#listen and reflect and then commit to doing better it’s not that fucking hard

[yanderestarangel]

Ok MATE SO FORGIVE ME UNHINGEDNESS BUT I HAVE A REQUEST FOR A SMUT WITH KANO AND YES FTM READER

My request is like the reader is Kano's sugar baby and the reader slowly falls in love with him. You can do anything with the kinks i'm just in love with that aussie man, he's so ughhh, like make it rough but the things he says are gentle if you get what i'm saying

"daddy's pretty boy" ⸺ sugar daddy!kano x ftm reader

TW: daddykink, afab anatomy, semi public sex, smut, v!sex, sugar daddy concept, age gap, praise, blowjob, degradation, spanking, kano is extremely vulgar (as he is kanonically)

He gave you everything you asked for or wanted to ask for in the not so distant future, cars, mansions, dresses, heels, suits - everything you could imagine being expensive in a capitalized and consumerist world... He gave it to you.

You met Kano at a difficult stage in your life, he gave you a job as one of his lackeys helping with futile things at 'black dragons', but deep down he knew that you weren't born for this but rather to be pampered and taken care of.

Kano was not a saint, he never was, since he entered a position of power he always liked relationships without commitments, just sex and some kind of company on lonely nights, someone who would listen to his daydreams about music and weapons - even if it was a false interest, earned by dollar bills deposited in a fragile check and with you, in the beginning, it was no different.

He made you a proposal, being his sugar baby, and stopping working hard, was a better proposal than carrying heavy boxes of weapons all day, leading you to quickly accept.

The sex was good, the gifts were good, his company - however contradictory it was - was also good, you fucked at any opportunity, but he also never ran away from just a good platonic conversation, no kisses, no lustful touches, just hours on end of the two of you sitting, with you on his lap looking at the stars.

You promised yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, you wouldn't get attached to him, he was a bad and crazy man, someone you don't have a serious relationship with.

But, the way he made you feel, the warm touches, the warm smiles, the compliments, especially when he spanked your ass and called you "pretty boy" but not just a pretty boy... You were his pretty boy, it was impossible not to get attached to his persona, damn Kano was irresistible in a dangerous and... Delicious way.

It was another normal day, shopping for clothes with Kano looking you up and down, drinking his beer in the private changing room he had reserved just for you that day. You looked at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with the result, while asking for his opinion. Kano put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him, kissing the top of your head.

"-My little pretty boy, you're everything I want in a companion. You make my heart race and my dick hard as fuck just by looking at you." He said, drinking more beer while staring at your reflection. "-You look like a slutty angel." He continued, running his fingers over your chest, making you shiver with excitement "-I bet you'd be an amazing slut if you ever decided to become one." Kano grinned wickedly.

"-Do you want me to show you how good you can be baby boy doll? Do you trust daddy enough to let him teach you all about being a dirty little slut?" He spoke hoarsely, the breath of expensive beer and cigars entered your nose, while the ice cream from his bionic heart brushed against your skin.

Kano pressed his huge erection into your body, making you moan and ask if someone would catch you two there, fucking vulgarly. "-Relax boy.... I've got you covered. No one is going to see us here, not with the kind of money I have." He unzipping his pants and letting his hard cock spring out, he pushed you to your knees with a loud thump, as he teasingly rubbed his hot, thick cock across your cheek, soon watching you grab his member hard, as if it were your last fucking meal.

"-You're such a good little slut. Suck daddy's cock for me, make it wet and slippery." He running his fingers through your hair. "-Fuck boy, you really are my pretty boy." As you sucked him off, Kano grabbed your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and exposing your tight pussy to the mirror.

"-I can see us in the mirror, you're such a pretty boy, taking my huge cock deep into your throat." He spanking your ass as he fucked your mouth, without giving you time to react, just moaning against his hard cock. Kano soon pushing two fingers deep into your pussy, making you moan loudly as he fucked you with his fingers "-You'd be an amazing cock sucker. You have no idea how much I enjoy watching you worship my dick like this."

"-Oh shit, I knew you were good, but damn boy, you're amazing." Kano grinned wickedly, pulling his fingers out of your cunt - He turned you around so you were looking at his face, staring at the redness of the bionic eye he had. Without warning, Kano pushed his dick into your wet pussy, making you cry out in pleasure and pain. "-Good boy, daddy likes that..."

His hips met yours in sounds of flesh wet with lustful juices, his dick was already completely wet with your saliva and pre-semen, while you stared at his face with pleasure. With each rough but loving rhythm, you noticed that he was becoming softer, deciding to gain courage and talk about your feelings - which went beyond sex and money, beyond sugar babies and sugar daddy - between moans, you told him everything, closing your eyes. eyes and clinging to Kano's muscles, while he grunted with each thrust.

"-I knew it baby...You're in love with me. And I'm in love with you too, my little pretty boy." He moaned, thrusting his cock deeper into your pussy. "-We make the perfect team, don't we? I want you to know that you'll always have a place with me... Fuuck- You're more than just a pretty boy with a hot body. You're my little companion and I care for you deeply."

The thought of cumming for Kano was too much for you to handle, and you soon orgasmed, screaming loudly as waves of pleasure washed over you. You milked his cock, as you squirted, he held you easily, as he continued to prolong your pleasure and seek out his peak.

"-No matter what happens, I'll be here for you, my prince."

With those words, Kano came inside of you, filling your pussy with his hot cum. As he pulled out of you, you felt a sense of warmth and love that you had never experienced before. He placed a kiss on your cheek "-You're more beautiful this way, you know? Daddy Kano's pretty boy, forever and ever."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[centrally-unplanned]

To narrow in on the limits of campaigning, lets take the classic Yglesias axe to grind:

Republican elites were profoundly divided on the wisdom of renominating Trump and obviously plenty of them think it was a mistake. But the decision has been made, and now they either vocally support that call or they stay politely quiet. When Trump feints to the center, those who favor the move loudly amplify it and exaggerate the extent of Trump's moderation, those who don't stay politely quiet and hope for the best. The Dem coalition, by contrast, is tchetchy and every constituent element feels that everything is up for constant renegotiation on a day-to-day basis — everyone's priority is on standing within the coalition not on doing the work to win.

In practice, what is being described here is that Republican organizations have fallen in line. Politicians are campaigning for Trump, activist groups are saying to vote, the media is full court press in his favor. They actively silence and push away from problems, focus on strengths, campaign on the ground, etc. This is effective for mobilizing voters and persuading sympathetic-but-undecideds. I agree with that.

The critique is that the democrats haven't done that, right? In practice, it means politicians aren't campaigning on the ground, media isn't shutting up about his issues, activists are sniping their own coalition instead of getting out the vote, and so on. And that is hurting Biden.

Or is it? It is to some degree, this critique is correct at some margin. If Biden could have a unified party going full-throttle, his polls numbers would be higher by X%. And some actors should switch behavior due to that. But I don't think, realistically, X is at all that high? Because the political parties in the US are just very, very different.

How would "dem media falling in line" look? What media?? The New York Times is not a dem establishment! Its incredibly liberal-left leaning, but its committed to neutrality as a core of its brand (and dissident snootiness as the other core of its brand). If it abandoned that its readers would *leave*, they have other options. And so on down the chain - a lot of the "dem voters" actively want balanced coverage and dissent. If I read a news source never criticizing Biden I would quit it, no way, this news isn't good.

And so on down the chain again, activist groups "driving out the voter?" What does that mean? I don't listen to activist groups, that is fucking cringe. Yeah, sure, they can drive some vote, but most of their affiliated members are loose, they don't listen that much to them. To the extent that they do not reflect the desires of their members, they will fall apart. Is Nancy Pelosi not supporting Biden? She does! Most dem politicians do. You just don't care, you can make up your own mind.

Dem voters are more of a looser coalition, they are on average better educated/smarter and more independently minded, and they live in places of increased social atomization & independence. They just cannot be mobilized the way republican voters can. Sometimes, you can really "animal spirits" it? Do the 2008 Obama, be a charismatic vessel for their hopes and dreams. But that is not a controllable phenomenon, and very hard for incumbents to pull off. Its not a switch Biden can flip.

So saying "Biden needs to do this to campaign better" on this topic is a bit of a chicken and egg thing, like yeah I too would like to fix the inherent inequality in the American voting public! Hopelessly unbudgeable, no, but the margins here are probably smaller than the wonk strategist types want to admit. You could never, in any world, have gotten the "Israel/Palestine left bloc" to "fall in line". That is a fundamental misunderstanding of the American body politic.

[beevean]

I find it very interesting (A.K.A. annoying) how the idw comic tries defending this whole "sonic never kills" nonsense by bringing up every bad person who's turned around. But they also blatantly ignore all the times Sonic did kill or was fine with letting someone die

Dark gaia

Time eater

King Arthur

Solaris

Erazor Djinn (eternal damnation)

Ifrit

Captain behemoth

Bio Lizard

Explicitly tells Infinite he's going to kill him

The Ifrit (the one from Sonic rivals 2)

Captain whisker

Black Doom (Shadow was the one who finished him off, but the point is Sonic has no problem with other people killing either)

The idw comic's writing only barely functions if you blatantly ignore everything outside of it, and even then, it's still extremely iffy.

Secret Rings is canon to IDW, btw. Sonic had a flashback to the events of that game in #16.

"Everyone deserves a chance to be free, even the evil doctors," Sonic says after he yeeted Erazor Djinn in lava :)

Also yeah, some of these are creatures whose level of sapience is questionable... but not all of them. Solaris never speaks in his full form, but Mephiles is explicitly his mind, so we know that he's a cunning, sadistic deity. Sonic slashed King Arthur fully believing he was a real person, and he did act like one. Also Sonic is the very first person Shadow meets in his game, and the very first thing he asks of him is to kill all the aliens in Westopolis, with the goal ofc of reaching the "big boss" if you go through the Pure Hero route. Again, the sapience of the Black Arms is questionable, but those are still living creatures who might as well be slaves for all he knows. Doesn't care! He'll kill them all!

Sonic doesn't have a rule when it comes to his enemies: he's not a pacifist, he's not the Punisher. He either listens to them, or cuts to the chase: it depends on how unrepentant they come across. The very idea of him having a "principle" about it is ridiculous. Sonic doesn't have principles, he doesn't follow rules, he does what he wants to do.

I get the moral dilemma around Mr. Tinker: he's a blank slate genuinely willing to do good, so does he deserve to be punished for crimes he didn't commit? I don't know why Flynn felt the need to insert such a moral dilemma in a book that he himself has said is for kids and thus can't properly explore the concept of identity and sins, but whatever.

Problem is that, somewhere along the line, they started to treat him not as a brain damaged version of Eggman who might as well be a different person, but as "Eggman reformed", which is insane and even creepy from Sonic. It's just absurd that IDW Sonic based his entire moral code, that everyone has the chance to become a better person, after he witnessed his war criminal of an archnemesis simply getting brain damage, and somehow thinking that this amnesiac personality reflected Eggman's real ego. What the fuck.

Oh, and then this ridiculous shit lmao:

Not only Sonic would never play villain apology for Eggman of all people, but those examples are nothing but proof of how selfish Eggman is. He never cared about protecting the planet because of some hidden depths. My man spells his reasoning out very clearly:

But now Sonic passes off those strained alliances as some good deeds and proof that Eggman is not so bad after all. "Grade-A jerk", huh? Is that how you describe the guy who broke the planet into pieces and was willing to destroy the spacetime continuum for the sake of killing you? What's next, is Black Doom with his plans of turning humanity into cattle "a big meanie"? Why are you trying so hard, man?

Ah, and then he has to resort to guilt tripping Shadow about his own "crimes" (read: being forced to follow Gerald's programming) to get his way :) piece of shit who pretends to be morally superior when in reality he's just an awful person.

[greatwyrmgold]

I watched part of a YouTube video titled "Graphical Fidelity Is Ruining Games," because while I think that's obvious hyperbole, I do have Thoughts about graphical fidelity being used as a selling point 10-15 years after non-nerds could distinguish between adjacent hardware generations at a glance.

I dropped the video after he complained about games wanting to be movies (have good graphics) so much that they sacrifice gameplay to accomplish that, over footage of one of the new God of War games with text complaining about walking sections.

Where do I start.

Okay, so let's start with the "games want to be movies" thing. It's been a point in the discourse since non-nerds could distinguish between adjacent hardware generations at a glance, and it's not going anywhere, because the universe hates me. There are times when it makes sense to criticize games that focus too much on cutscenes and not enough on gameplay, but that rhetoric always leads to mockery of visual novels, "walking simulators," and anything else that's not action-y enough for a seven-year-old high on pixie stix, which is absolute bullcrap.

Also: The video was saying this about God of Fucking War. That's your standard for a game that's trying too hard to be a movie, because you have to walk from place to place and listen to characters talk instead of just killing monsters all the time?!?

I admit, I haven't played any GoW games. I prefer walking simulators and visual novels and turn-based strategy games, which I've seen clumsily lumped into the "no-skill non-games" by some YouTubers. But I've watched Let's Plays, and it's not a goddamn walking simulator.

They didn't even pick a committed open world game. The GoW made a big deal about their "wide linear" design, reflecting how the new GoW games are less meandering and more densely-packed than most Ubisoft-style open-world games. You don't ride through the wilderness for minutes at a time between quests; you run or boat through areas practically stuffed with side activities, mooks to fight and treasure to collect and entire Norse-myth worlds devoted to multiple arcade modes.

And I know this YouTuber had footage from such games, because he showed some while complaining about Red Dead Redemption 2 a couple minutes earlier. If I might criticize another game I've never played, everything I've heard about RDR2 makes it sound like the epitome of what this dude was complaining about. Kratos loots chests by punching them as he runs past; Arthur Morgan takes 17 seconds to skin a deer.

But apparently this YouTuber either put zero thought into the video portion of his video essay (while complaining about video games that put zero thought into their game portion), or he genuinely doesn't think God of War (2018) is any better than RDR2.

[cookiejarsandbrokenhearts]

My ????!!?!?? Therapy - Last Minute

I think about that night, more than you can imagine, for the first time we were together, alone. I wish I you had told me how you felt, I could have looked back in those moonlight eyes of yours and told you, Well, there′s no going back, this is the pride before the fall.

I have always liked those cheesy movies, and I have always hoped that my life might be an iridescent reflection of the couple that dances in the downpour, with only their love flowing within their veins. I would have taken you by your hand with The rain drops on our back, tonight we're dancing in a storm

I think about that night, when it was just us and if I knew you had hid tears in your eyes and the truth in your heart, I would have told you that I’d stay and that I′ll be the one that will make you smile. That I will be beside you and hold you in my arms, away from the footsteps, despair, dust of old memories, and we'll Collapse in the darkness as we wait for a while. 

