#there is zero ground for that claim

[nururu]

genuinely if you're one of those ppl who's like "I wish Zoro smiled and laughed post timeskip :(" block me bc you're not watching the show and y'all are dumb asf for continuing to say this when it's 10000% completely a lie. you want him to be emo and angsty so fucking bad it's embarrassing. like 90% of the ppl who watch one piece are so used to mid writing and mid anime that depends on tropes and your brains are mush to the point you literally cannot comprehend anything if it's not blended up and made into easily digestible baby food for you.

[party-gilmore]

there was literally… ZERO reason… for her to bring up Jews in that article… at all…

this was a devastating story about a military man fatally self-immolating in protest of america supporting the ongoing message and should have REMAINED focused on him and message, there was… literally no fucking reason for that article to derail and complain about “israel supporters” being “afraid of antisemitism”

…like what the actual fuck.

“You simply cannot fit more America into a single incident than a man dying a horrifying death in protest of war crimes while a first responder screams at cops to stop pointing their guns at him and go get fire extinguishers. If you were to pick a single moment in history to sum up the essence and expression of the US empire, that would be it.”

Caitlin Johnstone, The Most American Thing That Has Ever Happened

[yanderenightmare]

Aemond Targaryen

♡ TW: arranged marriage, implied incest, HOTD in general

♡ fem reader

Aemond took Vhagar, and you took his eye for it. It became the day your family tore down the middle. Your mother, heir to the throne, retreated with all of you back to Dragonstone, where you’d been hiding for a longer time—once again leaving Kingslanding in the hands of its dying King and the surrounding Greens.

You think it’s all the same, really—you’d rather stay away from that place anyway. Of course, you regret having taken your uncle’s eye. It was, after all, not even your fight���nor was it very ladylike. But you can blame your mother for that. She never taught you temperance—or any manners at all, for that sake. Still, blinding one’s own family isn’t right. And yet, it’s a sin you learn to live with over the years spent removed from its victim.

On Dragonstone, you’re free—on dragonback, for the most part. You’d long left the matters of the court to your brothers. Jace was the one who’d be King after your mother, while Luke would be Lord of Driftmark, and you’d stay here—on Dragonstone. By yourself and to yourself. You’d still have to marry, of course, there’s no way around it—but like your mother, you’d get to choose for yourself. That much, you have no doubt.

If you could, you’d always stay on Dragonstone, isolated from anywhere else, but it seems, once again, Kingslanding calls for your return. The King has taken a turn for the worse, and with it, your mother has grown wary of her claim. And so, the heir to the throne and her family along with her were all to voyage home.

You sigh as you look at the approaching castle. It’s not how you remember it, but whether it’s uglier or smaller or something else entirely isn’t clear to you as you watch from the ship. When all this bickering and uncertainty would end, you couldn't know but hoped it would be soon so that you could return swiftly. In a way and in a thought you would never voice out loud, the King’s death would bring about a much-needed calm in your family. Your mother would take the throne as is her birthright, and all else would be put to rest.

Oddly, no one came to welcome you when you arrived. Even your red Targaryen banners had turned green in your absence, as if the groundskeepers had neglected their duties and let the weeds grow as they pleased. No doubt, it would be yet another troubling topic over dinner.

But not one you’d bother yourself with. You make your way to refamiliarize yourself with the grounds instead—walking down a hundred turning memory lanes in the castle as if trying to find the center of a maze. You remember why you left this place—barren halls, all filled with nothing but the whispers of your hair color not being silver. Such things didn’t reach across the waters—they couldn’t touch you back on Dragonstone. Being back doesn’t feel much like a homecoming at all—more like a return to something foreign—even though that makes little sense.

You tell your assigned kingsguard to escort you to your chambers, but on the way, you hear the chimes of something more compelling. And following it, you find yourself on the balcony of the training arena.

And oh—you hardly recognize him. Tall and lean, all riddled with taut muscles he’s sharpened like the blade held in his grip. His hair is neatly combed, long, and perfectly silver like moonlight off a lake. The only thing disrupting it is the black leather patch covering his eye. And while you watch him swing his sword all so mercilessly but with a certain grace you’ve never before seen, you can't help but imagine you're the straw doll he's practicing on.

His eye meets yours without warning. One moment, he’s focused on his training and the next, he’s zeroed in on you.

You can’t help but flinch, skirting back as if the railing had suddenly burnt you. And then, well, shamefully, you very nearly ran away—skittering back into the maze as though wanting to find someplace to hide.

