#so sorry for this like eking out he is him is the thing and all the kota matches and kenny matches

[jockpoetry]

rattling the bars of my enclosure the madness of kenny omega the death of kenny omega the rebirth of kenny omega he came back wrong that kenny omega washed his sins clean kenny omega he lived and loved and lost kenny omega doomed to repeat the flat circle kenny omega falling in love with is own reflections kenny omega needs to be loved but hates to have anyone look up to him kenny omega hE IS THE GUY OF ALL TIME

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Know Your Place 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall, destroyer!Chris [for the purposes of this AU, I will give him the last name Jackson] (Professor AU)

Summary: after a life time of home schooling, you finally get to experience the real world in college. (petite reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The noise all around has you reeling. You’re not used to so many people. So many voices and smells and sights. The frantic action of it all reminds you of a mid-00s movie about a high school. The coeds are like animals milling about in groups with the odd single body rushing between with a mission stitched between their brows. 

You sit with your thermos of tea and try to focus on your schedule. You have a campus map from the Student Support Centre next to it, trying to map out your route for each day. Momma said you should try to get ahead, figure out where you’re going. She’s always right. 

You have two classes that day. As you find the buildings on the map, planting a finger on each, you find that they are on completely different ends of the campus. Of course. Well, momma didn’t know that where they would be, did she? She said you have to balance your load; if you’re going to be an English major, make sure you take some math and science for your electives. 

You circle the two buildings and put lets beside them denoting which day you need to be there, numbering them in the order the classes occur. A burst of laughter breaks your concentration and you look around, trying to find the source. You almost miss the calm isolation of your childhood living room. 

No, you’re grown now and you begged Momma to let you go to college. Not online, but in person. You even worked all summer at the deli so you could live in a dorm. She was proud but worried. She’s never been good at letting go. She’s already called three times today and it’s not even noon. 

As the crowd blurs around you, a sudden gust blows over the table as someone sits across from you. You stare back at them with a gasp. They must’ve mistaken you for someone else. You blink as the man tugs on the front of his letterman jacket and smiles. He doesn’t seem mistaken. 

“Hey,” he leans forward on an elbow, “you waitin’ for someone? Got some cute girlfriends on their way?” 

He’s so forward, he has your brows as high as they can go and your cheeks are on fire. It’s not much of an introduction. 

“Excuse me?” You eke out. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, hon, I’m getting ahead of myself,” he smirks as he crosses both his arms on the table. “I’m Colin. You looked lonely.” 

“Oh, uh, I’m just... figuring out my schedule,” you utter dumbly. Yor brain isn’t clicking. Why is he talking to you? 

Your ears tweak and you notice a group in similar jackets, sitting just across the dining area, gabbing loudly, snickering. You wonder why he isn’t over there with them. You wiggle your pen anxiously. 

“Ah, you’re not gonna give me a name for that pretty face?” He says. 

“Huh?” Your brows drop, “what?” 

Your momma’s voice echoes in your head. ‘Be careful of those college boys. They only want one thing.’ You didn’t believe her. They don’t want that from you. You were sure once you saw the other girls in their tight leggings and short tops. 

“Your name, baby? Gotta be something sweet, huh?” 

Your face ripples as you wade through surprise, confusion, then something else. You’re almost giddy. This man, with his mussed blond hair and bright blue eyes, and his chiseled features, is asking you your name. It’s flattering. 

“Mauve,” you can’t help but smile as you answer. 

“Oh, yeah? That’s pretty, well, Mauve,” he takes out his phone, “me and my buddies are having a party tonight and we’re supposed to find a hottie to bring with us. I’m having no luck but if I show up alone, well... I might not get to stay in the frat. You get it?” 

You stare at him. You're confused. You don’t really understand frats and whatnot. They just seem like clubs people join so they can drink. 

“You wanna do me a favour? Come with me?” He asks. 

He’s bold. Bolder than any one you’ve ever met. You sputter but can’t come up with any words. 

“Please,” he pouts, “promise, I won’t try anything, I just gotta get these guys off my back.” 

He looks over his shoulder at the table of rowdy guys. You squirm in your seat, uncertain. You’ve never been to a party. Wow. 

“Here, I’ll get your number,” he taps on his phone screen, “I’ll send you the details--” 

“Leave her alone,” a grizzly voice undercuts the frat across from you. 

A thick man stands behind him. He has a cardboard cup in his hand as he glares down at the coed. His burly figure is swathed in a dark green sweater and grey slacks. He’s older and his dark curls are threaded with subtle twinkles of silver. 

“Huh? Who the hell are you?” 

“Why don’t you show her those pictures you were snapping of her? The ones you and your pals were laughing about?” The other man growls.  

You frown. What? You don’t understand what’s going on. You look from one to the other. The younger man sat across from your sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck it. Whatever. Lots of pigs to go around,” he shakes his head and stands, facing the other man. “You know, bro, just cause you’re too old to get with any ass around here, doesn’t mean you gotta ruin it for others.” 

“Get out of here,” the thicker man snarls. The other winces just slightly before puffing up his chest and stomping away. 

You remain as you are, aghast and lost. The man with the dark curls looks at you. You shrug at him. 

“I’m sorry, sir, did I do something wrong?” You ask. 

The harsh angles of his scowl ease and he lets out a long breath, “uh, no, not you. That boy, you know, any one that wears one of those jackets, they’re no good. Just some advice.” 

“Oh, right,” you look over at that guy, Colin, “sorry, I didn’t know. He just started talking to me. I was being polite.” 

“Seem like a nice girl. Just tryna look out for you.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” you chew your lip and sniff. “Are you... are you teacher?” 

“I’m a professor,” he confirms as he holds his cup close to his chest. He's one of the biggest men you’ve ever seen. And his eyes are as blue as the ocean. “Professor Marshall but unless you’re a psych student, you can call me Walter.” 

“Walter? My neighbour is Walter. At home. He’s eighty-one and he collects baseball cards,” you let yourself smile. You always felt more comfortable around older people. You never had many friends your own age. 

“Don’t mind some baseball myself,” he dips his chin. “Well, you look out for yourself and avoid the Greeks.” 

“Greeks?” You make a face. 

“Fraternities,” he says. “And sororities, if you can help it.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you, sir,” you feel a little better. You think he’s right and he is a professor. He would know. “I’ll do that.” 

“Sir? It’s Walter,” he corrects you. 

“Oh, sorry, Walter,” you smile. “I’m Mauve.” 

He nods and shifts his cup, “Mauve,” he repeats, “well, nice to meet you.” 

“You too, sir, er, Walter. Thank you,” you say. 

He hesitates then steps back on his heel, “yeah, no problem.” 

He slowly retreats and you watch him, your heart playing like a drum. You did it. You spoke to strangers and you didn’t melt. Things are getting easier. If you could get through that, you’re sure you’ll make lots of friends in your classes. 

[ohsunnyboy]

stopping me now | jung sungchan ˚₊‧⁺˖

early mornings, bitter coffee and jung sungchan, all staples of your office life until one morning goes wrong just right

TAGS: office!au, gn!reader, romcom type of vibe, forced proximity, strangers to lovers, sorta mutual pining, awkward!reader who is rly intense abt their spreadsheets

A/N: office au is my fav au so sungchan in one is my ultimate self-indulgence! sorry it's been a while :] (first riize fic let's goooo)

WORDS: ~1950

Jung Sungchan is missing.

Ding! 

You don't actually know each other. Counting the months, it's been almost a year of standing in silent acknowledgement within this tiny elevator. In fact, you shouldn't even know his name! You only managed to find it out when he dropped his lanyard when you two were clocking out, and you picked it up for him, but he only blushed, yelped his thanks and ran!

Was he hiding unapproved invoices? was his department over budget? you swear that the accounting department isn't that scary!

Ding!

Should standing in an elevator for nearly fifteen minutes count as your morning commute? It really shouldn't but here you are. The coffee in your hands went cold about 5 floors ago, the usual ache in your feet is starting to kick in, and you can feel the humidity wreaking havoc on your hair. You really do want to curse out the big shot who thought that having offices on the 40th floor was a good idea. Partly, you think that Sungchan would also curse them out as well.

By floor thirty something, you almost fall asleep before a familiar sight steps into the lift. And unfortunately enough, he looks to be in the same state as you are.

Ready to murder, or be the first one to die in said horror film. You wonder if Sungchan likes horror movies too. Every office worker should: it gets the stress out very well. In fact, he might’ve been staying up late watching them; the bags under his eyes really don’t compliment the lack of caffeine in his hands. You almost feel half tempted to give him your own cold cup to help tide his morning over.

Sungchan slots right into place at the back of the elevator next to you. His broad shoulders knocking into you slightly due to the cramp of the lift.

After a year of it, you’d like to think you’re used to the space he takes up in your life; physically and mentally.

The thing is, for a guy that works an office job, Jung Sungchan is not a bad looking man at all. Always looking like he's attending the first day of school with a pressed collar and ironed tie, it's hard to look... and not fall in love with him in the process. Never once in your commuting life have you ever seen a hair out of place on him. He's closest you've ever physically gotten to the picture of corporate happiness and 100% customer satisfaction, while you get into daily arguments with your Excel spreadsheet.

Ding!

A trolley of files comes wheeling into the cube of claustrophobia, forcing you to squeeze further into the corner until you find yourself between a cold corner and a warm place. The thought of whatever department’s budget goes flying out the window when — Ah.

The smell of citrus falls over you like a waterfall. Sungchan’s cologne must be dumped in his hair because it’s suddenly all you know. It makes you dizzy, so much so, that you barely notice him sheepishly grinning down at you. He’s leant on his forearm, next to your head, caging you in, and his other is desperately trying not to dig his messenger bag into your side.

"So sorry about this," he whispers. It feels conspiratorial in the tight space, but almost everyone else has earbuds in and probably have bigger things to worry about.

You tilt up to look at him, not forgetting to linger on the long column of his throat exposed by his grey suit. "S'fine,” you mumble up to him, sorely aware of the way his wide eyes stare into yours. "Nice to meet you?" you eke out. You try and go for casual and smooth, but your heart sounds like a clattering of the subway: raucous in your ears.

Maybe it has been a year of pining away. Staring after Sungchan and his unfairly good proportions and rolling mountain shoulders. You don’t know how the PR interns haven’t already kidnapped him to make some sexy corporate calendar. However, you do know that it would increase revenue for the entire first quarter and save you about 10 less board meetings on budget caps. The content of said photoshoots is all you can dazedly think about as he shifts again, shuffling further into the wall and further into your mental mess.

Ding!

Sungchan’s smile is wicked as it breaks you from your thoughts. "Lovely to meet you, elevator buddy." And he sends you an overconfident wink for your efforts – with a small blush to dash. “Would love to shake your hand but, we’re ah – a bit occupied.”

You quirk a brow. “Elevator buddy?”

Sungchan’s grin doesn’t relent, even at your scrunched expression. "I've spent the past year calling you that, you're not stopping me now.” He says the last bit under his breath, as the lady with the trolley backs up even further into him and pushes him impossibly closer to you. His lips end up skimming your forehead and sending an involuntary chill down your spine, while your right hand ends up flat on his chest, your left jammed awkwardly into your side with your coffee.

Pull it together, please God, pull it together.

“The last year?” Is all you can get out coherently. It’s impossible to take deep breaths when every thought in your head is being thrown out of a metaphorical window. Citrus and smoke, hands and lips, months and quarters. This elevator crush is going to haunt you for life if you go back to silence after all this. Stop asking questions damn it!

Sungchan hums, the sensation sinking into your bones. “It’s about then, no? It was my first time in the building because it was the BigHit and Pledis merger last year,” he says, awfully fond. “You had a massive dossier of balance sheets, and I crashed into you in the elevator lobby because you never saw me. Your papers went everywhere!” Sungchan trails off in a laugh, however your mind starts taking very careful steps back into the past…

You barely remember last year. Only the stress piling up on your table from one too many days working after hours in the quiet with Eunseok. The grid lines of spreadsheets permanently etched onto your screens and into your retinas. Neither company was willing to give an inch for each other in spite of the whole “merger” idea, forcing far too many revisions, far too close to the deadline those prissy higher ups set. And so, the entire fate of departments rested on your two heavily overworked shoulders.

Running into someone like Sungchan would have never crossed your mind then. Being all wrapped up in your stress, there was no way you’d pay that much attention to a pretty face. One incident in particular though… ding!

