#nothing but the most respect for this man

[demonic0angel]

Ras Al Ghul, not happy about the weird married couple his daughter has suddenly become enamored with, decides to throw ninjas at them until they die or impress him. He was unprepared for a sci-fi tank to burst through the wall of his secret lair in retaliation.

Ra's grit his teeth.

Why did his foolish daughter have to be so enamored by strange, ridiculous Americans? At least Batman was respectable and intelligent.

This recent couple was at most, one-sidedly genius and nothing more than two shams that masqueraded as scientists.

Ra's was determined to find a way for his daughter to snap out of her recent frivolous attempt at finding love. He had been sending assassins after the two married people, but from the reports he had been receiving, the two had some sort of inane luck that helped them survive.

Ra's could only send more and more people to terrorize them and kidnap his daughter back.

He was debating between sending more assassins to also steal his grandson back or not, since Batman and his flock would surely attack him back, when the wall caved in.

Ra's' mouth dropped open in shock as an extremely large, militaristic van bulldozed down a wall. The doors opened with a click and two people poked their heads out.

"Woohoo! Look at that, sweet pea! Found dad-in-law on the first try!" The man said in a booming voice.

Ra's stared in horror as he recognized both Dr. Fentons, as well as his daughter Talia sitting in the middle of the front seat, who was contentedly looking at her nails.

Two extremely large guns pointed at him, coming to life with a loud whirring noise and lighting up with a bright green glow.

Maddie gave him a cold smile. "Sorry for the interruption, father-in-law. We just wanted to send you a message about your recent actions."

Jack grinned wildly, his large guns unloading more lasers and beams in preparation to shoot.

"Yeah! Don't kidnap our wife! Even if you're our in-law!"

Talia blushed brightly, looking at Maddie and Jack with adoration in her eyes.

Ra's was starting to deeply regret having children.

[stellarsecrets86]

Random, Hot & Positive Groom Persona Chart Observations

⋆˙⟡ Juno in 1st house - Your future husband will treat you as his ideal. He'll be impressed by your independence and make you the center of his universe.

⋆˙⟡ Mars in 7th house - Your husband will be passionate and energetic. He'll pursue you relentlessly and always fight to defend your relationship.

⋆˙⟡ Venus sextile Juno - You shall wed a man who loves you sincerely. He will continuously endeavor to make you beautiful and love you.

⋆˙⟡ Juno in Leo – He will be dramatic and romantic in love. Search for dramatization in love and dedication. He will proudly display you.

⋆˙⟡ Moon conjunct Juno – Your soon-to-be husband will be understanding and gentle. He will regard your feelings as holy ground.

⋆˙⟡ Juno in Scorpio – He'll be very intense, clingy in love, and sexually charming. He'll be all or nothing.

⋆˙⟡ Juno in the 10th house – You will marry someone ambitious or high status. He'll endorse and uphold your public image.

⋆˙⟡ Juno trine Neptune – Your husband will be idealistic, spiritual, and treat you as his soulmate. He'll surprise you often with his compassion.

⋆˙⟡ Venus in 7th house – He'll be romantic, charming, and relationship-oriented. Marriage will be a fairytale.

⋆˙⟡ Mars conjunct Descendant – He'll be masculine, strong, and action-oriented. He'll protect you and always lead.

⋆˙⟡ Juno opposite Uranus – Your future husband may come into your life unexpectedly. He'll be unconventional, adventurous, and never boring.

⋆˙⟡ Juno trine Pluto – He'll be emotionally profound, faithful, and transmuting. Loving him will transform you.

⋆˙⟡ Ceres in 7th house – He will nurture you. He'll provide emotional security, sustenance, and be extremely responsive to your needs.

⋆˙⟡ Juno in Sagittarius – He'll be adventurous and freedom-oriented. He'll promote your independence and have big dreams with you.

⋆˙⟡ Sun conjunct Juno – You will marry your ideal counterpart. He will be a mirror to your soul and love you wholly.

⋆˙⟡ Moon in 8th house – Your husband will touch the emotional core within you. He will love those aspects of you that others are fearful of.

⋆˙⟡ Mars trine Moon – He will understand when to be gentle and when to toughen up. He will protect your emotional needs with action.

⋆˙⟡ Juno square Saturn – Marriage will be delayed, but when it comes, your husband will be seriously responsible and long-suffering.

⋆˙⟡ Venus trine Saturn – Your husband will love you as an adult. He'll be consistent, loyal, and show love in acts, not words.

⋆˙⟡ Juno in Pisces – He'll be soft, sensitive, and emotionally poetic. He'll often sense the way you feel before you say a word.

⋆˙⟡ Psyche in 7th house – Your partner will love your soul and inner life. He'll always desire to know you better.

⋆˙⟡ Eros in 5th house – Your husband will be sensual, playful, and flirtatious. He'll never let the flame die regardless of how long you live together.

⋆˙⟡ Vesta in 7th house – He'll be devoted and spiritually compatible with you. Marriage will be sacred for him.

⋆˙⟡ Juno in Aquarius – He will be your closest friend and greatest supporter. He will never even try to control you — instead, he will give you space to grow.

⋆˙⟡ Juno conjunct Mercury – He will be smart, intelligent, and talkative. He will be a respecter of your mind and talk everything over with you.

⋆˙⟡ Neptune in 7th house – He'll have an otherworldly, dreamy quality. He'll be too good to be true sometimes — but he'll believe in the magic of love.

⋆˙⟡ Juno sextile Venus – You'll marry someone who uses your love language. He'll demonstrate affection in a way in which you most naturally receive it.

⋆˙⟡ Juno in Capricorn – He'll be responsible, dependable, and goal-oriented. He'll show love in terms of provision and protection.

⋆˙⟡ Moon sextile Neptune – Your husband will be your psychic and gentle one with your feelings. He'll be your dreamcatcher in terms of emotion.

⋆˙⟡ Sun in 7th house – He'll be your mirror. He'll fill you in ways you did not know you needed.

⋆˙⟡ Mars in the 8th house – Your husband will be sexually intense and emotionally magnetic. He'll bond with you at a soul-deep level.

⋆˙⟡ Juno conjunct Vesta – He will be utterly devoted to you. He'll hold your marriage sacred and lifelong — a true spiritual marriage.

🎀༘

[littleapplle]

00:40.

I feel like a lot of people forget just how romantic rafayel is and can be.

Because sensuality comes with ease to him. He's a creature from the deep, incarnated in the body sculpted by the waves that break harshly against the rocks close to the shore, with the facial features of a god, surely hand painted with care by sea nymphs.

And before being something worthy of unending worship and adoration, the kind you'd drop on your knees, pray, praise, and bowl in respect, Rafayel is an artist.

Beside the inextinguishable flame in his heart, there is the burning passion of performing. Not literally, but Rafayel is something big, meant to be seen. Love and seduction come with ease to a being like him. His tongue is sharp but always drips with honey when you need it the most, and his bicolor hues burn with nothing but pure, genuine dedication.

So when you call him after work, voice low and strangled like a tormented sailor during a harsh storm, he listens. Waiting for the right moment to lure you in like a siren. Not out of malice, never, just the urge to tend to your troubled, seafarer mind.

And once you arrive at his studio, dragged in by his lovely voice, he's already waiting for your arrival in a silky robe, a bottle of wine in one hand while the other holds two crystal glasses.

Moonlight peeks through the thin, light fabric of the curtains adorning the tall windows of the studio. He guides you to the bathroom, and you wonder for a moment how much air can his lungs actually hold in. His humming, lullaby like, never stops.

His steps are light. If it weren't for his sweet voice, you'd barely be able to spot him in the dark corridor. The bathroom door is ajar, letting the candles’ flames finally give you a proper view of your lover.

