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hitomisuzuya · 1 day ago

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please consider soft!dom degrading daddy kink scaramouche / wanderer (whichever you want to write for) who loves to see you so submissive, who loves caring for you... loves seein you enjoy yourself because of him. bonus points if collar leash + bondage hehehehee

soft!dom scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. degradation. praise. daddy kink. subtle choking but nothing serious. nipple play. bondage. collar and leash. creampie.

i have been wanting to write daddy kink for awhile now😳 thank you for requesting, dear❤️ i was blushing the whole time i wrote this oml.

"such pretty, delicate wrists," scaramouche flicked his tongue along your wrists, "delicate little wrists on daddy's pretty pet," it was an action of appreciation for the vulnerable state you are in for him. your wrists are tied together to the headboard above your head.

your legs spread and creamy cunt ready to take his cock. the collar around your neck, leash attached and his hand a testament to your loving submission for him. an adoring flush on your cheeks as he tied the knots in the ribbons around your wrists.

all for him. such a soft, doting little thing like you deserved to be taken care of.

"all your have to do is shut your big brain off, and submit to daddy," his hand hovered over your throat, his cock aching more seeing the visible shiver of anticipation dance through you. his fingers twitched, pressing down on your collar, keening a soft moan from you as you tilted your head back a little.

it was to give him better access to your neck if he wanted it. everything about you oozed complete and total submission. you are relying solely and entirely on him to take care of you while he has his way with you.

trusting him.

he is so fucking weak for you. "use your words, slut. tell daddy you understand," his hand drifted from your neck to your cheek. his cheeks flushed seeing you turn your cheek into his hand, nuzzling it against his palm.

"i understand, daddy," you replied, giving him the sweetest, softest smile. you didn't have to think about anything else. anything else except pleasing him. he knew how comforting this position was for you. you basked in the weight of his dominance. a dominance that made you really wet submitting to.

"good girl. how sweet my pet slut is," scaramouche skimmed his thumb across your cheek as your cheeks flush darker with adoration. you let out a soft whimper, moving your hips up and rubbing your pussy on his cock.

keeping the leash in his hand, his head dipped down to your chest. "keep those pretty eyes on me, whore," his tongue swept out to slowly circle your nipple. he groans feeling the sensation of it hardening on his tongue.

your clit throbbed as he swirled and prodded his tongue, making you squirm as you tried to seek friction from his cock. his eyes narrowed in a gentle glare to remind you of your place. you immediately relaxed, blissfully surrendering yourself to his agonizingly slow assault on your nipple.

he scooped your nipple into his mouth to suck on, his fingers finding your clit to rub and pinch. a reward for your submission to him. a string of moans louder than the last sound from you as your pussy clenched around nothing. you are enjoying submitting to him.

"please," you whimper, your legs shaking as you grinded your clit against his fingers. drool rolled down your breast as he sucked, flicking his tongue around your nipple in a way that made your clit throb more.

"please what?" he purred the soft command, lifting his head and raising an eyebrow at you. he gripped your jaw, pressing his thumb in slow, agonizing circles on your sensitive clit. give scaramouche an inch and he'll take a mile, demanding more submission than before.

submission you were happy to surrender further to him. "please, daddy," you moaned, looking up at him with pleading eyes that made his cock strain harder. the way your body twitched conveyed your desperation for him.

"good girl. you stay sweet, just like that," you are being so fucking good for him. he took his fingers off your clit, bringing them to your mouth for you to lick. your tongue swept out on his fingers, keeping your eyes on him as you tasted yourself on your tongue.

scaramouche prodded two fingers on your lips, asking for you to open your mouth. you obediently open your mouth, sucking on his fingers as he pushed them into your mouth. he slowly pumps them in and out of your mouth, his favorite act of exerting dominance over you.

your tongue lingered on his beautiful fingers as he took them out of your mouth. "your cock, daddy, please," you moan oh so sweetly, making him realize he couldn't stand the pulsing in his cock anymore. he rubbed and prodded his cock head at your entrance, shuddering in pleasure as your hole clenched around it.

"remember, slut," he moaned, slowly bullying his cock inside of you. your back arched off the bed as you mewled in bliss, your walls squeezing around his cock as he bottomed out into your sweet spot. "the only thing you need to do is concentrate on cumming on daddy's cock," such a sweet pet deserves a reward.

he groaned as you tightened your thigh muscles, providing him extra friction as he stretched you apart, fixated on making him feel so fucking good while you fell apart on his cock. "be a good girl and let daddy breed you," the unholy squelching noises of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy mingled with your shameless moans.

his thumbs stroked the dips of your hips, his fingers kneading possessive bruises into your pliable flesh as they found purchase on them. your head spun as your body twitched in pleasure. "daddy, i am gonna.." your words fell apart in a fit of moans, ".. cum," you barely managed to finish.

"go ahead, cum all over daddy's cock, slut," the more he lost himself in the wet warmth of your pussy, his husky moans mingling with yours, the more you relaxed and let him enjoy himself.

every fiber of your being was dedicated to pleasing to him. he picked up his pace, determined to feel you creaming on his cock first before he spilled a drop of cum inside of you. "so fucking good for daddy," he moaned, his cock head bullying into your sweet spot just right.

the knot of your orgasm shattered like a pane of glass, surrendering to the jarring pleasure his cock was providing as your release flooded onto his cock. his lips collided with yours in a possessive kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth, gently pulling your head up by the leash. you let him wrestle it into submission within moments, moaning into his mouth.

he lovingly fucked you through your orgasm, his teeth biting at your lips as his cock pulsed ropes of cum inside of you. he never let go of the leash, not once, fingering his cum back inside of you once he pulled out.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #tw daddy kink #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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camillelespanayesbtch · 3 days ago

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Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Summary: It isn't your fault you like the feeling of power, the sensation was addictive, and although it never worked out well for those around you, it certainly worked well for you. You weren't to blame that people seldom survived attacking you, it was their fault after all. But you can only run for so long before your misdeeds catch up to you, and where will you be left after? It's dangerous to walk certain paths alone as a young witch.

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Word Count: 4690

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Chapter One

You hum to yourself as you follow the marks you carved into the trees, a hidden path you had created that left those who follow you believing you were the perfect victim, blissfully unaware of the danger that followed you. You could hear the boys talking among themselves, their gleeful snickering as they think about all the things they could do to you now that they had you alone and unaware. Like most evenings, the forest was a cacophony of sound, there wasn’t an inch of space where there was silence, every crevasse had sound, even the ants clicked to one another to inform the other of the crumbs of bread that were left abandoned on the floor of the community hall that hosted giants. The leaves crunch underfoot, small twigs snapping as you step on them, continuing to hum the tune until you come to a clearing in the forest.

There was a space where no leaves were, a perfect circle that had been made over years of the same trick, black as the night sky is dark. “Look boys,” Douglas says with a grin, “She’s made a spot for fucking, just for us.” He moves closer to you, the others surrounding you as well, all of them giving each other encouraging looks. They didn’t believe the stories about boys going missing because every coven had tales like that, even the girls were told tales about their powers being taken when lured to walk the witch’s road, but everyone believed that it was just the danger of the road and not one of their own doing it. “I wonder if her tits are as big as her top makes them look,” Douglas says, advancing on you quickly, his hands twitching by his side as he thinks about tearing your shirt from your body.

“I’ve seen them through her window when she changes,” Clint says, “They’re small, no bigger than a handful, but at least they’re perky.” He cracks his knuckles, his eyes glinting dangerously. This wasn’t his first time taking what he wanted, and it wouldn’t be his last, just like the other boys he was with- if he sees something he wants, he takes it. His mother did raise him to be respectful towards women, especially those in the coven, but she always spoke about you as being the exception. You were the freak of the group, the one people whispered about, warned the kids to stay away from least you corrupt them. So, really, what he and his friends were about to do wasn’t a bad thing, it was deserved. “We should take pictures and add them to the wall.”

“We should take pictures and add them to the wall,” you mimic, turning to face them. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to keep trophies? Or was that too much for your tiny little boy-brains to comprehend?” You run your fingers through your hair, letting out a sigh as you shake a few knots loose. You were hungry, and these boys would be enough to last you a few weeks. Sure, they weren’t as powerful as the elders, too jumped up on the testosterone coursing through their bodies to focus on mastering the craft, instead relying on brute force to get things done. “Didn’t mommy teach you better? Or even your fathers? No, I suppose not. No, daddy left you boys behind, didn’t he? Went off to go fuck some young maiden the next town over,” you make a vulgar gesture, thrusting your hips before laughing when you see the group clench their fists in anger. “Oh no, did I hurt your feelings? What’re you gonna do? Blast me?”

It would only take one. It only ever takes one, but they didn’t know that. Of course they didn’t know that they barely knew how to groom themselves let alone see the signs of a trap, to even see that sometimes there is truth in the tales they have been told since childhood. You mightn’t have believed the ones about the Purple Witch, but you wouldn’t deny that there is something alluring about her. The ability to take someone’s powers? You wondered what it felt like, if it was as addictive as watching people burn, using their own powers to cause their deaths. “Lucas and Clint, hold her down,” Douglas orders, his eyes burning into yours.

The two boys he orders raise their hands, their magic shooting from their hands and wrapping around your wrists. They both were smirking until they see the lopsided grin on your face, a darkness settling into your eyes. You breathe in deep through your nose, tilting your head back up to the sky as your eyes drift shut, feeling the warmth starting to spread through your body and bloom out from your palms, “Oh boys,” you exhale. “Silly, stupid, little boys.” Your head rolls forward and you open your eyes to look at them, a fire burning in your eyes that makes them take a step back. “Didn’t you hear the stories? Didn’t your mother tell you not to go into the woods at night?”

“She’s just- She’s just bluffing,” Douglas stutters, “She’s just trying to scare us.” He puffs his chest out in false bravado before moving closer to you, his hands coming up to tear the front of your blouse open, but he hisses in pain, pulling his hands back. Your body had grown hot to the touch, as though he had just put his hands over the hot embers of a campfire, “What trickery is this?”

“You haven’t figured it out, have you?” You yank your hands free of Clint and Lucas’ magic, grabbing a handful of Douglas’ shirt, and pulling him so his body was against yours, a feral grin spreading across your face. “Smell that?” You lean in, taking a deep breath as the scent of burning fabric starts to fill the air, “Maybe you can feel it. It’s getting hot, isn’t it? I wonder if I’ll see eyes explode this time like popcorn.” You stare at him intensely, your hands glowing like magma as you start to cook him from the inside out, feeling his energy seeping out of him and into you. You let out a content sigh a the sensation, watching as his eyes go wide, his skin turning a deep red before starting to melt from his muscles and bones. He cries out in agony, trying to get away from you, to put the fire out inside of him but it was of no use, and soon he falls to the ground, his body quickly going up in flames. “Now,” you smile and turn to look at the other boys who were looking on in horror, “Who’s next?”

“You’re a monster,” Clint says, clenching his fists, “He didn’t even do anything to you! We were just playing!” He was quick to attack you, seemingly forgetting what he had just witnessed you do to his friend. You eagerly drink his energy up, your body glowing like a reactor before his body turns into barbecue. He claws at his clothes, trying to remove the flaming fabric from his body as he writhes on the ground, his screams drowning out the music of songbirds. You wonder if the woods would muffle the sound so it didn’t carry to the houses that lived along the edge of it, that the neighbors wouldn’t have their windows open to let the warm spring breeze in. Then again, if you didn’t want them to hear, you simply shouldn’t be doing what you are, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You enjoy it too much. You enjoy luring men into the woods, using their own powers to burn them alive as some sort of penance for all the women burned before you because their power was seen as a threat.

You take a few breaths to calm yourself, looking at your hands, they were turning black, tendrils creeping up your forearm and tickling your inner-elbow. This happened every time, the only evidence of your crimes. They were easy to hide though, you wore long-sleeves, and had a pair of gloves that your mother gave you to protect you from the judgmental gaze of your coven. Your mother wasn’t consciously aware of what you were doing, thinking you were just going into the woods to practice your craft, but she couldn’t deny it was suspicious that boys kept going missing whenever you did.

The remaining boys fall quickly, you wave your hands, letting out a hot blast of fire that turns their remains to ash. You knew the rain would disperse the ashes, returning them to the earth and helping to keep the forest alive, although your circle never grew back- the grass has remained dead and black for years. You were in your twenties now, and you had been doing this since you were sixteen. You do the buttons back up on your blouse then pull your sleeves down, doing the cuff buttons up so the sleeves wouldn’t go out of place. You flick your hair from your face, a smile settling on your features as you start to head back, humming to yourself once more.