“Wait… you’re the one that spilt their pretentious oat milk chai latte on the finalised budget reports?!” You don’t even know if that was his actual drink order but all you remember was flying into a fit of red rage when green bled all over your precious, freshly printed work.

To hell with kissing him; a kiss with your fist was way more overdue. 

Sungchan practically squawks as he jumps to justify himself. “I didn’t spill anything! I just accidentally walked into you and the papers – and my latte ­– went flying! Not my fault.” His hand snakes down from the wall and onto yours resting on his chest. If you could physically look him in the eyes, you’d be sure there’d be some fire of determination in them.

Now, it’s his heartbeat, clattering under your ear like the ticking of keycaps; it’s his heat, sticking his shirt under your palm like tack; it’s his voice, shaking like an intern at the barest critique. His hand dwarfs yours: long fingers tracing the lines of yours. 

Your temper matches in step with your heart, beating against your mind in double time. “Do you know how long it takes to print double sided for a full dossier?! All of it to end up on the floor, covered in your hipster green tea latte! I have full authority to half whatever budg—"

Ding!

— “Hey, you two, this is your floor.” The tired voice of general manager Kim Doyoung chirps in. Red floods your face at the thought of someone watching you lose your head. Nevertheless, Doyoung watches on with a boredom only he could achieve. “You, save the death threats for feedback week, and Sungchan — don’t mess with someone from accounting.”

Sungchan takes the hint and peels himself off you, the smell of citrus still making you dizzy. The crowd barely parts, but he uses his size, pushing the way for the both of you. His enormous hand holding yours through the crowd and guiding you out of the cube of stress. When the doors whir shut behind you, he takes your empty coffee cup and dumps it into the bin.

Never would you think you’d be left hand in hand with Sungchan in an isolated elevator lobby. He’s still clasped onto you with a vice grip: his heat searing into your palms like hot iron. It burns being this close. The buzzing AC in the lobby being the only thing keeping you alive.

Nobody talks for a second, letting the silence say it’s piece before your mouth starts moving before you’ve processed what it’s doing. "If anyone reports us to HR, I am so so sorry.”

Sungchan takes a breath, blinking those wide doe eyes at you before his face splits into a grin. “No, don’t worry. I don’t think Doyoung-hyung will kick up much fuss,” he smiles.

Only now do you remember Doyoung is the head of HR and your heart kicks into double time again, but how is Sungchan so calm about this? As if reading your mind, he squeezes your hand to reassure you before dropping your it. “Stop looking so worried! Just look.” He pulls his lanyard out from where he usually stashes it in his breast pocket, and you nearly trip over your feet when you see it.

"I am HR." What the hells.

The look on your face must give it all away as Sungchan’s laugh echoes in the empty elevator lobby. And hells, the kid – is he even younger than you?? – knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger. "Maybe I will just file a complaint,” he says with a smile. “What was that again? Threatening to half our department budget?”

He tilts his head all coy like he’s not the one at fault here. The audacity, really. You shake your head in mild disbelief and shrug off your nerves. Oh, you know what? Might as well go for it. What’s stopping you now? Definitely not HR.

"Bold words from someone who singlehandedly setback the entire Bighit-Pledis merger back by a whole day,” you counter, head raised in even challenge. Sensible accountant alarm bells are ringing in your mind, but you clamp down on them. “Shouldn’t you, be making up to me?”

It’s your turn to fan your lashes and pout your lips. Savouring in the way he pretends to think and avoid staring at your pouted lips.

"There might just be something..." His long fingers pull you in by the lapels, just a hair away. A blush must flush all the way down you from the way his eyes light up. You watch his lips curl into that grin of his, already thinking about what’s next. Citrus and smoke, hands and lips, months and quarters.

"Not here, sweetness." And his smile is just as deadly as yours.

Fuck the spreadsheets. You’ve got a private meeting in board room #127 with corporate happiness.

hope i haven’t lost my touch :) thanks sm for reading and if you enjoyed, a reblog would be nice to help encourage more <3 ⭒ masterlist

[danieyells]

@2flowerz NOW I CAN POST THEM LOL HERE'S ED TO START WITH

PERVY OLD VAMPIRE IS AN ABSOLUTE GOOBER. . .he's also very very tired. But he has a very nice reaper taking care of him and a friendly dog that wants him to go outside more, so he has people who love and care for him even though he's. . .a little troublesome haha.

also I changed the format from previous posts and added the specific times and seasons and such for each dialogue! this should help lessen some confusion about how to get them.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Ah, there you are. I've a favor to ask of you— come to my room and I'll explain."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Oh? It appears we have some letters. Alas, my eyesight is not what it used to be. Read them out to me, would you?"

well maybe if you didn't stare at your tablet all day. . . .

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I have much to learn about the human world... Rui is teaching me a lot, but I cannot seem to divorce myself of careless blunders."

y'know, it's good he's trying to learn anyway. 400 years old is never too late.

"What did I do before Darkwick? I eked out a humble existence in Eastern Europe. Hm? The most powerful vampire? No, those are just rumors. "

didn't you confirm it yourself in the main story though--also if he was living in eastern europe for the past 400-ish years i wonder if he saw lyca when he was young, even if in passing? then again eastern europe isn't exactly small.

"I was taken by a sudden whim to travel abroad. I had heard good things about Japan so I came over to play, but alas, I was captured."

so he went to japan just to have a nice time for a while but the Institute decided to keep him trapped in Darkwick. . .and then they didn't listen to any warnings or concerns he had. . .no wonder he doesn't give a shit what's going on around here, why would he? They abducted him while he was on vacation--and for what?

"I have no interest in harming humans. After all, they die so quickly. They should enjoy their short lives while they can."

"(cough cough) Oh, it's you... I'm feeling worse than usual today. I don't suppose you could carry me to bed?"

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Good morning... What time is it? ...Still that early? Wake me up again at midday, would you?"

honestly Ed? Mood.

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"If this is about a mission, I can't help you, I'm afraid. I leave such day-to-day duties to Rui, so I suggest you ask him instead."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm more or less confined to this house most days, for various reasons. I'm on my best behavior. But I'll do what I can to support you from the sidelines."

y'know, he's offering to help a little even at Affinity 3 and that counts for something in my book.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"My favorite channel should be posting a new video at any moment... Sorry, but could we continue this tomorrow?"

you have not yet reached the stage of friendliness where you're more important than a youtube video lmao

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't suppose you know where Rui is? How troubling... My YouTube video has stopped playing..."

well at this hour i'd check either the bar or his room???

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Oh, it hurts... I cannot seem to shake this ache in the place Rui touched me earlier... I think I'll rest a while."

so it seems like either his limbs pop off/part of him breaks open when Rui touches him, or he suffers a great deal of pain for an extended period of time, maybe his body actively fighting extremely rapid necrosis? Rui did say that he basically insta-kills anyone who isn't super strong, so Ed being in excruciating pain instead of dying or losing a limb now and then makes sense.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I can't survive much sunlight. Without my parasol, I can barely go outside... (sigh) It really is quite punishing..."

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Sounds like Lyca's having fun, from all that yapping. I think it's good for him to develop some temporary bonds with humans at this time in his life."

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I felt the urge to go stargazing, so I went to a hill nearby, but Towa was there already and he chased me away."

TOWA STOP BEING MEAN HE actually he probably would have bothered you and if he smells like a corpse to you that would have been annoying even if he didn't talk to you BUT STILL DON'T BE MEAN.

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You ought to be getting ready for bed. Me? Oh, I'll turn in soon... Just one more YouTube video."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Are you going for a walk? Take care not to spend too long in the garden. Humans are rather susceptible to the miasma there."

WE NEVER DID LEARN ABOUT THE MIASMA. WHAT'S UP WITH THE MIASMA WHY'S THE AIR IN OBSCUARY FUNKY.

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Do you realize that human society is controlled by a shady cabal of elites? There are many videos about it on YouTube."

I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING FOR HIS LAPTOP TO BE TAKEN AWAY OR TIME ON IT RESTRICTED. . .HE'S INTO CONSPIRACY THEORY YOUTUBERS HE'S GONE TOO FAR DOWN THE RABBITHOLE

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"The ghouls are rioting again? Ah ha ha ha, they certainly are full of energy. If you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of a YouTube video."

he simply does NOT GIVE A FUCK lmao the ghouls could be dying out there and he'd probably shrug it off. Maybe keep an eye on things with his sixth sense or have some bats watch. Maybe that's part of why so many ghouls dislike him? he doesn't have any concerns for their plights and problems?

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"How strange... I can't find my other sock. I could have sworn I put it here... Have you seen it?"

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Lyca made a mess again? Ah ha ha ha. Try not to judge him too harshly—he's not human, after all."

i think even for non-humans there's some cleanliness to be strived for. . .even pigs are pretty clean animals from what I hear. . . .

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Rui? Is my lunch ready yet? ...Oh, it's you. You wouldn't happen to be feeling heartsore, would you?"

he's asking if you're sad because he feeds off of tears more than blood. . . . .he wanted to see if you'd cry for him. . . . . . .wait how does Rui usually go about doing this!? Does he cry every day for him???

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Rui has his tavern work at this hour. He made sure I had everything I needed before he left, though."

ed's all cozy in bed with a nice bottle of tears and his fully charged tablet, all the dirty laundry's off his floor and everything--and now you're here! everything is perfect.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Has night fallen already? Do keep in mind that my vitality returns at this hour. You really should be more careful."

i'm kinda getting Taiga vibes here where as his affinity goes up he kind of clearly wants to eat you more, except where Taiga kinda tried to keep away from doing it until Affinity 24 where he snaps and ties you down and starts hurting you, Ed just starts warning you 'you're in danger being around me right now' lol. When he tells you to be careful he makes the sadist face, so he is telling you to be careful around him specifically. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You can't sleep? Come, close your eyes. I'll hold you in my arms until you surrender yourself to the land of slumber."

isn't Ed's skin cold. . .I feel like it may be hard to sleep like that for most people lol then again maybe he'd be perfect for temperature regulation?

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ah, thank you for coming so early. I slept even worse than usual last night... The cleaning can wait. Let me rest my head on your lap, would you?"

'the cleaning can wait' huh. . .is this another Jin situation where he's started to expect you to clean up his room all the time lmao I MEAN RUI ONLY CLEANS IT ONCE A MONTH SO A LITTLE SUPPLEMENTARY CLEANING WOULDN'T HURT. . . .

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How are you finding Obscuary? Anomalies live quite differently to humans, so you're adapting to it remarkably well... Perhaps you're predisposed?"

'hey i know you're probably scared about becoming an anomaly that will harm your loved ones and all but you may already be showing signs so you should just stop worrying and join us!' also do they really live so differently. . .so far the main difference is cleanliness lmao

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"My, where did the time go? Talking to you is just so relaxing. Why? Perhaps it's because I know I could feast upon you at any moment."

in Japanese he says something like "The sense of security of being able to strike at any moment"--he's saying he could bite you and you're so comfortable with him you wouldn't even put up a fight before he could do it. He's making his 'sadist' face, but I think he means it in a 'you're relaxed around me, and it makes me feel comfortable to' way. . . .or not. He could just mean that he appreciates you as easy prey 8D

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Really. You became embroiled in another petty human dispute? How absurd you humans are. Come here."

he feels so bad for you and always getting involved in some shit. . .you know you wouldn't have to do any of this if you abandoned your humanity and just became an anomaly?

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"So, you've come sneaking into my room in the middle of the night? You really are a wicked girl. What were you hoping for? Go on, say it."

Do you want him to feed off of you? Or do you want him to feast upon you? Or were you just that starved for his company? I feel like he's willing to put aside his tablet for you at this point, especially if you're coming into his window late at night for a little tryst.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Being with you brings up old, old memories... Perhaps it's because you remind me a little of her."

well he is hundreds of years old, so of course he had lovers in the past. . .I wonder if she was also mortal, and if he refuses to see humans and anomalies as compatible because of heartbreak. Or maybe he doesn't get heartbroken like some humans do, and it's just nostalgia. But for someone who struggles to remember things sometimes to have old memories stirred up, I think that's a good thing. He must feel quite old at this point, but having someone around who reminds him of being even a little younger must be nice, even if he doesn't think it will last. . .then again maybe that's part of why he seems like he encourages you to become an anomaly in his character stories. Because he'll get to have you around for longer.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"The plants in our garden become rather lively in the spring. See? There's a little cannibalism going on over there."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"My favorite channels have been updating more frequently than usual of late. I suppose humans really do experience spring fever."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"(yawn) I look more tired than usual? Must be the spring weather... Goodnight."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Cherry blossoms are fascinating organisms. Born carrying the stench of death and falling all too soon... Just like humans, really."

i don't think most humans smell like death(unless we're referencing the poem about sakura trees having corpses beneath them to make the petals pink again) but go off i guess--also it makes it seem like he wishes humans lived longer? funny thing for a guy who thinks humans aren't compatible to say.