Honestly I should have waited, that you meant more to me that the time I’d lose. All I cared about was For you to get better so tell me now. Just tell me, and I will listen, tell me everything, all of the remembrance you keep in the box beneath your bed, the rage that you hold in your palms, tell me, All the breakdowns you've restrained.

Well, Oh no I ruined my life again, I guess this is my fate, to repeat the mistakes that make up who I am till none remain. I’d hoped you would have changed me, but who am I kidding, I know the miserable mess I am. For someone so broken, I didn't think I could have this much pride and I won't lie, won′t admit I am broken.

And For the weirdest reason I have just been thinking about you so much these past few days. It was probably because I saw you again for the first time in a while. Seeing you, everything came back to me, and I knew it as This feeling I can't resent. I know I may not have the privilege of loving you in this life, but grant me the hope that it may not be written in stone. At the end of the day, It's your call, I'm right here, just standing by.

When will you ever learn that, no matter how much love you give, Everything is wrong, you're not enough to save it all. So do it all for you, but you would tell me that there is no such thing as reasonable selflessness.

Well, here we go, I will spend this life of mine, counting the Skylights on New York Rooftops, The stars under the skies of Khatib, the number of cans Deanna has left, the cigarettes I have lit in honor of Renjin, and the tears stained in sorrow of Katherine. I will welcome death’s embrace and tell her all about the sorrow within the beauty that I have seen in your eyes. 

You live life like a fantasy, All the stupid horoscopes keep telling me. If you ever asked me why I try to achieve so much, the answer will always be to give you that. Isn't so pathetic, that I come up with insane business plans, commit tax fraud, take all of the disrespect,  have a will to live, just so that I might be able to give you the life that you deserve one day, so that I may be the one to see you for who you are and love you anyway?

Won't it be such a waste? To try so hard, that the only thing that pushes you is something that doesn't exist? Sometimes in my heart, I know no matter how hard I hold on, no matter how many moments I get from the sidelines, I know I'll never live to see the end. So many have tried to prescribe me God, they tell me that theres a plan, but where was he when I begged for hope, when I only knew nothing but the blood held within the jeans I tore that summer night, so tell me how can I believe that God sent me to a world of mistakes. 

And before I go ahead and do it all over again, I think about what Renjin tells me, that all of this, the carpark rooftops, the empty badminton courts and the laughter that I don't hear anymore, it was all meant for me, 

because, as he would put it, 

This is my fucking therapy

[originemesis]

@cast-you-dxwn xxx

It was no fault of his own that he'd been made into an image he would always fall short of. Mic could thunder on and on about the importance of trying to be better- as if the man hadn't already tried a timeless amount that only ever amounted to being told to do better next time. Once the threshold of effort had been cut off as far as his capabilities could stretch only for him to be expected to push even further, it was simply too easy to backslide into lower states that at least allowed him to climb upwards again. These of course were simple improvements he could attain such as one eighty-ing from calling his boss a petty bitch in the middle of a council meeting to begrudgingly babysitting a cherub charity bake sale booth outside the embassy ( until he eats most of the wares that is...not that Sera didn't take it out of his paycheck.) Now that he was lying all the way at the bottom of some hell pit? The possibility in rising even an inch would seem endless to those not currently half melted on the floor with one wing and plenty of missing pieces for finishing a common decency puzzle; unfortunately, he wasn't them.

"Yeah, don't I dare bring up a fucking point to the dude with the smite stick- solid advice, even for you." A softer hiss escapes him, both from the pain of divine sunburn and from having to hear Michael carry on like a woman scorned about what a treasure he was to humanity. In comparison to what? Adam knows. But whether Mic knows that he knows is debatable. "Not your duty, huh? Then what WAS it, Mic? The fact that it was your face tied to the spectacle your bro put on? Now that's what I call 'saving face'." Petty still, even prostrate. It didn't sit well with him to be accused of war crimes he hadn't actually committed (aside from the ones he had-) that simply stuck to him like he had because the reflection of them remained in a gaze of one who'd had them committed against him. That Epraim guy that Mic had gone turbo-termination on for the hushed rumor circulating in court over soldier abuse? Adam wonders if the bottom of his boots felt like Michael's now.

The word 'love' out of Michael's mouth draws a similar scowl from the man, if only because the other doubted his own validity in understanding the concept. Perhaps love changed forms when it was lost too many times...but it still had the same fucking name. He was still Adam, despite what a far cry the flawless form he once inhabited like a cocoon that was yet to know it could be shed. Shred apart, and leaving, as Michael so lovingly put it with a dash of disgust- 'this'.

"So much for those love is unconditional sermons, huh? Guess it stopped being so convenient for you." Formed fangs flash with rebuttal, his axe the only defense he could muster to his defense and even that he could not lift without the dire straights of his soul being threatened upon. Michael was a force to cower from- to plead with and hope the shape one took of something non threatening and stoic without its own free will might convince him to use the undesirable canvas for a purpose deemed necessary. But Adam never was quite good at dick riding past a lowered gaze and a muffled 'sorry', despite the title of Exorcist he shared with the others.

"You're freakin' impossible, you know that?! I'm not you, Mic- I can't just love out of some hard wired code sequence in my infrastructure! Not after Lucifer-" Did he even need to elaborate? They're all part of the petty origin club here, and the fact that Mic wouldn't understand that he didn't blindly trust without reason to makes him wonder the validity of the other's membership. "I have to look for it to know it's legit. Have to find it. And I found her. Not the mannequin of a soldier they saddled me with just because they needed a mansitter. Just her."

He listens wordlessly to the seraphim's description of a person he simply couldn't recognize by his purported memories of her alone. For him, she had never existed in the same sense were any pieces of that part of her still a part of her own glass puzzle pieces to arrange in ways that suited him and the council. Much like the version of him that Michael knew from the garden didn't really exist for her. In a way, he felt like he knew what they were regardless, having lost similar shards of his own he'd long since discarded knowing they didn't fit into the grand design of his ascension past where humanity had landed out of their tumble from creation's good graces.

"Mic-" He finally croaks, licking his lips to help soothe the seared skin there as if the putrid components of hell's influence over his own spit could serve as a balm against the scars of a smiting's pre-amble. It's not a chance he wants to take- being burned by that vicious gaze, so he keeps his rolled back and trained on a ceiling fan that had somehow survived the angelic assault, but had stopped spinning.

A minute passes. Several do before he musters, "You remember the time when-...you went looking for me- back in the garden, I mean. Probably 'cause you had some weirdly specific anecdote you thought would even make sense at the time. And I waited for you to walk by so I could smack you with that branch I' pulled back when you passed through, but it just snapped back and knocked me over?" A snort and a shake of the head at the muddled memory has him clapping a talon across his cheek as if he could still feel the sting of the branch's parting swat of leaves after the bark of its strong arm had bowled him over.

"And after your made sure I didn't know myself out- so I could hear it, you fucking laughed at me...and when I got the breath knocked out of me back, I-"

Shifting, he cuts his eyes to the side to chance a look at the seraphim, cautious...weary. Amused.

"-laughed harder? You remember that, right? You remember...me ?" Before he'd fallen out of that tree and had his being split into Eve. Before he'd watched his closest buddy run off with his wife and then return to harm the other half of him that still naively believed that everyone had good intentions. Before he was forced through the eye of the needle that was the gate of heaven for a sullied human soul, every bone broken and piece of him smuggled through one at a time for him to be discreetly arranged later and found lacking something, even if no one could tell him what it was without drawing suspicion.

"When I look at her, I see- something cracked. So cracked, it's impossible to tell what it even fully was before." Talons digging into the axe's handle, he struggles a moment to sit up and edge his back against the desk next to the seraphim, grimacing and using his wing as an extra appendage to push against the floor on the other side of him. "We got a lot of busted out pieces between the two of us, but...we fill in each other's blanks. Call me a glazer, but I can't remember the last time I felt so-" The faintest hint of a smile gathered beneath furrowed brows as the gnarled ends of his talons pinch at the diamond shard suspended within his chest portal.

They shared a piece of each other now.

"...whole."

[laurenthelunatic]

I wish you were here. I wish you & many others listened more. I wish I didn't feel the need to feel more appreciated. I wish I no longer felt burned out. I wish I didn't feel the urge to help so many & be a voice of reason. I wish I was taken more seriously. I wish I were taller. I wish I were more intimidating. I wish I could magically sprout a hard assertive dick at whim & shove it down the throat of anyone who underminds me & argues their ignorant opinions against my passionate factual research. I wish I had a better support system. I wish I had more self discipline to live a healthier life. I wish I didn't love cocaine & alcohol so much. I wish my dad were alive. I wish I had more privacy to think alone in peace & reflect on everything that's happened & what I need to do to heal my crazy bi-polar mind in my current chaotic living situation. I wish I had more reassurance on what I'm about to commit too, knowing damn well I still feel unprepared & I am still traumatized remembering how brutally my confidence & sanity were tested & how many mental break downs I experienced last year. I wish I had more successful people to talk too & gain advice from...like wtf dude! If there is a God, please send help. Lol idk wtf I am doing anymore. I'm fucking crazy for even feeling any sort of determination moving forward just rolling with whatever happens, happens, just hoping for the best knowing damn well it's going to be shit show at some point. Let's still hope for the best. *sigh* I wish no form of currency ever existed.

[transamorousnetwork]

A Transgender Match Exists For Every Type Of Guy. Even Bottoms.

It’s easy finding our match when we understand that our stories determine who we’re meeting. This applies whether we’re transgender or trans-attracted.

But in this post, let’s look specifically at trans-attracted men looking for a transgender partner. What I’m sharing today applies equally to transgender women looking for a partner. In short, stories create reality. And when our stories contradict what we want, we can’t get what we want, no matter how hard we try. Not until we do something about the stories we’re telling.

For example, many trans-attracted men look for transgender women who will top them. This is an extremely triggering thing for many transgender women. But not all of them.

The reason some transgender women get triggered so strongly when guys express this legitimate desire, makes sense when we understand it. Some (not all) transgender women tell extremelydisempowering stories about the penis that came with their male body. Such stories create equally extreme negative emotions. The psychological community calls these negative emotions “dysphoria”.

But all that’s happening is the woman is confronting all the stories in her head about her body AND what she knows herself to be. She’s focusing on what she doesn’t want (the penis) instead of what she wants. Doing so, she amplifies the negative experience. So uncomfortable the amplification can get, that she literally might want to cut her penis off. Or commit suicide. Or she might vomit any time she has a penis-stimulated orgasm. Like this transgender woman explains:

Self-loathing meets itself

Meanwhile, trans-attracted guys experience similar situations. His negative stories about his attraction for transgender women causes in him equally strong negative emotions. So instead of embracing what he wants and thinking about what he wants in a positive way, he will amplify his own discomfort. Do that long enough and he, too, will consider suicide.

Yet, the guy can’t deny his attraction because it is an innate part of who he is! Just as the transgender woman can’t escape the fact that she is trans. Even if she’s 100 percent deep stealth. See where this is going?

The transgender woman focuses on her hatred of her penis. The guy equally struggles with his trans attraction. At the same time, both want a relationship. So what should we expect happens? Of course, these two people will find each other because they are perfect matches, reflecting to each other their own lack of self-acceptance combined with their matching desires. It’s not rocket science!

It’s no wonder the guy’s intense negative focus causes him to express, to the trans woman, however clumsily and even insensitively, his desire to be topped or to suck a dick. He has no consideration for how the trans woman might be feeling about her penis. He’s too preoccupied. But get this: the transgender woman equally has no compassion for what the guy is going through either. For the same reason.

Both parties are oblivious to the other person’s experience. It’s no wonder a firestorm happens when these two come together. It’s no wonder neither has compassion for the other. Still, they are a perfect match! But that match is based in extreme negativity. 

How to meet that better match

Getting out of this conundrum is simple. The answer for both parties is getting out of preoccupation with negative focus/stories. Then, instead, focusing on what each party wants. Not what they don’t want. This is harder to do than to explain. But every client I work with eventually gets there.

Meanwhile, trans-attracted male bottoms, plenty of women out there LOVE their penis. For your viewing pleasure, listen to two of them talk about it themselves. Here’s the first. Here’s the second. Both are categorized on YouTube as “age restricted”. So I can’t embed them here. By the way, there are plenty of men who prefer post-op women. Men who will fuck them like they fuck cis-gender woman. There’s a match for everyone, in other words.

Everyone can enjoy anything we want. It starts with sorting out our stories, then focusing on stories supporting what we want, instead of focusing on stories about what we don’t. Do that and our lives improve dramatically. Then eventually we’ll meet our matches. No exceptions.

But if we wallow in stories about things we hate, dislike, wish weren’t true, etc., we get stuck.

Feeling stuck? Let’s get you unstuck.

[m00nj3w3l]

Felt like coming back to this ask cus I felt like giving an actual answer (also thanks I appreciate you being genuinely curious about it even if you aren't super into Clear as I am). The megapost will, most likely, not even exist atp because I feel like I wouldn't say anything new in regards to his character that hasn't been touched on already by other fans in 13 years of the game being around and I'm busy irl, so I feel like I should dive more into why I myself latched onto Clear so hard.

Granted this will be a VERY long and personal (as in I do deep dive into my mental health) word salad that was way more eloquent in my head but you know how it is. Many beautiful thoughts and the second you voice them you're just saying things lmao. I'll keep it under the cut to not make a wall of text and you'll be free to read it whenever you want really.

To me, Clear's arc is all about acceptance: coming to terms with your past and what you are, and obviously this spoke to me as an autistic girl with not the brightest of pasts.

I spent a long, long time being uncomfortable with myself: I'd spend entire days crying about how much I hated myself and how I wished I could become someone else entirely. Even if my conscience was the same, the thought of having a new body that didn't look like me at least seemed comforting in the sense of "I could start again". That, or planning to kill myself. I have been suicidal ever since I can remember, but the start of 2024 was particularly bad. I was telling myself that if things didn't get better I would have committed by the end of the year.

Then in May 2024 I got into DMMD and, believe it or not, it fucking helped me cope.