You don't process if it's tiredness, his voice or both that make your brain grow foggy and your eyes droopy but you pay no mind, giving yourself entirely to him as an act of trust, a prayer to the one you worship with fervor.

His hands handle you with genuine care. His lips meet the back of your neck, and his nose fits just right on nape. Like a piece of a shattered porcelain art piece that slowly comes all together once again.

With his help and guidance, your dirty uniform falls on the floor. Your bare body is barely illuminated by the shaky flames burning the candles’ wick.

You're the first one to sink into the warm, scented water on his stupidly large tub. The atmosphere is too cozy, and soon, your mind finds ease and well-deserved rest.

Rafayel's eyes stare at you with a loving gaze. The intimacy that doesn't necessarily need to be sexual to feel good. That's where he feels at home.

His siren melody falters, giving space for a chuckle to leave his throat once he notices your sleepy form.

Silently, his robes come undone, and he joins you on the bathtub, a glass in hand. Sipping the velvety liquid, he guides your limp body closer to his, worried you'll slip and choke on soapy water while sleeping.

Rafayel is a sly, smart siren that lures you in when you need it the most. Rafayel is the artist that has you as his muse. Rafayel is the man who puts on extra performances like this as acts of praise.

And he wouldn't have it in any other way.

I wrote this in an hour while watching tiktok uhmm

[bvrnesher]

❝ 𝒫ull 𝒪ut 𝒢ame ! ❞ ― marvel !

summary: just what I think of each of these characters when it comes to pull out 🗣

— 𝒮teve ℛogers ;; He likes to think he’s good at it. And honestly? He is. Respectful, controlled, painfully self-aware. The second he feels himself getting close, he speeds up, grits his teeth, and pulls out right on time—usually on your stomach or chest. Gentleman. HOWEVER—deep, deep down? He does have a breeding kink. He just won’t admit it. The day you whisper “it’s okay, I’m on the pill”? He hesitates just long enough to ruin his perfect record.

Rating: 10/10. Practically flawless. Just a little too responsible.

— 𝒯ony 𝒮tark ;; This man cums like he’s paying rent. He could pull out. He knows how. Won’t. He’s like, “You knew the risk,” and just lets go. Finishes inside you with a smirk, kisses your temple like he didn’t just pump you full, and asks for another round like nothing happened.

Rating: 7/10. Could pull out. Ignores it. Still makes it hot.

— ℬucky ℬarnes ;; NO WAY this man is risking it, but for the sake of the game, let’s say he tries. He means to pull out. He really does. But the second you tighten around his cock when he’s close? Too late. He’s already twitching, already filling you up. Feels guilty after, mutters apologies, but ask him for another round and he forgets all about it.

Rating: 5/10. Tries. Fails. Feels bad. Does it again.

— 𝒯hor 𝒪dinson ;; Sweetheart himbo with the pull-out instincts of a golden retriever. You tell him “pull out,” and he’s like, “But why, beloved?” while thrusting deeper. His idea of affection is cumming in you until it’s leaking down your thighs and calling it “a gift from the gods.”

Rating: 0/10. He means well. That’s the problem.

— ℒoki ℒaufeyson ;; Oh, he can pull out. He just won’t—unless it’s to tease you. Otherwise? He stays buried until the very end, groaning in your ear about how good you feel while he fills you up. He wants to watch it drip out. It’s about power. Ownership. Ruin. You say “pull out”? He says “make me.”

Rating: 0/10. Wicked.

— 𝒫eter 𝒫arker ;; He’s studied the theory. He wants to pull out. He really does. But the second things start getting too good? He’s whimpering, cock twitching, finishing inside you before he even realizes it. Apologizes mid-orgasm and offers to run to the pharmacy still inside you.

Rating: 3/10. He tries. He panics. He fails.

— ℰrik 𝒦illmonger ;; Pull out? Babe, he hears you say it and smirks. Doesn’t even pretend to listen. Holds your hips down, grinds in deeper, and finishes inside like he means it. Tells you “You better take all that,” like it’s a challenge and a threat. Might pull out once—just to finish on your face and call it a reward. But most nights? He’s filling you up like it’s his personal mission.

Rating: -100/10. He’s doing it on purpose. You’re not walking right tomorrow.

[rafayelxsylusho]

Hair holds memories

The memory fades as Sylus blinks rapidly, pushing away the haunting image of your blood tinted hair and your lifeless body on the ground. He has never felt so helpless, so powerless.

In the N109 Zone, he is the one who commands respect, who holds the power of life and death in his hands. But here, in this sterile white room that smells of disinfectant and despair, he is nothing. A mere spectator, forced to watch as the woman he loves slips away from him.

His fists clench at his sides, his sharp nails digging into the palms of his hands hard enough to draw blood. He wants to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But he remains silent, his jaw clenched tight as he watches the doctors work tirelessly to save your life.

Minutes tick by with the slowness of hours, each second an eternity as he waits for some sign, some hope that you will pull through.

Suddenly, the piercing wail of a flatline scream shatters the tense silence of the room. Sylus's heart stops, his breath catching in his throat as he watches the line on the monitor flatten into a straight, unbroken line. No. No, this cannot be happening.

He surges forward, his body moving on pure instinct as he lunges towards the bed. But strong hands grab him from behind, holding him back as he thrashes and snarls like a wild beast. He turns his head to see Zayne, his eyes wild and desperate.

"Let me go!" Sylus roars, his voice raw with anguish. "I need to be with her, I need to..."

Zayne's eyes flash with a mixture of sorrow and fury as he pins Sylus against the wall, holding him firmly in place. His voice is accusing as he speaks.

"This is all your fault, Sylus. Your reckless actions, your goddamn ego... it's led to this. I warned you, didn't I? I told you that you would only bring her harm!" Zayne snarls, his face contorted in anger.

Tears of rage and despair streak down Sylus cheeks as he listens to Zayne's bitter words.

"I know...I know it's my fault. I should have protected her, I should have..."

But Zayne is already gone, his attention turning back to you as he starts the desperate task of trying to revive you. Sylus is left to rage outside the room, his heart shattered into a million pieces as he watches from outside the room, each chest compression, each electric shock, is a dagger to his soul. He wants to be in there, holding your hand, telling you to come back to him. But he is exiled, cast out, and forced to watch the scene unfold before him like a nightmare from which he cannot escape.

As he watches Zayne work frantically he feels a part of his own soul, the part that belongs to you, slipping away with each passing second. It's a sensation he has never experienced before, but he knows instinctively what it means, a piece of his very being, the half that he shares with you, is being ripped away.

In that moment of gut wrenching clarity, Sylus makes a decision. If you survive this, if you come back to him, he will do everything in his power to keep you safe even if it means staying away from you, even if it means tearing out the other half of his soul.

His eyes burn as he whispers a desperate prayer to any deity that might be listening. He is not a religious man, but for you, he will beg and plead and vow anything.

"Please," he rasps out, "Please, let her live. I'll do anything, give anything, just let her live."

The sound of the heart monitor suddenly springs back to life, its steady beeping filling the room with a symphony of hope. Sylus's eyes widen, his heart leaping into his throat as he stares at it. 

Tears of relief and joy stream down his face as the realization dawns on him, you are alive.

His legs nearly give out from under him as the emotional weight of the moment crashes over him. He has never felt such overwhelming relief, such profound gratitude. He wants to laugh, to cry, to scream his joy to the heavens above.

But most of all, he wants to hold you. He wants to pull you into his arms, to feel your heartbeat against his own, to know that you are truly alive and well. And when Zayne finally opens the door to the room, he doesn't hesitate. He rushes to your bedside, taking your hand in his bringing it to his lips.