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Obscuary is lovely in summer. It's so dark and cool, with a lovely miasma breeze. I've no desire to step outside its confines."

honestly living in eternal night during the summer doesn't sound bad aside from all the bugs. but the tentacle plant in the garden probably keeps most of them away, so. . .obscuary in summer sounds lovely.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"How the sun mocks me... Vampires across the nation are advised to avoid going outdoors unless absolutely necessary."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It was so hot this morning that Rui was walking around after his shower in just a towel. A sight for sore eyes, I must say."

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HE IS BISEXUAL. in Japanese he says that Rui was walking around soaking wet and that he's incredibly handsome but doesn't mention the towel--so Rui may have been wet and bare naked walking around Obscuary. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"My air-conditioner? I believe I have it set to 64 degrees. Hm? You're cold? Humans truly are such fragile creatures."

that is almost 18 degrees celcius for the non-americans! it's not that cold imo but it's definitely a little chillier than most people like their personal space.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Humans take extra delight in their meals during the harvest season, do they? Interesting. Perhaps I'll follow suit."

lap up your tears nice and slow and sensual--

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The stamina and physical strength of a vampire is dozens of times that of a human. We don't need to work ou— (cough) (wheeze)"

YOU GOOD BUDDY YOU STARTED COUGHING WITHOUT EVEN MOVING i mean i get it i have asthma but still--

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Ah, the curtain of night closes. Now that the days are becoming shorter, my physical and mental health have much improved."

does that mean you don't need help getting dressed for a while--

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How beautiful the moon looks tonight. Its light is such a comfort to us non-humans. You look rather lovely bathed in it too."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"(sigh) Even in the dead of winter, Lyca is so full of energy in the mornings... Just try to imagine waking to him barking in your ear."

that explains why you lock him out of your room lmaoooo

(between 11am and 4pm)

"What do you think of my dressing gown? Rui made it for me. It's surprisingly warm."

MOM RUI STRIKES AGAIN MAKING HIS BOY COZY CLOTHES FOR THE WINTER

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"(cough cough) I only took a few steps outside, yet I felt as though my heart froze over... It's best not to leave one's room on days like this."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"They say that on cold nights like this, humans long for the warmth of another. Well? Shall I provide it for you?"

DO YOU POSSESS THE WARMTH OF ANOTHER SIR I RECALL YOUR SKIN BEING DESCRIBED AS COLD

His birthday: (November 10th)

"Having you celebrate my birthday makes all these long years of life worth it. How old am I? A gentleman doesn't tell."

given your estimate was 'idk 400 i stopped counting around 300' i think it's less you won't tell and more you can't tell lmaoooo

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday, is it? I'll have to give you a present. What do you want? Go on, tell me."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I heard it's a tradition in this country to impart small monetary gifts. Here, for you."

OTOSHIDAMA GET!!!!

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"My, is this for me? I'm touched. I don't usually partake of human food, but I suppose I'll make an exception."

it's about the symbolism! it's the principle of the thing, even if the chocolate tastes bland to your vampire taste buds!

White Day: (March 14th)

"It seems that today those who received chocolates on Valentine's Day are supposed to return the favor. What a conscientious country this is..."

yeah but what'd you get them tho--

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Oh, I'm burning up... I'm not long for this world... Won't you grant me one last request? ...No need to make that face. I'm joking, of course."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat. I'm a real vampire, you know. Give me your blood, or I'll play a trick on you."

probably the only time he's directly stated wanting to drink your blood lol

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. Rather amusing for a vampire to celebrate a holy day, don't you think? Let's fill tonight with magic and wonder."

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"I'm going to lie down a while. If you need something, ask Rui."

(13 affinity and above)

"Hello? Oh good, there you are. It would be troublesome for me if you were to disappear. Let me know next time you decide to wander off."

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'D BE TROUBLESOME. I guess it's because you clean up after him and help him and stuff. . .and at higher affinities maybe he feeds off of your tears and/or blood. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Well, hello there. It's been a while. Come over here—I've been looking forward to your return."

OUR SLOPPY LIL VAMPIRE BOY. Flirts, drinks tears, minds his own business, and is on his best behavior despite that he was abducted by Darkwick. They should be thankful he's not angrier, considering he's apparently strong enough to LEVEL A BUILDING ON HIS OWN. As his affinity goes up he seems to be more comfortable around you, although that comes with the concern that he expresses less human thoughts more openly. . .which isn't a bad thing, imo. He should be allowed to be an anomaly. He's not harming or preying on you, just saying he could and that he's dangerous. But he also just seems to like physical affection and flirting and having you do chores for him so he can be lazy. . . .

I love him lol he's stinky

[writefightandflightclub]

Suddenly got hit by the thought of Leto taking his sweet time eating his cum out of you after fucking you over and over for hours…

Um. Excuse me? Ok. Um. Help?! Like. My God. Um. Yes?!

(Thank you for this delicious thot, Erika, and please accept this hastily scrawled offering in return for your kindness in sharing this 😝🧡 Also sorry for typos or incoherence. Wrote this in a haze and I’m about to go to bed so no time to proof!)

P.s. I’m keen to write more for the Duke atm so anyone (18+ ofc) feel free to hit me up with requests 🧡

Word count: 1.1k ish

Warnings: SMUT: oral, cum-eating (lots) 18+ only, Minors DNI

Plenty: (Duke Leto Atreides x fem!reader)

You’re sure his tongue is tracing the shape of the Caladan coastline as it shivers through your folds, pleasure blooming through your core like the surge of waves into your deepest coves.

You cry out, clamping your own hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, the sound digressing to something muffled against the palm of your hand.

You feel Leto chuckle warmly against your cunt, before sucking a puckered kiss over your clit. “What is the use of a palace so grand as this if my concubine cannot make noise, hmm? Who is it that will hear you, all this way from the halls?”

“The guards, perhaps.”

“Let them hear you.”

Your breaths grow ragged as he works at your folds with his tongue. “I think they have already heard plenty from me for today, my Lord.” Leto knows well how to please you. Perhaps he does not care as to who knows it.

“There’s no such thing as ‘plenty’ when it involves you, my dove.”

He must believe that, for all day he has not tired of you. All day he has bred you, filling you over and over with his seed until you were full of him. Until, when he shoved inside of you with his throbbing cock, his own release was forced out around him, coating your thighs, his balls, his abdomen, the silken sheets - both your writhing bodies.

And, now that you have finally drained him dry, he settles himself over your sensitive cunt, his tongue laving the apex of your thighs, licking up his own spend.

He huffs his warm breath against your folds again as he adjusts, settling his head more squarely between your thighs. Your legs are folded back towards your chest by the firm press of his warm, broad palms, your Duke laid out on his front - in an undignified manner, quite unbefitting a man of his position.

You take pride in it. In him. At stately functions you have gossiped with other concubines - or, rather, have allowed them to gossip in your presence, as that would be unbecoming of your position. You’ve heard them tell that their Lords are more than content for their concubines to sink to their knees in service, but that the equivalent act is never bestowed in their favour.

And then, there’s your beautiful Leto.

You could count out whole calendar months against the time he’s spent between your thighs, and you know you are endlessly lucky to be at his service, when he gives you so much in return.

Indeed, you moan as his tongue probes greedily at your sensitive, fucked-open entrance, humming as his lips and beard glide over the mess he’s made of you. “Leto,” you gasp, as you realise he must mean to suck you clean of him.

He hums and you hear him swallow, the idea of him tasting himself sending a wild, throbbing want to your over-worked clit.

You throw your head back on to the propped stack of pillows he’d arranged you on when, moments ago, you had grown limp and boneless through your earth-shaking release. Your body positioned so that his seed must be gradually eking out of you, you now realise; taking a slow, honeyed surge down to his wanting lips.

You lick your own lips, imagining the moreish salt-tang of him, and once again pleasure crests as his tongue shivers through your folds. His ministrations dance over you in a gentle, teasing pattern; then, he flattens his tongue, licking a hot, greedy stripe along the full length of your throbbing slit.

Even the air is full of sex, just like you are, the room salted like the sea, a rousing musk which fills your lungs and makes you think of home.

You whimper, clamping your hands either side of his head, twisting your fingers into the regal, grizzled waves which undulate between the slack grasp of your fingers. You know not whether you mean to pull him closer or to push him away, but in the end you do neither, instead bucking your arousal up and into his mouth, grinding your heat against his beard and chin and nose until he is coated - a mess of your juices and his own seed as though he is the shore now, and you the dragged, liquid tide coursing over his stony face.

Leto does not complain, however. Instead, when you look back down to him his eyes are glinting wickedly - like black stones winking out of rock-pools. He hums into your heat, the sound low and drawn-out; sending vibrations singing through your core and reminding you you are empty of him.

“Leto!” you squeal suddenly as he swirls his tongue against you, flicking and thudding against your clit. Using all the power and finesse in his lips and tongue to stake his compelling argument.

You grow breathless, an impossible pleasure building as he writhes his tongue along your sensitive folds, meticulously cleaning every last drop of him from you.

“Do you like to taste yourself, my Lord?” you ask as a warm heat blooms right through your middle.

“I like to taste how full I made you, my dove. I like to taste how many times I claimed you as my own.”

From his position, you watch crinkles radiate out from around his eyes as he looks up at you - with a wicked amusement at the growing state of you, already a mess and about to become further undone. Then, he resumes his focus, his proud nose nudging against your clit as he sinks back towards your entrance.

The blooming pleasure makes you clamp down on nothing, empty of him, squeezing more of his seed out of you. You feel it trickle out of you, moments before it is met eagerly by Leto’s lips and tongue. You shiver as you feel the pleasant scrape of his drenched, coated beard, flattened to his shapely chin as he laps up every drop.

He grunts, pushing your thighs further back, opening you up to him further, and, as his tongue curls and slides and probes against you just the way you like, you fist your hands into the sheets in desperation. “Leto! My Lord! What do you mean to do to me?” You can barely take it, so overcome with pleasure already. “Do you mean to clean up every drop?!”

He chuckles warmly, a sound only you are ever privy to. He grips your thighs to manoeuvre them downward, settling them either side of his ears for your comfort. Allowing him to twist and to plant a delicate kiss to your inner thigh.

“I plan to keep going until I can only taste you, my love,” he rasps into your skin, and his words cause your eyes to roll skyward once more.

Leto dips his eager mouth towards your cunt once more too, entirely unrelenting.

You interpret that you are going to be here for some time at his service; but that suits you just fine.

When it comes to Leto - and his supple tongue - there’s no such thing as plenty. Never such a thing as enough or too much.

He shoves his tongue inside of you, finally through with his teasing, it appears. Indeed, the benevolent Duke finally grants you a consistent pace and motion, carrying you forcefully skyward as your pleasure lifts - like a hawk tossed aloft by the graze of the wind under its wings.

And, this time, when you come undone, you do make enough noise to befit a palace of this size.

In fact, by the time your Duke is done with you - which won’t be for some time - they may even have heard your gracious, lilting moans from all the way down in the halls.

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 5

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // CW: angst, Hurt/Comfort, boys kissing, MWIII spoilers

---

Johnny is floating. For the first time in forever, he feels safe.

Held.

Warm.

He stays in limbo as long as he can, eking out every ounce of comfort from the rare good dream. He knows soon enough he'll wake to an ice-cold cell. Perhaps someone will come to torture him. Or perhaps they'll leave him alone long enough that he'll starve.

Until then, he basks. Digs himself deeper into the warmth pressed against him.

"Easy, Johnny. You've got too many wires pokin' outta you to move around so much."

That voice. He knows that voice.

Soap's eyes pop open to a wall of hospital gown fabric and a sliver of pale skin. Familiar warm arms curl around him a bit more tightly, and his heart stutters.

"G-Ghost?"

"I'm here."