I actually didn't like Clear at first!!! I was dead set on Koujaku as well (still love him my pathetic wet cat of a man) and my first thought of Clear was "God he's so annoying what the hell." And then. And then I played this route and idk, something about how he's constantly reminiscing of the times with his Grandpa, how scared he is of being vulnerable even with the person he chose to follow by not showing his face if not after like, ~2 hours into his route, how; like the post I reblogged some days ago says; he's treated like a trophy child by Toue who both violently rejects him AND obsesses over him by making insane amount of copies of him both in physical aspects and in concept (the mind control is basically an all encompassing subplot of DMMD as a whole), and how despite being mistreated time and time again by life itself he fucking chooses to be happy. Idk, it got to me, y'know? (Plus, which is kinda minor admist all these aspects to me, but felt like mentioning: having an heavily autistic coded character in an eroge who downright expresses his desire for sex is really nice, given how often we as autistic people are deemed as sexless beings and that often reflects in fiction too)

There's this one detail that I actually planned to point out sooner or later, but have you noticed that his way of speaking in RE:connect is way different than in the main game? I mean, he's still extremely formal and uses honorifics on Aoba even if the nature of their relationship could allow him to drop that, but he's not as high pitched and shrill as he is as we first meet him. Even as he gets excited ("Ren-san, such a long time no see!!" "Did you like the mirror???") he screams a lot less. Hell if anything his voice even gets a bit deeper!! That is also when the mask has been long dropped and at this point we, and him, know what he's like. He doesn't have to prove anything to anyone anymore, he doesn't need to scream and be loud to be listened to, he's comfortable with himself to the point of even poking fun at Aoba and showing him a part of his past that no one would've seen otherwise.

The fact that he refuses to be put in an Alpha body when he malfunctions again in his Drama CD; as tragic as it is that him and Aoba have a time limit on their time as a couple; to me is also a sign of this: it's ok if my body isn't perfect, if I myself am not at my core, I don't have to be. I'm done trying to be. I'll just be myself and whatever comes my way will be dealt with.

Idk how to properly word why all of this spoke to me, but it did: maybe also cause I am extremely loud irl, am very bad at masking, and as I mentioned some other time, a lot of Clear's character reminds me of myself when I was younger (which, sometimes, is kinda painful, but that's how deeply he speaks to me). Idk, there's a lot of things, y'know.

To add onto this I'm gonna add a fun fact:

My real name obviously isn't Moon (although I do sometimes tell people irl I use that, but it's kinda more like an artist name I chose for myself). Actually, my real name means the same thing as Clear's: if you'd translate it, he'd have the masculine version of my name; and that one scene in RE:connect where Aoba is like "your heart is like glass, you're always earnest and giving it your all, which is why I think he named you Clear" reminded me a lot of something my mom told me when I was a kid: that people would come up to her to praise her for the choice because I was a very honest and open child, which is why my name suits me. And God if that didn't make me cry, lol. I spent a long time hating it because of the negative connotations I felt like I had with it, but finding a character that I love that is so similar to me and has the same name as me really helps, y'know?

It's. Definitely veeery silly to be this viscerally attached to a character from Cursed Gay Sex Game, and maybe in a couple years I'll find another one who speaks to me just as much, but yeah. This is how I feel rn, so I guess there's little I can do about it, lol.

psst you should ramble about Clear and how cool and interesting you think he is in great detail

I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not since talking about him in great detail is my whole shtick and it makes me extremely predictable but LOOK MAN I HAD FUCKING NOTES WRITTEN DOWN TO LOOK AT WHEN I PLANNED TO MAKE THAT FUCKASS BIG POST I TALKED ABOUT BUT Iiiii am not so sure anymore :( I love making analysis posts and stuff but uaaaah I feel like I'd spam the tag and annoy everyone thumbs up emoji

[putellas11]

A/N:  I’ve had this in my drafts for ages! Since I really haven’t had anytime to write (and probably won’t for a little while longer) I figured I’d release this hot mess in the meantime. I hope I’ll be able to come back in full force soon! Hope you enjoy!

Revenge is Sweet (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

You wake up to ice-cold water being poured all over you.

“What the fuck!?”

Gasping and shivering from the cold, you glare through blurry vision at the woman towering over you with a bucket in her hand.

Alexia.

She’s the last person you wanted to see, and a sense of impending doom begins to creep in at the inevitable lecture that awaits you.

“Seriously? Again?” Her tone, posture, and expression all reflect a deep sense of disappointment and genuine anger. 

Anyone else would cower under her glare, but not you. Alexia implied it with her words— this is not the first time this has happened, so you know what to expect. She’ll lecture you about responsibility and commitment to the team, and you’ll nod your head pretending to listen, but really, you’ll just be focused on not throwing up all over her shoes.

“Hey, at least I’m not late to training this time,” you argue, slowly lifting yourself from the wet floor, droplets of water splashing down with your every movement. 

“On time but you’re fucking drunk!”

Her voice rings out in your ears and you can’t help but flinch. If you lacked any common sense you’d ask her to quiet down, but you know better.

“I’m hungover, actually. There’s a difference.” You point out, but with little to no conviction in your words.

It’s not just that you have no strength to plead your case, you also don’t care enough to do so. It’s always the same argument with Alexia and it never fails to end the same way, so you don’t see the point in engaging in the usual back and forth. The sooner you can get her to go away, the better.

“I’m so sick and tired of covering for you,” she says, hands on her waist and that annoying look of disapproval in her eyes she has reserved just for you.

“Ok, so stop. It’s not like I ever asked you to anyway.” You’re growing more and more frustrated by the minute, feeling suffocated by the wet clothes sticking to your body.

Alexia may be the captain of the team, but her threats matter very little when you have Jona wrapped around your finger. As long as you keep on producing results on the field, he’ll continue to turn a blind eye to whatever you do off it. Alexia, of course, is not happy with this little agreement you have with the manager.

“I’m being serious! What you’re doing is wrong and it’s setting a horrible example for the others. Por dios, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. This behavior is going to bite you in the ass, and when that happens, I won’t stand in the way.”

You try so hard to not roll your eyes but you’re sick and tired of all the lectures and threats. “Oh, that doesn’t surprise me one bit, babe. Let’s not pretend like you haven’t wanted me off this team from the moment I got here.”

Alexia takes a step back, surprised by what you said. “That’s not true.”

“Bullshit,” you counter, not afraid to call her out. “You’ve done nothing but give me a hard time, and for what? Because I like to go out with my friends? Jona doesn’t care and that’s all that matters. So, with all due respect, reina...,” you draw out the title you know she’s not too fond of, “either take it up with the big man or fuck off and leave me alone.”

If looks could kill, you’d be dead right now.

With her hands in tight fists by her side, Alexia takes a deep breath to regain control of her emotions. “Get changed, eat something, and get your act together before everyone else gets here.”  Spoken through clenched teeth, her words are edged with anger.

“Yeah, yeah” you dismiss her, waving her away as she stomps out of the locker room.

The second Alexia is out of sight, you run to the nearest trash can and throw up all the fun you had last night.

“Fuck me, this is not going to be fun.”

Once you take your second shower of the day— thanks to Alexia, and get something in your stomach, you start to feel somewhat human again. There’s still someone inside your head going crazy with a jackhammer, but you’re confident you can push through it. After all, this isn’t your first rodeo.

Every once in a while, you have trouble saying no to a good party. Sometimes the party just so happens to fall on the night before a training session, and it is what it is.

Life is too short to make it all about football.

Alexia, on the other hand, can’t seem to wrap her head around that. The nagging is never-ending, the lectures make you want to slam your head against the wall, and her ‘better than you’ attitude has you wishing you never signed with Barça in the first place. If it was not for the fact that you’re playing the best football of your career, your agent would already be in contact with another club.

Under the blistering Barcelona sun, the team is huddled up in a circle listening to Jona’s instructions on the training session. Unfortunately, the pounding inside your head has only gotten worse which makes it difficult to pay attention to anything that is being said. All you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for a week and a few days.

“You look like shit,” Mapi whispers in your ear rather matter-of-factly.

“Really? Because I feel fantastic.” Sarcasm drips from your lips and Mapi has to suppress her laughter in order to not draw any attention to the two of you.

Jona blows the whistle and you can only send a little prayer that he’ll take it easy on you today.

Alexia, however, seems to have other plans. Today of all days, she has decided to train with an unusual intensity. Your prayer clearly not answered as Alexia demands that very same intensity from the rest of her teammates, and especially from you. On the surface, it seems that all she wants is for the team to work hard, but deep down, you know this is nothing but a ploy so she can make you suffer.

Despite your current state, you’re determined to refuse her the satisfaction of seeing you on your knees, defeated. When she screams at you to run faster, you run faster. When she tackles you again and again, you make it a point to not stay down for too long. You do all of this through gritted teeth and a body screaming and begging for it all to stop.

The training session ends with free kick practice and your first attempt goes over the crossbar.

This gives Alexia a brilliant idea.

“For every shot missed, you’ll have to run the length of the pitch and back,” she commands, a smug smile on her lips.

You can feel everyone's eyes on you and this only makes your blood boil. It’s clear that you’re on the verge of passing out but no one dares to go up against Alexia and you can’t exactly blame them. She has the respect of everyone in on the team, coaching staff included, of course no one comes to your aid.

So, you have no choice but to run. Something you have done a million times before is now nearly impossible to accomplish. When you make it back, your vision is blurry and it’s a struggle to catch your breath— factors that only make it all that more difficult to get the ball in the net.

It’s no surprise when you miss.

“Again!”

With your hands on your knees, you shoot daggers at Alexia, hoping to convey with your eyes all the words you can’t say out loud. In return, she challenges you to speak up— her expression daring you to admit defeat so your punishment can come to an end and she can claim her victory.

The desire to prove her wrong outweighs your need for rest. Even with your heart aching in your chest, you manage to touch the goal post on the other end of the pitch but this time, barely manage make it back.

Black dots start to infiltrate your vision and you’re not sure you have any fight left in you. A free kick drill has now become a matter of life and death.

“Come on, you got this!”

Surprisingly, Claudia is the one who dares to speak up but she quickly has to hide behind Patri when Alexia shoots a deadly glare in her direction.

Pina’s interruption earns you a few more seconds and that makes it possible for you to get one good breath in. Her words of encouragement settle in your mind and feed your confidence.

You take three steps back and one to the side— as is your custom. A bead of sweat trickles down your forehead and its path leads dangerously close to your eye but you pay it no mind.

The moment you make contact with the ball you know it’s perfect. It’s the right amount of power and curve, making it drop under the crossbar just in time and into the back of the net.

Everyone seems to breathe out a sigh of relief with Alexia being the only exception. There’s so much you want to say but you know it’s not the right time nor place.

One thing is for certain; your revenge will be sweet.

Alexia leads the team to the locker room but you decide it’s best to stay behind. There’s a rage building up inside of you that needs to be controlled. So, you seek out a little bit of shade and take some time to calm yourself down before you do or say something that will surely get you in a lot of trouble, but you certainly won’t regret.

“You look like shit” Jona’s voice disrupts your thoughts. The young manager kneels by your side and offers you a bottle of water.

“So I’ve been told.”

Aware of your difficult relationship with Alexia, Jona has had to assume the role of peacemaker more than once. While he has often come to your defense when you’ve needed him the most, there have been times he has had to take a step back and allow you to feel the full extent of Alexia’s wrath.

“You deserved it this time, you know,” he says, and you have no strength to argue.

“I deserved to be punished yes, but that little stunt was so much more than that.”

It was one thing for Alexia to punish you for showing up hungover to practice, but it was another thing entirely to intentionally embarrass you in front of the entire team.

All you can think about is revenge.

______

A few weeks have passed since your altercation with Alexia and since then, the two of you have not said more than two sentences to each other off the pitch.

On the pitch it’s a slightly different matter. Despite what Alexia might think, you know how to be a professional. When the whistle is blown, you’re able to put all your anger to the side and follow your captain's orders without a second thought. Once the 90 minutes are over, however, you don’t bother to give her a second glance.

Since you haven’t been in the greatest of moods lately, the plan was to stay in and have a quiet night in, but your friends don’t really believe in such a thing. All it took was one text for your night to take a very different turn.

📲: Otto Zutz tonight 😈

A favorite among your friends, Otto Zutz never disappoints. You’re no stranger to the club so you feel right at home surrounded by the steel pillars and cement walls.

One drink turns into two and you don’t bother to keep count after five. Under the influence of alcohol and of your mischievous friends, you ordered a bottle of Cristal only to shake it vigorously and spray it down to everyone on the dance floor. The huge roar that reverberated around the club was music to your ears.

The crowd below demands your attention so you make your way to them. The space is clouded with artificial smoke and fog, strobe lights flashing in sync with the music. You mix into the crowd and become one of many the bodies on the dance floor controlled by the onslaught of drumbeats.

It’s all going to perfection— until you spot her in the crowd. All the alcohol you have consumed has blurred your vision and the lighting in the club certainty doesn’t help, but you’re certain it’s her.

“Alexia,” you say to yourself.

You should turn away from her and ensure your night ends on a high, yet, you can’t fight the urge to talk to her. Somehow you manage to get through the sea of bodies in your way but now with her back to you, Alexia doesn’t see you approach her.

“What are you doing here, Putellas?,” your voice slurred, a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

When she turns around, you have to take a step back.

“Alba?”

Definitely not Alexia.

The sisters share a few similarities, but you have always been able to tell them apart. It’s a mistake you can only blame on the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Well, look who we have here,” Alba, who has clearly had just as much to drink as you, pulls you in for a tight embrace and her hands waste no time settling on your lower back.

Unlike Alexia, Alba has always been particularly fond of you. It was innocent at first with just the occasional DM on Instagram, but it eventually progressed to lingering touches and suggestive whispers behind Alexia’s back. You haven’t dared to take it any further, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t entertained the possibility.

Just the idea of you and Alba getting together would be enough to drive Alexia crazy. If that idea were to ever become a reality…

With a hand on Alba’s waist, you lean in so she can hear you over the music, “dance with me.”

Her nails dig in ever so slightly into your back and her lips brush against your ear, giving you all the confirmation you need.

Revenge is sweet. ______

Spirits are high inside the locker room. The team is feeling extremely confident after a streak of great results, so there’s laughter and a lot of teasing as you get ready for training.

It’s the calm before the storm.

There’s a very notable absence in the locker room. Alexia, who is usually one of the very first to arrive, is nowhere to be seen.

Alba texted you last night to give you a heads up that Alexia had somehow found out about the two of you planning on going out on a date, and according to Alba, Alexia was not at all pleased with the idea. This, of course, didn’t surprise you. In fact, it’s what you wanted all along.

There is no doubt in your mind that going on a date with Alba is a horrible idea. You know it can only bring you trouble, but you still haven’t quite gotten over Alexia’s so called punishment. Not only that, it’s how much she seemed to enjoy watching you run back and forth, fighting for your life. For you, that moment was a declaration of war and as they say, all is fair in love and war. 

The impact of the door crashing against the wall startles everyone in the locker room. The door closes itself with force behind Alexia as she zeros in on you. Her face a ferocious red, eyes burning with rage.

You love it.

Alexia marches in your direction, takes the cleats from your hands and throws them against the wall. “Stay the hell away from Alba!”

Everyone around you is frozen in shock at the scene that’s unfolding before their very eyes. It reminds you of the previous clash with Alexia, but this time, you have the upper hand.

“I don’t think Alba would like that very much,” you say, tilting your head slightly to the side with an arrogant smirk.

“My sister is off limits!”