"I'm here, kitten," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "I'm right here."

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

His heart aches with a constant, throbbing pain, the agony of loving someone so deeply and being unable to hold them, to comfort them. He sees the sadness in your eyes, the way your smile doesn't reach them anymore. It breaks him, destroys him, to know that he is the cause of your unhappiness.

There are moments, countless moments, when Sylus is tempted to throw caution to the wind. To storm into your room, to take you in his arms, and to hell with the consequences. But then he remembers, your lifeless body, the blood in your hair, and the hollow emptiness that consumed him. And he knows he cannot let that happen again.

So he endures, trapped in a personal purgatory of his own making. He suffers the pain of longing, the anguish of separation, and the constant gnawing worry of not knowing if he is doing the right thing. But he is determined to keep his promise, to stay away, no matter how much it destroys him inside. Because he knows, with bone deep certainty, that your life is worth more than his own selfish desires. And he will move heaven and earth, bear any burden, to ensure that you are safe and happy. Even if it means living with the constant ache of loving you from afar.

He watches through Mephisto as the nights turn into waking nightmares. He sees the way your body shakes with silent sobs, tears soaking the pillow beneath your head. He hears your muffled cries, your anguished screams that pierce his very soul.

He told himself he couldn't say goodbye, that he was too weak, too selfish to bear the weight of your tears and heartache. So he left it to Zayne, trusting him to be the one to deliver the harsh truth. It was a coward's way out, but he convinced himself that it was necessary, that he had to be strong for you.

So he watches as the days bleed into weeks and then months. Your once vibrant and energetic self now a shadow of its former glory. Somedays you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, eyes devoid of their usual sparkle. He sees the way your tears gradually slow, only to be replaced by an emptiness that chills him to the bone. You are giving up, giving in, and the thought that he is the cause of your defeat is almost more than he can bear.

But he also watches as Zayne slowly but surely begins to heal the wounds he inflicted on your heart. He sees the way his actions make you laugh again, a sound that had become as rare and precious as a shooting star. The sight of you smiling again, even if it's not directed at him, is both a balm to his heart and a dagger plunging into his chest.

His heart clenches painfully as he watches the undeniable spark that ignites between you and Zayne. The way you laugh together, the way Zayne's hand lingers on your arm a moment too long, the way your eyes shine with a newfound light... all of it screams one unmistakable truth. You are falling in love again, and it's not with him.

Each instance, each stolen moment, each shared glance between you is a fresh wound inflicted upon Sylus's soul. He feels every inch of his humanity slowly slipping away as he watches the woman he loves, the other half of his soul, falling for someone else. It's a pain he never could have imagined, a torment he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy.

But even in his agony, Sylus cannot bring himself to regret his decision. He knows, with a profound certainty, that his absence is allowing you to heal, to grow, to love again. And so he endures this new hell, watching Zayne steal the heart of the woman he adores, knowing that it's the only way for you to truly move on after the devastation he caused.

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

He stares at the image transmitted by Mephisto's lens, his heart pounding in his chest as he takes in the sight before him, your once long hair that he loved to run his fingers through, now falls just shy of your shoulders. But it's not just your hair that has changed, Sylus sees the way your hand rests gently on your stomach, a protective gesture that speaks of the new life growing within you. Beside you stands Zayne, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, his eyes shining with a love and devotion that Sylus once knew all too well. In that moment, a bittersweet realization washes over him, he had made the right choice in letting you go, in pushing you towards a future that could never include him.

He knows that as you cut your hair, you were also cutting him out of your life. He knows that he is a part of your past, a memory etched in the strands of hair that once brushed your back and the love that once burned in your eyes. But he is no longer your present or your future.

With a heavy heart, Sylus issues, for the last time, the command for Mephisto to return to him, the mechanical crow's lens dimming as it prepares for the journey back. As Mephisto disappears from view, Sylus allows himself a sad smile, a smile of acceptance and gratitude for the love that had once been, and the sacrifice that had set you free.

[ang3lmoans]

Angel’s chest ached in a way he didn’t quite expect it to. Not from pain, not from anger—but from the raw, unfiltered vulnerability Garam had just handed him. There was no mask, no seduction, no performance. Just *him*. All of him—afraid, uncertain, clinging tightly to the idea that he could lose what they had just because someone else might try and take it. And Angel knew that fear. God, *he knew it*—how it lived under the skin like a second pulse, whispering that nothing good ever stays, that love was conditional, that one misstep and the people you care about would find better. He stayed quiet for a moment after Garam finished speaking, letting it all settle. Letting Garam *see* that he wasn’t running from those words, or pulling away from the messiness of it. No, he was still here and he wasn’t going anywhere. Then, Angel gently touched Garam’s face, thumbs brushing lightly against the flushed heat of his cheeks. His eyes flicked toward the tear he hadn’t missed, even if Garam had wiped it away quickly, as if ashamed to let it show. “You don’t have to apologize for being scared,” Angel said, low and steady. “That kind of honesty? That takes more strength than anything else. You’re not weak for feeling this way. And you’re not *too much*.” He leaned in and kissed Garam’s forehead, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger there like he could press reassurance into his skin. He loved this side of Garam, taking accountability and being honest with him. This was all Angel ever wanted from any partner or whatever limbo they were in right now. “I hear you. About Darius. About all of it.” His voice remained soft, but there was a firm edge of conviction behind it now. “You’re not asking too much. I’ll talk to him. Set boundaries. If you’re uncomfortable with us being alone, then that’s something I respect.” He pulled back just enough to meet Garam’s gaze again, brushing a hand gently through his hair like it calmed *him* as much as it soothed Garam. “And no one,” Angel continued, voice tight with emotion, “*no one* gets to tell me you’re not good enough for me. Not Darius, not anyone. Because I know you. I know your heart. And yeah, you’ve got some fears—but so do I. And I *still choose you.*” His hand lowered to clasp Garam’s again, fingers curling around his with warm certainty. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. That’s not changing because someone else wishes it could.” There was a pause—just long enough for the words to sink in—before Angel offered the smallest, most tender smile.“And when we do have our first time,” he added, lips curving with a hint of that usual charm, “it’s gonna be somewhere that *feels* like ours. Not rushed, not messy. Just us. All of us.”Then, a beat. The three-letter words hung on his tongue but he swallowed them away, not yet. Not like this. “Let’s quickly pick out some basics for you and buy that sweater. Then run over to grab the camera and go home. I’m going to cook us a great dinner and we can work together to get your room together. As much as I would love for you to stay in my room forever you will want space eventually” Angel grinned pecking the man’s cheek as he unlatched the dressing room door. As pent-up as he was Angel couldn’t wait to get home where he could poke at Garam a little to have a repeat of the morning. But for now they still had things to do.

