s queerness is commented on and something he actively has to mind before even knowing what it is.

[hurlumerlu]

@delicatebeauties your tags sorta inspired me so... uh... here's a thing?

More flies with honey

a short THK fic (AO3)

The restaurant’s bell chimed its light, cheerful greeting, and Fadel didn’t even feel the need to look up. He knew who it was chiming for.

There were many conclusions to draw from that, none of them good, but the two hours Fadel had spent arguing with Bison had left him too tired to argue internally. He set the self-recriminations aside and abandoned the register.

"I suppose sorry, we’re closed will not –" he began. Stopped.

Style… well, Fadel wouldn’t know how to describe the guy even on the best day, but this time he had, apparently, decided to accessorize. There was his usual get-up: the beaten sneakers, the well-worn, comfort-first pants, a predictable – if exceedingly garrish – acid green and hot pink crop-top… then there was the rest.

Style walked up to the barstool on vigorous tiptoes, the clear imitation of a high-heeled catwalk. "I was out thrift-shopping with the girls," he proclaimed, doing a little spin before reaching the seat. Fadel had no idea who the girls were supposed to be, but Style always did that, always referred to the people in his gigantic social circle as if Fadel knew them too.

As if Fadel was part of his life.

"And we had a bet on who would wear these bad boys best." Playful jazz-hands, showing off the red, silky gloves that flowed from Style’s fingertips to the crook of his elbows. They were custom made, clearly, and for someone whose ring finger was longer than most: the fabric diped a little where Style’s too blunt nail couldn’t fill it. "I won, obviously, so we decided to complete the ensemble." He flicked at his birdcage veil with a wink, then let his hand rest on his throat, where laid a golden cross necklace. "Don’t I look great? Very femme fatale."

He had said those last two words in the self-satisfied way he always spoke english. Fadel considered pointing out it was actually french, and decided against it: the idiot would just brag about being polyglot. Style didn’t need his input anyway.

"Then Koi told me" – he pitched his tone higher, in what was without a doubt a terrible impersonation – "you should go see that man of yours, see what he thinks of all this, and I told her, Koi, you brilliant, brilliant woman – oh, we should send her a selfie!"

Fadel plucked the phone from Style’s grasp and turned to put it high on the shelf.

"You’ll get it back if you behave", he said, to prevent all protest, and tried to ignore the stage-whispered that’s so hot that resonated behind him. Somewhere in the neighborhood, some lady he had never met thought of him as Style’s man. Fadel slowed his breathing.

The other had finally sat down, and was looking at him with his chin propped on his palm, waiting for – oh.

"Why are you wearing make-up?" Fadel asked, knowing that was exactly what was expected of him and therefore the last thing he should have said. Worse: Style’s joy made it worth it.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed, like the question had been a compliment. "None of them would lend me their mascara, but May said one couldn’t be truly fatale without lipstick. What do you think?"

"It’s not your color."

"Oh come on." The pout probably wasn’t intended to be provocative, was probably just a pout, because Style had never been that good at coming off as seductive. "I was just fishing for compliments, dude, you don’t have to be honest all the time."

Fadel shrugged. He hadn’t been honest.

He handed Style a beer.

A bad move that would inevitably be read as an encouragement, but Style wasn’t a man you could get rid of with a cold shoulder. He wasn’t, mounting evidence suggested, a man you could get rid of at all. You had to hunker down and weather him. So Fadel handed him a beer, and watched his fingers, in their elegant red sheaths, open it on the counter. Watched his painted mouth welcome the bottle, his eyelids fluttering shut in appreciation.

Under the neon’s lights, the golden cross seemed to glint with every swallow.

Style put his drink down with an exagereted sigh. "Thanks, I needed that." Behind his veil, his fox eyes had blinked open. They, too, were watchful.

He leaned over the counter, and Fadel couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward as well. Style smiled up at him.

"Now ask me what a girl like me is doing in a place like this."

"No," Fadel said. His voice was coming out wrong, too soft, too low. "I won’t."

"Why?"

Because, Fadel thought, I don’t believe in love at first sight.

Because Bison wants so badly to be a real boy that he’s letting some smarmy fuck lead him around by the nose, and that means I can’t.

Because I should know better than to find you too good to be true.

He was still leaning forward, the cold metal of the counter warming under his hands. If he touched Style’s lipstick, it would ruin it.

"What’s the point of asking, when you’re only gonna feed me lies?"