You scoff at her words. “Alba is allowed to date whoever she wants,” you say, keeping your eyes on Alexia, “isn’t that right, Mapi?”

Mapi, completely taken off guard, immediately puts her hands up in defense, “I’m innocent in all of this.”

The fire in Alexia’s eyes continues to burn bright but you refuse to look away and you refuse to back down.

“Everyone out!”

Like loyal soldiers, everyone in the locker room packs up what they need and practically run out of the locker room. You get a few looks from some of your teammates on their way out, almost as they want to get their last look good look of you alive and breathing before Alexia gets her hands on you.

“I don’t think you understand how pissed off I am right now,” she says, her jaw set.

“Oh, believe me, babe. I understand.”

A wave of recognition crashes over her, and Alexia finally understands that all of this is just your way of getting revenge. “You’re doing this on purpose,” she breathes out, and she almost can’t believe her own words. “You’re seriously using my sister to get back at me?”

A shrug of the shoulders is all you give her as a response.

Alexia runs her fingers through her hair in frustration and begins to pace the room. You watch in amusement as she covers her face with her hands and lets out a muffled groan born out of frustration.

“You know training is about to start, right?”

Alexia stops in her tracks and finally looks at you, “what do I have to do?” she asks.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “what the hell are you talking about?”

Alexia takes a step closer and you notice the rage in her eyes has been replaced with icy determination. “Tell me what I have to do for you not to go on that date with Alba,” there’s a slight hesitation before she says, “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” Alexia nods once and for a brief moment, her expression falters revealing her fear of you actually taking her up on her offer.

You’re overwhelmed by the possibilities, but one thing is for certain, you want to keep this going for as long as possible.

“Fine,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest. “If I can’t go out with Alba…” you take a pause, building up the anticipation much to Alexia’s displeasure, “...you’ll have to do.”

“What?”

“You heard me. If I can’t go out with Alba, you’ll have to go out with me instead.”

Alexia’s eyes open wide, her lips parted in disbelief. This is the first time you see her truly vulnerable and you have to fight the grin threatening to spread across your face.

“No, no, y-you can’t be serious,” she stutters, forcing herself to take a step back.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” you say, “but, you can always so no and I can just go out with Alba.”

This is a win-win situation for you and Alexia knows it. There’s no getting out of this one, so it’s all a matter of how far she’s willing to go to ensure you stay away from her sister.

“Ok,” she says, “I’ll do it,” her words spoken so softly you can barely hear her.

“I’m gonna need you to speak up.”

Alexia takes in a deep breath, draws her shoulders back, and looks you dead in the eye. “Fine, I will go out with you,” she finally says, and this time you can hear her just fine. “But, Alba can never know about this.”

You expected her to put up more of a fight, but it seems she’s desperate to make sure you stay as far away as possible from Alba. If it were anybody else you’d be offended, but you don’t care much about Alexia’s opinion of you.

Your smile makes her eye twitch, her jaw clenched so tight that it’s a little concerning. Still, Alexia stands her ground and accepts her fate.

“Well, that’s settled then,” you say, closing the distance Alexia created.

There’s a pause. You scan her features, watching the subtle signs of tension around the corners of her mouth. When her tongue darts out to wet her lips, an unexpected shiver runs down your spine.

“You’re all mine.”

—————————

Part 2

[bcdwhcre]

“Betrayal,” Pt. 2 Levi x Reader

Summary: after being tortured and accused for a crime you didn’t commit, it changed you in ways you didn’t think was possible

Warnings: none, maybe like a bit of torture

PART ONE

.

.

.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident with the MPs, your wounds have healed into scars and everything was now fully healed.

The few scars on your face had made you insecure and felt as if they were ugly. The scar on your cheek, the one below your lips and one on your forehead. They weren’t all that big but to you it felt like they were huge.

Levi had assured you time and time again that the scars made you look just as beautiful but you couldn’t help but get flashbacks every time you looked at any of your scars that were on your body.

The way your blood would boil at the constant reminders of what they did to you. The way you wanted to murder all of them in cold blood, it made your skin hot just thinking about it.

Your nightmares had continued, every night to be exact. They never stopped, they were a constant cycle over and over and over.

Levi has tried his best to be your support system and even though he’s noticed a few changes in your behavior, he assumed you were fine since you continued being your clingy and affectionate self when you were around him.

But deep down you had a huge amount of rage and hatred that wanted to spill out of your body. You’ve kept everything inside and locked away, only for his sake and to not worry him any longer.

But one night you laid in bed beside Levi, his arm tightly around your waist and his breathing fanning over the nape of your neck as he slept peacefully.

Your mind was clouded and you suddenly forgot about everything, your mind set on one thing- the military police.

You had slipped out of bed carefully, sneaking out of the base in your hood and ODM gear as you tried to get your mind off of things as you flew through the quiet empty town, settling on top of a roof.

You look down at your reflection in the blade, your fingertips just barely brushing over your scars and suddenly your mind had switched to defensive mode like you were a robot.

The way your feet had moved without even realizing and you snuck into one of the MPs houses, the one that had caused you the most pain.

Your head had tilted, watching him sleep. He looked peaceful for such a coward, you were sick just looking at him. When you walked closer, the floorboard creaking just loud enough to wake him up and you pointed the blade at his face.

“Don’t make a sound or else this will be going straight through your neck.” You threatened, his eyes wide and full of fear.

He stared at you, instantly recognizing your face, you weren’t hard to remember especially considering you were a scout dating the famous Captain but the main reason why he knew you is because he spent so much time torturing you.

“What do you want?” He said barely above a whisper, his lips quivering as he spoke.

“What do I want? Hm, what do I want? How about some fucking peace.” You started off, your feet making their way closer to where he laid and you ran the blade down to his chest.

“For once, I don’t want to fucking think about the cowards who punished me for nothing. Who tortured me to no end because they assumed. What a bunch of fucking idiots that people put their trust in to protect them, huh?” You laughed at his face, pressing the blade just enough to draw blood and he winced but shut his mouth when you stood in front of him over the bed.

“Is this some kind of sick revenge fantasy that you have? You think you’re going to get away so easily?”

“Yes and yes. Unlike you, I know how to hide a body.” You whispered the last part, in an instant you flung your blade and sliced it through his throat like butter, watching the blood gush out, splattering everywhere in the room and hearing his gasps for breath.

“Have fun in hell.” You pushed him down on the bed, watching the life drain from his eyes.

After you were done cleaning the mess you had made, you snuck back inside the base and went inside the bedroom where Levi still slept. You glanced down at your bloody clothes and cursed to yourself as you dug through the drawers for some clean clothes.

“Y/N?” You froze, your eyes wide and your hands already beginning to shake as you heard him shuffling behind you.

“Stop.” You said, making him stop from getting up off the bed and he rubbed his eyes as he tried to focus them on you.

“Why? What are you doing?” He leaned over, turning on the bedside lamp and before you could say anything, the light was on and shined up the room clearly.

You hung your head low, your back facing him but he noticed the spots of blood on your clothes and instantly ran to where you were, thinking you were injured.

When he flung you around, he stopped in his spot and stared down at the bloody clothes you wore and his eyes moved up to meet your gaze.

“What- what happened? Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Why is there blood on you?”

Within seconds, tears started streaming down your face and he grabbed onto you, embracing you in a tight hug. He knew deep down what you had done but he didn’t want to speak up about it, all he did was comfort you.

As your mind was set back to the harsh reality of what you did and what happened, you couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder and listen to him mumbling soft words in your ears, reminding you just how precious you truly are.

“It’s okay, look at me.” He cupped your cheeks, brushing the tears away and stared down at your eyes, full of fear and emptiness.

“It’s okay, I’ll clean everything up and no one isn’t going to know a thing, alright? This will be our secret.” He whispered, the pained expression on his face had made you want to die- the last thing you wanted to do was drag Levi into your mess.

“I already got rid of everything except this outfit.” You managed to stumble out between your sniffles, making him nod his head.

“Okay good, take them off and throw them in a bag. I’ll burn them tomorrow, okay?” He tried to be as soft as possible, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head.

Your tears had stopped but your red puffy eyes continued to stare at him as he helped take off your clothes, throwing them in a bag and you sucked in a sharp breath.

-

The next day had rolled around quick, you had stayed in bed from the overbearing guilt you felt and Levi was happy to take the day off again and help you deal with it, trying his best to keep you happy.

He kept you in his arms, your head on his chest and his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as you stared at the wall, deep into thought.

“I want them all dead, Levi.” You said without even realizing what had fell from your lips, his eyes glancing down at you and he nodded.

“I know, I want them dead too, believe me.” He brushed the strands of hair back from your face and he caressed your cheek.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, it isn’t fair. I just wanted them to feel the way I did and I just wanted this overbearing pain to leave my body and it did while I watched him die, I felt relieved.” You admitted, your sad eyes meeting his and he completely understood.

The amount of people Levi had killed in his past has been way too many, the pain and the guilt weighing him down but the way he felt better when he got rid of the people who didn’t deserve to live- it made him feel somewhat normal.

“Don’t be sorry, I’ll always support you.. you know how many people I’ve killed? You’re not getting rid of me.” He chuckled, making you smile up at him and thought about the times he had gone off the deep end.

“If you need help with the rest of the guards, I’ll do it.” He fully admitted, his thumb rubbing over the scar on your cheek.

“Why would I want to drag you further into this?”

“You’re not. You’re my world, I’m not going to let you go through it alone. I’ll kill them all.” He shook his head, pressing his lips to your forehead then pulling back to look at you before he spoke again.

“No matter what.”

.

.

.

Here’s part two to betrayal like y’all having been askinnnnng. Hope you enjoyed it.

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[obanaispy]

tear you apart - biker!toji x barkeep y/n.

part one.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this will be a 4 part fic! this part is mostly prologue so it’s tame but the next will contain smut. i suggest listening to ‘tear you apart’ by she wants revenge or ‘nothing burns like the cold’ by snoh whilst reading. thanks you for the support and please leave comments!

18+ mdni

Fuck. How did you end up here again?

Face pressed against the bathroom sink, arms held behind your back as Toji brought you to yet another orgasm. The bar had been closed for about 30 and he had made use of each and every minute.

Pulling up your pants, you peer at him through the mirror reflection— eyes rolling at his smug expression.Toji walks behind you, allowing for his arms to wrap around your waist, lips brushing against your ear as he speaks.

“I thought you weren’t fucking with me anymore..”

Scoffing, you push him off, a smirk tugging at your lips. See, you already knew he was right.. but, there’s no need to admit such a thing. “Maybe..” you finally speak up, fixing your clothes as you head for the door— “..I was in a giving mood today”.

The look you spotted on his face as you gave one last glance back just screamed that he knew you were lying. Mans could read you like you’ve spent an eternity in the palm of his hand. That's one of the many things you enjoyed about him,sadly..

Plus, his dick was big.

“You sure you don’t need me to follow you home? Make sure you’re safe?” Toji questioned, following right behind you as you made your way outside. You chuckle, unlocking your car door— “promise i’m fine. Thanks for the offer”. Backing away with his arms up, he finally mounted his bike— buckling on his helmet. “Text me, sweetheart.” he yelled over the noise of his cycle, to which you replied with a singular thumbs up.

Yet somehow, he’s there at 3am, arms holding you against his chest.

You weren’t entirely sure on how it got to this point. Let’s see.. maybe a walk down the timeline will help give a bit of understanding.

You’ve been working at this bar for about 4 years— snagging the job at the ripe age of 20 because your grandparents owned the place. About two years ago, they kicked the bucket and left you an entire business to run. As if he was a gift from the universe— Toji appeared at that time!

.. Now looking back, he honestly was a curse.

Anyways, you guys hit it off, he helped you through the loss and soon you grew to be close friends. About a year ago, a makeout session went too far and..you woke up snuggled in his comforter. Fun right?

Present day. Here you are trying to cut ties because you’re catching feelings and that was NOT your plan. You came for dick..pull it together.

You had agreed to Toji driving you to the bar today. Grabbing your belongings, you hopped out the door spotting him waiting on his bike right in front of your driveway. Making sure the door was locked, you head down to where he was, giving a brief hello as you slung yourself on the seat space behind him.

“No kiss today? you must be committed” he joked, beginning to take off once you gave a grunt in response.

The ride was quiet for the most part. You guys hummed together and you tried your best not to think about how good he smelled. You could tell he had been using that cologne you gifted him.

It seemed like his scent followed you, dancing at your nose during your entire shift. “Shawty had to have put a spell on me..” you mumble, dishing out yet another round of drinks to the loud men crowding your bar. You recognized a few of them from Toji’s little gang— Gojo and Getou being the most familiar.

“Yo Y/n, don’t forget about me when you’re finally done with Toji” Gojo called out as you placed his drink in front of him with a raised brow. “Now what if he heard you saying that? Better calm yourself” you shoot back, dapping Getou up as you both laughed at the way Gojo’s face dropped.

As if he was summoned by the mention of his name, Toji walked in, immediately dapping up what felt like the entire building before ending at the boys sitting at the bar. “Y’all better not have my sweetheart working too hard” he warned playfully, a wink being given to you. Already having his regular ready, you slid it in front of him with a chuckle— “i’m always workin’ too hard”.

“You wouldn’t have to if you took up my offer.”

Yeah yeah it is true that Toji has offered countless times to take care of you until death but, you didn’t want to owe him one thing. Plus, no one knew how to run this joint like you did.. at least that's what you told him each time he offered.

Closing time came and a tipsy Getou carried out a plastered Gojo screaming out a “be safe!” for good measure. “Will do!” you call out, eyes landing on Toji who was cleaning off the tables with a hum. “I’m gonna help you , Y/n” he said without looking your way, almost as if he was reading your mind. Beginning to give rebuttal, you decide to not stir the pot and simply clean up your personal work area.

About an hour later, you both were heading to your vehicles as always. Before you could get into your car, Toji grabbed your arm— forcing you to look at him. “Ready to tell me what’s up?” he questioned, voice hushed.

“What’s up?” you shoot back, choosing to stay in ignorance. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek in slight annoyance— “yeah. You’ve been actin’ strange. Won’t look me in the eye.. stopped sharing your location”. His tone held a certain worry to it.

As much as you hate to admit it— you loved that he cared enough to question it.

Breathing out, a hand comes up to fiddle your hair as you speak— “I feel like we’re getting too serious and.. I know that wasn’t our plan so.. yeah.”. Toji stood there for a moment, taking in your words. “Y/n.. you gotta communicate that with me. I cherish you more than I do us being sexual.” His hand caressed your cheek, the rough, calloused texture feeling comforting. It traveled to grip your chin, directing your head to tilt up at him.

“You’ll have to kill me to get rid of me.”

Those words replayed in your head all the way home, in the shower and even whilst you made yourself dinner. Realizing you could not even begin to focus— you finally pick up your phone to message him.