garam eyes closed when their foreheads met, exhaling the weight of his emotions away. as much as he wanted something to happen in that dressing room, garam also didn't want their first time having penetrative sex to happen in a dressing room. he wanted it to take place somewhere they could make meaningful, where they didn't have to rush or keep quiet so they weren't caught. he wanted that first time to take place somewhere private and safe, where they could react to each other's every movement, every word, without any kind of fear or sense of urgency. as desperately as he did want angel, the desire to give that first time importance was simply too strong. that didn't quite the voice in his head and his heart and, frankly, his dick telling him to give himself to angel with every word of kindness, flattery, and reassurance. as the pressure to please seemed to lift away from him, it was quickly replaced by the weight of guilt. he knew the negative effect his insecurities had on angel, he could see how angel was going to blame himself as if something he was doing or had done was the trigger to those feelings. but, even though angel was involved with garam's insecurities, he wasn't the cause of them. it was entirely his own problem to bare. garam was acted fast; his hands lifting to cradle both of angel's cheeks, using his gentle grasp to make angel look at him again. "you're not doing anything wrong, you're doing everything right, actually. it isn't you, it's me—fuck, that sounds so cliché but it's true," he let his hands fall down to momentarily rest on angel's before dropping down to his sides, "i am scared and i am insecure, that's my issue... not yours. i am scared that someone will take you from me," not even in a romantic or physical sense, he was afraid of losing his position in angel's life. he was afraid of their friendship, their connection diminishing because somebody else entered his life. "and i really want to tell you not to stop seeing darius, not because i don't trust you but because i don't trust him. he has feelings for you and you are still available so of course he'll think you're fair game but you're not. you are spoken for... you're mine," he claimed, feeling his eyes suddenly start to sting and well up. he didn't want to start crying but the guilt he felt was so strong, taking out his insecurities on angel when the root of a majority of his issues had nothing to do with the other. it was other people making him feel on edge, like he was an inch away from losing everything he loved. "and i'm yours," he continued, a single tear beginning to roll down his cheek but he quickly wiped it away, "even if you don't initiate something, he might and that's what i'm afraid of. he obviously doesn't like me, what if he still tries convincing you that i'm not good enough for you or that you could do better," both things garam already thought, "i know i can't stop you from seeing him, you work together and you are friends and i'm not that controlling. but maybe it's okay to ask that you two aren't alone together, at least not alone for very long? it'd make me more comfortable knowing he wouldn't have a chance to hit on you." because, in his mind, as it's something he'd typically follow himself, not openly flirting in a setting deemed too public or inappropriate, darius wouldn't make a pass at angel if other people were around. "if that's not okay, i understand." his voice neared a whisper, as if he didn't want even angel to hear.

[ghouljams]

personally i always saw price as just normal protestant but also he could def be atheist

im kinda on the fence religiously, raised protestant but now i kinda just go based on vibes since i realised that my old church has nothing for me anymore

I'm just trying to add a little variety, a little pizzazz, a little hot-cha-cha

I think Price grew up in an incredibly strict household where being "Christian" was the most important thing a person can be. A real "no hate like Christian love" household where he and his mum were under his father's thumb, constantly being held to impossible standards and sitting in church on Sunday like they deserved to be holy. The kind of people that would go to an LGBT pride event to tell people that they were going to hell. The kind of people that tried to push Price towards the ministry and marriage, and the only out he could find was enlistment. The sort of people that don't call their son or take his calls (as if he'd ever bother calling) because he's "betrayed God" by leaving the church and they can't be associated with sinners.

You know, the sort of man that makes you call him "father" and "uncle" in the bedroom because he's been told for so long that all sex is sin so he's just tumbled deeper and deeper into it. Who holds a gun against your temple as you ride him and coos at you to keep bouncing even as tears start to cluster on your lashes. Who respects women and is a fierce feminist because his father never let his mother have anything, and he's tired of seeing good women broken down by mediocre men, except for you :) you're just a silly little girl who needs to listen to your man, a little breaking is good for you :)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Cain (p3)

Tw: Violence, Cain is a mean asshole, he is also mentally unstable, lost his shit in this chapter; smashing furniture and shit. This is just abusive relationships man, yandere themes. Reader is gender neutral. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 3

Click here for part 4

Click here for part 1

Days turned into weeks, into months. You've let this stranger live in your apartment rent-free. But you don't think he's a freeloader, because you noticed that whenever something runs out at home, be it eggs, toothpaste, or your favourite snack, it magically replenishes itself. But you knew Cain was behind this; you barely go to the grocery store anymore because it just keeps getting replaced with new versions of it.

You know that he's not paying any of it. The first time you went grocery shopping with him and saw him with the duffle bag, it had a purpose. His stopping by your shopping cart every so often had a purpose; his being a jerk about people looking at him also had a purpose.

You deduced all that when you came back that day and found that there were duplicates of every item you bought in your pantry and fridge. You weren't hallucinating, you weren't going crazy, you didn't pay extra. Cain stole a copy of what you lawfully bought that day.

Asking him about it (no matter how gently) will make him yell at you for being "ungrateful", "picky" and a "Stuck-up asshole", and make him storm off to "cool down" somewhere else on earth. He would come back either injured or with a whole bunch of random valuables, which would disappear the next day. Being the kindhearted person you are, you wanted to think that Cain returned the items to their rightful owners.

Regardless, Cain still replaces your favourite cereal whenever it's running low.

He still maintains his quirk until now: refusing to eat anything unless you take a bite or sip out of it first. You don't have to worry about cooking too much and wasting the leftovers, or eventually finding out that you don't like the dish. Because Cain is like your compost bin, he would just eat it for you.

He doesn't cook. You found that if you left nothing behind, he didn't get to eat that day... or so you assumed. But either way, you made it a habit to cook a larger portion so he could be fed too.

Conversations are few and far between. You know virtually nothing about the man aside from a few fun facts: he likes keeping his hair red because you caught him one day dyeing his hair with a box dye in your bathroom. You thought that you're going to get kicked out or yelled at because it might be an embarrassing situation to be seen in, but instead, upon noticing that you're there, he said:

"Go piss or shit. I don't care." while applying dollops of dye to his hair in front of the sink mirror.

You said that you do mind it very much, you want your privacy.

"Then hold it in. I'll get out when I'm done." He said so nonchalantly.

Other than that, he's surprisingly respectful in his own way. You thought you would need to do everything yourself on top of taking care of a grown man. But Cain learns. He observes you and, most importantly, does what you do to keep this household afloat.

He noticed that you would clean the dishes a few hours after the meal. Cain would do the same thing, just an hour before you're expected to get up and do it.

He noticed you would take out the trash whenever it filled up, which used to be weekly before he came along. Cain would take care of that before you do.

He noticed that you would stress over the bills and how much it has risen since he came into the picture. And there was the question of your mortgage, too. You're too scared to start charging him rent, fearing that he might not take it well, as he seems to be the type who does not like explicit directives.

However, it seems like he would pick up on it. You would find extra cash that is sometimes speckled with some red liquid. And these aren't chump change either; they can go up to hundreds of dollars, usually enough to cover all your bills and give you a bit of fun money.

He would put them in places where you would absolutely find them, but it's an objectively strange choice. You found a rolled-up stack of hundred-dollar bills in your shoes once, five dollars in the shower caddy, twenty dollars taped to the inside of your uniform (scratching you as you put it on), eighty dollars under your pillow... Asking him about his choice to do this leads to the same angry rant about how you're looking down at him and not appreciating his efforts.

Out of all the places, you don't think that he has ever put cash in your wallet. But with the help of Cain, you managed to get yourself a brand new phone and made the mistake of getting him one too. To which, he took great offence until you framed it as your thankfulness for his efforts around the house. And it was a token of his appreciation. Only then did he accept it without speaking any further.

He's unfortunately not too much of a tech wizard, often leaving them at home when going out for long periods. The way he acts made you wonder if he's someone from the 90s being brought forward into the present.

Cain also had an effect on your work life.

You don't think you have missed a bus anymore, as Cain had the balls to block the doors and force the bus driver to wait for you.

Whenever you're doing the closing shift, he would be there to escort you home. And it was the safest you've ever felt, despite feeling embarrassed when you think Cain is being unnecessarily hostile to innocent people who just "appear" unnerving.

You had an idea to try and get Cain to work alongside you. In hindsight, that was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, Cain agreed to it. Since this is a small town, your boss favours you; he had no problem getting in without an interview or even a background check.

He got fired and banned from the establishment on his first day.