Everything comes rushing back — "waking up" from his drug-induced haze with a knife in his hand, Ghost's initial distrust and coldness, and the revelations about his own actions and the years of his life and bodily autonomy stolen by Makarov...

He remembers Ghost's sudden apology, his vow to help Soap figure out what was going on, and his gentle arms surrounding Soap just like he remembered.

It's a dream. It has to be. Some trick by Makarov.

And yet Ghost is so warm. So strong.

He can't bear the thought of going back now.

"Simon." His voice shakes as the panic sets in, thrashing around inside him and threatening to shred him to ribbons from the inside. "Don't let him take me back. Promise ye'll kill me if ye have to. I can't... I can't... I can't—"

The sob that had been stuck in his throat when Simon first curled strong arms around him and held him close rises up to choke him, but his eyes remain stubbornly dry. He coughs and gags, and Ghost's hands stroke down his back as he murmurs soothing words in Soap's ear.

It doesn't matter. The tears won't come. Crying was weakness to Makarov and especially to his goons, punishable by the worst kinds of torture. As he's done hundreds, maybe thousands, of times before, he begins to float away, dissociating from the pain on instinct, but Simon's hard tone slams him back into his body.

"He'll never come near you again," Simon growls in his ear. "Not as long as I'm alive."

"You... believe I'm me?"

"Your DNA matches the records for John MacTavish. That's good enough for me."

He doesn't have time to process the shock of that revelation before then next one hits him fast and hard.

"And it's good enough for us, too."

The additional voice is so wobbly, Soap barely recognizes it. He lifts his head to find wide, watery brown eyes under a familiar blue hat staring at him over Ghost's shoulder.

"Gaz?" Soap whispers in disbelief.

"Hey-ya, bruv. I brought someone else with me, too."

Gaz steps to the side, and a familiar mutton chops and boonie hat come into view. Price's eyes are dry, but there's a deep sadness his ice-blue gaze as he reaches over Ghost to lay a loose hand on Soap's shoulder.

"Soap... I don't really know what to say beyond I'm sorry. It's good to see you again."

The emotions rise up too high. He feels himself detach from the moment, and without the strong emotions to cloud his mind, all he can think to say is, "Why? Why are ye here? I tried... Ghost said I tried to kill you."

"We're here because it's you, Soap," Gaz says in a gentle but confused tone. "Even if you were still trying to kill us, we'd be here doing our best to figure out how to save you. I just wish..."

"We didn't know," Price says as Gaz trails off. "We should've tried to harder to capture Agent Zero. If we'd known it was you, we would have—"

"Not important," Ghost interrupts. "We're all here now, and we're not lettin' the brass get their hands on you."

"Ghost—"

"No Laswell. He's been through enough. Talkin' is one thing, but no interrogations."

It's too much. The words thrown around Soap devolve into mutters and hums as he detaches from the moment. After his time with Makarov, the dissociation comes naturally. He floats away, and...

This moment is everything he ever dreamed about in those dark days under Makarov's thumb. But it's also overwhelming for someone who hasn't felt a kind touch in literal years. He's so glad Price and Gaz proved him wrong, but it's just... 

So. Much.

"—nny? You awake?"

Ghost's voice calls him back, and like always, he can't resist. Doesn't want to. He flutters his lids, the dryness of his eyes letting him know he'd fallen into himself with this eyes open. No wonder the fingers gripping his back feel a bit desperate. He closes his eyes without meeting Ghost's gaze.

"Aye," he whispers. "Here."

"I think we should let Ghost and Soap rest," Price says with a soft, sad smile. "You've both got a lot of healing up to do."

*

Laswell does what she can, but the brass still insist on sending someone to "evaluate" Soap, whatever that means. The evaluator in question, some Major or another, is set to arrive in three days, and Ghost has already made it known to Laswell that he won't be letting Soap out of his sight.

Normally, Soap would be concerned and might even start down the path of spiraling into a panic attack, but he finds he can't be bothered when he wakes up on his second day in the hospital in a pool of his own sweat. Shivers run up and down his spine, and he groans as the body aches slam into him like a tank. Only Ghost's presence and warmth keeps him from panicking at the too-familiar symptoms.

"They're weanin' you off the drugs," Ghost explains in a calm tone, his hands gently rubbing over Soap's damp back. "Tell me if I'm hurtin' you."

"Doesnae hurt," he slurs. "Feels nice."

Ghost's hands are a lifeline, the touch grounding him to the present. There's no way his brain could concoct such an elaborate dream.

Right?

The beeping of the heart monitor picks up its pace. One of Ghost's hands slides up to smooth over his buzzed hair.

"Johnny? Hey. You're alright, love."

"Is it real?" he gasps as his vision begins to darken. "Are ye real? Please..."

Arms tighten around him. Ghost's lips brush over his temple.

"I'm here. I'm real. Breathe with me, Sergeant."

The title rings through Soap's body like a bell as Ghost takes a deep breath, his chest rising under Soap's cheek. Soap takes a strangled breath, too, desperate to follow his Lt's directions. Desperate to make sure Ghost stays.

"That's it. Another."

They breathe together, and eventually, the darkness fades.

"Sorry," he mumbles into Ghost's chest.

"No reason to be sorry. I'd be more surprised — and worried — if you didn't have a screw loose after everythin' you've been through."

Soap huffs a weak laugh. "Thanks, I think."

"You're already doin' better than I was in your place, though it was only months for me, and not..."

Ghost trails off. He's never really talked about his time with the cartel in Mexico. Soap knows the basics — caught, tortured, escaped — but he doesn't know the details.

Doesn't really need to anymore. 

"I get flashes of stuff here and there," Soap says with a shrug, "but I only remember those first few months clearly. Right up until Makarov started pumping me full of these fucking drugs."

As if on cue, another shiver wracks Soap's body. He can feel the sweat building between them as his body attempts to deal with the withdrawal. And yet he's still so fucking cold.

"Sorry I'm such a scabby bastard right now," he mumbles even as he tries to scoot closer to Ghost's warmth.

"Nowt to worry about. I'm no spring flower myself. They're gonna let me shower today, I think, so I'll make 'em let you, too."

Ghost continues rubbing his hands over Soap's damp back, and his lips press into Soap's forehead. The hands and lips remind him of better times, when they'd steal a few hours whenever they could to learn and relearn each other's bodies while desperately chasing release. Soap dares to lift his hand from between them and curl it around Ghost's waist.

"I missed ye so fucking much."

The words slip out unbidden, barely more than a whisper, but there's no way Ghost doesn't hear them. His hands pause for a moment before moving again to press Soap closer.

"I felt dead without you," Ghost whispers back.

A heaving gasp punches through Soap's lungs. "Ghost—"

Ghost gently pushes Soap back enough that he can look into his eyes. "I mean it. The thought of killin' Makarov was the only thing keepin' me movin'... until now."

Soap can't help himself. He knows he's gross and dirty and was trying to fucking kill Ghost a couple of days ago, but he's desperate for the familiar comfort.

He surges up and presses their mouths together.

It's like a flipping a switch — Ghost goes from gentle and calm to ravenous in a split second. His fingers dig into Soap's neck, pulling him closer, while his other arm crushes Soap around the waist. Their mouths meld together, and Soap clings to Ghost just as hard, yearning to climb inside him and never come out again.

God. God, he wants to never leave the safety of Ghost's arms, his presence, his warmth.

The kiss ends as quickly as it began. Ghost pulls back and presses his lips to Soap's cheek and then his brow, panting breaths wafting across Soap's clammy skin.

"I... fuck Johnny. I'm sorry."

"Why're you sorry? I kissed ye first."

"Because you're not feelin' good."

Soap frowns. "Yer the one with the gunshot wound."

Ghost huffs a breathy laugh. "And I'm feelin' it, too. You should sleep more."

"So should you."

Ghost grunts his agreement. They settle down, and Soap listens as Ghost's breathing evens out. It's a comfort, and he lets himself fall into the rhythmic sounds.

The longer this goes on, the less Soap questions whether it's real and the more he begins to worry about the future.

Soap is pretty sure the higher ups will never send him back to England. They'll wait until Ghost's back is turned, and they'll take him somewhere far away where he can be locked up and interrogated the proper way. Or perhaps they'll try to draw out Makarov by sending him somewhere as bait... along with enough C4 strapped to his back to blow up a building.

Or maybe they'll just kill him outright, deeming him too much of a risk for any of that.

He'll fight it, of course. But he's only one man against the might of the British military. And despite the 141's trust in her, Laswell is the type of person to sacrifice her personal feelings for the greater good. He doesn't want to think she'd give him up, but if sending him in means finally ridding the world of Makarov, he has to accept that, for her, it might be worth it.

Except... Soap can't stop thinking about Ghost's admission. That the goal of killing Makarov was the only thing keeping him moving. And he fears what will happen when he disappears without warning.

And he will disappear. Of that he has no doubt.

So he tightens his grip on Ghost's waist, presses a soft kiss to Ghost's scruffy chin, and basks in the warmth and safety of his lover's arms for as long as he can.

<< Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 >>

[boyardee-znuts]

you stumble across dan heng in heat. dan heng x fem reader wc: 2k content warning(s): nsfw, hsr spoilers mdni banner by cafekitsune

“Stupid girl,” Dan Heng hissed. The grip he had on your neck was tight, and you squealed helplessly as he kept you in a vulnerable, bent-over position on his desk. Your stomach lurched inside of you as the man drew his hips back, right before snapping it roughly up against yours.

Your legs shook as you gripped onto the edge of his desk. Dan Heng refused to let up on his pace, thrusting wildly into you as if he was into heat. Well—he was, and you’d made the mistake of wandering onto him when he had explicitly warned you to stay away.

“You never know when to keep that nose of yours out of trouble, don’t you?” His fingers curled into the flesh of your neck, and you choked out, hot breath fogging up the surface of his desk. “You just had to fall right into my lap. This is all your fault, got it?”

You moaned mindlessly. His cock was disgustingly thick, the inhuman nature only so much more evident now that you were aware of what a hormone-scrambled, lust-crazed dragon he was. The bright flush on his face was a clear indicator of his heat, and the singular thing the man had on his mind was to fuck you and fill you up with his cum until you’d be brainlessly bred.

“Sorry!! I’m- I’m sorry-,” you eked out. His dark eyes flashed dangerously, and you cried out when you felt him fuck into you harshly. His drooling tip kept invading your tight walls over and over again, molding your sweet cunt into the shape of his swollen cock.

“Are you really?” He angled his thrusts slightly, and you recoiled onto his desk, clawing futilely at the polished surface. “Doesn’t matter now. I’m going to make sure you fully understand the consequences of your actions. That’s only right, don’t you think? Take responsibility.”

You swallowed thickly, panting like a dog. Your entire body felt so hot, like the man had lit your skin on fire. Heat trickled and pool, coiling and twisting like an angry snake deep inside of your stomach. Your cunt drooled at the friction, the arousal building up inside of you making your mind go blank. 

All you could think about was one thing, and that was the man fucking you from behind.

“So rough…!” You gasped desperately, the heat stifling your breathing. “You’ll break me…!”

“Good. I want to break you. That’s what you get for teasing me. You underestimated me, didn’t you? You underestimated just how much I could do to you…” You shuddered when you heard him laughing darkly, his pace quickening just a hair. You let out small “ah- ah- ah-”s matching with his thrusts, and your gut curled when you could hear all the lewd, sloppy noises your pussy was making.

He lowered his head a little, hushing his voice so you could barely hear him over the wet sounds of your so-called lovemaking. “You hear that? That’s all you. Am I making you feel good? I am, aren’t I? Don’t lie to me. I can feel that cunt of yours squeezing up all around me. Having a cock stuffed up in your pussy feels good, doesn’t it? Do you like it when I move inside you like that?”

You nodded incoherently. His words were swimming through your ears, and the knot building up like a welt inside of you was threatening to break any minute now. You wondered if anyone would stumble in upon the two of you, going at it like animals in the distant corner of the archives, your moans shamelessly echoing around for Dan Heng to swallow up greedily.

“It feels good…!” Your back arched as he abused your sweet spots, cock rubbing endlessly up against your warm, slick walls. “‘M gonna cum- I can’t control myself…!”

He smiled to himself. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight, his mind overrun with the carnal need to claim you, to fill you up, to completely make you his. But seeing you bent over with his dick stuffed inside you, knowing that he was the one making you feel this good, knowing that he was the one who could see your naked body and do as he pleased to it, only made his animalistic instincts grow worse. Dan Heng wanted to keep you like this forever, moaning and mindless, pussy stretched out by his stupidly big cock, with nothing but him on your mind.