“I got more of those chips you like.”

It felt like an eternity before you heard your phone vibrate.

“gimme 10.”

[legoshi-plz]

Pretenses Part Five (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince! Louis x Canine!Dog! Reader.

Warning: NSFW (+18)

Despite Louis’ outwardly composed nature, inside he was in full blown panic mode.

He had just finished up yet another uneventful dinner with his father and his future bride; now it was time to return to his chambers. His chambers he hadn’t been in since this morning. His chambers where he was currently holding you hostage.

Louis stood in front of his door for who knows how long before finally opening it with great hesitation, preparing himself for your angry, perhaps even violent response. Instead he was greeted with.... silence. You were on the bed where he’d left you, sound asleep.

Louis couldn’t help the relieved flutter of his tail at the sight of your sleeping form.

You had curled under the covers, probably to keep warm in the cold air of his chambers, your form rising and falling peacefully as you snoozed. Louis approached you slowly, checking to make sure you were actually asleep before his hands flew to throw off his royal regalia.

Once free from the confines of his complex uniform, he was under the covers immediately. Bringing your snoozing figure into his arms. You didn’t move a muscle; it was evident you were a heavy sleeper. Louis already knew this from his time watching you as you took your midday naps in his chambers but he didn’t know it was to such a great extent. He shifted so that he could lay his head on your chest, arms encircling your waist. He listened to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, his breathing slowing down to match your own.

He was asleep in minutes.

////////

You awoke to a weight on your chest and the smell of Louis’ cologne surrounding you. When you opened your eyes, the brightness assaulted your vision, making you attempt to turn away but that attempt was futile.

The Prince, who definitely wasn’t there when you fell asleep yesterday, was laying directly on top of you with his head on your chest, arms in a deadlock around your waist. You were caged beneath him, his weight pinning you down. You contemplated screaming bloody murder, hoping you could shock him into letting you go and make a run for it but decided against it. You doubted he’d remember to lock the door behind him, that could possibly be an opportunity for you to escape. You slowly began trying to pull his long arms from you when you felt his grip tighten.

“Don’t even think about it,” Louis mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck.

“My liege, please stop this indecency. As rightful heir to the thrown, a lowly maid such as myself would only sully-

“How long did you practice that one? Is that what you were doing yesterday while I was gone? Rehearsing pleas so I’d let you go?” Louis chuckled, finally opening his eyes. Sleepy amber orbs met your own irises and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his brown eyes looked in the morning sun. They didn’t reflect the light but instead nearly consumed it, a complete contrast to the brown of his fur.

“You must be hungry? You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, if that. I’ll call the kitchen and have them bring us something up. Breakfast in bed doesn’t sound too bad,” Louis bit his lip as his eyes drank in your form beneath him. He definitely looked hungry, yet for something other than food; his eyes were burning with barely contained lust.

“I-I have to go, my Prince. I have to perform my duties in the kitch-AH,” you were cut off when Louis sat up and brought you with him as he pulled you onto his lap to straddle him. You felt your fur prickle with embarrassment as you realized not only was he shirtless, but he also seemed to be only in his underwear, the dark blue embroided material providing a very thin barrier to the Prince’s most precious asset.

“What about your duties to me?” Louis hummed, rubbing his hands up and down the fur of your outter thighs. The top of your uniform was still very much ripped open, so you brought your arms up to cover yourself, the blankets you’d been curled under no longer providing you coverage.

“Ah ah ah, you should know better than to hide yourself from me,” Louis hummed, prying your arms from your chest. He leaned forward, his mouth capturing once of your hardened nipples. The feeling of his hot tongue on your sensitive peak sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Pr-pr-princeee, pleaaaase,” you moaned lightly, your voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.

Louis ignored you, instead moving to the other peak while his hands found themselves back at your plush hips. He rocked upwards into you, his hard member making its presence know.

“Take these off,” Louis mumbled against your areola, tugging at your panties. When you hesitated, he simply sighed before ripping them off himself.

“My Pri-

“Shut up,” Louis groaned against your chest, the vibrations further stimulating your raised peak. Louis plunged his fingers into your arching cavern just as he had the day before. You felt your head swirl in embarrassment and arousal, the two emotions battling for dominance.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve desired you?” Louis asked, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw. His eyes burned with such passion for you, it was hard to not look away.

“That’s it, ride my hand. Just like that,” Louis grunted and you hadn’t even noticed your pelvis had begun grinding into his hand to meet the thrusts of his fingers. Your body was moving completely on its own, anything to help relieve the pressure growing in your lower belly.

Suddenly, Louis ceased his movements, lifting you up slightly with one hand while he pulled his underwear down with the other. His member sprang to life, resting against his abdomen as it stood glistening with precum. Being a stag and royalty, it was natural to assume he’d be well-endowed but nothing could have prepared you for the vision that was his impressive length.

He took your hands in his own larger ones and wrapped them around his weeping shaft. He let out a soft “fuck...” as he guided your hands up and down. He let go once you found your own rhythm, no longer needing his assistance for such a simple act.

“You’re so good at this- too good, actually. Did you touch Azuki’s mutt like this? Huh?” Louis asked breathlessly, his death grip returning to your thighs.

“I already told you yesterday, we aren’t like... that...” you grumbled, swiping your fingers over his sensitive cockhead, causing a needy groan to tear from his throat.

“Then what were you two like? You were already letting that filthy mongrel close enough to scent you, it’d be nothing for you to get on your knees for him.” Louis said angrily and you suddenly remembered exactly where you were and, more importantly, who you were with.

No amount of pretty words and declarations of desire were going to keep Louis’ true nature at bay for long. He was vile and malicious at heart. You knew this. He’d proven it to you time and time again. So when was it finally going to register in your dumb little brain?

You released his cock immediately, and climbed off his lap and out of his bed. You headed straight for the door but Louis was faster, grabbing and pinning you against the very door you’d been trying to exit from.

“Why do you keep running away from me? Can’t you see what I’m trying to do here?” Louis groaned into the nape of your neck. It sent shivers down your spine and you resisted the urge to arch into him.

“You’re trying to control me, to manipulate me”

“I’m trying to love you.” Louis craned his head back to look into your eyes. He saw no warmth in them.

“You have a peculiar way of expressing your ‘love’, my lord,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Annnnd we’re back to the incorrect formalities. Every time I feel we’ve taken one step forward, you move three spaces back. Why do you insist on fighting me so? I know you feel it, I can’t be imagining this attraction between us,” Louis finished, the grip on you wrists that previously had you pinned against the door now residing so that he could caress your forearms with the pads of his thumbs.

“I fight it because I know my place. I’m a dog, your highness. Lower than any other Herbivore commoner, and amongst the unfavorable even within Carnivore spaces. Most of the animals around here think I should be banished for even working within the castle during the day, let alone catering to you.”

“Their opinions don’t matter, they have no authority here-”

“It does matter, your highness. Because once your infatuation with me ceases, which is inevitable, you will return to your fiancé, marry her, be crowned King, and produce heirs. And all I’ll have is my life as a lowly commoner. That’s the natural order of things.” You lamented, your voice feeling thick with emotion.

“So what, you believe your future is with Azuki’s guard dog? Popping out litter after litter for him until you die? That’s no way to live, he can’t commit to you. His life already belongs to another woman and that’s Azuki.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’m fully aware of the hold our future Queen has over him. I’m just grateful for every moment he chooses to share with me. Makes my life a little less lonely...,”

“I could make your life less lonely! I could do that for you, better than he ever could!” Louis was slightly begging now, he could hear it in his own voice but he was beyond the point of caring.

“Don’t you see I feel my loneliest when I’m with you? All you’ve ever made me feel was small, and stupid, and unworthy. Legoshi doesn’t point out how I misuse words just to remind me of how uneducated I am. He doesn’t point out how unrefined my taste pallet is or force me to eat food outside of the carnivore diet. He doesn’t drag me out of bed at night to look at some stupid star a million miles away on some balcony when I’m afraid of heights. He doesn’t tell me where I can and can’t go, who I can and can’t see, just because he felt like it. He doesn’t humiliate me every chance he gets! He doesn’t boss me around just because he can!” There were hot tears streaming down your face. You had been holding this in for a long time.

“I see...,” Louis said finally breaking the silence. He released you from his grasp and took a step back. He adjusted himself, tucking his forgotten member fully back into his underwear. Though he had a beautiful body envious to those of Gods, he seemed almost shy about his lack of clothing now.

He glanced at your tattered uniform before muttering a “wait here... please...”, and walking towards one of the humongous wardrobes in his room. He pulled out a pristine, new uniform and walked back over to hand it to you.

“I kept a lot of these on hand, in case you ever wanted.... a more comfortable bed to lay your head at night...” Louis’s voice had never seemed so clouded. You silently accepted the uniform.

“You have my deepest apologies for my behavior. Such veracity was never my intention. I hereby relieve you of all obligation to me. You may return to the kitchen or to the gardens or to somewhere new if you like. Whereever you choose to go is fine, I’ll notify Stallworth of my approval. I...” Louis hesitated, finally bringing his eyes up yours.

“You’re free to go.”

/////////

A/N: I finally know how I want this story to end so hopefully they’ll only be two more parts for this series and it’ll reach it’s completion! Also thank you all again for 1K!

[viridescent-din]

Relax

Summary: Din comes back to the Crest exhausted and touch starved, and you’re there to help him.

Or, you commit to giving The Mandalorian the best blowjob of his life.

Smut, 18+

This is my first Din/reader fic. Let me know what you think!

~

When the Mandalorian gets back to the Crest, you know he’s in need of attention.

His head is held low - as low as he’d let it hang, at least, and you can practically see the tension in his shoulders. He pauses, watching you silently as you look at your reflection in the visor of his helmet. He turns, wordlessly leading the latest quarry to the carbonite chamber. His cape is dirty, you notice, when he walks past, but not dirty enough that he’ll insist on taking a shower. Good, you think. Less time apart. 

The little green baby you’ve come to love just as much as Mando coos in your arms, and you blink. The little guy was on the verge of falling to sleep when the Mandalorian walked in. You press a kiss to the top of his hairy head, then climb into the cockpit to place him gently in his pram. 

You wait until the baby falls asleep. His tiny hand is holding your finger when he does, and you smile, then gently tug it away. You glance at him one last time before climbing back up the ladder to join Din.

He’s waiting for you in the pilot seat. You approach him as quietly as you can, though you aren’t sure why. This thing - this routine - isn’t different from any other day. 

Well, sort of.

You just get the feeling Din needs you right now, more than usual. He tilts his head to the side, and his legs fall open just a bit as you make your way over to him. It really was crazy how expressive he could be through all that beskar. Or maybe only you noticed it. 

You were the only one who could read him. 

You kneel, wedging yourself between Mando’s legs. You place your hands on top of his knees, and let out a small breath. 

“How was your day?” You ask. The Mandalorian stares down at you, then reaches out and cups your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment when leather travels your face as he traces your cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Fine,” he says, in the modulated voice you’re all too familiar with. You stare at him intently, leaning forward as much as the space will allow. Your breasts brush against one of Mando’s knees when you breathe in, and your hands begin to travel up his muscled thighs. 

“Yeah?” You blink. Mando pulls his hand away, tugging off both his gloves and letting them fall to the floor. He returns his hand then, calloused fingers tracing the curve of your lips, the arch of your eyebrows, the slope of your nose. They map out your facial features, the same way you do to him in the safety of the dark. Between you and Din, touch was a form of seeing.

“Better - better now that I’m back,” he says, voice sounding somewhat strained. You catch his palm in a slow kiss, trailing your mouth up the inside of his wrist until you hit his sleeve. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is always is.” You start to knead his thighs, and the Mandalorian’s head tips back. You bite your lip. “Is... Is there any way I can help?”

You can tell he’s staring at you through his helmet. “You always help,” he responds. You give him a sad smile. “But...” Mando continues. You perk up. “You can, um, you can always give me a kiss.”

Your hand got wrapped up in the Mandalorian’s somehow during all of this. The corners of your mouth turn up as you give it a squeeze. 

“Where?” You ask innocently, knowing damn well what Mando is asking for. He scoffs at you, but there’s nothing more than teasing behind the sound as he leads your palm up, up, up-

And then you’re cupping his cock. 

He completely hard in your hand, and you won’t lie, it catches you by surprise. This can’t be from just the last couple moments - Din has to have been at least a little bit worked up all day, out there alone and needing attention. 

It made your stomach curl, if you thought about the loneliness Din has to have been facing for all these years. You didn’t like to think about it. You did your best not to. 

It’s for this reason you waste no time, carefully taking Din out of his pants Your heart speeds up a bit when you see him, because no matter how many times you and Din did anything, you never got used to this. 

His cock is thick and throbbing in your hand. A drop of precome is running down his shaft, and you lean forward to catch it on your tongue. Din moans when you do, and his hand finds its way to your hair and grips it. You relish the sting for a second, then fulfill his request and press a kiss to the head, flicking your tongue over the slit.  The way Din’s breath catches makes heat pool in your core, and your can already feel your underwear is soaked.

Before Din, you never really liked to... look. You were fine to give and take pleasure, but at your partner’s erections just didn’t appeal to you.

With Din, though, it was different. The mere sight of his cock, clothed or not, made your mouth water. He was gorgeous, you had decided, and no one was going to change your mind. He was thick and powerful. Din’s length was one shade darker than the rest of his body, the body you practically worshipped. You had spent many nights kissing Din from his chest all the way down, until his hidden curls tickled your nose and your lips soon reached the place he really wanted them. Of course, he was more than willing to return the favor. 

You notice you’re staring, and swallowing, you slowly draw away. Din gives your head a slight push, hips snapping just a tiny bit in protest. You throw him a reassuring look, and when you begin to draw your shirt over your head, he understands.

You toss your shirt to the side, your nipples hardening. Din reaches out as you settle back down, and rolls a nipple between his thumb and finger. He reaches up, and you lick his thumb to wet it as he returns his attentions and rubs slow and tantalizing circles over both your nipples. You let out a small whimper, and Din’s cock twitches. 

When he finally leans back, leaving your breaths erratic and your vision somewhat hazy, you place your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. You turn your gaze to the cold, hard beskar one more time, then duck your head and take in as much of Din as you can.

You moan around him as soon as his cock is on your tongue. Elation overwhelms your senses when you recognize the taste of him, because it means you’ve done this before, and Din keeps coming back for more. Enough times, in fact, that you’ve picked up on some of the things he likes, and you put that knowledge to use. You reach forward, cup his balls in your palm and giving them a small but sharp tug. Din hisses, and the sound goes straight to your head, because you caused it. 

You pull back to catch your breath, tracing a vein and feeling Din shudder. Your mouth is attached again in an instant, surrounding him with as much warmth  as you can. You take him deeper than before, using your hands to make up for where you can’t reach.