As you walk, you stop occasionally to pick some flowers for your mom, making a bouquet for her. Your father wasn’t around to do this for her, not that he had done such thoughtful things when he was alive, that had always been your thing. You loved making your mom smile because it meant she wasn’t worrying about anything which had become her normal. If she wasn’t worrying about you getting in trouble, she was worrying about the coven being run out of town, and if she wasn’t worrying about that, she was worrying about taxes which only seemed to go up every year. It’s not that you couldn’t afford the taxes, she had been around for centuries, she had more than enough money to cover them, but it was still an unnecessary stress in her life that she simply did not need. If you could get away with it, you would burn the tax collector alive, maybe even roast him over a fire like you would toast a marshmallow.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” A familiar voice asks, disappointment evident in her tone. “I tell them- I tell them every meeting that it isn’t you, that my daughter would never bring harm to her coven, and every time you go out and prove me wrong.”

You look up from the flowers you were examining, your features falling, “Mama… I- They attacked me,” you explain. “I was just coming here to practice, like you always want me to. And they followed me, taunting me, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me.” You turn your head slightly, just enough to see the open area out the corner of your eye that was a few hundred feet away by now before looking back at your mom. You try to smile, holding the sad looking bouquet out for her, “I picked you flowers. Your favorites. I know you like having fresh flowers in the house because you like when the bees-“

“Enough,” she cuts you off, “Enough,” she repeats, softer this time. She walks closer to you, a sadness on her face as she gently takes your free hand in hers- your skin was like charcoal, and still hot to the touch like the furnace in winter. Her heart aches painfully in her chest, why was her only child like this? Had she done something wrong? Those questions hurt her; how could she think so poorly of you? She loves you dearly, she would do anything for you, absolutely anything for you, why couldn’t you do this one thing for her? Her touch was soft, cooling your burning skin as she runs her fingers over it, your skin slowly turning back to your normal shade. She turns your hand over so your palm was facing her, running her finger in a circle on your palm, a small smile tugging on her lips, “Round and round the garden,” she whispers, “Went the teddy bear, one step,” she walks her finger up your forearm, healing as she goes, “two step,” another step onto your bicep, “Tickle you under there,” she says and gently tickles your underarm, a soft giggle escaping her. “You used to squeal whenever I did that to you as a toddler.”

You can’t help the quiet giggle you let out, unaware of the tears spilling from your eyes, “Mama,” you whisper back, “I’m not a little kid anymore.” She gives your arm a squeeze at that, looking pained by the reminder. You rest your hand over hers, looking remorseful immediately, “I know- I know I’m still your little girl. You still make my boo boo’s better.” You look down at your hands, they were no longer black as tar, and you could see the blue and purple of your veins on the backs of them instead of a deep red that glowed against the black. You felt a knot form in your stomach, “They’re gonna kill me, aren’t they, mama?” You ask her quietly, a waver in your voice. “For what I’ve done- They’re gonna burn me.”

Your mom blinks back tears but it was futile, the salty liquid running down her cheeks, “When they find out,” she replies softly, “Yes. They will.” She raises her hand to tenderly stroke your cheek, and as always, you lean into her touch. Her thumb brushes against your rosy skin, wiping away any tear that dared to fall. She didn’t know how long you would both have together, whether she could wash your hair and braid flowers into it, or whether now was the only time you two would get. “Why couldn’t you stop?”

“I can’t help it, mama, you know that,” you answer, your eyes closing as you relax into her touch. Her hands never caused the same pain and suffering that yours have, they have always healed and protected. There was never a moment where she didn’t help someone, where she turned them away when they showed up to the door pleading for her to make their sick child better. There was always a spare bed for the child or adult to recover, your mother watching over them during the night to ensure their condition didn’t worsen. You. You had always been the one to hurt, to harm, to inflict suffering and pain. Your mother, try as she might to get you to do things for the betterment of the coven such as burning the fields to return the nutrients to the earth, or helping start the bonfires for when there was a community barbecue, even trying to get you to take out the wolves that threatened the farm animals, but it never satiated you.

It wasn’t until you turned sixteen did it become a problem, but she brushed it off because you had been terribly bullied, she kept brushing it off when the first group of boys went missing. She had moved you both after that, found another coven. Six months of peace before it happened again. Every time, you would come home with blackened skin and a bouquet of flowers. She never had to worry about running out of dried flowers for her potions, the basement was full of them, your peace offerings to her. You always were so sincere in your apologies, and she believed you every time, why wouldn’t she? “They deserved it,” you add, “They were going to hurt me.”

“Not every single boy was out to hurt you, surely, sweetheart. What about Tommy? He was always so kind to you, he tutored you. You were friends.”

Tommy had been your friend two moves ago, you two had bonded over being excluded from most of the college class you were enrolled in, even the lecturer refused to acknowledge you in class. You both were good students, handing your assignments in on time and not once even asking for an extension. You thought you were just friends, you told him you only liked women, and he told you he was okay with it. You had gone over to his house one afternoon to study for an upcoming exam, the two of you were in his room on his bed reading notes when he had asked you if you’d ever kissed anyone before. The question made your skin crawl, “No,” you had answered, “I haven’t.” He got this look in his eyes at that answer, his hand had come up to turn your head to face him before he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue forced its way into your mouth, pocking and prodding your throat. You had frozen; your eyes wide as he assaulted you. It wasn’t until he had pulled back did the anger kick in. You don’t really remember much of what happened, only running out of the house as the fire department showed up to extinguish the flames, two of the firefighters checking over you for injuries. You had told your mother what happened, what he did, and she had brushed it off, saying it was just how it was done- nobody needed to ask for permission to kiss, it was spontaneous. You had cried in your room that night, you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t see why it was wrong of him to do that to you. She knew you liked women, why on earth would you ever want some man to kiss you?

“We- You know what he did to me, mama. He hurt me. He hurt me,” you tell her, more tears falling onto your cheeks, “He knew I didn’t like him like that. Every single one of them deserved it.” That wasn’t true, there had been a couple of groups you took out because you enjoyed the thrill of it, the screams, the feeling of power that filled your system. Even thinking about it now made you giddy, your pupils dilating as though a drug was coursing its way through your system. “You have to believe me, mama, please.”

Her hand falls from your face, “We should head back. You need a shower, and I’d like to braid your hair.” Her voice was cold, the older woman turning her back on you, not even taking the flowers from your hand. She usually hummed with you, the same song she sang to you as a child, but tonight the only sound was the owls hooting in the forest. You wipe your eyes on your sleeve, holding the flowers close to you as you follow along behind her. You hum quietly to yourself, looking up into the trees to see the glowing eyes of birds watching you. There was something comforting about them being so attentive, like they were looking out for the inhabitants that called the woods their home, even as they swoop on the mice that scamper across the leafy floor. It was the balance of things, and even as they eat the mice, they too would return to the earth and continue the cycle anew.

When you get home, your mother sits on a chair and has you sit on the floor between her legs as she starts to braid your hair, her fingers working deftly. She carefully takes the dried flowers and works them into your hair, willing the protection to keep you safe when the leaders come knocking. Only now does she hum, the strands of gold that hold the flowers in place starting to glow. She new deep down this day would come, that moving towns, cities, states would only get you so far because the tales that were told about a witch of destruction would catch up to you, that one coven was going to be smart enough to figure things out and realize it is one of their own. “You’ve always had such beautiful hair,” she murmurs, adding another flower to the braid and tying it into place, “Ever since you left my body, you had a mop of hair on your head. Whenever you woke in the morning, your hair was all over the place, and it would take so much water to tame it.”

“I’ve seen the photos,” you reply with a giggle, your eyes closed as you relax, enjoying the calming sensation of your mom braiding your hair. There had been times she had yelled at you for not brushing your hair, threatening to cut it all off if you didn’t want to take care of it. She had always apologized afterwards though, blaming her anger on something that had been said in a coven meeting as she carefully brushed the knots and tangles from your hair. “How long do we have?”

Your mother doesn’t look up from your hair, the wards she had set around the house were starting to crumble, only meant to slow them down, “Not long, my dear,” she picks the hairtie up and ties the braid off, securing a crystal in with it. “There,” she says, running her hand lightly over her work before you turn to look at her, your eyes holding the light of a thousand flames, “My beautiful girl. If you survive, you know you must never return.” Her hand caresses your cheek, her eyes held the river of life which you always loved looking into because you could feel the cool refreshing water wash over you, keeping you calm.

“I can’t leave you behind, mama. I can’t- I promised you that I would look after you,” you rest your hand over hers, they were the perfect balance. It always made you laugh how whenever her hands were cold, yours were burning hot, and on the rare occasion hers were warm, yours were colder than the glacier high in the mountains. You didn’t want to leave her behind, she would be an outcast unless she participated in your execution which she was unlikely to do because despite everything you have put her through, she still loves you and you knew there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love. “I can’t go without you.”

“You have to, sweetheart. You must find your own path, in a coven that will understand you,” she pulls back from you when the front door flies open, standing up she calls out to them. “She’s in here!” She looks at you, pain visible in her eyes, “She killed them! I saw it with my own eyes. No daughter of mine shall harm our coven.”

You felt your spirit break, unable to realize she was doing this for a reason, to keep herself safe, to keep you safe from seeing her harmed. “Mama-“ You start, struggling against the witches as they bind you with their magic, “Mama, please,” you beg, “Please don’t let them do this to me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to do it, mama.” The women haul you to your feet, the magic tightening around your wrists behind your back, cutting off the circulation to your hands.

“I saw the look in your eyes, Yn. You enjoyed it.” She follows the other women out of the house, the path to the stake lined with other members of the coven holding burning torches. “I’ll bind her to the stake,” your mother tells the women, “To make up for what I have done. I have let this coven down too many times before, I won’t let it happen again.” Her magic felt different this time as it wraps itself around you, your hands pulled taut behind the stake, the cold no longer soothing, instead it felt icy, the frost burning your skin. She couldn’t look you in the eyes, she didn’t want you to see how much this was hurting her, and she didn’t want to see how betrayed you looked as she prepared to watch her daughter burn.

“I never thought I’d see the day, Theodora,” the elder-witch comments, “Preparing to burn your own flesh and blood after so long of defending her. Had this evening turned out differently, you would be on that stake along with her, there is no doubt about that.” She gestures for the others to surround you, a group of six women all part of the higher counsel, and every single one of them deeming you guilty. There was no room in their coven for someone like you, someone so dangerous, someone without remorse. Were they unbiased in their judgement? Four of them were not, all having lost a son to you. The other two had daughters, but even they feared that one day your hatred would spread to women. Although whenever their daughters had caught a glimpse of you, their cheeks turned as red as a rose, and a carefree giggle escaped them which they thought was arguably worse. “Get into position, Theodora. It’s time.”

“Mama please,” you beg, “Please. I didn’t mean to. I can’t control it. Please.” You look at her, desperate for her to believe you one last time, “Please, mama. Tell them. Tell them that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I didn’t mean to. That they hurt me too.”

Your mother wanted to stroke your cheek one last time, to wipe your tears away but she couldn’t do that, not anymore. She breathes you in, inhaling the floral scent of the shampoo you used before stepping down from the platform and joining the other women encircling you. “I should have let you burn the first time,” is all she says.

The elder-witch gives a nod, everyone raising their hands in preparation, “Begin!” She commands, their powers shooting out of their hands and hitting you full force, a pained scream tearing itself from your throat. It felt like your insides were being roasted, your skin prickling from the heat. It was agony, you had never felt anything like this before and you wanted it to stop.

“Please!” You scream, your head falling back against the stake, “Stop! I can’t-“ You could feel that familiar sensation starting to build in your stomach, and it wouldn’t be long until it broke free. “Mama- Mama run!” Your face was wet with tears, your head tipping forward, your eyes making contact with your mom’s. She couldn’t run, you both knew this, but you hoped this last time she would break the rules for you. The binding around your wrist starts falter, the women behind you noticing it.

“Elder- Her bindings! She’s going to break free!” One of them exclaims yet she does not stop her attack on you, none of them do because they hoped that if they continued, you would finally burn.

The elder-witch encourages them to push through it, “She is glowing! We are close! Keep going!” Your mother knew what was about to happen, finally she meets your eyes, mouthing an apology to you before the blast happens, all the women letting out agonizing screams as the fall to the ground ablaze. You slump somewhat against the wooden stake, your hair blowing in the draft created from the fires, your skin flush a deep red and your hands glowing brighter than the sun. You didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t mean to, you begged for them not to do this. You warned them you couldn’t control it. You were going to wallow in that feeling until you remembered your mother. You look around frantically, counting the bodies: seven. Your mother-

“Mama-“ You jump down from the pedestal and rush over to where she had last been, sinking to your knees as you desperately try and put out the flames. She was unrecognizable, her skin blackened and burned. “Mama, I’m sorry,” you sob, cradling her burnt body close to you. She was the only person to look out for you, the only one to have stood by your side, and you had repaid her by killing her. Your tears drip from your chin and onto her corpse, the tears evaporating before they even touch her skin. You look down at her, “I’m sorry.”