A woman in her mid-ages complained to Cain that her coffee wasn't done well when he had followed all the instructions to a T. She has complained that it wasn't hot enough for her, despite it being at a temperature that can burn. You don't know what set him off that day; maybe it was the ridiculous nature of her complaint, or maybe she reminded him of his many foster mothers who neglected him.

To your horror, Cain decided to splash the cup of coffee against her face. She screamed in pain and fell to the ground. Raising his voice, "Fucking hot enough now, isn't it?"

Cain walked out of the cafe with eyes all on him; it was a miracle that no one was recording. And it was an even bigger miracle that you kept your job, the woman didn't press charges, and neither did your boss. You, of course, apologized profusely to them.

The woman screamed about suing them all, putting Cain behind bars, and closing the cafe down. But you never heard from her again, not even a subpoena. You thought she had a change of heart, and such a nice woman for forgiving everyone.

You expressed your thoughts about it, and Cain kept his lips sealed. He also didn't want to look you in the eye. Perhaps he's feeling remorseful?

You had no idea what happened to your bicycle; it disappeared the day you got your new phone. Asking Cain about it will just earn you a huff and silence. Pressing him about it will get you yelled at for being a dumbass and potentially being part of the statistics of idiotic bicycle deaths.

You think he sold your bicycle.

But it's alright, because he made it up to you by getting a Roomba. You don't know how that is the equivalent of your bicycle, but in his mind, he thinks it is. It was one of the things he's actually proud to present to you, and you didn't have the heart to express anything less than gratitude.

You have to admit that it's quite interesting and fun to watch the small robot just scutter around the room. You would catch him doing that, too, and he doesn't seem to care that you're there, unless you stare at him for too long and not at the Roomba.

Laundry is a strange ordeal with him. There is a Laundromat nearby, and he would always be the one to do it. Whenever you tried doing your own, he would hiss and snarl like a wild animal before snatching it away from you.

As it turns out, he just likes watching the clothes spin and spin through the windows of the front-loading washing machines and dryers. You deduced that it's almost meditative to him, because he would be at his calmest in the laundromat... as long as no one keeps his eyes on him too long.

You even joined him one day, sitting next to him and watching the hypnotizing spin. He paid you no mind, but you knew that he was aware of your presence, as there was one time someone tried striking up a conversation with you. Only for the stranger to be met with Cain's snappy attitude, no one dared to approach you after that.

All seems well. Even though it felt like you were walking on eggshells around him at first, you quickly learned his unspoken, sacred rules and easily maneuvered this strange friendship you have with him. You think Cain is perfectly integrated into your life, and he seems content either sleeping on the couch or on the floor.

He never asked for more, but you're sure that his back is probably killing him from sleeping like a shrimp. So you made the change from a regular couch to a sofa bed, and you made sure to clarify that you're doing this for yourself. Cain didn't object to it, which you can safely interpret as approval.

And approved he did, he was the first one to try out and explore the new piece of furniture. Cain hogged it entirely, using it as a bed and also a shelf, having items randomly placed as if they're soft plushies- you noticed that he's a bit of a hoarder with the random jewelry and items he brings home. He wouldn't encroach on your cabinets and drawers, save for that one portable closet you bought online for him. It was empty for a few weeks until he got the hint that it was for him to put his own stuff. And boy, did he really utilize it.

He doesn't verbally express his gratitude, but you know that he's not taking whatever you gave him for granted. You can see it in his actions, you can feel it.

You don't really have a lot of contacts in this town. But sometimes you do have friends and family flying in and asking if they could spend the night at your place. And you're always put in an extremely difficult position, because what the hell should you tell them? You tried asking Cain if they could stay over, and he flew into a fit of rage. Now, you only saw him cry once, and that was when he first asked you if he could stay at your place. But there were hot, angry tears whenever you mentioned friends and family.

And you could tell that he felt really hurt for some reason. You couldn't tell what the hell he was ranting about, but he goes ballistic over the thought of you having a life outside of him.

Unfortunately, you end up turning them away, because at one point, his outburst got so bad that he took your phone and smashed it against the ground while screaming about how life is unfair to him, about how he wishes death upon your friends and family that he hasn't even met, about how it was only supposed to be you and him. And no one else.

You told him that you didn't understand why he was so upset over your friends and family. You said that you wouldn't have them over if he doesn't want them encroaching on his space. Though you felt bitter when you realized you didn't have full control over your own home.

"Of course you don't! You don't- Don't know what it's like to be me! I fucking hate it, I fucking hate myself! I-I-" He was pacing around, tugging on his hair and grinding his teeth. His teary face scrunched up, as if he were in unbearable pain.

He curled up into a ball on your living room floor and just sobbed. He was expressing a lot of pain, the type that would kill any normal person. But not him, because he's strong and fueled with determination to live in spite of it. But there is only so much stress a man like him can handle.

You looked around. And saw the broken furniture, electronics, and decor that Cain destroyed during his massive meltdown. Most importantly, the phone that's in pieces on the floor. You should have left, you should have called the police, and changed your locks.

Yet, you made the conscious decision to stay and hold a respectful silence for him. You didn't touch him, you didn't give him words of comfort, you just stayed.

And to Cain, that was his first taste of warmth that didn't scorch him. The type of warmth that soothes him, the warmth that he was supposed to receive from the one who loves him.

He mumbled something. You let out a "huh?" as you didn't catch what he said.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered in between sniffles.

That shook you to the core; it was the first time you had heard him apologize. It must have taken tremendous strength for him to have said that. And so, you verbally and clearly forgave him.

He broke down further, crying harder and coughing more.

You didn't know why or what you were doing, but you scooted over and coaxed him to place his head on your lap. You then started to play with his hair. And this seemed to lull him into a deep sense of safety, as you saw him struggling to keep his eyelids open.

He felt warm.

Over the following days, Cain tried his best to clean everything up and to replace whatever he broke. Which is nice of him, but you knew he shoplifted a lot just to do that, and you wished he didn't.

Neither of you spoke about the incident. You end up using his phone as your own now. Cain offered that as a solution. He didn't mention getting another phone for you or himself, though.

Disappointed, but accepting, your friends and family ended up deciding to get a hotel instead. But the visitation date would be pushed back further. You don't think it was a good time to talk to Cain about them visiting, regardless.

Life went on as usual. Except Cain would be at home a lot more, seemingly wanting to get close to you. His temper became much milder, and he became a lot less snappy, instead opting to stay silent when he gets irritated.

You didn't think much of it, until one day he dropped this bomb on you:

"I'm in love with you."

He said this with such conviction, no room for doubt, all certainty. It wasn't phrased as a question, but a solid statement.

You were sitting on opposite sides of the dining table, doing the crossword puzzle book Cain got you as a silent apology for destroying your phone. You looked up and examined his face.

His eyes were soft. Weary, even. There was no hint of wrath, trickery, or shame. There was an air of desperation and even... vulnerability around him. It's a new look on him, and it felt uncanny to you.

You have no idea how to respond. So you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, but said nothing.

Eventually, you expressed that you're speechless and you don't know what to do with his confession.

He looked crestfallen. Cain then averted his eyes to somewhere else. You saw that he's blinking a lot more and taking deeper breaths.

You thought that was the end of that conversation because he didn't continue it for a while.

But you were wrong.

"...What would it fucking take to make you love me, huh?"

You felt the chills down your spine once you heard the harshness return to his once tender tone. He's back, and he's pissed.

His expression became mean. He became the Cain that you always knew. You sighed inwardly, realizing that you had made him put his walls back up.

"Was everything not enough?! Am I not enough for you, huh?! You think you're better than me?!" He shot up from his seat and slammed his hands onto the table. You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. But you could feel the excruciating torment of being rejected once again, and he felt cold. He felt unwanted once more.

You made yourself much smaller in your chair, putting your hands up as a shield.