“Are you gonna cum?” He teased. “Gonna cum on my cock? Good, good, that’s how it should be. My cock’s the only thing that could make you cum. I’m gonna fuck you so good, fill you up with my cum, to the point that having sex with anybody else won’t even feel good anymore.”

He paused, laughing sardonically to himself once more before staring down at you with sickeningly lovestruck eyes. “Not that I’d let you have sex with anyone else after I’ve had you like this.”

You shook your head, pushing your hips back up against him eagerly. “D-Don’t want anyone else… Just wanna have you- Only want you-”

Ah.

The possessive streak inside of Dan Heng swirled precariously. Did you realize the things you were saying to him? The way they made him feel? Here he was, stuck between balancing his respect for you versus the inhuman lust that was racking his body, and all you had to say to that was to fuel the flames even further. He bit the inside of his cheek, his territorial instincts going wild.

“You’re already playing a dangerous game with me,” he growled. “Don’t you dare make it worse.”

You moaned and clawed at his desk. He kept thrusting into you wildly, consumed with the need to claim you as his. His grip would undoubtedly leave marks on your neck, and yet being manhandled and pinned down on his desk like this only aroused you further.

“I’m telling the truth…,” you mewled. Dan Heng faltered for a moment, his breath catching.

Did you upset him? You wanted to look back at him and see, but before you could say anything, the man let go of you. You moved to turn your neck, but Dan Heng gruffly grabbed at one of your thighs and lifted it, forcing you to spread your legs further for him to thrust deeper inside of you.

“Ah- Wait, wait- You’re going so deep-!” You cried out. You slumped against the desk for dear life, clinging onto it as Dan Heng began fucking into your hole at a brutal new angle.

“Take it- Take it all-!” He commanded loudly. “I told you not to tease me… You’re mine now. I’ll make you mine!”

You nodded, hanging your head. You could only stay there, sandwiched helplessly between his strong body and the thick desk with no choice but to take his dick. He fucked you hard and rough, leaving your pussy throbbing and aching with need. It was too good, enough to make your head spin and your thoughts to waver and slip. 

“More, more- Fuck me more, Dan Heng!” You pleaded needily. “Want to cum on your cock- Want you to fill me up…! I’m yours- I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours-”

“Yeah, that’s a good girl,” he breathed. The grip on your thigh was firm, keeping you stuck there as he slid his dick in and out of you. “C’mon, cum for me now. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good. Ruin yourself for me.”

You whimpered, throwing your head back and letting the physical pleasure consume you. So good, it was so good. All you could think about was how good it felt to be stretched out all over his cock, your pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper, milking him selfishly, wanting to be stuffed to the brim with his cum until it’d leak out of your fluttering hole and down your legs… 

The knot swirling and tightening in your stomach was on the verge of breaking, and you could feel your orgasm approaching closer and closer. Slick ran down your thighs, and your body felt ridiculously hot, spiraling on the edge of no control. Dan Heng gritted his teeth, snapping his hips up against you ruthlessly, right into the spot that made your cunt clench up around him. You were taking him so well, letting him mate with you so obediently, even if this whole thing was a mess of your own making.

He slammed right into your sweet spot, and you tensed up noticeably against his frame. Your vision started to blur and fade to white around the edges, stomach twisting in and dropping like you were on a roller coaster. “Cumming…! Dan Heng- More- I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”

“Nngh…!” The man let out a strangled cry when your cunt clamped down on him like a vice, your orgasm washing over him. Seeing your face contort with pleasure and your body shaking under his touch made something in his brain snap, and Dan Heng gripped onto you like a ragdoll as he thrusted wildly up into your overstimulated cunt. He ate up all of your wounded cries, pure instinct overwhelming his body like a drug for a few moments before his own arousal overtook him and knocked out all of his senses.

You gripped onto the table, your mind slammed to a complete stop. “D-Dan Heng…! Ah- Cum inside me!”

He clenched his jaw, forcing his hips up and his cock as deep as it could go inside of you. You moaned, your legs threatening to give out from underneath you. He pumped you full of his cum, his heavy balls tightening up against your entrance as he coated every inch of your walls white. You shuddered when you could feel his scalding hot semen pile up inside of you, rushing straight into your womb and gushing out from your hole. Dan Heng tried to keep as much of it as he could inside of you, using his cock as a plug of sorts, and you buried your head in your hands as you forced yourself to take in deep breaths. 

The desk kept you grounded as an anchor of sorts, and when the world slowly stopped spinning and your thoughts began returning back to you, Dan Heng carefully let go of his tight grip on you. You slumped down onto the floor, sticky loads of cum dripping out of you and forming a small puddle in between your legs.

Dan Heng couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, even though shame prickled at his body. Did he do that to you? Did he really say all of those things towards you? He didn’t know whether to hate himself for losing control as he did or to continue feeding his selfish needs, his cock still craving your soft, sweet pussy.

“Dan Heng…,” you quietly started. The man kept his face emotionless as you peered up at him, smiling at him sweetly as if to assuage his worries. Something tightened inside of his chest when he saw you grinning at him, as if he hadn’t fucked the living daylights out of you just seconds before and as if it wasn’t his cum that had flooded your walls.

You watched with curious eyes as his cock hardened up again, twitching against the cool air at the sight of you sitting before him. How good would it feel if he took you again? If he fucked you until you couldn’t walk or think? If he fucked you until the entire train knew who it was that was making you scream and lose your mind with pure pleasure? Dirty thoughts ran rampant in his body, the aftereffects of his heat still lingering all over him.

He swallowed, licking his dry lips as he motioned for you.

“Up. We’re not done yet.” The dragon’s eyes glowed dangerously with a hint of jade and gold. "We’re not stopping until I say so.”

Until he was sure he had made you his one and only mate.

gustav klimt: expectation

[starboysbrainrot]

Since it’s jetko week, do you any hc about jetko ? Any hot takes about jetko ? Any specific thoughts ?

hey anon !

i think that my fav hc jetko would have to be either Jet becoming his personal bodyguard, first as an attempt to “keep the new Firelord in check” and then in an attempt to just protect Zuko when he sees how often Zuko’s life is threatened by him being the new Firelord.

or Jet & Zuko living together far from any big cities, with a big family, after abolishing the FN monarchy. it’s probably the least realistic one but it’s I think the one where both get that they deserve : a peaceful life, filled with love and happiness.

now if we’re speaking about hot takes, i posted this thread on x bc anon inspired me to put my thoughts on paper so I’m just gonna copy past it here

it’s not specifically jetko thoughts but I do think that the fandom tends to be too harsh on Jet & Zuko in one specific episode. and for me that’s City of Walls and Secret.

now don’t get me wrong. yes, Zuko was lying about his identity, yes Jet was stalking two people and started a fight, but that’s really, textually, not that bad. Jet is traumatised, paranoid and stressed so when he has the slightest hint that maybe Iroh might be a firbender he’s TERRIFIED literally and every single part of his brain that might think rationally just doesn’t work anymore. and that’s perfectly understandable given what happened to him.

that’s doesn’t make it 100% ok since, yeah they are so many EK citizens that might come from colonies, with mixed heritage, or with fn ancestry that might make them a firebender without being fire nation, and Jet had no way of being sure about this. but as I said his reaction is textually completely understandable.

now for Zuko, he would be in mortal danger if his identity was revealed (which people tend to forget) and he cannot afford to give up on his secret identity for a boy he barely knows. I know y’all like to make it big by saying he kind of betrayed jet’s trust, but jetko, as much as I love it spent max a few days together on the ferry, and that’s it. that’s literally it.

zuko even declines Jet’s offer because he cannot afford being close to someone when he is hiding his identity. cuz it would be risky, it would be even more lying, etc. it’s perfectly understandable and sincerely it funny that out of all the horrible things Zuko did it’s often that one that people will point out. I know that canon divergent jetko au might use that angst potential with Zuko lying to Jet but in canon it’s really not that deep. if he doesn’t lie = he dies/or gets imprisoned at BEST. if he does lie, he gets a chance at surviving both the EK and the FN. and that’s basically it.

as much as it is a popular trope to make Zuko or Jet guilty in jetko fics, I really don’t like it because canon jetko and fanon jetko are really two different things. canon jetko isn’t about betrayal. it’s more about how two severely flawed and traumatised teenagers start to form somehow a friendship because of how similar they are, but the instance of war, trauma and the sick need of survival get between them and tore them apart before they start to remotely form a meaningful relationship.

like in canon these two boys owe each other NOTHING. and I mean it. no Jet doesn’t owe Zuko his trust and no Zuko doesn’t owe Jet his honesty. not in that specific context. and that’s something that a lot of people don’t get about these two in canon

people even fail to realise that Jet’s lack of trust and hostility towards even the slightest hint of firebending & zuko trying to survive, burying his honesty to do so, are wonderful parallels that could be exploited in fics. not necessarily the “you lied/you attacked me” but just the “I had no other choice, I’m sorry” which is so much more tragic.

I would add that this specific trope of “Zuko earning Jet’s forgiveness” when it one sided doesn’t work for me. it works for ships like maiko or zukka, and especially zutara, but not really jetko. at least not if it isn’t reciprocated. like both guys did horrible things but none of these “horrible things” were directed towards eachother.

what happened in BSS is ultimately tragic because both didn’t had another choice. both were clinging on the idea of surviving. both were terrified by what could happen to them. DO YOU SEE HOW TRAGIC THAT IS 😔

[folklore-girl]

ek ladki bheegi bheegi bhaagi si — a short story

a/n: okok so i tried my best for you @androgynous-pavbhaji <3 since this is your secret santa gift? im so sorry for posting this so late, this was supposed to come out a long time ago.. but ig happy new year? hope you like this!

word count: 0.6k

warning(s): bad writing, cringe dialogues + a shitty asf story in general :( im so so sorry.

raindrops splattered on the sidewalk as i hurriedly made my way to the bus stop, my clothes drenched from the downpour. my hands held up my handbag to shield my head from the rain and to try and deflect some heavy raindrops, but all in vain. for the millionth time, i cursed my stupid self for not carrying an umbrella, even though we were deep in winter, and there was no way I could’ve predicted this. i still should have.

and, to top it all, i was horribly late to my bus.

when i reached the bus stop a thousand years later, my shoes were soaked and my head was in an overdrive. i noticed a guy—probably my age—waiting at the stop too and decided i should probably wipe the mess off my face.

so, i took out my napkin, just to drop it on the ground like an absolute idiot. and as i bent to pick it up, the guy on the right offered me his napkin, in spotless white.

i was scared. not of the guy, but of ruining his napkin by using it. he saw me hesitate and said, “arey, it’s fine. i have a spare.”

“pakka?” i asked, uncertainly.

“yup,” he said and i thanked him, smiling.

he smiled back. and i thought, wow. i guess men aren’t all bad, then.

i took the napkin from him and dabbed my face with it gently, still scared to damage it. when i was giving it back, he said “it’s ok, you can keep it.”

“you sure?” i asked again.

“yes!!” he laughed, “it’s alright, you know. i don’t bite.”

“no, but, i’m not used to all this,” i gestured with my hands and his eyebrows rose in confusion. “kindness?” i finished lamely.

“well then, you will be soon,” he winked and i looked away because i was in a loss of words.

meeting a decent man made me feel like i was in some other dimension, some dream where kind strangers were real and not a thing to read in tumblr posts and fawn over.

by now, my heartbeat had slowed down and my breaths were much less frantic, so we talked about our buses.

“oh, me too,” he smiled, “we’re both going to mumbai.”