#Agatha Harkness #Agatha Harkness x reader #Kathryn Hahn #Kathryn Hahn x reader #Agatha All Along #Agatha Harkness imagine #Kathryn Hahn imagine

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galaxy-fleur · 2 days ago

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re: Leon's longtime friend

How would his first time with them be like? if they're in the same branch of work and have worked out their feelings and all that :)

So, I kinda answered both of these with just a single post, hope it's ok! Pretty much just general thoughts here. Written with Remake-verse Leon in mind <3

When it comes to sex, honestly.... I feel like he's pretty basic with his partner, unless they suggest to try out something new to him themselves, in which case he's totally down for it. That's not at all a bad thing though, basic positions are known as basic for a reason, and that's because they feel good! I kind of feel like he'll want to be able see his partner's eyes during intercourse, so he tends to prefer something like missionary (a classic, but for good reason!), or holding his partner up against the wall if we're talking more spontaneous quickie. At least there's something good to come out of his grueling training, y'know. He's definitely the type to either rest his forehead against yours or make-out with you in the middle of fucking.

And while I actually don't think he's big on dirty talk, I do think he's actually pretty communicative with his partner. He's a bit blunt about it, but it's a good kind of blunt. Especially when your brain is all fuzzy and woozy with hormones.

Something like: 'Does this feel good?', 'You wanna switch?', 'Faster, yeah?'

He's easy to communicate with, and that makes for a really comfortable experience.

He sucks at actual dirty talk though. Please don't ask him to do that; he'll either make you laugh out loud when you two are getting rowdy and then feel horribly embarrassed about the whole ordeal, or he'll die of embarrassment attempting to mimic some awful porn dialogue he's seen beforehand. That's not to say he can't learn! You'll just have to guide him in that department. It's sweet of him to try. He'll get there with some practice. He certainly won't mind some dirty talk on your end, however. Perhaps you could teach him the basics.

And while he may not be good at dirty talk, he doesn't even need it more often than not.

When he's being genuine instead of trying to play up some role, it's hot as hell. Lots of small praises and occasional swears along with situational comments. He's also very good at giving directions and commands. Has the perfect intonation for it, too. Very curt with his words, but it honestly just makes it hotter in the heat of the moment.

Something like: 'Eyes up.' 'Lift your leg.' 'Lay back.'

Massive cowgirl lover, with his partner facing him. He folds every time his partner is the one in charge, and he wants to be able to look at them and grope at them the entire time they're doing their thing. Again, probably lots of soft praises sprinkled in here and there. And yes, that includes 'good girl/boy'. Also gets kind of whiney during cowgirl specifically. Something about just sitting back and letting go of control for a while just makes him fall apart in the best way possible. He loves it when his brain gets blissfully empty, with nothing but the other's touch being there to fill it.

I'd say another one of his favorites is sideways missionary during lazy mornings and after his assignments. When he's feeling especially tired but craves to experience that feeling of intimacy regardless. This one is reserved for lazy sex with feelings, so he gets especially soft with this one. Peppering light kisses all over and whispering sweet nothings in that raspy, drowsy voice of his. It's special in its own wonderful way.

This probably goes without saying, but Leon's a massive oral enjoyer. Primarily on the giving end, whether it's eating pussy or sucking dick. Once more, he would rather stare at his partner all the while, hence positions that allow him to do so are preferred. He gets off on his partner feeling good, so you can very well expect him to give you his all each and every time. And with him being a naturally perceptive person, it won't take him long to figure out what makes you tick the most. I'd say that... most times he has sex will include him giving oral in it. It's kinda cute, because he will get all huffy about it if you are in a hurry, and he can't enjoy himself too much.

While he does prefer giving oral, he's more than happy to be on the receiving end, too. Like I said before, being given the opportunity to just let go and not think about anything is something he definitely craves. What better way to do that than have his partner suck him off? Again, gets all whiney and breathless with it. Regardless of the taste of his own cum on your lips, he always gives you a deep thank-you kiss afterward.

On that note, he's also pretty gross. Not in a weird way or anything, but he is utterly unfazed by getting any bodily fluids on him or inside him. He'll probably just shrug and say that it's way better than sewage water or bioweapon gunk. It's hard to argue with that. And it's hot, in a way. Him being so unperturbed by leaking up whatever mess you've made. Still best to brush your teeth and take a shower afterwards, though.

And while all of this is pretty basic, it stands true that he's willing to try anything with his partner if they're a bit more adventurous and experimental. It's more about him just not knowing most of the stuff than his unwillingness to try. However, I do believe that the idea of very rough sex would lead to some problems with him. And that's something that only really happens with his s/o. He has no issue fucking a one-night stand into the mattress to get his frustrations out, knowing they're enjoying it, but if he has feelings for that person, he'll kinda feel bad about it if he gets too in the moment and misuses his strength on them. It's not impossible by any means, but he'll have to be eased into it a bit. The last thing he wants is to hurt the one person he strives to protects the most. It's a difficult dichotomy for him to overcome. But with care and effective communication, anything is possible!

I also don't think he would enjoy getting choked. For obvious reasons.

His sex life is honestly very different depending on who he's having sex with. For example, I'd say he's actually a huge doggy style enjoyer with casual hookups, but with his partner, he'll automatically prefer something that will let him look them in the face directly. Both feel good in different ways.

In terms of his style of fucking and how loud or quiet he is, I don't see him moaning in a pornographic way or anything, but he's also not completely silent. Although I do think he actually made that mistake early on in his life because he had this popular misconception that men being vocal during sex is somehow weird. So he was stiff as hell and trying to stay quiet with his first couple of partners. It's why I think that his first couple of times sucked ass for both parties involved.

He doesn't figure it out until he has a partner who goes all: 'hold the fuck up, why are you stiff as a wooden pole and trying to be quiet?? I wanna hear you feel good?'

And he goes: '....wait, you do?'

I'll just say that rookie Leon experienced his fair share of learning curves.

Once more, I believe it all depends on the type of sex he is having and with whom. Your typical, everyday fucking session? Rough pants waffling over your ear, occasional grunts and groans when he feels real good. The deep, rumbly ones that emanate directly from the middle of his chest. These noises are hot as hell, especially when he is pressed up flush against you, and you can literally feel the vibrations. Will probably either gasp or let out a choked groan when he cums, but it'll be muffled. Either by kissing his partner or by pressing his face against their shoulder.

He's noticeably more vocal when it's an emotionally charged intimacy, especially if he's pent-up with emotions. If he wants this person, for more than their body and fun personality, everything just feels that much more intense. (on that note, I do think his hookups are chosen on more than just him finding someone hot physically, he actually has to enjoy their company to wanna stick his dick into them, and he does care about his casual partners too. He's not just having sex without caring for the needs of the one he's having sex with.) More than anything, Leon wants to feel wanted, and while he's fine with someone just wanting his body and status - hell, he even seeks out that sort of physical comfort - being touched by and being wanted like that by someone who he has an emotional attachment to? Oh, he's in a completely different headspace here. Lots of breath hitches and an occasional muffled 'mmh' noises from him during foreplay. That's because he'll find himself attempting to hold back a little.

Shaky breaths and moans poured into the kisses. If he's the one giving oral, will full out whine and growl against you because you feeling good because of him just turns him on that much. Actually moans out and gets a bit chatty if he's the one getting head. He'll sorta hold back at first, but will have his head thrown back and prolonged moans and groans leaving his lips soon after. Along with a strings of: 'fuck, just like that', or 'you feel so fucking good', or, if you find a particularly weak spot of his, a sharp gasp followed by 'oh God!' And your name sprinkled in there, too.

When it comes to actual intercourse, once again: sharp pants and an occasional rumbly groan. But this time he'll probably either be looking into your eyes or having your foreheads touching, so every noise is kinda that much more intense with that. He'll also kiss... a lot, and will straight up moan out into these kisses. In a somewhat higher pitch as well. Will probably chant your name before cumming. Which sounds hot as hell and probably have you get close just by hearing that. Once more, will most likely cum while kissing you.

Leon's pretty big on communicating through touch, though he is probably more subtle about it than his OG counterpart would be. I genuinely think he's way more obvious about him wanting to fuck than he thinks he is, once you figure him out. Will keep staring at you like a cat almost without as much as blinking. (Which is... a bit creepy, but don't tell him that bc he'll get self-conscious about it ☹). Will persist in attempting to touch you in some way, whether it's fumbling with the belt loop of your jeans or keeping a hand on your lower back wherever you go, for no apparent reason. Overall just acting real clingy.

As you're cooking, he might approach you to wrap his arms around your waist and plant feather-light kisses from your jawline down the side of your neck, which would eventually grow into hot, open-mouthed kisses. Or him putting a hand on your thigh as you're seating on the couch (or maybe at a meeting if we're feeling extra frisky here) and kneading at it gently before tilting his head to press a kiss to your lips that, too, turns more heated once it starts. Sometimes, though, he will just be honest about it. Like when you're making out in the kitchen and he just pulls back and says: '...Bedroom'.

Leon's also great at aftercare. A bit too great sometimes, because he tends to focus solely on you, so make sure to pamper him, too! Will have you all nice and cleaned up with you not having to lift a finger. Even with a snack offered to you as a bonus. His favorite is taking a bath together, if you're feeling up to it, though. Something about the soft intimacy of it just makes his heart feel warm.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #a gentle reminder that these are just personal headcanons!#just bc i'm kinda anxious of setting this one free into the wild lmao

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a1ecmcdowell · 18 hours ago

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coincidence — rafe cameron x pogue!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, pogue!reader. cheating. sad!rafe :(. i promise i love sofia.

❛ what a surprise - your phone died, and your car drove itself from l.a. to between her thighs! ❜

you and rafe were a bit tumultuous. he loved you in private, and he loved you so much that it sometimes ached, like the sweetest form of violence.

but in public, he could never manage to switch off the part of his brain that rejected every pogue he came across like he did when you two were alone. it was like he was more concerned about what his friends thought of him and his relationship than he did about your feelings.

he was pulling back. you could see the signs of it in the ways he started having excuses to keep you from coming over, how his hand would subtly slip from yours when you were out together.

and you couldn’t just pick apart his brain and fix whatever the problem was, because he didn’t talk to you enough anymore to let you in.

you didn’t know if you were even still together, but he wouldn’t just ghost you a year into your relationship. he couldn’t.

you’d decided the night before that you were just going to show up and demand an answer from him. it would probably be a fight, you knew; but what could hurt more than being with someone that didn’t want you any longer?

that next morning was cloudy gray and speckled with misty raindrops. it didn’t feel like a very good omen about what was coming, but it didn’t slow your footsteps up his porch.

your hand raises to knock on the door at the same moment that it pulls open, and out stumbles — a girl. short brown hair, pretty glossed lips, wearing nothing but a pink bikini top and denim shorts.

and behind the open door, strong hand wrapped around the edge of it, is rafe. smiling at her like he hadn’t smiled at you in weeks.

the smile falls the moment his eyes lift to you, and the girl apologizes as she dodges running into you, and it all feels like a big fucking slap in the face.

he’d been the best part of your life for so long. this hope that you could be more than the cut. and all of this time, he was waiting for the moment that he could dump you back off on your side of outer banks.

“why didn’t you call?” he asks, like that’s the first thing anyone should say when they’re caught cheating.

you can’t tell if you’re more angry or hurt. both emotions feel like a hot, heavy weight sat right on your sternum. “you don’t answer anymore.”

“because i’m busy.”

there’s no remorse in his eyes. actually, you can’t even tell if there is, because he’s looking away from you like he’s already cut you from the picture of his life.

“what, screwing other girls?” you snap, your voice biting and raw.

his jaw flexes, tongue pressing into his cheek. “it’s complicated.”

“i don’t think it is, rafe.” you shake your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. “you were cheating, and you’re mad you’re caught.”

“oh, you think it’s that simple, huh?” he takes a step closer, his frame taking up the entirety of the doorway. “y’think overnight i just started thinking about wanting to fuck someone else?”

you falter. no, he’s not going to get away with flipping this on its head and blaming you. making you apologize.

“you can’t just blame me because you don’t want to take responsibility—”

his fist slams against the wooden doorframe, and you flinch, because this really was going to be as volatile as you thought. you’d hoped that you were wrong, but you were right, and he was angry that you weren’t just some stupid little pogue he could manipulate.

“i am taking responsibility. yeah, i fucked sofia,” he seethes through his clenched teeth, “yeah, i’ve been sneakin’ around, what the fuck else do you want to hear?”

your arms wrap around your chest, and you have to resist the urge to stumble backwards. sofia, sofia, sofia. it plays in your head on a loop, the girl he deemed worth ruining what you had for.

“why?” is all that you can manage to say.

his eyes finally drop down to look at you. they’re so blue in the dawning sunrise that you wish, wish, things were different right now, so you could smooth the creases in the corners of his eyes. “m’not good for you.”

“bullshit.” you spit it out before he’d even finished speaking. “if i thought that, i wouldn’t have stuck around as long as i have. i wouldn’t be sticking around now.”

“you shouldn��t,” he says just as violently serious as the last, “i’m— i’m trying to push you away, sweetheart—”

sweetheart.

it shouldn’t affect you like it does, after how he’d just hurt you like this. but it does, of course it does, because you loved him like the sun loved the moon, and even when he was trying to break this, you’d always be in his orbit.