"You're a fucking asshole, a fucking piece of shit, I hate-" He choked on his own tears, knuckles turning white over how tight he balled his fists. "I..." He gulped and then coughed, then gasped for air. Then sobbed.

It was a pitiful cycle, and it was scary to watch. But you do so anyway, because you believe that everyone deserves to be heard, no matter how insane.

Cain collapsed back into his chair and sobbed into his hands. He kept wiping his eyes and nose harshly, until they turned red.

"I-I can never hate you, I can't. I..."

Cain sounded so broken. But there isn't anything you could do aside from waiting it out.

"I don't know..." He rasped. "I'm in love with you, and it hurts. It really fucking hurts."

You gave him a minute to calm down before speaking up.

You asked him how you could help. To that, you were met with a long pause from the distressed man in front of you.

He reluctantly put his hands down, not before giving himself one last wipe.

Cain then brought his gaze to yours, and you never realized how beautiful his deep brown eyes were. Tortured, but they held an almost ethereal quality to them.

"Will you... Love me back?" He asked, with caution and hope.

You hesitantly replied that you could... try.

Save for the birds outside and the humming of the refrigerator, it was a pin-drop silence. It seems like Cain was processing all of this on his own.

You don't know if you should have said that. Immediately, you started wondering what you had gotten yourself into. But before your thoughts could get too deep,

"Thank you."

It was said in earnest, filled with gratitude and reverence.

Both of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other's quiet and comforting company.

[lacedwithsuguru]

severely toxic!toji who has your mind in a cockdrunk dizzy with every interaction. the two of you got entangled (literally) after you, an illegal bounty collector for an underground yakuza group, met up with him for payday.

nothing could have prepared you for the way the assassin shoved you up against the alley wall, tugging your pencil skirt right off and tearing your lace panties to shreds (maybe pocketing them without your knowledge.)

he whispered dirty nothings into your ear, your form bowing and molding perfectly against his. “such a sweet thing, couldn’t have guessed you were this dirty,” he’d growl, inching himself deeper into your syrupy walls as you desperately gasped for mercy, though you both knew you could take more.

his fingers would tangle in your hair, undoing that perfect slick back, and angling your neck so far back to shove his tongue down your throat in an attempt to shut you, and him, up. “god, you’re fucking milking me,” he’d fan across your lips, before digging his thick digits into your hips and picking up an even more ruthless pace.

your knees would wobble, nearly giving out at the overstimulation. to make things even worse, he’d wrap his massive hand around your waist and push your belly to feel that nub sliding in and out of your womb. “feel that, ma? feel how deep i am?”

the asshole didn’t even bring a condom, pushing into you raw, without a worry of a little him running around town a year from now. you didn’t let up any complaints, anyway. you were too slack jawed, cock drunk to ease any possible worries of his with the fact that you hadn’t missed a pill in years.

you braced your hands against brick wall for any semblance of support from his merciless thrusts, tears threatening to spill from your waterlines, that familiar knot coiling in your gut.

and with the way you were sucking him in every time he pulled out, he knew it, too. “let go, baby. cum for me.”

that was enough for you to snap, your orgasm crashing over you immediately as white dotted your vision. toji wrapped his hand over your mouth to allow you to scream into it, muffling your squeals.

he continued working you through your climax, sending pearly ribbons of his seed against your cervix within moments, growls leaving his gritted teeth.

that night, your first impression with toji, he’d left you with a prompt slap on your ass after tugging your skirt down. mascara smeared across your face, drool trickling down your chin and traces of the brick wall imprinted on your cheek were evidence of his dirty work.

you thought that was it. the asshole, an incredibly sexually talented one, that left you trembling in a dark alleyway, was going to be out of your sight.

and you were very very wrong.

toji fushiguro was a skilled man. and since he wanted to see you again, he could make it happen.

you’d run into the gruffy man at the store, at the bank, at the bar, and the most embarrassing spot to count was your office.

the bastard had no respect for your dignity or space. but that is because you made it incredibly easy for him to intrude into these parts of your life.

he’d show up? you’d give him exactly what he came for.

bending you over your desk and muffling you with your panties so your coworkers wouldn’t hear how he was defiling you behind that frosted glass door.

whisking you away to the bar bathroom where he’d eat you out so ravenously, you’d turn to putty in his grip.

pushing your head down his shaft in your backseat because how dare he be indecent at the grocery store?

after months of these meetings at all odd hours of the day and night, despite your sex-dazed mind for the enigma of a man that practically exuded testosterone that had your primal instincts crawling to the surface, you felt dirty.

used, unrespected, and unappreciated. you knew there was a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you by the second time he showed up—that you were using each other for your deepest sexual desires.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t good, he sparked something lustful in you that no other person could even attempt at achieving.

and when you found yourself wanting more, more than just sex, was where it all went wrong.

because right now, he was plowing you against your kitchen table, your legs wrapped around his waist and tugging at his unruly raven tresses. his lips were kiss-bitten and you could only guess that yours matched his, when your gaze fell upon the seam of his mouth.

“h-how did you… get that?” you moaned into his mouth, feeling his tip bruising your cervix.

“what?” he asked, sweat beading around his furrowed brows.

“that scar, on your, fuck, lip.”

his pace slowed, cock stilling inside of you, as he tilted his head, scanning your near fucked out expression. “why do you ask?”

you felt your hands loosen their grip in his hair, tugging your lower lip between your teeth. this was probably the most he’s ever said to you that didn’t include his lewd language. “we, uh… we don’t know much about each other.”

the edge of his lip curled as his eyes narrowed, a scoff leaving his lips. those large hands of his, that moments ago were just kneading your bare thighs, pulled you off the counter top and spun you around harshly.

“the fuck does that matter?” he whispered against your ear, breath hot, and you could hear that shit-eating grin of his before he aligned his still-hard cock against your entrance and shoved into you, not even allowing you to adjust to his cruel rhythm. “all i need to know is this pussy.”

[riverbends]

Hear me out pope with twins

Especially twin girls best girl dad

OH MY. GOD. ohmygod don’t even get me started. i am hearing you loud and clear. jesus i always forget he was a twin himself so yes you’re so right, he would have twins.

you have never seen that man more conversationally active than when he’s with his girls (this is so evident in the way he interacted with lena, it was like she was the only person he actually enjoyed talking to sometimes lmfaooo). the day they’re born, he just can’t stop looking back and forth between them. like if he lingers too long on one of them, the other will disappear. he’s also just sort of in awe at how your face has merged with his and DOUBLED before his eyes (this man is so self-loathing, he really just hopes they will take after you in every way possible because he can’t imagine passing down any of his baggage to these poor girls)

as they get older, he’s always reminding them how important it is to stick together. that, no matter what, they are each other’s priority. he might sound like a broken record sometimes, especially when he’s trying to mediate their fights, but you know it’s a product of the rough childhood he had with julia. the void between them when she left; how she still haunts him now.

one of them has recurring nightmares and she’s developed the habit of slipping into your bedroom to curl into the warmth of her father’s chest for safety. the first time it happened, she reached up to poke at his arm and rouse him from his sleep (he’s a pretty light sleeper so he was already awake when she opened the door). he didn’t ask her why she was trying to climb onto the bed, just swiftly pulled her up with one arm, murmuring “come on”. shortly after, your other girl crawled into the space between you and pope, nestling against your back. it’s been a frequent practice for months and you both agree the girls need to sleep in their respective beds.

pope starts carrying your nightmare twin back to her bed and reading her bedtime stories in an attempt to soften her dreams before she returns to sleep. he eventually falls asleep too, holding her in his arms. wakes up with a stiff back. never ever complains.

after a while, you guys can’t be bothered taking the girls back to their room so, most nights, the four of you are packed in the king-sized bed. you’ll both figure it out later. he doesn’t ask the kid what her nightmares are about until daytime. his own way of keeping the monsters away from bedtime. tells her to remember she’s got nothing to worry about as long as he’s here.

so. like. basically if he had two lena’s. idk why i got so carried away with this

[encoredesires]

Hii um idk if I'm doing this right but I saw your reblog of Bang Chan when he had his hands behind his head nd in the most respectful way possible I need MOREEEEEE!