“Fuck, you’re so,” Din curses, his hand beginning to guide you from the top of your head. You press your breasts together with your biceps, pushing them up to give Din a better visual. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re so pretty. You look so good on your knees, soft lips around my cock. You’re so- so soft. Pretty girl,” Mando always got like this, when you scratched just the right itch. You loved it, and he knew that. His dirty talk spurs you on, and you bob your head deeper and deeper until you feel Din on the back of your throat. He’s panting now, gripping your hair and cursing. You just take him further and further, humming around him and loving the reaction it gets. 

The Mandalorian’s name, Din’s name, is the perfect one to moan around a cock, and you do, drawing out the syllable as coherently as you can. Din’s hips buck.

“I’m going to cum,” he warns you, and you don’t pull away. You moan again, then again, taking him so deep you’re afraid you’ll mess this up. But you don’t, and suddenly Din is coming, spilling his seed down your throat. You swallow it down greedily, not letting a drop go to waste before you lean back. The sound your mouth makes when you release his length is obscene, but Din doesn’t seem to care. He sits back in his chair, his spent cock laying between his legs and helmet leaning against the headrest. From this angle, you can see a strip of skin. His neck. Despite the fact the air hasn’t seemed to have returned to your lungs, you want to lick it. Touch it. 

It was attention, really. You craved it, and you wanted to give it away.

Din is putting himself away when he reaches towards you, beckoning for you to join him on the chair. You drag yourself up, thankful you have him to collapse onto.

Your back is pressed against Din’s chest, and relax slightly.

“Don’t turn around,” you hear, and then Din shifts. You listen, you always listen to Din.

You see his helmet as it’s set down next to the pilot’s chair. You mewl, knowing the amount of trust that went into the simple act. Simple, not easy.

Din lifts up your hair, pressing a searing and languid kiss to the nape of your neck. You moan, the sound echoing off the walls as you memorize this. The soft lips, the prickly stubble. It’s always on the back of your mind.

“Thank you,” you head Din say in his real and unadulterated voice. Another kiss. “Thank You.”

[bastillia]

Innocuous (NSFW)

Read on Ao3

Summary: You’re a medical officer aboard the Steadfast, and you’ve found yourself caring for a gravely injured Kylo Ren. He seems to require some unconventional treatment.

Rating: Extremely Explicit

Words: 7.5k

Content warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of injury, wound/bloodplay, burnplay, oral bloodplay, oral sex (f recieving), orgasm denial/delay, choking, inappropriate use of the Force (and of a medical device oops), rough sex, extremely minimal aftercare, Kylo Ren is a nasty fucking boy, LISTEN this gets a lil dark ok, so just please consider before clicking ok tysm

A/N: I scrapped and restarted this whole thing at least twice, but we finally got there my friends. Is this over the top? Maybe. Do I have a single regret? No. Please heed the content warnings, you may have a bad day if you don’t. This is pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy!

Strips of fluorescent light ribbed the vacant hall, white beams streaking reflections across the glossy black floor like a frozen lane of hyperspace as the urgent click of your boots perturbed the calm. The corridors of the Steadfast were all but barren this time of cycle, only disturbed by the occasional patrol of noc shift troopers trudging mechanically in unison. Devoid of the usual bustle of footsteps and orders, the static hum from the ship’s walls washed the air with a bassy din of ambient noise that might be calming, were your heartbeat not adding an anxious percussion to the silence.

You really had no reason to be awake, you should have taken your sleeping aid hours ago, but the endless scroll of patient files on your datapad had kept you up just long enough to see the alarm flash. Hardly a momentary blip, but the peculiarity of it was what propelled you from your quarters and heated your step with urgency now. Medical Bay: Intake - Officer’s Ward, it had flashed, and then disappeared just as quickly.

Tapping the access pad that led to the sequestered corridor, you waited for the door to slide open and slipped through. Needles crawled up your spine as your gaze shifted around the familiar yet eerily still hallway, which was making you nervous now for absolutely no reason. Each private room should be empty, you knew you hadn’t checked any officers in for overnight care, and you could recite your inpatient registry as if it were etched into the backs of your eyelids. Droids didn’t typically throw faulty alarms -- maybe your eyes had simply deceived you after a long and fucking exhausting day of post-mission damage control in the med bay. Echoes of that exhaustion now placed a terror within each shadowed room that you passed, something that your brain was convinced would surely jump out at you.

You stopped dead as you reached the final door, half-hoping this one was your imagination. He was still. Too still. Limbs sprawling over the edges of the cot, with haphazard bandages crossing his bare torso aimlessly. They were visibly soaked through with blood, contrasting the blanched sheen of sweat-drenched skin, a black mop of hair askew over the pillow.

A violent spike of dread lanced down your spine. You darted into the room, your medical instincts hot-starting and roaring in your eardrums as you alighted upon him with gentle precision. Two fingers flashed to the pulse point at his neck, depressing the slick, hot skin there as your frantic eyes fell to the broad rise of his chest. Pulse. Breathing. Both too shallow and fast, but present, thank the stars.

You released the held breath that was starting to burn your lungs. The alarm. What had sent it? You glanced around. Monitor wires lay scattered over the floor around the metal feet of the bed, not a single one connected. A fizzling noise behind you nearly snapped your neck as you whipped around. A nurse droid lay lifeless, crumpled and sparking against the far wall.

Oh.

You turned slowly back to the unconscious Supreme Leader, fear trickling coldly down your veins in a moment of consideration. He’d wanted to be alone.

Your mind suddenly supplied you with an image of yourself in place of the droid, bones crunched like scrap metal against the wall, eyes glazed, life flickering and dying in the fried wires of your veins. How easy it would be -- effortless, even -- For him to crush the life out of you with little more than a flick of his wrist. How… maybe that knowledge made you tingle, just a little.

You derailed that train of thought with a sharp shake of your head as your eyes flicked across his battered torso and up the column of his neck, settling on the tranquility of his face. Bruised and bloody as it was, he looked… peaceful. Freckles and moles dusting his skin like starry kisses to soothe the ache of battle. His features, always chiseled from the sternest isoform of marble, now softened in sleep. Suspended in a paradoxical state of youthful serenity even as his body worked in overdrive just to tether him to life. He was… just a man. And he was absolutely beautiful.

Maybe you stared at him, just a little longer than you should, before committing to your courage and snatching an antiseptic cloth. If one of you was going to die, at least you were the more replaceable option. And this was what you’d signed up for, wasn’t it? To serve the First Order, even perhaps at the expense of your life. For… the greater good, or something. Yeah. Higher purpose and all that. You were a good medic, and good medics were selfless. It definitely wasn’t because you, perhaps, didn’t mind entertaining the thought of those large hands around your neck, squeezing...

Fucking focus.

Expertly, delicately, you began to peel back the blood-soaked evidence of his attempt to self-bandage, baring the flesh of his torso. Stars, he was magnificent. Glistening skin lay taut over lean muscle, a finely-tuned war machine sculpted by years of hard training, evident even in the depths of sleep. The subtle ripple of his muscles expanding and contracting with each breath spread that insistent tingle through your lower belly as you meticulously swiped the blood and sweat from his body.

Your hands danced to the pace of your heartbeat. Quick and steady, as you tossed the cloth and fitted a needle onto a syringe tip. A light pinch of his skin here, so that he wouldn't feel the prick of the shot there. Pure habit, not that a small needle stick would hold a candle to his injuries in terms of pain. But you didn’t really want him waking up just yet. You pushed the plunger down to administer a microdose of bacta. Just enough to hotwire the healing process, without dulling sensation.

You'd mused privately to yourself on more than one occasion, that you thought he liked to feel the pain. Whether it was a show of control, or an exercise in self-punishment, you couldn’t say. But you'd learned early on, working here, never to bring a pain suppressant around the former Commander.

Maybe no one else had ever picked up on that, because it seemed you were the only person he ever allowed near him with a bandage. You didn't mind. Nor did you mind the way his eyes always followed you quietly as you worked, as you'd gently cleanse his wounds from the battles and conquests that he fearlessly led as the new Supreme Leader of the First Order. You certainly liked him better than the last one. You thought maybe Ren even liked the way your fingers would subtly worship his figure with every quiet and efficient pass of gauze. Maybe he knew where those fingers ended up later. Sick bastard. A smirk tugged the corner of your lip.

His arm was hanging over the edge of the cot, a cautery pen still held loosely in his bloodied fingers. You sighed, removing the device, and picked his arm up to lay it neatly by his side. The weight of it caught your breath in your chest, the solid and heavy cord of muscle dwarfing your hands.

You quickly shook away the distraction, seating yourself on the bedside stool and turning to your most immediate concern: The deep, ripped laceration that bled from his lower abdomen. Vibroblade, you’d wager. It was oozing around the half-cauterized flesh, ugly and red from where he'd clearly begun to try and solder himself shut. You gently placed the cauterizer on the bedside stand. A crude tactic, and not one you would settle for, you decided as you retrieved a sterile suture pouch instead. Preparing another antiseptic cloth and gauze for the blood, you hovered back over the wound.

A realization started to echo along the tunnel of your focus, and the walls crashed away with a thump of your heart as you stared at Ren's flank beneath you, where his breathing had notably deepened and steadied. Your hands froze as your eyes shifted up the planes of his torso, cold spines gouging your chest as you reached his face. His eyes were open, fixed calmly upon your own stare, a flush restored to his full, pouted lips. Ice shattered in your veins.

"S-supreme Leader, I-” You dropped your materials onto the mattress, “You- you want to b-be alone, I'll j-just-" you were stammering, pushing your seat back, brain vibrating with panic. This was it. You escaped now, or you were joining the droid.

You made it about halfway to standing when a hand cinched on your wrist, arresting your movement. Your breath halted as you snapped back around, your heartbeat slamming in your throat.

Something boiled up behind his irises then, trapped so fiercely under the tempered surface of his eyes that his jaw locked tight and his chin quivered slightly with the strain of it. Your brain began to scramble. The look held an unmistakable need, a plea that said, so deafening in its silence, Stay.

You carefully held his gaze as you began to sink back down onto the small seat beside the bed. Your hand was trembling under his grip, every drop of air evaporating in your lungs as his pleading eyes burned through you. You slowly let yourself sit until your weight rested fully on the stool again.

Ren’s body slackened, releasing the air back into the room, and his head dropped back onto the thin pillow in a flutter of raven locks. His eyes drifted shut as a breath rolled through his nose and deep into his chest.

His grip had eased around your wrist, enough for your brain to now register the pleasant warmth of his enormous hand as it softly enveloped the lower part of your forearm. The sensation dumbfounded you for a moment as you stared between your arm and your Supreme Leader's face. The muscles in his brow twitched over his closed eyes as several more controlled breaths seemed to forcibly banish something from his body.

You came back to yourself as a trickle of dark blood drew your gaze back down to his abdomen, where it painted a river over bruised flesh before falling down his side to soak crimson sunbursts into the white sheet. You cautiously twisted your wrist free, and he let his hand drop softly back to the sheet without resistance. Hesitantly, you ran a hand across his skin, next to the gaping wound, inspecting the separated flesh. Firm muscles bunched under your touch, tugging at the ragged edges and inspiring another pulse of fresh red. You studied his face as his lashes lifted open again to meet your eyes. It took you a moment to find your breath.

"I... need to close this," you breathed, tracing a featherlight and completely instinctive touch of reassurance over his intact skin near the wound. He chewed the inside of his lip.

"Do it."

Your belly fluttered at the low command, his eyes never wavering from your gaze. You swallowed. Standing slowly to bend over his abdomen, you studied the open section of the wound. The edges were relatively clean, and it didn't look like the blade had made it deep enough to hit anything vital. The bleeding was nasty though, despite your meticulous cleaning job. His skin here would naturally be taut over firm abdominal muscles, a high tension area, you noted. You’d need to place dermal sutures if you wanted them to hold. Your brow knitted in preemptive sympathy.

“This is going to hurt.” You muttered.

Well, perhaps that was obvious. But stitching up conscious patients was not exactly your area of expertise, so maybe in a way, you were preparing yourself more than him. You were surprised at how well you managed to withhold the tremor from your hands as you quickly cleaned the wound again. It steeled your resolve slightly.

You tossed the soaked gauze, and plucked a curved needle and sinewy thread from the sterile bag. You readied your hand over the cleansed wound and flashed your gaze up to Kylo Ren’s eyes, waiting for... well, you didn’t know. Any kind of final approval or declination, maybe. He said nothing, but his eyes burned you steadily as his jaw locked in place, making the tightness in your chest flutter and twist. Swallowing, you turned back to the half-closed gash. You quickly threaded the first set-back stitch with nimble precision, and tugged the edges closed.

Ren’s muscles locked up with a full-body grunt, and a broad hand shot up from where it lay on the bed to grip the inside curve of your thigh. A jolt leapt through your body, setting your heart at a wild pace. Surely that was just a reflex. Surely he would let go. Blinking, you tried to find the voice in your chest.

"You… you have to r-relax." It came out more breathless than you intended as you fumbled only slightly with tying and cutting the thread. You paused to steady yourself, ignoring how warm your skin felt under his hand. A deep breath rolled through the Supreme Leader, and to your utmost shock, his core slackened obediently.

His hand did not leave your thigh. You took a breath and forced yourself to continue, fingers curling to pierce and thread the next suture through the tender, deep layer of skin. A lower, longer vibration left Ren’s nose as his large fingers gripped tighter into the soft pillow of your flesh. Your breath came shallow as your brain ignited, trying not to file that noise away under the category of pleasure. No. Stop that. You refused to indulge the thought, or the warmth that it shot through your lower body, as you refocused on your work.

You fixed your eyes firmly on your target, not letting yourself meet his gaze again. The next few sutures were accompanied by sounds from Ren that you diligently ignored. If you acknowledged what they sounded like, your focus would be obliterated. It already half was. But the growing hum at the apex of your thighs could not be indulged, could not break your concentration, even if it was just above where his hand… Oh.

Oh.

His thumb traced the slowest line along the crease of your groin.

It was impossible not to notice the stiffness that was beginning to tent his pants, close to where your face hovered over his lower abdomen. A shiver caressed your spine at the sight, as all of the heat in your body began to gravitate to the heartbeat in your cunt. You swallowed thickly. Stars help you, the sight of him. Supreme Leader Kylo fucking Ren, laying underneath you, his cock getting hard as you caused him excruciating pain. And you… you fucking... liked it.

His hand shifted then, sliding upwards to press a single, precise stroke along the concealed line of your heat. “Oh-” The soft moan came unwillingly from the bottom of your chest, and you braced one hand out on the mattress as your knees turned to liquid. Your body responded so automatically that it made your head spin, your thighs shifting wider, inviting his touch. You could have passed out when he curled his hand to pet another slow stripe over your clothed slit. 