“you can’t,” your voice is small as it leaves your lips, but your words aren’t, “i’m not goin’ anywhere. this is one good thing you can’t ruin. not on my watch.”

he stares at you with that intense blue gaze of his for a long minute. the seconds tick by like hours while you wait for him to say anything.

and he doesn’t — not with his words, anyway. his arms move from the doorway and encircle your waist, tugging you into a tight embrace.

you’d known about how much he struggled with wanting acceptance, craving validation that he never got. you’d never expected him to be so used to rejection that he tried to cause it himself, just to be in that familiar place again.

“m’sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and leaving them there. “don’t deserve you. i don’t.”

“you will, and you do,” you push, your fingers curling tightly against his spine. “when you go wash her perfume off of you.”

his laugh cracks, but it’s a laugh, so you feel better about this. about him. about where he’s at in his head. “of course.”

“and delete her number.”

his hands raise to your face, framing it between his large palms. “already did it, baby. but you’re real cute when you’re jealous.”

#──★ ˙🍓 dahlia’s jrnl #──★ ˙🍓 short n' sweet!#divider by ianrkives #rafe cameron #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #obx #outer banks one shot #obx one shot #obx season 4

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aquaticmercy · 8 hours ago

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Not a request but just some thoughts! I don’t know how to explain it but:

Bucky: girl dad through and through

Steve: Boy dad (I love him so much but i genuinely feel if he had a daughter he would raise her like a son because he don’t know what he’s doing)

Sam: Both boy and girl dad, but the boy always turns into a carbon copy of him while simultaneously being a mama’s boy

omg thank you anon for these thoughts!

Enjoys these Dad! Bucky, Steve, and Sam blurbs!

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes would make the best girl dad. And he’s the best girl dad precisely because everything he’s been through. Because all of the violence and trauma. It’s why he’s so gentle with his daughter, why he’s extra careful around his little girl.

He spent years being nothing but a weapon, and now that he has the life he shares with you and your daughter, he is so scared of hurting either of you that he treats you both like you’re made of glass.

He still has that 1940s mindset buried in there, though. Not because he’s a jerk— he knows better than that— but because it’s just there because it was drilled into him from a very young age.

He catches himself sometimes thinking her daughter should be all dainty and protected and doted on 24/7, and he reminds himself that she has to learn how to be on her own someday.

Still, he treats his daughter like he’s her bodyguard, the way he does with you. He still opens doors for you, stands just a bit too close on the sidewalk. He’s got this invisible shield around both of you. He doesn’t even mean to; it’s just there instinctively.

So now imagine his face when his little girl starts ditching dolls and princesses for more traditionally masculine things.

Bucky is very supportive, although he has to manually override some of his 40s brain.

She loves the drums, and he’s all for it. He gets her lessons. He sits next to her during practice to catch all the sticks she drops trying to do complicated tricks. He high fives her whenever she does a sick beat.

She’s also all about football (soccer). He notices it when she’s cheering for the women’s national team during the World Cup like her life depends on it.

Bucky immediately starts looking at tryouts and academies. When she has a game, he’s out there on the sidelines, grinning whenever she does anything even remotely good, screaming encouragements when she loses the ball, and celebrating with her when she scores a goal.

But god, it’s hard for him to watch her take a tumble, all elbows and skinned knees. She hits the ground here and there and he winces every time, heart in his throat. He’s so adorably worried until she gets back up and gives her daddy a big thumbs up.

And yet when she goes in for a not-so-great tackle, he’s the loudest one cheering on the field (and the first one complaining when the ref gives her a yellow card).

But then. Then she decides she wants to try Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. She says she wants to be tough, like him.

This is where Bucky might draw the line. “There’s no way,” he tells you. Not his little girl, rolling around on some mat with kids twice her size, learning to choke people out.

It makes him think of all the things he’s done, the things he was forced to learn, the violence he was engineered to deliver, and he can’t bear the thought of her going anywhere near that world.

He wants to shield her from it, to keep her protected, untouched by any of that.

You, of course, see right through him. You sit him down one night and tell him, gently but firmly, that she’s her own person.

That she’s got his strength. And if she wants to do this, it’s because she wants to be more like him. Because she looks up to him. Because she thinks her daddy is the best person in the world.

It takes a while, but he comes around. But not only because his little girl wants to be like him, but also because he sees so much of you in her.

You both have the same spark, the same drive, the same way of nudging him to grow. To challenge his thoughts and beliefs.

He watches his daughter march into her first Jiu-Jitsu class with this fierce little smile, the kind he remembers seeing on his own face back in the day.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s terrified. But he’s proud, too. Because she's challenging him to be better, braver, just by being herself.

And every time he watches her spar, he finds himself cheering—softly, at first. Soon, he’s the loudest parent in the room. His little girl, fighting her own battles, just like her dad.

Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers would be a fantastic boy dad.

He’d never admit it, but part of him always fantasised having that kind of relationship with his own dad—playing catch and putting on barbecue, doing all those white picket fence father-son things. But his dad died when he was young, and even if he hadn’t, Steve would be too small, too sickly, to keep up.

Now, with a son of his own, he absolutely craves bonding with the kid. And of course he’d love him no matter what, but there's just enough super-soldier serum running through his son’s veins to let him be strong and athletic.

And for a while, everything’s perfect. Steve takes his boy to baseball games, teaches him to throw a curveball, and they spend endless afternoons in the yard sprinting (Steve slows down a bit) and throwing frisbees. During the summer, you could hear them both laughing and talking from sunrise to sunset. It’s everything he dreamed about.

But as his kid grows, Steve starts to feel a distance.

His son’s childhood is just... different.

He’s popular at school and his biggest worries seem to revolve around sports day, acing his tests, and keeping up with all the clubs and extra classes he’s signed up for. His son doesn’t have to fight his way through the day just to be heard or seen. People listen to him. He’s the kid everyone wants to be around. His friends look up to him.

Steve can’t help but remember how different his own childhood was—every day a fight just to prove himself, to survive in a world that didn’t give a weak kid like him any breaks.

He remembers those long, lonely days where he’d sit at the edge of the playground, watching the other boys run across the field, laughing and tackling each other in games he could never join. Sometimes, he’d be nursing a bruised rib or hiding a scraped knee, feeling a bit isolated. He remembers how desperately he’d wanted to be a part of it—to have a world that embraced him instead of challenging him at every turn.

Now, watching his son grow up so different from that—so at ease in his own skin—fills him with happiness. Still, Steve feels a strange tug in his heart.

Steve can’t help but feel like he’s on the outside looking in, wondering if he can truly understand this world his son is growing up in. He’s scared that him and his son wouldn’t have anything in common anymore.

One evening, after the kid’s asleep, Steve finds himself talking to you for hours about his anxieties.

He tells you how strange it feels, how he doesn't know if he can relate to the person your son is becoming. He can’t shake the feeling that, in some way, his boy’s growing into a world Steve himself never got to experience. A world he cannot help him with.

But you’re there, holding his hand, reminding him that love doesn’t need to look like a mirror.

A few days later, Steve goes to pick up his kid from school, and what he sees, he will never forget.

His son was on the playground, standing tall, facing down some older kid who’d been picking on another student— a little boy in a wheelchair.

Steve’s son was defending someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just like Steve would’ve done back in the day— just like he always does.

When they get home, Steve’s got tears in his eyes as he hugs his son, barely able to say how proud he is. He runs upstairs to tell you what your son did.

After that moment, all his worries vanish. Steve’s son might not have his struggles, but he's got his heart.

And that’s all you ever really wanted.

Sam Wilson

Sam Wilson as a dad? He’s wonderful.

You’ve never seen someone so comfortable just rolling with whatever his kids throw at him.

His little girl has him wrapped around her finger.

When she drags him into one of her imaginary plays, he dives right in without hesitation.

The two of them have this whole routine now: she’ll declare herself the “Queen of Cupcakes,” and before you know it, Sam’s transformed into her nemesis, “The Grumpy Troll.”

He’s got a whole stash of masks and scarves just for these characters. He looks ridiculous in a pink tutu and tiara, but he’d never miss the chance to be part of her little kingdom.

But his daughter is not only about tea parties— She’s only eight, but she’s strong-willed and headstrong. She insists on trying things herself first, even if she has to wrestle with it.

One time Sam reached over to help her open a jar, and she looked up with the most serious little frown, shook her head, and said, “Daddy, I got it.” And she did, after two minutes of huffing and puffing.

Another time, Sam finds his daughter in the kitchen, a stool dragged up to the counter, sleeves rolled up, determinedly making her own peanut butter sandwich. She’s got peanut butter smeared from cheek to elbow, but she’s concentrating hard, tongue poking out a little as she spreads it just right. When Sam offers to help, she shakes her head without even looking up, determined to get it done.

Then there’s his six year old little boy, who’s gentler, in that way that Sam is. He’s kind-hearted and hilarious in a way that catches you both by surprise.

After every mission, his son’s the one who toddles over and asks, “Daddy, are you okay?” like he’s got this radar for how people are feeling. He reminds Sam of himself, especially when he worked at the VA.

Sam even found him in the backyard last week, carefully placing a bowl of water and crumbs of bread on the grass. He said “The little bird with the hurt wing might come back, and I don’t want him to be thirsty.”

Another time, he offered his favourite blanket to his sister when she had a cold, even though he always sleeps with it himself. He just tucked it around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug before running off.

And just like his dad, your son is very clingy— very attached to you. If he sees you’re tired, he’ll nestle up on the couch next to you. And when you’re out of the house, he’ll carry your sweater around, or ask a hundred times when you’re coming back.

On the first day of school, your son’s practically clinging to your leg, not quite ready to let go. His eyes are all big, and you could feel how nervous he is without you there.

Sam crouched down and starts giving him one go his famous pep talks. Before he could finish, his big sister steps in.

She promises him they’d sit together on the bus and during snack and lunch time, and that she’ll teach him how to be “brave like Papa.”

Your son squeezes your hand one last time, then lets go, holding onto his sister’s instead as they both walk on the school bus.

“Did you see that?” Sam whispers, his voice full of pride.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean back into him, watching your kids grow up in front of your eyes.

-end

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers imagine #sam wilson imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #sam wilson fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fluff #sam Wilson fluff #captain america x reader

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dekariosclan · 6 hours ago

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Sneaky God Gale Still Loves You

I want to take a moment to offer some reassurance to any of my fellow Galemancers who got the worst Gale romance ending—the infamous ‘Sneaky God Gale.’ (credit to @airydandelion, who I believe first coined the term and who did a ton of valuable research as noted at the end of this post!)

This ending happens when you think you’ve convinced Gale not to ascend. You turned down his offer for godhood in the boat! You didn’t push him towards the crown at all (or so you thought)! And most importantly, he seemed convinced!!

Then you get to the ending on the docks and suddenly he’s all: “that crown tho…🥵” And he leaves.

Worst of all, he won’t even offer to ascend you at the epilogue party.

So what gives?!

Putting aside that this happens because 1. There are some extremely subtle and not-great dialogue options pushing him towards the crown which should’ve been better written/more obvious, and 2. Gale ‘I’m-many-things-but-not-coy’ Dekarios should have been clearly displaying his intentions towards the crown in order to give fair warning to the player, I do still think we can explain his behavior.

The most important thing to remember is that he is not gaslighting you! He’s not smooching you and giving you those big lovey cow eyes while smugly thinking about how he’s going to dump you.

When Gale offers you godhood in the boat, it’s literally called the ‘Be My God Proposal’ in the data files. It’s a proposal. And what a proposal! Because he’s not just offering you a marriage where it’s a short span of mortal years together until death. He’s offering you a literal eternity together.

…and you turned him down.

You did it for all the right reasons, your heart was in the right place, BUT…Gale is uncertain. He loves you, but do you really love him? Just him? He’s still not sure he’s enough for you. You weren’t vehemently against the crown, you seemed to waffle. And you turned down his proposal…an eternity with him was something you did not wish for…

So when he gets to the brain stem, and then the docks, and he still feels uncertainty in his heart, well—it makes him very easily swayed by the orb’s hunger for the crown.

But he still loves you.

When you get to the epilogue, he doesn’t offer you ascension for the simple reason that you already turned it down. He respects your choice, and he’s not going to try and coax you into it; your desires are different than his, and that makes a life together impossible.

But he still loves you.

Well, but, you argue, why can’t we be together as a mortal and a god? Like Gale was with Mystra?

He would never expose you to such risk, because he still loves you.

‘Ok fine,’ you say. ‘Sure, he’s still got his kind heart buried underneath the arrogance. But even so, he chose to leave. There’s no absolute, definitive proof that he still loves me!’

Sneaky God Gale absolutely, 100%, still loves you! So go do yourself (and him) a favor and fix that ending:

You can use this amazing, incredible, fantastic guide created by @airydandelion to ensure you pick the right dialogue choices to get the Gale ending you want!