“that’s nice,” i smiled as the bus approached the stop, “i bet the ride is gonna be fun.”

he smiled, “hopefully.”

we hauled up our luggage and sat in the bus, me in the window seat with him by my side.

we talked for almost the entire ride there, exchanging our names and talking shit about distant relatives (my lord, we had the same type of humour). and when we grew bored of talking, we both decided to do something else. he plugged in his earphones and i found out that i couldn’t find mine anywhere.

i looked out of the window and i could tell it was going to be a long road.

he noticed and offered to share his wired ones. feeling utterly helpless, i gave in.

later, we discovered that our music tastes were very similar and i soon found myself scooting closer to him as we listened to his playlist together.

by the time shuffle lead us to ‘i guess i’m in love’, i knew the feeling burning up in my chest, threatening to spill over. it was beautiful and warm, like sunlight filtering in through the curtains. like the first day of spring, my heart was blooming and after a long time, i felt the butterflies.

but it couldn’t be, could it?

i woke up to the sound of mumma calling my name. i’d fallen asleep with my head in my arms, crossed on the windowsill while rain poured outside and my chai grew colder with each passing minute. right next to it, my phone had just finished playing the song “ek ladki bheegi bhagi si” on my wired earphones and suddenly the surreal scenario in my head made sense.

i guess it was a dream, after all.

xoxo

[tyttamarzh]

DEATH FAMILY!!!

I figured my family portrait needed to be updated, enough changes have happened, the reboot, the new home, the EK, the Tallulah change… so here's my new version.

Now they are posing from the dock of their new house (the background is horrible, I know, I'm sorry).

Really Phil and Missa's designs are practically the same.

Missa has not changed from his previous designs, with or without his mask.

(there are some changes in Phil, the most noticeable are his corrupted wings)...

But the children… ohh! The children had to have changes... I always had a conflict with Chay's design, because I didn't want to do it with black hair (with black hair and his skeleton mask he looked like just a mini Missa without anything else), but I felt bad about making him completely blonde, bc I felt like I was leaving Missa out, but now with Tallulah taking on characteristics from Missa, it's easier to relax with Chay's colors.

Chay prefers to wear his mask to appear more dangerous, since his face is actually very cute and that is not at all threatening as a warrior. He has the hardcore heart of his father Philza and some details paying homage to his hero Technoblade (the small pink braid in his hair) (AlsoIn my HC they can show or hide his tails or horns and other dragon features).

This is my Tallulah's design.

The closeness between Missa and Tallulah and the fact that they already have a father-daughter relationship warmed my heart. My previous design of Tallulah never completely convinced me, perhaps because I still felt like she was foreign in some way, perhaps because I had made her only because she was supposed to be there, but in my mind the idea that her presence was something "temporary" prevented me from get completely attached. Now she finally managed to sneak into my chest and it was really fun to design her again, this time giving her Missa's characteristics, because now he is her father completely, as much as Phil and there is no longer any problem of saying it without thousands of voices coming to reproach for it and clarify that they are only their temporary parents.

I decided that the children's colors would be a mix of their parents' in different tones, having a similar color palette. So Tallulah has Missa's hair and Phil's eyes, while Chay has Phil's hair and Missa's eyes (Chay with purple eyes Yay!) leaving their delicate balance between yin and yang intact.

I wanted to give Lullah a striped hat, like Phil's emote, but I opted to merge it with the mushroom hat. I also left the flowers in her hair because I thought they were very pretty. I wanted to give it a style between punk and emo, but I chose to mix it with the boho style and it suits it well. ALSO I gave him a bone flute, because I read somewhere that someone mentioned that Missa had made him a bone flute and I died of tenderness.

I don't know why I'm giving so many explanations about this, it was just necessary to upload the images and say goodbye, sometimes I feel like an obsessive fool for talking about things too much, but anyway…

I just wanted to share this, see you!!

[luci4theminorannoyance]

(Ugh I feel like I’m blowing up your inbox but my brain is overheating with all these ideassss)

what about 141 with a reader who’s a dancer? (Maybe ballet?) I just feel like price would be spoiling them with new ballet shoes and dance outfits and Flowers after every show!! (< this could also apply to other characters!)

— 🪐

a/n: sure!! I didn’t get this one done for a bit so sorry!

Price:

-has single handedly forced all of 141 to come to your recitals before and personally donates to your dance company and for your dance gear

-it still confuses him how you can do all those tricks, he’s strong of course; but not in that way

-brags about you all the time to the point people think your a celebrity crush instead of his partner

gaz:

-he took dance in middle school so sometimes he likes to tease you by doing moves (very basic ones of course but still)

-loves seeing you happy at any event so he of course has tickets for like everything your in or you like

-his poor instagram posts are like 90 precent you doing dance

soap:

-adores just watching you practice, wide eyed and zoned out just enjoying watching you do something you like

-just lets you use his credit card for dance stuff. It’s always worth it to see you, plus it’s not like he’d know what to get you

-when he’s gone on mission he’ll try to explain it to ghost or gaz by doing the moves but really badly

-golden retriever boyfriend to the max

roach:

-literally the best for ballet. He’s adored it since he was little since in ballet you don’t need to talk to tell a story. But he never took it because as a kid he had other things to do

-loves silently sitting and watching your performances, or sometimes signing little messages to you while your preforming, knowing you can’t respond but that you most likely saw it

ghost:

-whenever he’s off his missions or work in general he always gets the best seats to just sit down and watch you do your favorite hobby/job

-doesn’t brag as much as the rest of 141 would, but did learn an awful lot of ballet dad jokes to tell around you or around his team even if it’s just a simple one

-the only thing he hates about ballet or dance is how uncomfortable those tights look, always gives him the ek when he thinks about himself in them

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand at the counter, waiting on the pharmacist to fill the script. Walter stands close, perusing the shelves beneath the pick-up window. You doubt he’s in the market for cough drops or nasal spray but there isn’t much to distract you.

You check the list as you slide your bag to the crook of your elbow. You chew your lip and think. While you’re here…

“Um, I’ll be right back, okay?” You say to him. He arches a brow curiously at you. You offer a soft smile, “just gotta grab something before I forget.”

He nods and paces back and forth, hands behind his back. You head down the center aisle and dip down the next. It’s close to the middle of the month and you’re running low. You search for the familiar package. Usually you get it at the grocer so you’re not familiar with the arrangement here.

You find your brand and stare up at it on the top shelf. Of course. You get on your toes and reach, grasping the shelf for balance as you teeter. Another hand snatches up the package you vie for and you turn in embarrassment as the tall blond man holds out the feminine pads.

“There you are, little one,” Thor proclaims.

You take the pads and lower your eyes to the floor, “thanks.”

“Not to worry,” he assures, “I used to fetch the very same for my sister. No need to be ashamed of your womanly needs.”

“Um, well, sure,” you giggle nervously, “I appreciate it.”

You wave the package then stop yourself and push it behind your back. You shrug and gnaw on your lip, “I… I’m just waiting for a prescription, so I should…”

“Heard about your dad,” he says, “sorry to hear it. You’ll give him my regards.”

“Yeah,” you eke out, “sure will, thanks again.”

You spin and trot away. How awkward was that. Thor’s always friendly but the last thing you need is him picking out your pads. Oh, you should’ve thought of that before you decided to add to the list.

As you look up, you find Walter waiting at the end of the aisle, watching you as you keep the package hidden behind you.

“Oh, hey,” you greet him, “got what I need.”

“Here,” he holds out the small paper bag with the pharmacy’s logo, “everything alright?”

“Sure,” you answer, trying to shake off the tingle in your cheeks.

“What did Odinson want?”

“Just asking about dad,” you shrug.

“Mm,” he grumbles.

You take the bag and move it to conceal the label on the pads. Walter’s eyes flick down at the movement but he doesn’t say anything. He raises his gaze to look over your head. You turn to watch Thor as he gives a half-wave with three fingers and struts away.

“Anyway, I’ll just pay for my stuff and meet you outside?” You face Walter again.

He’s quiet as he glares down the aisle. He’s like a statue. You’re not even sure he heard you.

“Walt?” You squeak.

He winces and looks down at you, “I didn’t know you were friends with him.”

“I’m… Everyone knows Thor,” you chime.

He shifts on his feet as his jaw ticks, “I’ll be outside.”

You sidle out of his way as he steps past you. You step back up to the counter as Bessie smiles at you. You hand over the package and dig in your purse. You pay without chattering as she offers the same condolences as everyone else you’ve run into. 

You ask for a bag and flip out, exhausted already. It’s supposed to be an escape but the stares and the soft tones just remind you of what you’re running away from. Walter stands by his truck as he waits for you. He stills himself as you approach.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yep,” you reply meekly, “onto the grocery store.”

He bows his head in acquiescence. You could walk the block down to the store you suppose but you’re not thinking that far ahead. You just want to be gone.

He follows you around to the passenger’s side, again opening the door before you can. You toss the bag on the seat and reach for the interior of the door. Before you can haul yourself up, he has you around the waist, lifting you up onto the metal step. You let out a strained squeak and grasp onto the seat before sliding into it.

His hands graze off of you and he hovers, just for a moment, before he shuts the door. You look down as he lumbers around in your peripheral. You hug yourself, touching your sides where he gripped you. He touches you a lot.

You sit up as he climbs in the other side and shake off the thought. He’s just being helpful. After all he’s done, you owe him a million thanks.

He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. He drives silently down the road and you sink down into the seat as familiar faces pace by, strolling down the pavement. Why did you think this was a good idea?”

He rolls into the dirt lot behind the grocery store and you’re quick to jump out before he can reach you. Your purse drops onto the ground as you stagger. He shuts the door before you can as he grunts.

“Careful,” he warns as he grabs your arm and pulls you straight.

“I’m good,” you snatch up your purse and lift your ankle to roll out the kink in your achilles. 

You cross the lot as he trails behind you, a towering shadow at your heels. You enter the front doors and wave to Alison, the cashier on first shift. She greets you with a grin and flips the page of the magazine opened before her till.

Walter lurks behind you as you take out the list again. You don’t need too much. You go to the stack of basket and he snakes around you to claim one first.

“Got it,” he says.

“Thanks,” you murmur and smooth out the creases in the list.

“Honeydew,” he says, “right?”

You glance up at him then over at the rows of produce. You nod and turn away, heading for the mountain of melons. Again, he’s close behind you. Like a big, grumpy dog. The thought makes you laugh and you peek over at him. You could definitely see him growling like one.

[ashenstardust]

(Sukuna and Gojo with a Plus-Sized!Reader) Pairing: Sukuna x Reader & Gojo x Reader Summary: Sukuna and Gojo (separately) appreciate their lovely significant other. Word Count: 579 Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Mentions of body weight, possessiveness, bruises, orgasm denial, overstimulation.

-Sukuna doesn't give a fuck that you're fat. He's the King of Curses and you think something like body weight is going to matter at all to him? Absolutely not.

-Gets personally offended when you back down from him. You think he can't pick you up? Carry you? Mark your ass with his hands until you’re struggling to sit for days on end?

-Won’t tolerate when you talk down to yourself. You think you can say those unkind things about yourself? Think again. That's Sukuna's property you’re talking about, and no-one is allowed to remark poorly on what is his.

-He'll force you to sit on his face and eat you out until you're begging to come, only to stop before starting to build you up all over again. If you're not careful this will go on for hours until you finally realize what he wants.

-You apologize. To him. To yourself. You aren't sure, you just know you need to cum and you need to say you’re sorry for slighting him with what you said about yourself.

-Then he'll slide you down his torso, with an ease that makes you gasp and always makes him smirk, and force you to orgasm until you can't think, can't breathe.

-As he latches his cruel mouth onto your tits. His hands roam your whole body, messaging and soothing.

-Until you're so wrung out on pleasure that you're sobbing and shaking in his arms.

-He'll draw you a bath, as hot as you like, and soak with you, rubbing your hurts away and eking another orgasm or four from you, if you let him.

-You always sleep like the dead after, and Sukuna wastes his time watching you. A fond smile on his face that he would never allow anyone to see. He rarely even admits to himself that he feels any different for you than anyone else.

&&&&&

-Gojo loves that you're thick, plus sized, fat, squishy. He bounces around you, giddy as a schoolgirl, cracking jokes and telling stories to make you smile and laugh. The way your body moves in those moments is mesmerizing to him.

-Someone makes one comment, not even a comment really, you'd gotten your ass kicked on a mission with them and they made a sort of huffing, groaning noise while picking you up.

-Gojo knew you'd heard it. More importantly he had heard it. He'd plucked you out of their arms so fast it was dizzying.

-Gojo spent extra time training with you. He made sure to teach you everything he could and train you to better master your Cursed Energy and Techniques.

-He had resolved then that no one else was allowed to touch you. Only him, with greedy and grabbing fingers. You'd wake up in the morning, sated, and bruised from head to toe with Gojo-sized handprints.

-He just loved to take your flesh and press and twist until you were moaning and screaming and begging him for more.

-He was addicted to that - your attachment to him. Your trust, your submission, your adoration. There was no creature, no person, more perfect for him than you.