Panting now, you lifted a pleading stare to meet his eyes. They were hooded black vats of desire, and your heart dropped right through your cervix as they drank you in. Your face tingled hot. Your brain wobbled along the line between finishing your task, and the primal need that was erupting through your belly. Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

“Supreme Le-”

"Off." He interrupted lowly, pinching at the fabric of your pants. You weren't sure why you obeyed so fucking immediately, but before you could think, your thumbs were hooking into your waistband, and then you were stepping out of your boots, trousers, and underwear, kicking them carelessly across the floor. The tails of your white coat tickled your exposed skin as you positioned yourself back over his wound, wet cunt bared and leaking down your thighs. Cheeks burning with a heat that reached all the way down to your chest, you pointedly avoided his eyes. You tried to steady your hands, and you swore you could feel his gaze stoking a wildfire at your core. You swallowed, staring detachedly at your fingers.

No, the medic instinct in you wouldn’t allow you to leave your work half finished. If you had the wherewithal to think about it, you might have concluded that he knew this, but that didn’t mean he would hold back in making it as difficult as possible for you now that you were, well, in this state. Taking a breath, you threaded another stitch. This time he shamelessly groaned, and his fingers slipped easily through the silky heat of your slit. You gasped, almost doubling over again as you tied off the suture.

You finally looked at him. His nostrils were flared and his throat bobbed, as he watched his own long fingers collect the wetness that leaked from your core. Pleasure and shame waged war across your skin, and your knees went weak as he met your eyes again.

“Keep going,” he stated calmly, gesturing with only his eyes towards the wound that was now nearly shut.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eliciting a hiss of breath from the Supreme Leader as his fingers passed in a slow arc around the top of your stiff clit.

How you managed it, you had no idea, but in very little time you were looping the last thread over itself, tightening it, and cutting. You blinked, looking back along the neat line of sutures as Ren continued idly stroking at your slit, sending shocks down to your toes.

“D-done.” You stammered as you shuffled your supplies together and started to step back.

With a flash of rippling muscle, Ren sat up and captured the back of your neck, pulling you in just inches from the strong curve of his nose. Your materials clattered to the floor as your legs nearly buckled from the sudden weight of his proximity, his gaze pitching you in an inky black tide of lust.

“Gentle little thing,” he pondered, running a thumb under your jaw. Your lungs simply didn’t function any more, you decided, as heat chased the air from the bottom of your bronchioles and out into the space between you. “I’ve wondered about you.”

Your voice hiccuped dumbly in your chest. “Ab-bout me, S-supreme Lead- oh.” Your question hung unfinished from your slack jaw as the pad of his finger shifted wetly across your clit, shooting a liquid flame up your spine that burst in your brain.

“Mm,” he supplied in acknowledgement, his lust-blackened gaze all but swallowing you whole. “Such a pretty thing...” Heat flowered in your cheeks again. “So unassuming.” He slid two fingers down your slick folds towards your entrance, and the delicate stem of a whimper crawled from your throat.

“You want to let go.” He stated in a deep, near-whisper. “Don’t lie to yourself, officer, I can feel your need for it.” You shuddered. Absolutely you wanted to let go. You wanted to do a lot of things, but mostly anything that would elicit those sounds that he was making before, while you punctured his dermis with a curved fucking needle.

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Your voice seemed far away in your own ears.

The hand around the back of your neck curled slowly until it tightened into the hair follicles at your nape, and the pinpricks sent a thrilling voltage through your nerves that made you gasp.

"Just as I thought," he hummed, the smallest hint at a smirk twitching on the corner of his mouth. “Your desires are far from innocuous.” The lust that thickened his voice had you clenching.

He held your hair tightly, the pain scraping down your spine and feeding heat into the coiling, writhing need that hummed above your thighs. He began to lean back and pull you with him, until you had to shuffle your knee onto the mattress to keep from falling. His hand abandoned the wet heat between your legs, and a solid arm slid impatiently around your waist instead, pulling your hips firmly over him until you straddled his lap on the generous cot.

The feeling of his clothed, straining cock nestling against your folds chased a whine over your lips, and Ren caught it in its tracks, drinking down the sound as his plush lips claimed your open mouth. Fire exploded through your body and your hands flew to his chest, sliding up over hot, bruised skin until your nails were dragging up his neck and into the inky softness of his hair. A deep growl quaked in his chest and his tongue slid greedily across the roof of your mouth, coaxing your jaw wider for him.

You felt his hands slide to grasp the lapels of your coat and yank them over your shoulders. With a thrill of excitement, you threw your arms back to allow him to shuck the garment roughly from your body. Your shirt followed over your head, forcing you to surface from the depths of the kiss with a vulgar wet sound. The second you were free, his massive hand trapped your wrists behind your back, and you gasped at the sudden feeling of immobility. Kylo Ren pinned you under his dark gaze, pulling your arms to arch your back and press your tits up towards him, his eyes devouring the bareness of you that he displayed for himself.

Then he lunged. His hot mouth latched into your neck and worked down to your chest, his strong grip arching you further until his lips pursed around your pebbled nipple. Your jaw fell open in a gasp as he slid his tongue across the bud and drew it between his teeth, pinching just hard enough to leave it aching, and mirrored the action on your other breast. He hummed as he moved back up to lick wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, sliding along your skin until you felt hot breath flood the sensitive hollow of your ear.

“I wonder how you taste, pretty thing.”

The sound that left you was fucking obscene, his words dissolving every bone in your body. You instinctually ground down on his swollen cock, seeking pressure lest your cunt actually rupture with need.

He began to lay back, his hands releasing your wrists, and your strained muscles flooded with relief. Clutching your thighs, he pulled your hips insistently to follow his face back to the head of the cot. A nervous tremor wracked you as he guided your thighs over his shoulders, the realization crashing over you all at once. You were about to sit on the face of the most dangerous man in the fucking galaxy. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose to your mons, inhaling deeply and releasing a growling moan that vibrated right up your body.

A deep magenta bruise flowered his temple and cheekbone, decorating the seam where the flesh of your thigh now ended and his face began. Your core clenched in anxious anticipation, and he turned his face to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your thigh. Remnants of fear were still paralyzing your chest, but the bolt of pain that flashed up your body pierced through it and into your brain for a moment of blissful clarity. You moaned as you suddenly registered just how much pulsing heat was settling inside your walls, aching now to be soothed by his tongue. He ran his hands down your sides and gripped your hips, and he leveled a dark look up at you that liquefied your bones.

"Please…" you began to whisper.

In a flash, he took your hands and pinned them to the small of your back, then thrust his warm, flat tongue against your cunt with a low groan. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he licked a wide stroke up the length of your slit, parting your folds and dragging the flat of his tongue across your swollen nub. Tingling pleasure erupted through your lower body, the feeling of him warm and divine and utterly unbelievable. He moved slowly, almost lazily, lost in the taste and scent of you as he began to work that beautiful mouth over every inch of your cunt.

You shifted your hips in desperation, trying to ride his face and gain more friction on the ache that was coiling in your clit, but he locked your arms up roughly, immobilizing you with one of his huge hands around both of your wrists. You whined and he resumed his torturous pace, lapping at you indulgently, rolling his nose across your clit, building a hot pressure in your core that cried painfully for release.

When his lips finally pursed around your bud, his tongue sliding across it in a way that shot light behind your retinas, it was enough to send you reeling. “Oh, fuck-” you groaned as you felt your orgasm start to pull up tight and hot, your body desperately grasping at its relief.  But then it was plateauing, ebbing, as he slowed and slid his silky tongue away from that epicenter of pleasure.

“No, pl-please, please--” you wailed as you felt your impending orgasm slip away down your spine.

Ignoring you, Ren closed his eyes and swallowed with a grunt, sucking down the arousal that had gushed from your entrance, and you felt it travel through his whole body as he went rigid. He shuddered in consummate pleasure then, and your brain suddenly shifted from grieving your denied orgasm to wondering where his other hand might be. You imagined it wrapped around his own cock, and the thought tightened heat around your spine.

You craned a glance over your shoulder, but the sight that met you paralyzed your brain. His cock was free of his trousers, beautifully hard and leaking a bead of precum onto his stomach, untouched. His fingers were instead plunged into the neat line of sutures that studded his low abdomen, fresh crimson welling around his pressure-whitened fingertips as his body trembled. A protest shot instinctively through your chest. 

“Don’t-”

Two huge hands hooked over your thighs, smearing you with red, and yanked your ass back onto the warm, broad expanse of his chest, cutting off your objection with a breathy yelp. You had little time to bemoan the absence of his mouth at your center before your world was spinning, as Ren flipped you underneath him in a shockingly strong, fluid motion that inverted your senses.

You flailed an arm behind you for balance, but before you could get your bearings, he was hauling you effortlessly down the thin mattress by your hips. A squeak escaped you as your shoulders met linen, and then you were wailing as he devoured you again, his eager tongue sliding hot and heavily down your folds. 

He groaned and slipped two blood-drenched fingers into you, pumping and scissoring them slowly as he massaged your clit with his mouth. Shock and pleasure quaked in equal magnitude through your body, every instinct clashing in a spectacular array as your brain fought against itself. You wanted to be horrified, sickened even, but every nerve ending was screaming in nothing but wretched liberation.

In a wash of euphoria, you submitted to it, let your fingers find and lock into his sweat-dampened hair, let yourself sigh and clench around his warm, wet digits as they stroked against something devastating inside of you. He built you up like this again, higher, tighter, but before you could reach the apex of that perfect ache, just when you were whimpering with the promise of shattering into bliss, something began to coil around your spine. An invisible force -- the Force -- squeezing dark numbness down every nerve below your lumbar spine.

No, no, fuck. Tears rushed to your eyes and you choked out a sob, as you trembled in excruciating bereavement. Your wrists were wrenched to your side and tacked to the bed with that same invisible power while Ren continued to indulge himself in your numb cunt, sucking and lapping steadily at your wet heat. Your insides blazed with need and neglect as you watched him slide his fingers out of you and into his mouth, humming in satisfaction as he savored the mixture of his blood and your slick. That was it. You couldn’t keep quiet.

“Kylo, please-”

His eyes locked onto yours, lips still pursed around his fingers. You did not mean to call him that. You quailed suddenly, in your state of helplessness, at the sight of the large man as he began to crawl over you. He kicked off his trousers, looming until you were caged underneath his powerful body and staring helplessly up into the wicked excitement that roiled in his irises.

“Poor, poor thing,” He taunted as an electric current of sensation shot back down your legs, causing you to yelp. His hips rocked to part your slit with the velvety weight of his cock, his swollen and weeping head dragging moisture across your clit as it tingled with renewed feeling.

“So desperate to cum that you’d forget all respect for me.” The words dripped from his lips to pour over your neck as he nipped above your clavicle, seeping into your blood and heating it tenfold. He felt heavy and inviting and perfect, and you clutched your nails sharply into his sides as a crippling wave of need crashed down your spine. He hissed in a breath, letting it out in a nearly inaudible “Fuck.”

A tear spilled down your cheekbone. He was right, you were absolutely fucking desperate, coiled painfully tight after being ripped back from the edge twice. This was his particular brand of mutual torture, denying your release and losing himself in his pain. You needed to do something, anything, to fracture that infuriating, adamantine control. Anything to break the endless cycle of torment.

Your eyes were drawn down to a river of crimson that streaked into the valley of his hip, welling from the fresh spring of your sutures. A writhing, dark desire slithered up your brain stem, burning with some foreign audacity, and it moved your hand almost on its own. Fuck it, you could play this game, too. 

“Please, Supreme Leader,” You corrected yourself, letting your voice thicken through your tears to a noxious sweetness. “I’ll do anything.” 

Your palm slid to his low abdomen, collecting the warm blood with your thumb and sliding it back up towards the neatly closed wound. You slowly ran your slick digit along the raw edge, your breath catching in your chest as you flicked your gaze back to his eyes, just inches in front of yours. His lips hung open slightly, in disbelief, in want, it was impossible to say. But his pupils were blown wide and hungry as he stilled, the smallest twitch of his eye daring you, pleading you, to continue.

“Anything…” you emphasized in a whisper, holding his stare through your damp lashes as you pressed your thumb into the bruised, inflamed skin, crushing your finger straight into the raw nerves. You dug down, down, watching his lips slowly pull into a wild snarl of pain, his thick cock twitching against your folds as a ragged groan tore through his teeth. You were panting now, watching his eyes as they filled with liquid black fire, unblinking, burning through you.

Heart pounding, you pressed further, building a pinpoint of pressure over the closed wound until you felt the fine strand of a suture give way under the pad of your thumb, popping open with a soft shift of flesh. A choked roar ripped itself from Ren’s chest as his hand came down on your throat. His eyes were glazed with a terrifying need, inches from yours, strands of hair beginning to mat on his face as sweat decorated his skin.

His hips began to sink heavily. The head of his cock pushed past your folds, pressing insistently at the tight heat of your entrance. You whimpered, pulse racing under his grip, and braced your hand involuntarily against his abdomen as your walls began to stretch, the wet sting reverberating up your spine. Your eyes shot to his, pleading, but found them fiendish.

"You’re going to take all of me, pretty thing." His voice was barely above a ragged whisper, caged behind rusted bars of restraint that were slowly splintering across his eyes as he broke you open. “And you’re going to cum around my fucking cock when I tell you to.”

It was all you could do to simply whimper and nod, his words paired with the intense stretch effectively wiping your brain blank now. And the stretch kept coming, endlessly, filling you completely, until you thought you might crack in half. When he finally sheathed himself, his body flattened down heavily on top of you, pinning your hips wide open. You couldn’t move your hand, his sheer mass was crushing your thumb inside the wet, raised flesh of the wound as you felt it leak warmly around the base. A sound caught in Ren’s throat, and a shudder wracked his whole body.

He laid there for only a moment, crushing the air from your lungs, bathing in the pain, before he lifted his torso and began to thrust. Still slowly, still so controlled, breath rolling hot and rabid down your neck. You pulled your thumb from beneath his skin with a sickening squelch. Trembling, a morbid urge had you bringing the hand up to your mouth.

You moved to flick your tongue out over the warm, coppery liquid that was now coating your thumb and beginning to run down your forearm. In an instant, Ren snatched your wrist and pinned it beside your head. Something utterly feral played across his eyes that made your stomach squirm.

He panted through his teeth, eyes drifting across your face to the hand that he had pinned down. “You want a taste, whore?” His tone was somewhere between incredulous and eager, only fueling your desire to pry further at the seams of his restraint. You bit your bottom lip, lifting a pleading look into his eyes, and nodded with a whimper.

“Yes, please, ple-- Ah!” He slammed his cock into your cervix, making you cry out.