Nd maybe instead of him praising you maybe he could be degrading you for being a needy cockslut?

If this makes you uncomfortable please just ignore it nd sorry in advance🫶

I was just thinking about making a short drabble about that! Well let’s just say I got a little to into it😅 But with degrading?! You've definitely got my attention🤍 how about praising & degrading? Hope you like it🥰

ANONY is talking about THIS!!

This was also lost in my draft from MONTHS AGO!

🔞!MDNI!🔞 18+ CONTENT BELOW!👇

"Channie," you sing his name as you lower yourself to straddle him. He hums as he opens his eyes & he moves the left side of his headphones off his ear. “Play with me?”.

"I can do it- Baby, I promise to be good." Squirming as you feel him getting hard under you.

"If you sit on my cock without moving until I tell you to, I'll fuck you however & as long as you want," he says stopping you from moving your hips "How does that sound baby?"

"Y-yes, I can do it." whine out at the stop of the friction but the pressure of his hard on pressing into your cloth, throbbing clit made it hard to stay true to your word. With trembling, impatient hands you untie the strings to his shorts before lifting & pulling down his shorts & boxers. You hear him hiss as the cold air that hits already red & leaking cock.

No matter how many times you've seen it you never get over how pretty it is. It always makes your mouth water & knees weak. You look up at him to see him already staring at you with a smirk. He knows how much you love having the weight of him on tongue from the few times you came untouched while sucking him dry. His hands are placed back under his head showing off all the work he put in at the gym. He looks like a Greek god. Maybe even better.

"Baby," Chan says in warming, reminding you of the deal you both made. You stop moving & you look at him waiting for his next command. "C'mon be a good girl & put me in that warm, tights cunt of yours," he smile's up at you.

You raise your hips & begin to rub his thick blush-red tip to coat it with your arousal. You aim him at your entrance before finally lowering yourself. Having on one of his oversized shirts with nothing underneath may be your best decision ever.

"Oh fuck," you moan as you start to feel the burn as he stretches you out. From beginning to end it’s always pain in pleasure in the best way ever with beautiful man under you.

"That's it, baby girl, just like that." He groans out feeling your tight cunt but not making any attempt to help you. No matter how much you or Chan preps before taking him, it's always never enough & you could never be upset about it.

"That pretty little pussy takes me so well." He moans out lifting his hips a little causing you to choke on a moan at the unexpected movement. " I know baby just a little more." He says still watching you with that smug look you hate but love oh so much, finally bottoms out leaving you full & legs shaking. You lean down & kiss his soft pink plump lips. Moaning from feeling him move the slightest bit inside you & you clenching around him. You lay on his chest trying your best to stay still & be good for your boyfriend.

Chan places his headphones back on both of his ears & closed his eyes just like he did when you first walked in.

So, when Chan feels you start to squirm a little not long after he’s not surprised. At first he figured you were just moving to get a bit more comfortable he brushed it off, until he felt you clenching around him.

“So impatient, so fucking cock hungry that you couldn’t even sit still for 5 minutes.” Chan laughs causing both your body to shake & his thick tip to brush that sweet spot he always hits no matter what position you’re in. “To think I thought my baby girl would be good & wait, but that’s my fault. I forgot I have a slut who is always trying to jump my bone like a bitch in heat” the heat of his breathe fanning over your ear & neck & the defining words should not have the affect it has on you that it does but it do & you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Channie please,” you whine trying to move your hips but the vice grip your boyfriend now has on you, wouldn’t grant you the pleasure.

“Please, what? We’ve barely done anything & I know you’re already so close to cummin.” He continues to whisper in your eyes with that voice that has talked you through many mind blowing, earth shattering orgasms.But right now you know it’s him daring you to cum without his permission, daring you to do as you please, use him as you want knowing it might be the only time you do for tonight or week. When Chan gets in his mode there is no stopping him or changing his mind.

“Fuck you,” you said the gritted teeth. Without a word Chan lifts your hip & slams you back down. Your release hitting you harder than ever. You squeezing your eyes closed so tight you start to see white spot.

“My pleasure love, I love reminding bratty sluts like you how to fucking behave & to be grateful for what is given to them,” Chan hissed as he gets up & carry you to your shared bedroom. He all but tosses you on the bed. “Ass up baby girl, you’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

& a long frustrating night you had. Chan repeated filling you up or cummin somewhere on you,bringing you close to release & relief only to snatch it away. Every. Single. Time. Bye the end you were a crying, sobbing, shaking, cum covered mess. Your boyfriend knew this punishment would “tame” you for a while but not long. You will right back to this slutty, impatient, horny, brat but you were his & his to tame every single time you forgotten to be his good girl & behave.

Main Taglist is open:

@namjoonandchanswife @ipurplebtsminyoongi @svtrighthereworld @megtheekpopslut @whoreforchanin @galaxy4489

©rhonnie23ownallcopyrights

[vandermorgans]

okay i had to have this be its own post because shsjjdhf

GENUINELY dutch does have a very big ego but that ego is so small and so DEPENDENT on others looking up to him— others being especially ARTHUR like Arthur is the Enforcer hes the Big Guns- hes the Reason their Army is Intact- he is the Reason they can Live Comfortably as a gang— He has the whole gang on HIS BACK and as such— Dutch feels it extra hard hitting when Arthur questions him because unlike micah or john or hosea ARTHUR is respected as THE strongest— the ‘alpha’ so to speak and Arthur has always been his #1 Enforcer his #1 Love the plan i’ll do whatever you want and i’ll make your dreams come true through blood no questions asked so when others question him it hurts yes— because they’re undermining him and his leadership but for arthur? its an ACTUAL threat and he has to NIP that in the bud or otherwise the others will get ideas to start speaking up AGAINST him and then what will he have fought for? Nothing

arthur is respected enough to be able to crush anything he worked for and the funny thing is… he did. literally the whole chapter 6 shows how respected Arthur is like this man made everyone leave and these people were all so ready to die for Dutch but he made that decision for them and they had to heed him because of who he is (not even out of their own survival skills)

there is a little camp interaction early on in game where dutch says to arthur ‘you’ll betray me. you seem the type’ and arthur gets miffed like ruffled hes like ‘what a weird thing to say’ but it’s not… its not a weird thing to say— it’s not its really not— ITS NOT any leader knows their biggest enemy and weakness is their RIGHT HAND ALWAYS any leader and every leader know your STRONGEST follower is always your strongest Opposition leader and the one that’ll succeed most easiest to dismantle your legacy

[salvator-castano]

Salvator “Saint” Castaño Age: 33 Origin: Medellín, Colombia → Miami, Florida

Salvator Castaño was born in the hills of Medellín, Colombia, where he learned early that integrity came with a price. When his father Tomás Castaño, a mechanic who refused to pay protection money, was gunned down in front of their home, his mother Lucía made the impossible choice to run. She brought three-year-old Salvator to Miami with nothing but grief and determination.

They lived hand-to-mouth in a crumbling apartment in Little Havana. His mother worked herself raw cleaning offices, manning stoves, and taking every shift she could. By the time he was thirteen, Saint realized her strength alone wasn’t enough to keep them afloat. That’s when he started selling. First he started small, pushing dime bags for the guys who ran the streets. Eventually, he got smart. He didn’t flash it. He didn’t brag. He just made money and made sure they survived. 