-And he never shut up about that. Everyone knew you were the only prize worth anything to him. You knew you were the only treasure he ever valued in such visceral detail that you might've been frightened, if hearing him talk like that didn't make you feel float-y and blur your thoughts to drunken epithets.

[glittervame]

You're just like him

"You're a filthy cheater"

This post is going to be part of the Hogmarch Fandom challenge by @thatdammchickennugget check it out if you want to know more! I didn't proofread so sorry for the spelling errors or if it doesn't make any sense, love ya! <3

Oliver wood x Fem!Reader Warnings: Angst (No named person), Fred and George being little shits, Smut, this has basically no plot it's all over the place

The sun was setting, painting the sky a fiery orange as it dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with anticipation, and the stands were packed to the brim with students, all of them clad in their house colors. It was the final Quidditch match of the season, and the fate of the House Cup hung in the balance. Gryffindor and Slytherin, two of the most talented and determined teams in recent memory, were set to face off in what promised to be a brutal and intense battle.

As the players took to the pitch, Oliver and Y/n locked eyes for a brief moment. There was a flicker of something in their gaze, a mixture of determination, anger, and perhaps even a hint of desire. They knew that this match wasn't just about winning the House Cup; it was also about proving their worth to each other.

The game began with a blur of broomsticks and flying balls, both teams moving at breakneck speed. Oliver and Y/n circled each other like two snarling animals, the two captains waiting for the other to make a mistake. It wasn't long before the tension between them boiled over. During a tight turn, Oliver aggressively rammed into Y/n, sending her spiraling out of control. The crowd gasped as she careened toward the ground, but at the last moment, Oliver leaned forward on his broom, reaching out a hand.

Y/n snarled, baring her teeth, but grabbed onto Oliver's hand. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and for a brief moment, they were locked together. The crowd grew silent as they stared at the two captains, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. Finally, with a jerk, Oliver pulled Y/n back onto her broom, and they continued the game.

But the tension between them only grew. Every time Oliver passed her, he'd throw her a venomous glare, daring her to try something. And every time Y/n would brush against him, she'd feel the heat emanating from his skin, the thunder of his heartbeat. The air around them crackled with anger and desire, and the game began to take on a new intensity.

The final score was close, with Gryffindor barely eking out a victory. As the Snitch flew into the hands of the Gryffindor seeker, the crowd erupted into cheers, Y/n barely registered the noise. She dismounted her broom as the Gryffindors flood onto the field, congratulating their team. Her eyes met Oliver's once more, and this time there was no anger, no desire. There was only hatred.

She stormed off the field, not bothering to wait for the post-game ceremony. She started barking orders at her team, her voice cold and hard as ice. But underneath the surface, she was seething. Oliver's touch had thrown her off balance, made her feel things she didn't want to feel. He had won, and now she wanted nothing more than to make him pay.

As the Gryffindors filed back into the castle, Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for Y/n, but she was nowhere to be found. He shrugged it off, figuring she was just angry about the loss. He didn't realize how right he was until he reached the common room and found her waiting for him in the shadows.

Her eyes were blazing, her chest heaving with anger. "You think you're so great, don't you?" she spat. "You think you can just take what you want?" Oliver stared at her, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about, Y/n," he said, taking a step back. "I just played a clean game."

"Don't lie to me!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "You know exactly what you did. You pushed me off my broom, just like third year all over agian! You made me feel weak. You made me look weak" - she paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing - "in front of everyone!"

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't meant to make her feel that way. But he couldn't admit it now. Not with her standing there, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "I was just playing the game, Y/n," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she scoffed. "That's why you've been looking at me like that all day. That's why you've been trying to get under my skin." Her gaze bored into him, searching for some sign of weakness. "You're just as bad as he was. Just as arrogant and just as cruel."

The mention of him sent a shiver down Oliver's spine. He knew who she was talking about: the boy who had bullied them both for years, the boy who had made them feel helpless and alone. He was the reason Oliver had joined the Gryffindor quidditch team in the first place, the reason he had become the captain he was today. "I'm not him," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not like him."

But she didn't believe him. "You are," she insisted. "Using whatever you can for a fucking win, you're just as obsessed with quidditch as he was, gods, if you wern't such a goody two shoes you would've let Fred and George get rid of half of my team with that stupid candy!" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, Oliver felt a pang of guilt so sharp it took his breath away.

Fith year Fred anf George had gotten themselves some extra zonko's candy and diped it in a boils potion to prank the slytherins. They mailed it for the team before a match but some of the first years had gotten to it first. The next coupple of weeks you could tell exactly who ate the candy by the scaring on the kids arms before Madam Pompfrey heald it.

He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that it hadn't been his intention to hurt her. That he had just been trying to play a fair game. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the way she had looked at him, her expression filled with such hatred and anger. Maybe it was the fear of pushing her further away. Whatever it was, he remained silent.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy like a curtain. Oliver could feel her gaze boring into him, could see the anger radiating from her every pore. He knew that if he didn't say something soon, this moment would become a permanent rift between them. But what could he possibly say that would make things better?

"If you had won fair and square this wouldn't be such a big deal Wood-" calling him by his last name stung, "but, you made me look like a fool in front of my house, and my parents, gods, I hope you're happy with yourself Wood, You're a filthy fucking cheater" she hissed, tears falling down her cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice them.

Oliver winced at the sound of his last name on her lips. He hated the way it made him feel, like he was just a reminder of everything she had gone through. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way," he said quietly. "It's just a game, Y/n. We both know it's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she snorted. "That's why you pushed me off my broom. That's why you kept knocking me down. It's all just a big game to you." Her gaze darted around the room, her eyes wild with anger and hurt. "But it's not just a game to me. It's my life." She takes in a sharp breath, "I have a legacy to live up to Wood; and you just got in my way"

Ah yes, Slytherins and their bloodlines...Y/n family had come from powerfull witches and wizards. Purebloods. After going to hogwarts they had either gon to work in a powerful position (Mostly her dads side) or playing for a Quidditch team (Moms side). It was in her blood to do great things and everyone knew that, makeing the pressure to live up to that alot bigger.

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He really hadn't. But he couldn't help but feel that she didn't understand. Quidditch wasn't just his life; it was the only thing he had ever been good at. It was the one thing that had kept him going after everything he had been through. And now that he was finally captain, he couldn't just let some rival team come along and take it away from him.

He opened his mouth to try and explain, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he forced a small smile. "Look, I get it. Quidditch means a lot to you. It means a lot to me too. But we both know we can't change what happened out there today. All we can do is move forward and try to be better." He took another step forward, his voice softening. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Y/n. I really am. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Find me later Wood" and with that she turned on her heels and walked away. He took that as a small win, she didn't yell at him or hex him either.

The next time their paths crossed was at a Slytherin common room party, a few weeks later. It wasn't a formal event, just a get-together with some friends from different houses. Oliver knew Y/n was going to be there, and he had debated whether or not to show up himself. In the end, he decided that he owed it to her to try and make amends, even if it was just a little.

He spotted her across the room, laughing with a group of her friends. She looked beautiful, as always, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. For a moment, Oliver felt a pang of regret for the way things had gone between them. He wished he could go back in time and change it, make things better. But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to move forward.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to walk over to her. "Hey, Y/n," he said, trying to sound casual. "Mind if I, uh, join you?"

She looked up, her expression guarded. "I suppose," she said slowly. "What do you want, Wood? Why's the little lion wondering around the snake den?"

Oliver winced inwardly at the way she said his last name. It was like a dagger to the heart. "Look, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened during the match. I shouldn't have pushed you off your broom. It was a stupid move, and I regret it." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I know we're both competitive, but there's no need for things to get personal."

Y/n studied him for a moment, her expression softening just the tiniest bit. "You know, Oliver, I've been thinking about what you said. You're right. There's no need for it to be personal. We're both just trying to do our best, you know?" She looked away, playing with the hem of her dress. "I guess I've been acting like a jerk, too. I'm sorry for that."

Oliver felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He hadn't expected her to be so understanding. "Thanks, Y/n. I really appreciate that. And I'm sorry for pushing things too far. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, you know?" He paused, chuckling softly. "We're both a bit intense, I guess."

She laughed, the sound musical and genuine. "That we are. But I think we can both be better than that. We're both better than what we've been doing." Her expression turned more serious. "We're both good Quidditch players, Oliver. We both have a lot to offer. So let's just focus on that, okay?"

You know what they say, kiss and make up right?

The time they met after that was when slytherin had overbooked the quidditch pitch and Oliver was pissed off, as was his team. He had just gotten done telling the head of the house how they were supposed to practice if they couldn't get the pitch when he heard a soft voice calling out to him. It was Y/n.

"Little lion got here a little to late?" she fake pouts, "That's too bad" she shrugs and sits on the edge of the pitch. "Sorry for over booking the pitch, we were training our new seeker" she crooned, "Our last one got a little sick…" The two slytherins behind her snicker.

Someone "accedently" put a few drops of eye drops in his pumkin juice early this week...

"Well, I hope they feel better soon," Oliver says, his tone neutral. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we could practice together or something. That way, we can both get the time we need." He hesitates, then adds, "You know, if you want."

Y/n raised an eyebrow at him, her expression amused. "Oh? And what makes you think I'd want to practice with you, Wood?" She glanced at the two boys behind her, and they both sniggered again. "I'm sure we can manage just fine on our own."

Oliver grinned, feeling a little more confident now. "Oh, I'm sure you can. But I'm also sure that we could both learn a thing or two from each other. We're both good players, after all." He paused, then continued, "And it might be nice to get to know each other better, outside of the context of Quidditch."

Y/n considered his words for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm…you might have a point there," she admitted reluctantly, "Now that I think about it though, less time you have to practice, bigger chance for us to win the cup" she grins, "Better luck next time" she pats his shoulder before walking away. George whispered to Fred swearing that he could see steam coming out of Olivers ears.

The quidditch locker room was a mess, as usual. Broken wands and battered bludgers littered the floor, and the stench of sweat and worn leather hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. Y/n L/n, captain of the Slytherin team, sighed heavily as she sat down on one of the benches, her long hair falling over her face as she tugged at the collar of her sweat-soaked shirt. It had been a long day, and the season was only halfway through. She glanced around, noticing that Oliver R/lastname, captain of the Gryffindor team, was still in the locker room as well. They'd had a particularly brutal match that day, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the sight of him.

But before she could gather her thoughts, Oliver stood up from his own bench and started walking towards her. He looked just as tired and disheveled as she felt, and there was something in his expression that made her heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, as he stopped in front of her and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Hey, L/n," he murmured softly. "You okay?"

For a moment, Y/n couldn't speak. Her brain felt like it had turned to mush, and her heart was racing. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Finally, she managed to croak out a reply. "I'm… fine." Oliver's eyes searched hers, his expression intense. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and husky. And before she could respond, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

She could feel his erection pressed against her, and the realization sent a shiver down her spine. It had been so long since she'd been with anyone, and Oliver was the last person she expected to find herself wanting. But there was something about the way he kissed her, so desperate and demanding, that made her ache for him in a way she'd never thought possible. Her hands found their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. He moaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, and she couldn't help but melt into his embrace.

As they kissed, their hands roamed over each other's bodies, seeking out pleasure in the heat of the moment. Oliver's fingers traced a path down her spine, making her shiver, while she gripped his hair, pulling him closer still. She could feel his erection pressing harder against her, and she knew she had to do something about it. She broke the kiss for a moment, panting heavily, and looked into his eyes. His pupils were so dilated she could hardly see the green. "Oliver," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I want you."

Without waiting for his reply, she straddled his lap, feeling the heat of his body against hers. Oliver's hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them through her sweat-soaked shirt. He groaned, and Y/n arched her back, reveling in the sensation. She reached down, unfastened his pants, and pulled his erection free. Oliver gasped as she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly. She leaned forward, kissing him again, and guided his length towards her. He thrust forward, pushing himself inside her, and she cried out, feeling him stretch her tightly.

They moved together in a frenzy, their bodies slamming together in time with their ragged breathing. The pain was replaced by a white-hot pleasure that coursed through her veins, making her lightheaded. Oliver's fingers dug into her hips, his nails leaving tiny half-moon marks in her skin. She could feel herself getting closer and closer, the orgasm building inside her, threatening to explode. And then, finally, it hit her, washing over her in a wave of pure ecstasy. She arched her back, crying out his name as her inner walls squeezed him in a powerful spasm. Oliver followed her over the edge, his body tense as he let out a hoarse cry and emptied himself inside her.