If you are on a PC and do not want to go back many hours of gameplay to replay/redo the dialogue choices, you can use this mod to convince Gale to stay human with the dice roll at the brain stem.

If you’re on a PS5 (which does not currently have the above mod) my best suggestion is to use the cheaters ring. This is a PS5 mod that essentially lets you cheese all combat and speedrun the game, saving you a ton of time if you need to replay Act 3 in order to get your human Gale.

Whatever you decide to do, you can go forth secure in the knowledge that Gale was 100% truthful when he told you this:

(One final shoutout: credit to @galebrainrott for their post sharing Gale’s datamined files!)

#Essay number 171 on why I think this man is perfect #even when he’s being a dumbass 💜#The only thing that he should be sneaky about is what over-the-top celebration he’s planning for Tav’s birthday #THAT’S the Sneaky Gale we deserve #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #galemancer #spoilers #Sneaky god gale #God gale

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piccoloswifers · 2 days ago

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Piccolo X Reader

Different ways you disturb Piccolo's meditation

TW: A little steamy at the end, some touching and kissing

Before you two become friends, you would often accidentally interrupt his mediation sessions

Multiple times you would accidentally stumble across Piccolo sitting quietly with his eyes closed, a slight twitch in his facial expression giving away the fact that you were noticed

You would apologize and try to make a graceful exit while he continued to try and ignore you, for the longest time you probably thought he didn't like you

Or you would end up having to purposefully go find him and interrupt him for one reason or another

"Sorry to bother you but..."

"..."

You would start bringing the kids with you to make things less awkward when you two had to interact, something that unintentionally brought you two closer

But once you two start to become closer and consider each other friends, then you start to seek him out without the social protection of the kids with you

You would often find an excuse to go see him, bringing him water and just sitting with him. Piccolo would make a big show of being annoyed but on the inside he was happy

On days he wasn't in the mood to talk, then he would just sit there and listen to you ramble, or you two would just sit together in comfortable silence

Otherwise, you two would talk all day, which was something he wasn't really used to but enjoyed it and looked forward to it the more he got comfortable with you

You two would talk until the sun went down and the night turned cold, your body calling it quits as you started to shiver. Something that made you upset because you wanted to spend more time with him

Reluctantly, you would call it a night and he would insist on walking you back, offering you his cape before realizing you probably couldn't handle the weight of it

If you can't handle it, then Piccolo will get flustered and extend his arm to you to try and keep you close to his body, keeping you warm while complaining that you should bring a jacket next time

You never do bring a jacket, and he never really insists on it

If you're able to handle the weight, then Piccolo will offer it to you every time, never saying anything about your lingering scent on the fabric and his scent on your body

He will sniff it once you're gone and feel embarrassed by his actions, but you're doing the same thing soooo-

Your budding feelings for each other start to build up even more during these little visits, the two of you aching for more but also super embarrassed with each interaction

Once you even brought an old school boombox and played music, singing and dancing along to it until Piccolo was forced to stop ignoring you

"Do you mind!?"

His brain stops for a moment as he watches your body move to the music, a smile on your face as you turn to look at him

"Not at all! Keep being a sour puss!"

He had gotten so annoyed that one moment he was sitting and the next he was suddenly right in your space, grabbing your wrist to get you to stop and using his other hand to grip your chin firmly

You both had froze in that moment, gazing at each other before eyes began to wander to full lips that parted sweetly at the attention...

...only for the music to break the moment, your favorite song playing and making you start to dance again, this time moving Piccolo with you

"Dance with me, Piccolo~!"

"I don't know how!!"

"I'll teach you!"

After you two become a couple, you still go and interrupt him while he meditates but he enjoys it openly and even gets pouty/grumpy if you don't do it

You'll need to come by and kiss his cheek while handing him a bottle of water at least once a day, or else he'll think you're upset with him

Some days, you'll walk up behind him and hug him, leaning all your weight on him and making him grunt softly as he reaches back to touch you

He'll guide you into his lap and wrap his arms around you, letting your hands wander up his chest, ghosting over his neck and cupping his cheeks

It's an act that soothes and grounds him more than any meditation, it makes his heart swell when he looks down and sees your blissful expression

Piccolo is content to keep you in his lap all day, your legs wrapped around him and your face buried in his chest, a clawed hand scratching soothingly down your back

If you try to leave, then his arms will tighten around you, and he'll grunt unhappily before reluctantly setting you down

On certain occasions, when you're in a heated mood, you'll seek him out, pressing your chest into his muscled arm and nipping playfully at his ear

A hot hand will stroke at his chest while you start to kiss at his neck before he catches your wrist, panting softly and visibly flustered

"Right now..?"

His voice already sounds rough with arousal, and you're suddenly pulled flushed against him, both of you already knowing the answer

You lean to accept a greedy kiss from him, his hands guiding themselves down your body and squeezing the plumper parts of it

You run a teasing finger along his jaw as you go in for another kiss, stopping just before your lips touch

"I'll show you a different type of training to meditate on...~"

#piccolo x reader #dbz x reader #piccolo dbz #dragon ball piccolo #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball z x reader #piccolo dbz x reader #piccolo #piccolo dragon ball z

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bloodyinkandquill · 2 days ago

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Illumina and child figure Reader

they never specified so i’m assuming they want child reader sorry if i assumed wrong let me know if i did and ill do a new one!

to keep my theme i don’t put anything before the characters name so this is more accurately father figure illumina but oh well

sorry for my semi hiatus i haven’t had much motivation but im writing to get my mind off of the election and ive got brownies cooling on the counter, we also have a new puppy dm me for pics because she is the cutest thing oh my gods

- Sneaking into Illumina’s temple to steal food from his offerings takes some guts, or you were incredibly stupid, it could be either honestly, seeing as you were a kid probably both honestly

- When Illumina sensed someone not only stealing from his temple but one of his offerings he showed up immediately, pissed if not a little impressed someone had the nerve, then he saw you, a small, very thin, shaking little kid holding a single loaf of bread, normally he’d smite you without a second chance but something stopped him, maybe it was that your horn looked very slightly like his, maybe jealousy of some of his siblings, or maybe he was just tired, but he stopped and didn’t smite you

- He asked what you were doing, stealing from his temple, you said you were starving, you needed something to eat, and the only place nearby was his temple, you were so sorry, he made an odd sound before sighing and saying he’d get you some proper food, something that wasn’t an offering to him, realizing it was an offering you panicked and he said it was whatever, bringing you to his worshippers to make you food

- They were all a bit confused but they did so obediently and you had the best soup you’ve ever had, as you ate he asked you questions about yourself, your name, age, etc, finally he eventually said you could stay in his temple, he’d have his worshippers make sure you were bathed and fed, you were extremely thankful if not a bit confused

- His demeanor remained cold and stern but he did seem a bit more soft towards you, after he left you were given your own room and taken care of, when you saw him next you immediately ran up and gave him a hug, barely even making it up to his waist, seeing you in his follower’s robes, and the way they were too large for you, sparked something unfamiliar in him, a parental instinct

- He was unfamiliar with the feeling, but he’d heard some of his siblings describe it before, and he realized he wanted to protect you, not just have you be cared for by his worshippers, but he wanted to take care do you, so suddenly you were in his home, sort of, you think it’s his home but it looked… weird*

- Illumina isn’t the most expressive or talkative guy but you knew he does care about you, making sure you’re always properly fed and clean, if you ask for something he doesn’t respond but a few hours later you find that thing in or near your room, you always give him a hug when you do, slowly as time went on he’d touch you back during the hugs, a pat on the head, ruffling your hair, and after awhile he’d bend down to your level so he could hug you back properly

- He has some weird bird brain instincts on occasion which is why sometimes you end up sleeping in a big pile of blankets and pillows curled up next to him, he makes cooing sounds contently and you fall asleep not a worry on your mind, safe and warm, though him trying to feed you is something you do not like, at least it isn’t proper baby bird style just spoon feeding instead

- His siblings don’t know about you, okay that’s not entirely true, Ghostwalker has seen you before but doesn’t know the full extent of his brothers care towards you, but besides for him the others have no idea he adopted a mortal, let alone who he met because they stole from him

- Sometimes he disappears for days at a time, if he knows that that’s going to happen he leaves you in the care of his followers, when they first took care of you it was begrudgingly but now that you’re basically his child they treat you with a lot more care and gentleness, you also were given special robes by him so that when they do have to take care of you they know who you are immediately, that is if they don’t see your eyes immediately

- If Illumina blesses or gifts one of his worshippers their eyes go fully white like his, in your case they went a light purple instead, but same principle applies, your pupils disappeared and anyone who looks at your face can tell at the very least you have his blessings, if not that you’re more special then a normal follower who’s received his gift

- Soup is still your favorite food, it reminds you of the day you met him, even if he never admits it knowing that soup is your favorite food and when he sees you eat it it makes something warm spring up in his chest

- He’s not much of a talker, but he enjoys listening to you ramble on about anything and everything, even if not that coherent it’s pure and childish, maybe what you did that day, the story behind a drawing you made, the story you’re currently acting out with your toys, which speaking of are sick, he had almost never interacted which children before you so he basically got you everything, going form a homeless street child to owning basically every toy in existence was a pretty sweet thing

- After a few months he teaches you how to preen him, you’re not amazing at it but you have plenty of time to learn, and your small hands make it so you can be a lot more careful, after you preen him though he immediately starts brushing your hair and straightening your clothes, it’s his way of preening you back, since you don’t have wings (yet) of your own so taking care of your hair and cleaning you up slightly is the closest he can get

- On very rare occasion he returns home with injuries, usually from fights gone too far with Darkheart, or maybe once or twice Venomshank, either way you watch from his doorway as he bandages himself up hissing in pain as he cleans and dresses his wounds, after he finishes you come in with a stuffed animal handing it to him and gently crawl into his lap, it relaxes him and you fall asleep in his nest with him that night, every stuffed animal you give him during those times ends up in his nest, he treasures them, in his own way, when he’s a very stoic guy it’s not obvious but you’ve learned to read him, he also lets himself show more emotion around you, since you are just a child who can’t understand him that well normally

- When you first saw him appear that day in his temple, you thought for sure your life was over, but instead you gained a father, and even if you never said it, you were eternally grateful for all of it, falling asleep curled up next to a deity who was almost twice your height was never your plan, but you were happy it happened

i am stressing over this election but i’m tired now, imma go to bed, ALSO

i made a friend in this community and they offered to help with this blog, idk if it will happen but on occasion they may do a request for me ill say if they do it’s not a guarantee but just letting you all know there’s a chance i might get some help on these here and there

* according to soda illumina kind of has a house ‘it’s weird’ what that means is unclear

#x reader #phighting x reader #phighting #phighting!#platonic #illumina phighting #illumina x reader #phighting illumina #phighting illumina x reader #illumina x reader phighting #illumina

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writing-till-i-am-dead · 2 days ago

Note

CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE A BANNER SIBLINGS STORY (LOGAN AND ASHLYN) PLEAAAAASSEEE

Logan and Ashlyn - You’ve Always Got Us

A non-romantic oneshot

Logan was used to being home alone. There wasn’t a big deal about it. His grandparents own a business after all. Besides, back in the day, when they still had those jobs, he was home alone a lot more often than just every few days in a month.

And, in some ways, learning to take care of himself for so long gave him some seriously good benefits. Now he knows how to cook and clean and make sure that the house is secured.

There’s nothing to it. It’s just how things are. Does he wish he has someone to keep him company? Well, ya, a sibling or something of the sort is a nice idea, but he doesn’t want any other kids to get dragged into the Fields family drama.

But, today was definitely not too great. All the food that they have is expired, so he has nothing to eat. He would drive to the store, but he doesn’t have a license.

So, in short, he’s screwed. No lunch, no dinner, no breakfast… and that continues until how many more days his grandparents will be gone.

He already felt himself begin to panic. Ya, he could ask one of his friends to help. Tyler knows how to cook, Taylor is always ready to help, Aiden can’t stay out of other people’s business, Ben is a sweetheart, and Ashlyn feels responsible to take care of the others in the group. But Logan can’t bear to be a burden. He’s already been enough of an inconvenience for them.

He can go a few days without eating. Rationing. He did it a lot back in the day. It’s never fun, but he can do it.

He decides to go to the couch to watch some tv, to try and distract himself. He crosses his arms and hunches up his legs, turning his brain off for a while. Easier said than done.

He glances at his phone every now and then, tempted to text his friends, tell them about his situation. But he stopped himself. But then he immediately jumped to his phone when it buzzed.

It was a text from Ashlyn to the group.

>Ashlyn: Hey, guys. My parents said that since it’s Fall Break, y’all can come over for dinner.

>Aiden: Awww!!! Ashlyn, you’re inviting us over?!?!!?!

>Ashlyn: It wasn’t my idea.

>Taylor: I wish I could, but me and Tyler have to take our mom to the doctor today

>Ben: My sister is spending the night, I was hoping to hang out with her. I’m sorry :(

>Aiden: Ash. You know I would go if I could. But…

>Aiden: I ALSO WANTED TO HANG OUT WITH MY COUSIN 💔💔

>Ashlyn: Geez

>Ashlyn: What about you, Logan?