Now, years later, his mother’s mind is slipping. Alzheimer’s has stolen her memories, her language, her spark. Saint keeps her in his Miami high-rise penthouse, cared for by the best team money can buy. Every morning, he still sits with her for café con leche, whether she remembers him or not.

Saint isn’t his real name, but it’s the only one most people use. It started as a joke — he didn’t swear in front of women, wouldn’t sell to kids, and didn’t get caught up in petty street politics. Over time, it stuck. Now it carries weight. He runs a silent empire behind polished doors: upscale wellness lounges offering “premium enhancements,” and luxury car rentals moving weight through the city’s elite hands. Everything clean. Everything quiet. No chaos, no mess. That’s his way.

Saint lives by a personal code: protect the innocent, never start a war, but if someone brings one to your door… end it. Efficiently. Permanently.

Tattooed over his heart is a black lotus, its petals sharp, its roots twisted deep. It symbolizes what he’s survived; what he’s crawled through to become untouchable. He’s a man shaped by loss, by love, and by the myth people built around him.

Underneath the empire and the iron control is a son still holding onto a fading mother. A boy who became a man far too fast. A man who never wanted to be feared — but accepted the price that came with being respected.

[nogu-d-reamers]

TFP MINI STORY= comfy fugitives.

Well, one person voted to hear my vision of what Knockout would be like dealing with his own human teenager.

And out of respect for that vote, here it goes~

SUMARY=

20 years after the events of TFP, Knockout fled from the Autobots and returns to Earth hoping to end his existence with a strange feeling of being fed up with everything... unfortunately his pre-mortem plans are interrupted by a human military chase towards a test subject; a teenager with mechanical parts who asks him for help escaping home. KO is initially uninterested in helping until he recognizes that those chasing him were MECH and decides to intervene in the name of sabotaging them for "boredom" (everything they did related to Breakdown and Silas). The teenager, Fio ; more horrified by humans than by him, makes a deal: she is the daughter of a military man who had been chasing MECH for a long time, so in exchange for taking her home he can get whatever he wants as long as he is within his rank. KO accepts the deal on the condition that if the girl is lying, he will eliminate her in the most horrible way he can think of, the girl, without nerves, accepts the condition.

A journey filled with fights, disputes, sarcasm, crises, and imperfections, but in a strange way; a bond of sincerity and friendship develops between the ex-Con' and the girl.

About KO:

The former Decepticon doctor, despite betraying Starscream and being accepted by the Autobots, has proven more vulnerable than he expected, feeling it was so easy that he ended up overwhelmed and escaping to Earth at the first opportunity, hiding from them as much as possible; keeping his reasons for returning to Earth to himself. He's still a conceited and narcissistic jerk who, above all, hates scratches in his paint and will get angry and ready to pull out his buzzsaw. But in Fio's company, he begins to soften and become more sincere… trying to disguise it with sarcasm and arrogance; but at a point where the human knows when he's seriously bragging and when he's just doing it to protect himself.

Feeling he has nothing to lose and the reward Fio offered him, he agrees to take care of Fio until he can bring her home, thinking that "without a war, it's something Breakdown would definitely do."

About Fio:

Fiorella Ricci, or simply known as "Fio," was just an ordinary girl who had the misfortune of becoming MECH's biggest target when her father was a researcher and actively wanted to wipe out the group. She ended up being mutilated and having her body parts replaced with prosthetic prototypes made from fallen Cons and Bots. She has no clear sense of how much time she spent as a subject of experiments or even processed the pain of her Cybertronian parts… she doesn't care at all (or she tries to); she ended up so affected that her only thought is to stay away from anything related to MECH and just return home, regardless of the means or ally.

At first, she remains reserved with the bot, only giving vague clues about how to get to her city, but sooner or later she begins to have conversations, ramblings, and arguments with it to make the journey more pleasant.

[rin-sith]

Following especially the latest season of Prodigy, I would just like to give a shoutout to Chakotay.

I actually liked him even back in Voyager, although he could definitely have been written better in that show. But then Prodigy came, and despite his limited screen time, that show did him SO well I can still barely believe it. And no, I'm not talking about how unexpectedly hot he looks in a cowboy hat ... That's the bonus cherry on top if anything.

If Prodigy proved anything (besides that it is now one of my favorite Star Treks of all time) is that Chakotay's earned that captain's chair, and so, so much respect.

I love how we get to see him be the selfless, dedicated, strong leader that he is and has always been, entirely disconnected from Janeway or any other legacy character. Now more than ever Chakotay and Janeway are just equally hardcore, badass captains who would give their lives for the greater good in an instant, and that's part of what makes them so great. Their equality, despite the different ranks, really came across in Prodigy more than ever before, which I loved to see.

Honestly, whenever I see Chakotay dismissed as a doormat or "best off as second in command" I just kind of rage a little. Even back in Voyager, it was pretty clear to me that he wasn't (for example, some people seem to forget that he was a captain originally and only became a first officer for the good of the Maquis crew.)

And now that we have Prodigy ... Even though we don't really see much of it on screen (which is a shame), I like reminding myself how, since the launch of the Protostar, he went through 12 (!) more years of (self-)sacrifice and (leadership) hell and managed to come out of that seemingly stronger and more certain of his place and himself than ever.

Even the events of "The Last Flight of the Protostar" aside ... Just think about how many life-altering, defining, difficult choices and sacrifices he had to make in those 12 years.

In the timeline that was averted, he sacrificed his only shot to get back home through the wormhole (the Protostar) to save the Federation from the weapon on board.

In the new timeline, he sacrificed himself by choosing to stay on that planet where he and Adreek landed, also for the sake of protecting the Federation from the weapon on the Protostar.

Chakotay was technically stranded in the Delta Quadrant twice (once with Voyager, once with the Protostar), and despite how abysmally things went on his first command, he never sacrificed his integrity or his dedication to Starfleet's values. He becomes a little grumpy over 10 years in solitude, but honestly, who wouldn't? And then the first thing he does after being rescued is take over Voyager-A and continue his service ... That's some dedication if I've ever seen it. I think he may have wanted to prove something there ... and honestly, he couldn't have succeeded more.

And no, he did not "teach" Dal that his place was "the second in command" ... On the contrary, he very likely showed Dal through his own competence and perseverance that Dal himself was simply not ready yet for such a responsibility.

He's just an extraordinary captain who has gone through things and made choices that very few others could have made. Choices like sending the Protostar back in time, that had the fate of the entire Federation depending on it.

I adore Prodigy in general, but one of the things I adore the most is that it finally shows us more of why Chakotay is not second to Janeway or to anyone. He's his own leader, his own character, and his own captain who deserves so much more acknowledgment.

Although, I still feel that we were robbed of some of Chakotay's best moments by not showing us the arrival of the Protostar on Solum and later the events preceding its (presumably) emergency landing on that planet where it stayed for ten years (honestly, I'd love for future Prodigy seasons to have maybe a flashback episode or two about the Protostar's maiden voyage and Chakotay's arrival on Solum and maybe later on that planet where he was stranded.)

Anyway, long rant over ... All I wanted to say was that Chakotay has more than earned the command of Voyager-A; seeing him in that chair made me very happy, I won't lie.

And I really hope if/when Prodigy gets more seasons, he'll be a more major character because he deserves a more central role.

[ilynpilled]

jaime turning women down constantly more bc he is very monogamous and in love with someone else right now for the first time and is also kinda scared of actually having sex with someone other than cersei is sm better to me than “i respect the kg vows of chastity so intensely rn actually because i changed into a good and serious person” or whatever lol