He snatched your wrist up with a grunt and enveloped your thumb with the heat of his mouth, swirling his strong, silky tongue around your knuckle to collect the liquid. Your head spun as he drew his lips up and off of your digit, slamming your wrist back down to the mattress and crushing his mouth to yours. His tongue pushed ravenously past the guard of your teeth, and your palette lit up with the sharp mix of metallic blood and the remnants of your cunt on his lips.

It was deafening, the rush that cascaded between your ears and crashed down your body at the visceral taste, the sensation of his hot tongue swiping across yours, passing the grotesque mixture back and forth. You moaned into his mouth and he shuddered, gripping your jaw muscles to force your mouth open as he drew away, resuming the rhythm of his thrusts. He spat a thick emulsion of blood and saliva into your open mouth before releasing your face, shoving your jaw closed with the heel of his palm. From this angle he could see your neck ripple as you swallowed, and the sight had him deepening his thrusts with a low groan.

Yes, yes, finally. His cock stroked fire along your walls, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll into your skull. Drunk from deprivation, you wanted more. You blindly reached down the contour of his obliques and drove your thumb back into his wound, finding the slight firmness of another suture and digging into his flesh until you felt a sinewy pop. Kylo Ren roared, his hips stuttering as his body locked up in a rippling wave of tension. Eyes wild, he gripped your throat again, yanking you roughly as your eyes flew open and met his.

“Fucking filthy slut.”

He slammed into you at a merciless pace, hurtling you past any possibility of orgasm and straight into overstimulation as your body burned around him. Your vision swam, your ears beginning to ring as he pounded you relentlessly. Blood struggled to reach your brain under his grip, building a pressure in your skull that made your face vibrate.

He slowed his pace suddenly, and heat sparked to the tips of your nerves again, alighting on every inch of your quivering skin and fuck, you were close. Oh, fuckfuckfuc--

“Cum. Cum for me. Fuck!”

Ren wildly snatched the cautery pen from where you left it on the bed stand, lit it, and plunged the glowing tines straight into the flesh of your thigh. White hot pain fractured your vision, locked every muscle down tight with a scream you couldn’t hear as your orgasm eviscerated you.

Breath stuttered back into your lungs in hazy, broken sobs. Euphoric pain was weeping from your nerves, flowing across your skin to rival the tears that now ran free and hot down your face while razorblades of pleasure still flayed your veins open. The ringing in your ears finally began to give way to low grunts breaking over the fragmented tide of your sobs.

“Good girl, g-ood, fuck-- shh... pretty fucking thing.” Ren’s deep murmurs faded into your eardrums, the words slurring and thickening through his teeth as he pried the tool from your sizzling flesh. He set it aside, pace unrelenting, and dragged a hand over your cheek. Sticky blood mixed with your tears as his fingers fastened into the flesh of your face. He watched your eyes come back into focus, his own glazed in primal rapture.

He propelled a few more slamming thrusts into the depths of you as the death throes of your orgasm withered on your skin. And then you were empty, gasping, and he was flipping you over so easily you didn’t know which way was up any more. Your breath was muffled by a pillow, and you turned your face just in time for a massive, dirty hand to come down on your cheekbone.

He crushed your face into the fabric, wrestling your hips upwards with his other forearm until your knees reluctantly shifted up to support them. You whimpered at the pressure on your skull and the throbbing pain that radiated from your thigh, but the sound deepened in your chest when you felt the blunt head of his cock graze along your swollen lips. Stars, you needed him to fill you in any way, your emptiness now entwining with your pain to send a cry of grief through your shuddering bones that could only be soothed by that voice, those hands, that perfectly thick cock in any part of you. Overcome, you moaned for it.

“Fuck,” he rasped, dragging his tip back and forth over your clit, adding skittering jolts to the ache that might as well be burning away your peritoneum like paper, causing your organs to pour out over the floor in gruesome mercy. He slid his hand back along the curve of your spine, releasing your face, and you gasped in the acrid taste of copper. His palms smothered your ass, fingers splaying wide and squeezing, pulling your cheeks up and apart for his view. It was filthy, the eroticism of it, but shame was a faraway song in the tempest of your need, barely heard as you clutched the sheets and arched in presentation for him. You heard a hissing intake of breath, which he let out in a slew of unintelligible filth as the fat head of his cock slowly split you again.

Even after just moments of vacancy you had to readjust to the size of him, but the stretch was utterly demulcent this time as he gradually sheathed himself in your aching walls until his head was grinding down against your cervix. Your eyes flew wide with a gasp as you clawed the sheet, streaking it redder, willing your body to relax around the merciless presence of his cock. He pumped his hips once, slowly, powerfully, and your eyes rolled back again as your muscles turned to warm jelly.

“Kylo…” You barely heard yourself moan out, and you had no idea whether he heard you either, as a loud groan suddenly kicked up his pace and the decibels of his rambling.

“Ffffuuck, feel sofuckinggood, so tight…. fucking perfect little cunt…”

You could die, you could actually fucking die from how it felt to lose yourself in this, how possessed you were by the repulsive freedom of it, of him, spitting filthy nothings into the thick air while you entwined yourselves in the dirty rut of shameless pleasure and pain.

You felt hot liquid trickle into the seam between your flesh and Ren’s with the next few smacks of his hips against your ass. His pace faltered, and he fell over you like a snarling carnivore, palms slamming down on the backs of your hands and pinning them beside your head. His breath tickled hot in your ear, and you shuddered, clenching around him.

“I’m going to make you cum again.” He snarled, before yanking you back sharply by your hair until you were nearly upright on your knees, your shoulder blades meeting the warmth of his chest. You caught a flash of blood-coated fingers as they reached around you and began to rub hot, wet circles over your clit.

“Like the filthy fucking whore you are. That I- fuck- knew you were.”

Your muscles gave out as he spoke, your body supported only by his overbearing strength, as euphoria wrapped your nerve endings in white flame. You were keening, though you could hardly hear yourself, as the pressure on your clit started to pull a second orgasm outward from your bones.

His hips pounded ruthlessly against your ass as he brutally fucked you, the force of it knocking air from your lungs with every impact. A glow began to erupt from your spine with the next few passes of his fingers over your clit, and then you were cumming, hard, sailing into an abyss of ecstasy that swallowed your sight. When you resurfaced he was roaring, his arm a vice around your ribs, his cock slamming deep and slow inside of your quaking walls and pulsing with his release. 

Ren collapsed on top of you, flattening you into the mattress. Dizziness swam through your blood, intensified by his weight crushing your lungs. He felt warm, sated, absolutely sublime as your spent hole fluttered around his cock, the sensation of his damp breaths on your shoulder easily overriding your need for oxygen. You were perfectly content to lay like this until you blacked out, if that’s what it would take to keep him there.

But then he was rolling off of you, a soft groan rumbling through his body as the cold air of the room kissed the sweat on your spine. It sobered you like an ice bath and you shifted away from him, suddenly feeling the weight of a needed distance between yourself and the Supreme Leader. You dropped your legs to the floor to stand, and pain ricocheted up your body from your thigh. You winced as your leg buckled in a blatant refusal to support your weight, catching yourself on the edge of the bed frame.

You instead sank back onto the small stool, and felt it become slick with cum as you grabbed wads of gauze from a drawer in the bed stand. Blood was gushing from his abdomen again, joining the sheen of bright red that mottled most of his skin as well as the sheets, and you began to work mechanically to staunch the flow once more. Kylo shifted onto his back and let you do it, his eyes falling shut as panting breaths oscillated through his chest. You were filthy, you registered, as you looked down at the red-brown crust of half dried blood that was smeared on your hands and all the way up your forearms.

You gently dabbed at his skin, slowly cleansing the mess and wrangling the bleeding back under your practiced control. The edges of your skin practically cried out in neglect, the dull pain that thrummed through your body begging to be soothed by even the smallest of tender touches that you didn’t dare ask for. The pain seemed to catch up to him as well now. He breathed through it, but you saw it lock up in his exhales, in the tense pull of his brow over his dark lashes. You let the pass of his skin under your palms soothe you both until his bare skin glowed clean and the bleeding was no more than a steady trickle.

Staring at his comparatively clean body under your blood-crusted hands, you suddenly felt disgustingly exposed in your nakedness. You stooped quickly to grab the leg of your pants where they lay on the floor, but Ren’s hand gripped your arm roughly, yanking your elbow back onto the stained mattress.

"Oh, pretty thing.” He growled. “We're not finished, yet."

[tundrainafrica]

the fact that people refuse that levi and han had a bond (even if it’s not romantic) is insane imo... like there’s the parallels between different relationships? and when you point them out there’s always someone who will say “eww don’t compare xx with levihan”

for example? ymir and historia??? there’s so many similarities, wanting to live for themselves, wanting to be together, the fact that one of them had to leave to protect the other one and they never got to tell each other how they felt? but the bond was there? the tall, more energetic one that wants to protect and show the short, seemingly jaded one that not everything has to be hopeless? their friendship? there’s no power imbalance, just pure love, understanding. they really loved each other...

oh and the bird with one wing, it’s as if han couldn’t fly anymore without levi (but i may be looking too much into it) and then levi fell too ahhh poetic cinema 😩 we’ve been getting a lot of hate recently...

This is like way up in my asks but a lot of it has been bothering me. I’ve seen a lot of antis on twitter denying Hange and Levi’s bond because lmao apparently what has been going on in 126 and 132 aren’t enough to make something canon. 

But as a fan, regardless of what antis say, regardless of what other shippers say I will stand by this ship, rain or shine, and I will fucking scream ‘LEVIHAN IS CANON.’ 

It just doesn’t make any sense really? Like what do people need for something to be canon? A gaudy verbal declaration of love? Love letters? Kissing? Fucking? 

I don’t believe we need a declaration of love to deem something canon. Yes, people won’t agree but the fact that we have been called delusional? Levihans on twitter have been called delusional for seeing canon on this? I didn’t just look at Levihan and the scenes in 126 and 132 and go ‘YUP ITS CANON,’ I actually did have a slow burn towards this because I just thought the way I see Levihan in canon is pretty much how I appreciate a lot of the relationships in real life. 

A lot of people wait for declarations of love, kissing, fucking, embracing and making out. Yes, those are conventional ways to prove that maybe those two can be together. But those types of bullshit are only as valuable or as meaningful as the subtle domestic actions that follow. We’ve seen relationships we deem canon before, then suddenly the guy cheats on the girl or the girl hits the guy or vice versa, or they just alternate between make ups and break ups until they get tired. So what? Do they still love each other? Even after allowing themselves through go through all that shit? 

I’ve never been in a relationship like that? I wouldn’t know what runs through people’s heads when they go through those? Stockholm? Hope that maybe their toxic lover will change for the better? I don’t know so I won’t comment about this. 

But I sincerely believe there is more to analyze, there is more to appreciate and there is more to emulate in a relationship grounded in mutual trust, bonds, and a relationship that has proven the test of time and challenges (aka Levi and Hange)

I don’t believe in kisses, sex scenes or verbal declarations of love. Just because those are the socially accepted ways to ‘show that love exists.’ They are inherently flawed proofs and evidences that there exists a relationship between people. And maybe the fact that these proofs are what people wait for before they something is canon, maybe that’s the reason why it’s so hard for people to recognize that people can have bonds without it? Maybe that’s why people figuring out they love someone is so hard? Because they wait for the urge to kiss or the urge to have sex? Or the urge to write a long ass love letter?

But really love and the drive to enter a committed relationship are so much deeper than intimacy and verbal declarations. Intimacy and Verbal Declarations are only as valuable as the intentions and the implicit messages that accompany them. 

I’ve never been a words person, I’ve always been an actions person and maybe that’s why I never did keep a lot of the old love letters and the old gifts people have given me. I don’t want verbal declarations of love or commitment, I want actions. Words are easy. Intimacy is easy. If people really meant it, they would constantly strive to change for the better. If people really meant it, they would hold their breath and listen even when they were angry. If people really meant it, they’d listen to feedback and constantly try to open up. 

If people really meant it, they’d stay true to commitments, acknowledge mistakes and constantly reach out of their comfort zone to make an effort to constantly improve. 

You know where I see love? Giving up your daily routine to save some extra cash so you can drop it for a partner who’s in need? You know what’s love? Changing how you go about your life, actively changing your bad habits so you can constantly be a better partner to the person you committed to. You know what’s love? Staying by someone’s side, completely trusting them and trying at least to know them like the back of your hand? 

You know what’s love? Actively abandoning your post to save your dying friend. 

And some people might go… This is just a ship. No, because personally how I ship is how I view relationships in real life.

I do not admire relationships  for their ability to display affection in public or their ability to write long letters to their loved ones. I admire relationships for their openness. I admire relationships where couples are able to keep their problems behind closed doors because they trust each other so well they can resolve everything together. I admire relationships where couples are complete opposites yet somehow manage to make things work because you know they made the effort to adopt microchanges to their personality to make that relationship work. 

I have friends in real life who are actively in a relationship, say they genuinely love their partner yet break up and make up every week. They call their partners such vile names when they’re angry, they fucking hurt each other yet a declaration of love every week somehow makes it okay. 

I have friends whose only proof they were ever together with their partners were the fact that they lived together, maybe co-owned five cats. And when I talk to them about their partners, they know everything about their partner from the back of their hand. “She wouldn’t do that. She won’t wake up that early.” They know each others habits and despite how different they are, they adjust. They have never said anything wrong about their partner. They have never talked shit about their partners to me. Sometimes, they would talk to me when they’re concerned or when they’re emotional, but they have never called their partner asshole, bitch, fucker in the heat of the moment. I have never heard them wish ill of their partner. 

BUT THEY HAVE NEVER PLAYED VICTIM. (And holy crap the amount of relationships I’ve seen where someone is willingly able to rant and say such horrifying things behind their partner behind their back is fucking terrifying. And the way they pull a 180 in public and around their partner?? That’s a relationship???  I have seen friends call their partners cruel and abusive, only for me to find out through message receipts that they’re both assholes.)

And I will live my whole life, advocating for relationships grounded in mutual bonds and a strive to grow with their partner, whether or not they have expressed the societally acknowledged, conventional romantic connotations of love or not. 

In the end, love is love. And love is manifested not in the romantic declarations of love but in the trust, sacrifice, the effort to change for the better, the commitment to stay with the person and grow with them. 

Love is abandoning one’s comfort zones. Love is staying by someone’s side, supporting them through the thick and thin. Love is supporting one another, keeping the dynamic balanced yet constantly moving. 

Love is facing life together and making sure the person you committed to, never feels alone or unloved. 

Do not reduce love and relationships to kisses and hugs and declarations of love.

And for the people who say, “Chill this is just a ship...” I ship because I believe in the dynamic and I believe in the depth that is hidden underneath the dynamic that was shown in the big screen. It’s the reflection of what I see in relationships in real life and it’s the model of what I’d want to see in my own relationships. 

So yes, please let the Levihans enjoy things thank you.