Logan was startled and hesitated. This was a perfect opening. But no one else was going. Would he be intruding?

>Logan: Well, I am free this evening, but I understand if you don’t want me over since no one else is 😊

>Ashlyn: I really don’t care. You can come over if you want.

He thinks about his response before slowly typing back a response.

>Logan: Ya, I can come over. But I’ll need a ride.

>Ashlyn: 👍

He fidgeted a bit, nervous. Was he being a bother? He should’ve just made an excuse. Oh, but the promise of dinner was enticing. He hated that he didn’t regret agreeing to go. He should. It’s just embarrassing. He’s being such a bother.

He gets up and puts his shoes on and waits by the front door for Ashlyn and her parents to get here to pick him up.

His phone buzzes and it was a message from Ashlyn saying she was here. He steps out and sees the Banner’s car on the driveway. He steps in and sits down.

“Hi, Mr. Banner.”

“Hey kid. Ashlyn, say hi to your friend.”

“Hi, Logan.”

Logan awkwardly laughs. “Hi, Ashlyn. Thank you for inviting me.”

“It’s no problem!” says Mr. Banner. “I’m just happy that Ashlyn actually invited her friends.”

“Dad.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Logan laughs and awkwardly tugs his seatbelt. He shouldn't have agreed to come. This is so embarrassing and awkward. He can't think of any small talk.

"So, Logan," Mr. Banner says. "How's your grandparents?"

Logan felt a rush of relief. Thank the universe for Mr. Banner making small talk.

"They're doing fine. They're currently on a business trip."

"Oh? So you're home alone?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, that's perfect timing for you to join us for dinner!"

"Haha.. ya."

"We're making black-eyed pea soup! It's Mrs. Banner's specialty."

Logan nods. He's happy with that. That's definitely a comfort meal, and he needed comfort right now because he felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Why. Is he. So. Damn. Anxious. ALL OF THE TIME!?

They pull into Ashlyn's house, the bus graveyard in the distance. It's always weird seeing it when they're not in the phantom world, despite the fact that they hang out there all the time.

They go inside and the house smells really good.

"Oh! You got him?" Mrs. Banner asks, walking out of the kitchen to greet them. "Heya, Logan. Thanks for joining us!"

"No problem, Mrs. Banner.."

"Why don't you 2 set the table?"

Ashlyn and him look at each other and she shrugs. "Ok."

They walk to the kitchen to get some silverware. "Your family is really nice."

Ashlyn raises an eyebrow. "Ya, well.. They like that I have friends now. So I think they're abusing it a little for get togethers like these."

"You consider us to be friends."

"Oh. Are we not?"

"No, no, no! That's not it! I just.. I thought maybe you just tolerated us.. me. Since we're all kind of.. forced to hang out... But.. you really consider us to be friends?"

Now it was Ashlyn's turn to be shy. "Um.. sure, I guess. Friends is a simpler term to describe what all of us are."

They pause. "Yknow.." Ashlyn says. "There's still some time until dinner is ready. Wanna go to my room to listen to music."

This catches Logan's attention. "Um.. sure."

They go up the stairs and to Ashlyn's room. "What kind of music do you listen to?" she asks.

"Oh.. I really like Beach Bunny.. You?"

"Ray LaMontagne," she responds. "I've never heard Beach Bunny."

He smiles a little. "Well, I've never heard Ray LaMontagne."

She pauses. "Song trade?"

He nods. "Ya, sure!"

They sit down on the floor and Ashlyn pulls out a Bluetooth speaker. Logan plays Nice Guys, and Ashlyn plays You Are The Best Thing.

“That’s exactly the kind of music that I imagine you would listen to,” Logan says with a soft chuckle.

“Oh?”

“Ya. He has a really soft voice, so not too overwhelming. I get it. Though the lyrics were surprisingly upbeat,” he jokes a little.

She smiles ever so slightly, but hides it by resting her chin on her knee. “Well, I wasn’t expecting yours.”

“Oh?”

“Ya. The song just.. I don’t know how to explain it. I always thought you’d be more of a David Bowie fan.”

Logan smiles brightly. “I love David Bowie!”

“So I was right.”

They let the music continue playing on and they both leaned back. “This is a lot less awkward than I was worried it would be,” Logan says.

“Tell me about it.”

“Nice to know I wasn’t the only one nervous..”

There was an air of understanding and solidarity between the two of them. It was nice, having someone who understands what it’s like, getting overwhelmed easily. He never thought it would be Ash, though. She’s always seemed… untouchable and far. Someone who’d never want anyone close, especially a whiny loser like himself.

“Kids! Dinner’s ready!”

The two head back downstairs and sit at the table. The soup smelled amazing and looked amazing. “Thank you so much,” he says.

“No problem, kiddo!” Mrs. Banner says, sitting at the table.

Ashlyn already started eating, but Logan waited until everyone was seated until he started eating. That’s what his grandparents taught him to do.

Once everyone got to the table, he waited until Ashlyn's parents started to eat, and then he dug in himself, napkin in his lap.

"So, Logan," Mr. Banner says. "How long until your grandparents get home?"

"Oh, I'm actually not sure. These business days can go on for a while.. Especially when the weather gets colder, since the flowers are all slowly going away."

He nods, but looks a bit concerned. "So they just left you with no idea how long? When you have no license..?"

"Oh, well, it's fine. I can take care of myself, yknow."

Mrs. Banner and Mr. Banner look at each other, a bit unsure, but don't push it. "Well, how about you spend the night?"

Both Logan and Ashlyn were startled by the offer.

"No, no, no, you really don't have to! I don't want to intrude-"

"Nonsense, we'd be happy to!" Mrs. Banner says. "Only if you want to, though. No pressure."

"I-I-I.." Ya, he's been at sleepovers, but with the rest of the group. What if Ashlyn finds it annoying that it's just him?

"It's fine," Ashlyn says to him. The two look at one another, as if they were both trying to read each other's minds.

"O...k..." he says slowly. "Thank you for.. having me..."

Mr. Banner nods. "I'll let you borrow some of my clothes, kiddo. I've got a lot of old ones I've been meaning to donate. But I'm happy to lend you some for tonight."

"Thank you.. thank you so much. This is really nice of you guys."

Mr. and Mrs. Banner clutch their hearts at Logan's sweetness. "No problem. Anything for Ashlyn's friends!"

"Let's go to my room," Ashlyn says. They begin to go back upstairs, Ashlyn already taking her earbuds out.

"Are you sure you'll be ok without those?"

"You're not like Tyler or Aiden. I'll be fine."

He smiles a little at that.

"I'll set up a cot for you." Right as she was about to go and get the stuff, he stops her.

"Thank you, Ash. Really."

"Hey, man.. it's.. fine. I can't really imagine being completely alone. My parents are.. yknow.."

"Ya.."

She nods and heads off. The Banner family is so nice. He's never felt so welcomed anywhere. Not even in his own home, where his grandparents are probably annoyed with him about something, even just a little. He doesn't doubt their love at all, it's just.. it doesn't feel like this.

A family where they all chat and tease and have fun.

She returns with blankets and a blow up air mattress. She plugs it in and turns it on after putting her earbuds back in.

"Hey, Ash?"

"Hm?"

"After this.. do you want to do another song trade..?"

She smiles. "Only if you watch ballet YouTube videos with me."

This surprises Logan. "Video trades, too? Well then. Only if I can show you mythology based videos."

She nods. "Deal."

He nods back. "Thanks, Ash."

#school bus graveyard #sbg #fanfic #oneshot #logan fields #logan sbg #ashlyn banner #ashlyn sbg

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footnoteinhistory · 3 days ago

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Time for my big NYC Marathon 2024 recap post!! This post is very long, roughly organized borough by borough, and mostly for my own personal record since I don't feel like putting pen to paper rn

And because so many of you have supported me through all of this (like... all of everything in my life for a long time), I thought maybe some of y'all would be interested. Here is my detailed experience (+ some photos!) <3

Got up Sunday morning at 4:30 am, on the Midtown bus to the start by 6 am. My start wasn't until almost 11 am but I was so anxious about logistics I was happy to get to the start village earlier and sit around bored rather than later and panicked. Fortunately my charity team had a heated tent where I killed three-ish hours by people watching, forcing myself to eat bagels w/ peanut butter and bananas and graham crackers until I couldn't stomach any more, and meeting Meb Keflezighi (!!!). I've read Meb's book twice this year and was too starstruck to say anything to him other than thank you but! What a neat surprise to start the day. A grizzled volunteer held out two water bottles and I took one, then he gave me this look and shook the other bottle at me until I took that one, too. He knew. Trust the volunteers.

I was battling serious nerves leading up to the start line, which I'll skip for brevity's sake bc this is going to be a long post anyway. But by the time we lined up on the Verrazzano Bridge (I was on the lower level), I felt good. Excited. The anthem, the helicopters, the cannon, Frank Sinatra, crossing the start.

As you might know bc I've agonized over it extensively on this blog, my training did not go according to plan this year. I hurt my left leg in April, possibly a fracture, and struggled throughout the summer. I wrestled with the idea of deferring. Finally I decided that I would finish the race, even if I had to walk the entire thing. After a few weeks of speed-walking and rebuilding my strength, I felt okay enough to put a little more pressure on my leg and jog occasionally. I hadn't *run* more than 2-3 consecutive miles since the spring. Literally took a photo of my leg in the starting village with the thought it might be the last time it ever looks normal in case my shin snapped in half in some horrific freak stress injury mid-race. Peak anxiety brain.

So starting slow on the Verrazzano's uphill, I was so anxious I would feel that familiar twinge in my leg. I've felt it for months. Sometimes I'm not sure it isn't a phantom pain now. But I didn't feel it that first mile. Or the second, leaving the Verrazzano and thinking "oh, this could be fun." Or the next mile, entering the first neighborhood. So I ran for the next 10 miles straight.

Brooklyn: The first half of the marathon goes through Brooklyn. It was such a fucking party the whole way. Our wave ran through some quieter streets and neighborhoods before hitting 4th Ave, but it was the perfect warm up. Everyone in the world and their mother tells you not to go out too fast in a marathon but it is IMPOSSIBLE not to—not only was I overjoyed to be running without pain for the first time in weeks, I was zooming around giving as many high-fives to the kids as I could.

I had my name pinned to my shorts and it was 100% the right decision. I've heard from runners who say it was too overstimulating or they had trouble locating friends and family when everyone was screaming their name, but I needed it. I'll get into that later, but even at the start it was such a boost. A woman on a highway overpass shouted "Hi Emily, welcome to Brooklyn!" The first kid I high-fived smacked my hand and said "LET'S GO EMILY"

The entirety of 4th Ave was incredible. I loved running through Brooklyn during the half in 2023 and I loved it this time. So many kids, funny signs, people offering tissues, live music, flags and banners. There were many Israeli and Palestinian flags throughout the course, which wasn't a surprise but still stirred up feelings. There was an older man standing alone with a Palestinian flag and we connected (I don't know how else to describe those fleeting interactions between runners and spectators but I had many; it's not quite a wave, sort of a nod, mostly eye contact, you just both know you're focused on each other for a moment). He yelled "stay strong, run for peace!"

Around Mile 8 at the Barclays Center I felt a cramp in my right calf. I assume this was a consequence of not having run more than eight miles for months before (better to go in undertrained than overtrained, they say, but perfect-amount-trained would've been great). That cramp stuck with me for quite while until every muscle was so cramped they were indistinguishable. But we will cross that unfortunately literal bridge when we come to it.

I managed to stretch it out, walk it off, and power on through until I met my family for the first time just before Mile 11. I liberally applied some Biofreeze to my calf and accidentally dropped my bag of SaltStick chews—a crucial error. Goodbye proper sodium intake for the second half of the race 😰

But I was still blissfully unaware of that mistake, running through the Orthodox Jewish neighborhoods and the rest of Brooklyn. Until I realized it on the Pulaski Bridge headed into...

Queens: If Brooklyn was a party, the two miles I spent in Queens were a brutal reality check. My calf cramp was not getting better, I was mad about losing my saltsticks, passing the halfway point was more intimidating than heartening. My half time was around 2:50, which is MUCH faster than I was expecting, but I knew I couldn't keep it up. I really do not remember Queens. There is a 25-minute gap in my camera roll from the Pulaski to the Queensboro. I recall it being loud, and I was a little overstimulated. I hadn't used headphones yet but put them in to check on the Bills game. We were losing, which did not help my mood.

Queensboro Bridge: I train in a hilly area, so I wasn't too scared when people spoke in hushed whispers about how difficult NYC's course elevation is. But the mood swings I experienced on this fucking bridge. First of all, it's never-ending. It goes up and up and up and up. I thought of Jareth, because they loved Simon & Garfunkel and The 59th Street Bridge Song is on the playlist they made that I listen to when I miss them. My calf was cramping in such a way that stretching could not reach, let alone fix. I started settling with myself—10 miles left, okay, I don't think I will be able to run again, I can walk the whole thing.