They collapsed together on the bench, panting heavily. The tension that had been building between them for weeks seemed to dissipate in that moment, leaving only the afterglow of their passionate encounter. Oliver reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead, his fingers trailing down her cheek before coming to rest on her chin. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm sorry I had to wait until now."

Y/n smiled up at him, feeling a shiver of desire run through her. "It was worth the wait," she whispered, running her fingers through his messy hair. "And we still have the rest of the season, you know." At that, Oliver laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made her heart skip a beat. "God, I can't wait to see what else you have in store for me," he said, kissing her softly.

Y/n knew she was utterly fucked. Her and Oliver? Fucked. Hell She just fucked Oliver.

🌟-I'll work on your request soon!

It's 3:50 right now and I have to leave for a trip in a few hours so i'll be away from my computer for a while!

Love you my children -💙

[riconas]

all I can think about it mean dom rain edging the fuck out of dew can u help pls

sure thing hope this helps

tags: edging, orgasm denial, a dash of choking and slapping

With a growl, Rain grabs the base of Dew’s cock and squeezes so hard he cries out. “Not yet.”

Dew’s head thumps back against Rain’s shoulder. With his hands bound and trapped between them, there isn’t much he can do: exactly how Rain likes it. Arm wrapped snugly around Dew, he can feel Dew’s skinny chest heaving, heart hammering rapidly under his palm.

The clock on the wall says he’s been at it for an hour. Dew’s acting like it’s been three. When Rain makes to stroke the head of his cock, Dew squirms so hard Rain nearly loses his grip.

“What?” he snaps.

Dew turns his face into Rain’s neck. Hiding, shielding himself, and Rain wishes he could see Dew’s face. Wishes he could see the flush of embarrassment across his cheeks, always so red, so pretty.

“Not yet,” Dew says, so meekly Rain almost doesn’t believe this is his Dewdrop. His fiesty little spitfire.

Pathetic, truly.

He gropes for one of Dew’s nipples. Pinches hard, twists until Dew yelps. “Is that your choice to make?”

“Rain—”

“Is it?”

Dew presses impossibly closer. It’s sweet, how he needs to be near to Rain, even when Rain’s being so cruel. There’s a hitch in his voice when he says, “I’m too close.”

Rain slaps his nipple. “Is that—” slaps the other one “—your choice—” slaps his cock “—to make?”

“No!” Dew yelps, squirming even harder.

“Stop moving,” Rain snaps.

Dew goes still. His breathing does not.

“I decide when you’re too close.” Rain slackens his grip by a fraction, just enough to ease a hand up and pet sweetly through Dew’s sweaty hair. To make Dew melt into him, helpless. “Disobey me again and you won’t get to cum at all.”

“I didn’t—”

“Dewdrop,” Rain warns.

Dew shuts up.

It isn’t as if Dew’s done anything bad to warrant a punishment. Lucifer, the punishments Rain ekes out on Dew are far worse than a little bit of teasing. Dew’s just so easy. He’d do anything if Rain asked. It’s a fun power trip that Rain indulges in often, even if it does take a little bit of work to get him there. He wouldn’t submit if he didn’t want to.

“How many was that?” Rain asks, stroking along Dew’s thigh, coaxing it to stop trembling.

“I don’t know,” Dew says shakily.

“Why not? I told you to count them, didn’t I?”

Dew goes tense. He doesn’t reply.

“Didn’t I?” Rain trails two finger up his stomach, his chest, his neck. Pushes them into his mouth, presses down on his tongue. “Answer me.”

“You did,” Dew says. Tries to say. It’s gurgled nonsense, with Rain’s fingers stealing his words.

Rain carelessly wipes his fingers on Dew’s face. Dew chases them for a second before giving up. “That’s not good, is it?”

“No,” Dew breathes. “Sorry.”

He does sound quite sorry, Rain will admit. Which is rare Dewdrop behaviour. He supposes he should be grateful.

Rain shrugs. “Don’t sound very sorry to me.”

Dew’s cock is hot and hard in Rain’s grip. He strokes him slowly, watching it kiss in and out of the circle of his fist, dribbling precum when he rubs under the head with his thumb. He catches the sad, aborted jerks of Dew’s hips, but they’re so pitiful he decides to let them slide.

“Rain,” Dew gasps. “M’close.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” So desperate, so distressed.

“You better not cum,” Rain says nonchalantly. “Might have to punish you if you do.”

Dew whines, shaking his head. “Rain, I—I’m really close. Oh, fuck, fuck, slow down, slow down—”

Rain gathers a fistful of Dew’s hair and yanks with all the strength he can muster. "Don’t you dare, Dewdrop.”

“Please,” Dew sobs. “Please let me cum. I can’t take it anymore, please, Rain, please—”

Rain grabs his throat, squeezing hard enough to cut him off, and grips the base of his cock as tightly as he can. It's so red. Almost purple, bruise-like. A miserable spurt of pre leaks out of the blushing tip and drips over Rain’s fingers.

“It hurts,” Dew rasps, hoarse with how hard Rain is choking him. “It hurts, Rain, it really hurts.”

“Really?” Rain replies, calm as can be. “Where does it hurt?

Dew turns his face into Rain’s neck again, and Rain feels the warm wetness of his tears as they drip down his face. “Everywhere.”

Rain’s stomach twists in sympathy. He ignores it, and tried to recall all the annoying shit Dew does on a daily basis to get himself back in the zone. May as well keep Dew here a little while longer, seeing how much work it took to get him to this point.

“Tell you what,” he says, because he's feeling so very kind. “Five more. Count them for me, nice and clear, and I’ll let you cum.”

Dew’s head lolls against his shoulder. “Please."

“Sound good?”

“Please, Rain,” Dew slurs.

Dew’s going to drop so hard and so fast after this. Rain’s sure of it, knows him well enough to predict exactly how long he’ll have to hold Dew before he’s alright. He’d hold Dew forever if he had to. Forever and more.

He presses a kiss to Dew’s temple, and stays for a moment, breathing in the familiar smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke. He feels Dew sink into him, the sudden tenderness offering momentary relief, and finds he doesn’t quite want to let go.

“Can you do that for me?” he asks gently. “Dewdrop?”

It takes five long seconds before Dew takes a deep breath, lifts his head, and presses a kiss of his own to the side of Rain’s neck.

“Yeah,” Dew says shakily. “Yeah, I can do that.”

[lipstickchainsaw]

Oh, for the stp questions, what do you think of the thorn? She is my favourite 🫶🫶

I think the Witch > Thorn route is probably my favourite, and most thematically coherent/meaty? Some Chapter 3 Princesses' are just their Chapter 2 version but More (like the Eye of the Needle, arguably the Den), but the Thorn really does stand out as a more fleshed out narrative, with more depth.

To get into the route, you have to either cheat the first choice (first going down without the Pristine Blade to lock the Princess into her more 'harmless' version before going back up grab the Blade and slay her), or take the first opportunity to stab her once her back is turned (yes, the Narrator is pushing you to do it, or you've locked yourself out of resisting because you already played the Damsel, but from her perspective, that doesn't make a difference). To build on what I said in my essay on the Pristine Blade, the simple fact that you have access to the Blade influences the dynamic between you and the Princess (corrupts it, really).

In either case, you really do betray her trust, and this hurts her considerably more than the arm torn/cut off, or whatever cuts you leave on her otherwise, because the violence she can immediately repay with her own. It's the hurt, the knowledge that she trusted you with her vulnerability and you took advantage of it, that she can't resolve, and this is, naturally, what the next chapter is about.

I'm not wholly sure why she's called the Witch, because she does surprisingly few things we might associate with witches.

Regardless, going in, you're joined by the Voice of the Opportunist, whose entire shtick is looking for ways to eke out short-term advantages without a care for any long-term concerns. In short, this fucker will defect in the prisoner dilemma after telling you he's going to cooperate, honest, and then be surprised you don't trust him in the second iteration, because he's on your side this time, he promises!

And this is how the Witch sees you, the Protagonist, because that's what these voices represent, and she sees her only defense against your backstabbing ways is to... be that exact same thing. To also keep her cards close to her chest, and jump at whatever first opportunity she gets to get one over on you (this is what she does if you turn your back on her in this route, even at the cost of her own life, the Scorpion and Frog/Farmer and Viper parallels are explicitly mentioned in the achievement). She's been hurt, and the only way she can avoid being hurt again, is to hurt you first.

The main difference between you and her, of course, is that you have the Blade, the power in this situation (yes, she did kill you last time, but that's hardly what matters here), and acknowledging this is the key to getting to the Thorn.

Because you have to give it up! You have to give the Blade to her, by way of apology, putting your trust in someone you know has no reason to like you and every reason to hurt you, and you have to put yourself at her mercy. Let her use that power against you like you did against her.

And the Witch doesn't understand why you do it! Why would you give up the upper hand when you have it? She wouldn't, after all. So she's suspicious, and she doesn't know what you're doing, but she remembers the hurt, and whatever game you're playing, she can now hurt you before you hurt her, so she takes the opportunity to kill you and immediately proves that hurting you doesn't stop her from being hurt either.

She asks you why you let her do that to her, because hurting you didn't resolve the dissonance between what she thought you were like and what you actually did. Hurting you doesn't suddenly bring your plan into clarity, and it leaves her incredibly confused.

But I think she asks herself another question, quietly, without quite being willing to acknowledge it to herself:

'Why would I do that?'

And this finally brings us to the Thorn (sorry for taking so long to actually get to her, anon, but I can't help myself). Some time has passed between the end of the Witch and now, and she had been plagued with those questions, with thinking of who she is, what she wants to be, and how to deal with the hurt while she tries really hard to figure out if she can actually trust you or not.

This is why the first question she asks you is if you're there to laugh at her. She thinks she might have seen your play (and she can be correct if you do decide to laugh at her! The achievement being called 'Past Life Gambit' is very fitting. You get a ton of opportunities to be cruel to her here and validate her distrust!), and when you say you're not, she's just... lost.

The thorns around are neat, because the degree to which this betrayal has hurt her also causes her to hurt herself. The thorns are pointed inward. You can get in, but you can't get out, and neither can she! This distrust within her is literally digging into her own skin, and even though she has the Blade, has the power in this situation, she cannot use it to resolve this situation for herself. She's going to need you, but if she gives you that power, how can she possibly know you're not just going to hurt her again? How does she know you're not going to make the same decision she did? How can she make the decision you did last time, when she doesn't understand why you did it?

And these fears are not unjustified! For all that the Opportunist is in favour of schmoozing up to the Thorn, the moment she gives up the Blade, he turns into the Witch again, immediately suggesting the very choice that resulted in the very misery the Thorn is now struggling with (because the Opportunist is kind of an asshole). Even though you both know you need each other to get out of this mess long-term, actually doing that when you've both stabbed each other in the back previously is not easy, and giving in to those short-term impulses is so very tempting. How do the Scorpion and the Frog not kill one another?

And this provokes big argument in your own mind, too, long enough the Thorn gets worried she fucked up by giving you the Blade in this anxious way that doesn't understand why you haven't made either decision yet.

Fortunately, the Opportunist is joined by the Smitten at this point (and I think this is a bit of a redemption for the Smitten compared to the Damsel route, but that's a matter for another post), and he argues very passionately (because whenever does he not) in favour of the beauty of trust and cooperation and love!

And so by sharing your power and using it with care (the Narrator even tries to make you slip, but the Smitten says no), you resolve the pain at the heart of the Thorn, and finally make it clear that you do deserve her trust as she deserves yours, and you get arguably the best ending of a single run.

Of the Third Chapter Princesses, I think the Thorn stands out in becoming more... human compared to her previous, rather than less. It adds a lot of depth to her narrative, and makes the resulting romance feel more real than the other options.

And of the potential Witch follow-ups, I think the Thorn is a more interesting resolution than the Wild, because the Wild is more about burying the resentment and pain and pretend none of it happened and you're united as one, whereas the Thorn sees you actually resolve your differences and develop a more healthy relationship in the wake of it.

And you teach the Opportunist the value of long-term thinking, which is neat.

Also, you get the only kiss in the game on this route, so that's also fun.

In short, yeah, fantastic route, interesting and nuanced Princess, wonderful resolution.