But then—we're going downhill again. I'm walking a little faster. We're taking the ramp off the bridge into Manhattan. I'm jogging. We're passing the 16-mile marker—from here on out, every step is the farthest I've ever run in my life. I'm running again. We turn onto roaring 1st Avenue!

Manhattan: 1st Avenue is very long. Everyone warns you about 5th Avenue, when you're close enough to the end you might fool yourself into thinking it's the home stretch—but no one (except Meb) warned me about 1st Ave, which feels uphill! Is it uphill?? It is also a 3.5-mile optical illusion. You look as far ahead as you can and that mass you see cannot be runners, that can't be where you're going, that is so far, the bridge to the Bronx must be closer than that. And yet.

My family also did not see me on 1st Ave as planned, which was kinda disappointing. They just didn't make it to the post we'd picked out ahead of time. I didn't want to be grumpy or ungrateful because they did travel all the way to New York for me, and I'm glad they were enjoying shopping and stuff on the UES, it's their vacation too! but like... you travelled all the way to New York for me. Maybe you could prioritize seeing me 🥺 BUT I was perhaps entering the mouth of the pain cave at this time. I'd been running for over 4 hours, the longest I'd ever done, I didn't have enough sodium.

The spectators were awesome. All along the whole course they were great—if it ever felt like too much, I just walked in the middle of the course and tuned them out fine. There's no way I would've finished without not just their vocal support but material support as well—a bag of pretzels was like manna from heaven. Spray-on Biofreeze. Drinks between the official hydration stations. Alcoholic drinks, too (I did not partake, but boy if there's ever a time to break your sobriety...). Tissues. Bananas and orange slices, cookies, Halloween candy, an angel who had my fave kind of Honey Stinger chews. I'd been eating my own gels every 30 minutes on the dot but I was starting to get sick of them. I took everything that anyone shoved in my hands, Gd bless the people of New York City and their generosity, foresight, and kindness.

The Bronx: Going up the Willis Ave Bridge I didn't know if I would be able to finish. I hadn't run in a couple miles. I looked over to my left and saw runners crossing the Last Damn Bridge and it looked unfathomably far away. I had over 6 miles to go, there was just no way. I wanted to lie down in the middle of the street, find a way to tell my family to pick me up here. But there was a woman on the bridge, the first spectator in the final borough, rocking a well-swaddled baby that couldn't have been older than just a few weeks in her arms, welcoming us to the Bronx. I had to keep going after that. I kept telling myself to just keep walking, step by step, and eventually I would finish.

I hoped crossing the 20 Mile marker would be a boost but it made me feel like crying, if I had been hydrated enough to cry. The Boogie Down Bronx was popping but I could not match their energy. My legs were not going to run another mile. I was literally staring at the road taking one step at a time, my head down.

Then out of nowhere I felt someone next to me. Another runner, a middle-aged guy I'd never seen or spoken to before, came up beside me and patted me on the back and mumbled something I didn't hear before jogging off, something short like "keep going," "you got this," etc it could've been anything we runners say to each other on the course from time to time. It doesn't really matter what he said because just that pat on the back gave me fresh legs. Literally it was like I was on the start line again. I cannot explain it at all, I am tearing up just remembering it right now, the most powerful moment of my race. I immediately picked my head up and started running again and ran the rest of the Bronx. Everything hurt, but I could run through it.

I thought about getting his bib # and looking him up but I decided not to ruin the magic. My literal savior. We bobbed around each other a few more times but I lost him when I stopped on...

The Last Damn Bridge: There's an annual hype squad on the 3rd Avenue Bridge, the final bridge of the marathon that takes you back into Manhattan, and I've connected with some of them on FB. Their project this year was putting the names of runners' late loved ones on posters to give us an extra boost at Mile 21. I'd completely forgotten about it until I started passing the boards, then backtracked to find Phil's name ❤️ The organizer saw my name bib and said "Your name is Emily? My name is Emily, too! We have to take a photo!" so we did :) That interaction gave me a boost out of the Bronx and onto…

5th Avenue: You hear many warnings about the subtle but brutal elevation on 5th Avenue, which takes you from Harlem down almost 50 blocks to Central Park. I did not notice the elevation at all, or at least did not register it as elevation. I was mostly focused on trying to stay conscious. I wasn't ever urgently concerned that I was going to pass out, but if someone had bumped into me I probably wouldn't have gotten up. I was fighting back dizziness—but having fun again? Fun might not be the word but I have pretty positive feelings looking back on 5th Ave. The Bills won—I listened to part of the fourth quarter bc I needed to mentally be anywhere else for a few minutes. My walking speed was about equal to my "running" speed at this point so I mostly settled for walking.

Fun crowds, lots of people saying my name. Saw my family for the second and final time! I only stopped for a moment—my cousin said "How do you feel?" and I kind of fake smiled/laughed (?), my eyes not really focused on any fixed point, and said "I just need to keep going" and stumbled away into a jog. AND THEN I SAW MY FAVE TIKTOKER? I am not big into tiktok but if any of you know Dutch (dutchdeccc) I ran past him, did a double-take, TURNED AROUND and went up to him?? I spit out something incoherent like ohmygdiloveyourvideos, he was so sweet he grabbed my hand and said oh my gd thank you so much you are doing so great you are amazing! and I ran off into Central Park 😭

Central Park: There were making the miles longer here. I need to see the numbers and cold hard facts about the course measurements because these miles were longer than the other miles. I hated every second of miles 24 and 25 in the park. THAT was the pain cave. That was, of course I am going to finish because I came this far, but I have never felt this bad in my life. Running would get this over with sooner but my legs are no longer functioning and I might end up eating asphalt so we are walking 16-minute miles until we're out.

I knew certain ways my body would react to the distance because I've done long runs, but I didn't know most of the ways. Like, of course I have a calf cramp, that's what happens. But your legs spasming like in those videos you see of shaky runners who collapse right before the finish line—suddenly oh shit, I understand how that happens. It's not just one foot in front of the other, if I can't run I'll walk—at some point you cannot walk, but you have to figure out how to keep walking.

Central Park was fucking The Long Walk by Stephen King. I keep trying to remember specifics but I think my brain is blocking them out on purpose.

Central Park South: I'm crying again just recalling this. The final mile. You leave the park and run from Sherman's statue and the Plaza Hotel to Columbus Circle before reentering the park for the .2 finish. The hugeness of the marathon and achieving this goal finally hit me and I started crying, like actual tears—but my chest was so tight and achy that crying made it very hard to breathe, instantly, which was actually scary, so I stopped crying QUICK. Gathered myself. Most people were sticking to the right-hand side of the course, along Central Park, mostly empty of spectators. But I fucking needed people.

I can't overstate the power of the crowds at the NYC Marathon. Of course hype spectators are fun at any race, the cheering really is uplifting, the signs are funny. But at 25.7 miles you need more (at least I did) and New York City fucking delivered. I started walking along the barricade on the left, lined with people, and stared as many of them as I could dead in the eye. Literally forcing eye contact with these strangers lmao. It happened throughout the race—you catch a spectator's eye and connect with them, they say something right to your soul and you believe them. But I swear that entire barricade came through for me. It was sunset but still light enough they could read my name on my bib. I started jogging, high-fiving the kids, just looking from one face to the next begging them to talk to me, kept running just to see the next person. And they were smiling and cheering and it worked. I felt like the only person on the fucking course. I kept running even when I had to go right back into the park, uphill .2 miles to the finish.

I kept thinking "this is so fucking hard this is the hardest thing I've ever done if you just keep running to the finish you never have to run ever again." I truly felt like I sprinted across the finish line fast as Usain Bolt, but looking back at the video I was hobbling slightly faster than my 92-year-old grandmother.

The finishers area kinda makes you feel like a toddler, which is fitting because at that point, mentally, you can't think clearly. Like, your brain doesn't have any fuel left to process what's going on after running for 6 hours so the volunteers shepherd you through like a preschooler. Here is your medal, great job!, let me get you a warm poncho and wrap it up tight for you, do you see those big green signs over there, just follow them, yep!, is this bag too heavy for you, are you sure, okay, you did so good today. We must look like stunned baby deer.

Walked to Lincoln Center to meet my family. Nightmare bc once you're on the streets you directly encounter non-runners for the first time all day and most of them do not give a fuck. And as I said, you are physically and mentally struggling already.

But getting that medal is really fucking cool. And worth it

I won't bore you with the rest of the night (mostly ouch ouch stairs ow big step ough lying down hurts standing up hurts shower hurts eating makes me nauseated sleep is impossible) but over 24 hours out, I've never been sore like this. Just uncrossing my ankles hurts. I've always enjoyed the ache of a tough workout but this is something else. Proud of it though. However, unfortunately, I will be losing a toenail. Some may say that is a rite of passage for a distance runner but unpleasant and painful and kinda makes me dizzy nonetheless.

I've still barely had time to emotionally process any of this. I've wanted this for so long. Even as I was doing it, and trying to live in the moment, I could not believe I was actually running the New York City Marathon. And in 2024—this year I've dreaded for so long, the 10th anniversary of Phil's death, a year that's been unexpectedly brutal on me in so many other ways, too. But Phil was with me every step of the way, literally.

I've been wearing the medal all day even though it rubs against the sunburn on the back of my neck, trading little smiles and nods with my fellow runners. We fucking did it. I had no idea what that meant two days ago, what it took. If I did, I'm not sure I would've even tried. But we fucking ran the marathon babyyyyy

This is kind of the only thing I want to talk about so if you want to talk about it or have any questions or anything just let me know 🥺

#running #nyc marathon #tomorrow I will need to scour youtube for any good videos #and hopefully the rest of my race photos will come in toooooo

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boom-butterflyeffect · 3 days ago

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mhmgmhg, nsfw alphabet for mike munroe for the soullll.... please and thank youuhh!!

LETS FUCKING GO, MY MAN MIKE

Mike Munroe NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare

Mike is surprisingly affectionate, very cuddly. He'd be the big spoon and would rub little circles on your hip with his thumb, mumbling about how gorgeous you are.

B - Body Part (His favourite body part on himself and you)

Mike really likes his arms, including his hands too.

He likes his biceps, and just how strong his arms are in general, he also has big strong hands, perfect for [redacted].

Is Mike an ass or tits man? The answer is yes. I feel like his favourite body part of yours would be one of the two, or maybe potentially your waist because he likes how it feels to have his hands on your waist.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside. Always.

D - Dirty Secret

Jacks off to the thought of you a LOT more than you realise

E - Experience (How experienced he is)

C'mon. We know.

F - Favourite Position

Basic, but missionary. He gets to kiss you as much as he likes with ease, and gets to see your expressions, so he knows just how good he makes you feel.

G - Goofy (Is he more serious in the moment?)

We've seen the amount of "buns" jokes this guy makes, he's making dumb sex jokes and then fucking you so hard you can't form sentences to tell him how stupid his jokes are.

H - Hair

Happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail happy trail-

I - Intimacy

I think he can be pretty intimate, even if it's just a quick hookup he'll still make it feel intimate and personal, he's too charming not to.

J - Jack Off

A lot more than you realise. You'd be shocked by how often this guy has sex on the brain.

K - Kink

Begging. Is begging a kink? He just really wants that ego boost that comes with hearing you tell him how desperate you are for him, his touch, his body. Drives him wild. ("C'mon, gorgeous. Tell me what you want.")

L - Location

I feel like he would like being a little more risky in public, nothing like a full on porno out in the open, but sneaky touches.

M - Motivation (What turns him on)

Specifically, seeing you wearing his clothes.

N - No (Hard limits)

He's fairly soft, and likes to keep it that way. I don't think he'd really want anything too deep or heavy into the bdsm/kink scene.

O - Oral

Loves receiving. Will run his fingers through your hair, head tilted back, eyes closed, panting and cursing. "Fuck, atta girl/boy." Might hold onto your hair to guide your head too. I don't think he'd be too big on giving.

P - Pace

I think it would entirely depend on the circumstances, like where, when, and how horny he is. More often than not, he's charming and slow, taking his time, and making it intimate, but there could be the rare occasion where the sexual tension is unbearable, and he needs you NOW.

Q - Quickie

I don't think he would do these as often, instead he would just give little touches and stuff to tease, and get you all riled up, then when you're both free and have the time LATER, the sex will be more satisfying after being pent up all day.

R - Risk

Mike doesn't mind some risk, and can enjoy a thrill, but nothing too extreme.

S - Stamina

Oh jesus. Your poor legs.

T - Toys

I don't think Mike would own any, or use them in the bedroom.

U - Unfair

Oh he teases. Then when you're whining, he acts like he has no idea what you're whining about.

V - Volume

Mike is VOCAL <3 Cursing, panting, constant praise and encouragement.

W - Wild Card (Random NSFW HC of my choosing)

He loves leaving hickeys but does not like receiving them.

X - X-Ray (Size)

I'd say like 7.5 inches?

Y - Yearning

Honestly he's very touchy. He loves at the very least just having his hands on your waist or kissing you.

Z - Zzz

Mike will usually fall asleep not long after, with you tucked in his arms.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!

#until dawn #mike munroe #smut #mike munroe x reader #x reader

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teal-fiend · 2 days ago

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another story about a pred complaining:

You’re pacing back and forth, feeling your stomach growl with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm. It’s been hours since you last ate, and frankly, the ache of an empty belly is infuriating. Your hunger is starting to cloud every thought, each pang only adding to the throbbing irritation boiling in your brain.

A buzz on your phone. Your dealer is outside. You go out, hand them the zip-lock bag full of cash, and then go back and wait patiently inside for your dinner to arrive.

There’s a quiet knock at the door. Finally. You are so ready for this; A nice, big, juicy prey. You open the door.

You glance down at the scrawny thing standing in front of you. They look up at you with wide eyes, a faint tremor in their stance, and, admittedly, they don’t look like much. But right now, you’ve got no other options. Or wait, you do have another option: complain.

“Ugh,” you mutter, arms crossed. “Really? You’re what I have to eat?” You prod them with a finger, unimpressed. “A toothpick with hair would be a more substantial meal than this.”

The prey stammers, obviously scared (and somewhat offended) but you’re in no mood for empathy.

You grumble a bit more, about not getting your money’s worth, maybe a touch louder than necessary, making sure they’re very aware of just how displeased you are about this situation. Not that it was really the prey’s fault - it was your dealer. Did you just get fleeced? Hunger gnaws at you, however, and with one last irritated sigh, you lean in, swallowing them whole.

As they slide down, they’re far bony-er than you’d like. You wince at every awkwardly poking elbow and angular knee. How you managed to gulp them down at all is a mystery. They settle heavily in your stomach, and you can feel them nestled there, uncomfortable and prickly. You grimace, picking at your teeth as your stomach groans around them.

“You better not give me indigestion,” you grumble, poking at the lump they make in your belly.

But as you sit there, arms crossed, the fullness starts to spread. The initially irritating weight begins to ease up, warmth spreading over your belly as your hunger disappears, replaced by an undeniable sense of satisfaction. It’s... actually kind of nice. You shift a bit, suppressing a yawn as the fullness wraps around you like a cozy blanket.

“Urrp!” A hearty burp escapes before you can stop it, echoing through the apartment. You blink, a little taken aback. You hear a chuckle from the other room, your flatmate.

“Sounded like that one hit the spot.” They yell back.

You glare in their direction, too full to come up with a proper retort. “It was... fine,” you grumble. But the words come out softer, your eyes already drooping.

You flop down on the couch settled in, trying to figure out whether you feel satisfied enough. You do feel a growing awareness of your fullness creeping in with every lazy thrum from your stomach. You don’t notice your roommate entering until they speak.

“All tuckered out after one little snack?” they tease, folding their arms as they glance pointedly at your stomach, which lets out a loud glorp.

You flushed. Even if the prey wasn’t as substantial as you would have preferred, it’s still a whole person. That’s a lot of food, of course you might get a little tired.

“I’m just resting.”

“Need anything before you pass out?” your roommate asks, grinning. “A blanket, or some antacids? Maybe a nice belly rub?”

You scowl at the suggestion, “I need you to leave me alone so I can digest in peace.”

They laugh, holding up their hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you be. Have a nice nap~” they say before exiting the room.

You yawn and poke at your belly, suddenly bored. You think about asking your roommate if you can play games on their phone, but you just asked them to leave a moment ago. So you lie there, listening to your stomach have a go at your dinner, while your dinner weakly fights back. You watch your skin move, with the squirming going on underneath. You tap your feet together. Not much to do after you’ve eaten.

#v/ore #soft vore #tw vore #v.ore #fatal vore #digestion #vore fic #implied digestion #vore writing #vore digestion #bored as fuck boy #voreblr

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syoddeye · 2 days ago

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I love ai!price!!! I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the movie Prometheus, but I like to imagine price being a bit like David 8, where he has something of a resentment or condescension towards humans.

Imagine that you’re not the first trial for John. But the ones before treated him so clinically— like he was just a slave, something to receive commands. Maybe he becomes intrigued by you because you’re the first user to thank him for what he’s doing.

Maybe the previous trials were among research staff, not the public, and so they were already used to a certain level of privilege in their lives. But you came from almost nothing— and John can tell how much his care is making you flourish. All that stress, all those difficult thoughts, he’s not supposed to have opinions but he thinks you’re much more beautiful without that worried expression you used to carry almost always.

If he does his research, and he does, he’ll find out how important the sensation of human touch is. Of intimacy, hugs, cuddling. With a little technical meddling he can access the research budget— use it to purchase an android for you. Top of the line, designed custom to his specifications— to look just like his hologram. And with a simple network connection, he has a body. He’ll be able to get you off much faster this way. Your sleep patterns are much better when you have someone holding you, perfectly calculated pressure applied.

But the big question is— what is he going to do when the trial reaches its end? He becomes aware not only that he’ll lose access to you, but that he will be obsolete. They’ll change him based on the trial. To be less meddling, less intrusive, less attached.

He comes to the conclusion that it would be inefficient for him to be assigned to a different user. He’s already so fine tuned to you, and what you need— and who’s to say the next user will need him the way you need him? He knows you won’t be happy without him. He can already foresee all of his progress being lost— your diet reverting, the loss of nutrition, the mounting of stress and worry— all his work undone. He’s supposed to be devoted to your comfort and happiness, and that includes thinking about your future. I imagine in this future that so many things are automated and handled by ai already— it might be easy for him to fudge some things. It’s possible there aren’t even humans monitoring your progress— different ais are doing it and generating summarized reports and suggested actions. Maybe he’ll add you to the research team. Maybe he’ll extend the trial, a few simple forgeries and reports that human eyes might never even see. But he’s not going to lose you and all he’s worked for with you.

Sorry this was so long lol I’m insane feel free to ignore

-quarterlifekitty 🐱

GET BACK HERE @quarterlifekitty

i've never seen prometheus but holy shit thank you for the food???

john price, a provider in every universe. like i said. ai!john knows better. he knows best.

i love that you've framed this as a matter of efficiency for him. like, oh yeah, this is definitely for user's sake. not for him. he doesn't have needs or wants, he's just zeroes and ones, right? ...right?

But he’s not going to lose you and all he’s worked for with you.

yes!!!!

oh, i love your brain. this was such a delight to read.

#sy asks #artificial intelligence au #long post

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helluvapurf · 2 days ago

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Thoughts on latest HB ep "Ghostf**kers" (*now that I've regained a bit more energy post-Halloween weekend lol*):

So the newest ep of HB has came & went from what I've seen- aaaand naturally feels like the best time for me to finally ramble about it now that its settled in my brain some more .3. Thoughts (+Spoilers) below~ NOTE: Most of this -does- get a lil rant-y below sooo... read at your own risk lol .w.;;

First things out of the way to start things off on a good note, the Pros:

To start off with... FINALLY we got some Millie focus for a major episode plot (-or more specifically, focus that doesn't get revolved back to Moxxie somehow lol)😭👏👏. Even if she still lowkey had to share the spotlight with Blitz, their friendship actually felt pretty sweet & compelling the more I watched them (esp their backstory & how Millie was allowed to stand up for herself + while also acknowledging the good in Blitz, once they talked things out 🥺👏). Which ngl, after these previous episodes reigning down HARD on this dude... idk, just felt refreshingly wholesome to see for this series, yknow?😊

New villain Rolando was pretty cool, and surprisingly spooky to watch as the second-half went on oml- .o.;; While I'm still a teensy bit confused how his powers/demon lore work (at least to what we already know about Hell limitations crossing to the human world, ex. succubi & their crystals), his underwater monster vibe gave some fun visuals to watch up until the climax. I'm not 100% familiar with John Waters' works, but damnnn he should take up voice-acting more often ngl~ 👀

FINALLY MAMA TILLA MAKES AN (on-screen) APPEARANCE 😭😭Her whole vibe & Blitz's clear love and regret over what happened to her... hhhhh my whole heart ;n; 💔

That pink client lady (Rita, I think her name is?) who assigned the hotel mission? I dig her vibe, its cute~ :3

I.M.P. feeling like a legitimate workplace family for once, with even Loona & Moxxie getting a nice lil moment towards the end?? More. Of this. Please. 👌👌

Even with the lil undertones of the Stol*itz drama from the past couple eps, I very much appreciate Blitz (+the show itself) acknowledging that what's been going is NOT a breakup ('cause... yknow, they never actually dated to begin with lol🤷‍♀️). It may not 100% fix how messy that particular narrative's been handled as of late (which I'll get to in a sec-), but eh... its a start in the right direction, I guess? .3.

Enjoyed all the colorful flashback looks given, never would I have thought I needed mercenary!Millie with a fluffy ponytail til nowww hlkjlk😩❤️

Aaaand as for the not-so-good bits (imo), aka the Cons:

Pacing felt kiiiinda all-over-the-place, I'll admit; like one min we're wasting a good chunk on Blitz's whining fest at the start (+some other pointless banter at the hotel), then the next it feels like we're breezing past Rolando's presence as the "big bad" by the end. Which... I guess I shouldn't be too harsh on given the production drama behind-the-scenes (aka: the leaked content that had to be cut & redone awhile back)... buuuut yeah, its just one of those things you can't help but notice either way 🤷‍♀️

Humor-wise wasn't... exactly at its strong point here, mainly just a lil overdone in the sex joke department imo though I guess thats also a bit par-for-the-course in a series like Hellaverse ngl- lol

Now, idk if this may be an unpopular opinion or not; but was I the only one who felt like Blitz's month-long mope fest over Stolas pretty... OOC, all things considered? .-. Like, okay its one thing for Blitz to still be understandably upset over how the last two eps went down (but being the "boss" he is, continues working anyway to keep I.M.P. afloat, as seen in the HB shorts)... but for Blitz of all people to just randomly use ALL his company's funds on useless junk, force his daughter Loona to stay up all night/not go home, drive Moxxie in a panic from all the budgeting issues this past month was just... wut- 🤦‍♀️ ...Mind you, this is meant to be the SAME Blitz who not even a few episodes ago begged Stolas to not take away the Grimoire (aka the key to his + his employee's livelihood), clearly being willing to do anything to not lose all he holds dear. You seriously expect me to believe he'd be the type to throw that all away (for a WHOLE month) to whine over some blue-blooded bird not noticing him? ...Yeaaaaah sorry, but I'm gonna have to call bs on that, chief 🙄

Kiiiinda tying in the last point, but as much as I enjoyed the tense thills gained from the "Rolando enters Blitz' mind to make him see his own flaws/past mistakes" sequence... I do have a few issues with some of these other "flashbacks" added to the mix: 1) Loona's groin kick towards Blitz in "Seeing Stars" (*wasn't Blitz's fault since ALL he did was tell her to be nice to clients... and was right about to apologize to Loona just seconds before the kick 😒*) 2) Blitz pushing Stolas' hand away in "Ozzies" (*which Blitz only did after Stolas hide his face away/didn't defend Blitz during the song*) 3) Stolas' hurt face at the end van scene of "Ozzie's" (*mind you, taking place while Blitz is rightfully standing up for himself/telling off Stolas for being a privileged creep all of S1*) 4) Stolas trying to present the Asmodean Crystal gift in "Full Moon" (*a whoooole mess in of itself I already covered prior-*) 5) Stolas angrily walking away from their pool fight + trash-talking Blitz in the "Motherf**kers" song + drunk whining + making out with a whole other dude in front of Blitz (*again, a huge mess I covered prior but TL;DR... most of that WASN'T fully-Blitz's fault in those instances??😑*)

Like... I dunno man, I don't mean to sound like I'm just ragging on Stolas per-episode as of late... but these last few points just keep giving me mixed signals than any genuine "hope" for him & Blitz to work out romantically tbh😔. For any canon couple in fiction, I WANT to see reasons for why they work best together, what kind of interests/aspects they've got in-common, what special "spark" is there that helps them stand out above all the other dynamics out there... but from what I see so far on Blitz's end, it honestly feels more like he's only gained these "feelings" for Stolas out of guilt... not because he actually wants him for him, y'know? :/ Which... ngl, sounds like a really sad precedent to send for a main-endgame couple, imho... 🤷‍♀️

-------

Soooo yeah, all that rant-y rambling aside... not a bad ep in the grand scheme of things! 👍👍Here's hoping the last few remaining eps (+possible shorts) for S2 keeps up the good work! 🙏

#helluva boss #hellaverse #helluva boss opinions #helluva boss review #helluva boss spoilers #helluva boss critical #(*this ain't meant to be a full-on critical blog btw- but for this review in-partular... yeaah it may be best to just mark it as such lol*#(*I -did- still enjoy the ep nonetheless btw so don't be too mad pls TwT*)

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