You want to return to Dragonstone. More than a yearning now, it’s almost a must. You’re nearly fetching your dragon from the pit to leave immediately, but you know that wouldn’t be proper. Your mother would be upset with you, and you’re not one to disappoint her. She has enough worries as is. You wouldn't make yourself one of them. And so you stay.

Your maids bathe you and then help you get dressed. And then you join the rest of your family for supper—dreading the presence you’d felt earlier, knowing he’d be there as well.

You keep your gaze fixed on your meal, and yet you can feel his one-eyed stare from across the dinner table. Neither of you looks anywhere else. And neither of you speak.

Aegon says many things—none of which you hear—though, possibly slights about your origin. It seems he and your brothers are arguing. But it’s nothing new. The King, your grandfather, the poor old man, shares words of family and love to defuse the tension once and for all. But you can’t agree—not when the one-eyed glare feels to lash out at you like the fire of an untamed dragon.

The Queen, of all people, salutes your mother. It seems genuine enough. And still, you don’t feel her sons share in her show of respect.

Jace rises and offers Helena to dance—ever the dutiful son. Luke follows in his lead and offers the same to Rhaena. And then, much to the twist of your own empty stomach—your plate of food untouched—Aegon also rises and takes a drunken step in your direction.

Still, he’s the lesser of two evils around the table. But shortly after taking his second step, he’s beaten to the punch by said greater evil. His hand reaches out, yet you don’t dare acknowledge the offer. Coated in goosebumps, you feel frozen.

“Didn’t you hear the King, dear niece?” he speaks—lowly in a hush. “The family feud has been resolved now. We ought to usher in its newfound peace while it lasts. You and I more than anyone. Take my hand and let us dance atop grievances, dead and buried.”

You recognize the threat in his words. To deny him would mean rejecting said peace. And so, with a deep exhale, you lay your hand in his death grip and follow him to the floor. And now you really feel no different from that battered straw doll in the arena.

“You’ve grown up rather beautifully since last we saw each other,” he says.

You know you ought to utter a thank you, but no words dare escape the choke of your throat as he positions an all but crippling paw on your waist—the other in the air pressed flatly against your own.

“I, on the other hand, am too hideous to look at, it seems,” he adds when you don’t answer. Voice lowering even more so into a brisk whisper that no one but you would be able to hear, “Won’t you face me, dear niece? And gaze upon the atrocity you dealt when we were children.”

Finally, you pick your head up. “I—” You falter just as quickly—his smile catches you completely off guard. Still, your eyes go to the scar escaping his patched eye—deep and unforgiving where you’d ruthlessly slashed your knife. You swallow thickly. “You have my deepest regrets, uncle. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t asked the Gods for forgiveness.”

To that, he laughs. “There’s no need. I long forgave you.”

There’s an utterly misplaced joy in his eye you’ve never before seen. And you’re left wondering if he’s really the same Aemond you remember.

“Not a blade has struck me since,” he says, simpering. “In a way, I ought to thank you for it. It seems it’s given me luck.”

He doesn’t seem grateful, despite his words. Yet, he doesn’t sound spiteful, either. You don’t know what to make of it. If anything, he seems satisfied with something.

“Anyway, it’s not right for a man to bear ill will towards his wife.”

Your brows furrow. And a creeping chill befalls you. Certainly, you heard him wrong, or he misspoke, or you’ve misunderstood something somehow.

“Oh? They haven’t told you?” he asks—his lips curling further at the corners. “Oh, dear niece—why do you think you’re here? Just visiting?” he snickers.

You still don’t understand. Or maybe it’s that you refuse to. Looking at him desperately in wait for him to stop laughing and explain the joke, even if it’s on you.

“The King spoke of peace, but peace, as you must know, isn’t brought about without payment.”

You remain silent. Still waiting to have your doubts eased.

“Oh, do I have to spell it out for you?”

Despite his sigh, he doesn’t look any ounce worth of exasperated—no, rather amused.

“You’re unwed. As am I,” he finally clarifies, and yet it does nothing to dispel your troubled head. “Marriage has always been the Targaryen way. I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he continues unbothered, a certain snideness to his tone, “But then again, you and your kin aren’t very Targaryen at all, are you?”

You don’t humor the insult. After all, you were way more concerned with what he’d said about marriage.

“Don’t worry. It’s not what matters. Not to me, at least,” he says. “I, for one, welcome our union.”

Your feet follow his lead as he dances with you in the palm of his hand.

“It’s rather poetic, isn’t it?” he smiles again. “You took my eye. And so, dear niece, I shall take your hand and everything attached to it.”

[igotanidea]

Superstition: Jason Todd x witch!reader

requested by anon because it's October!

***

For some reason, the world is always in danger on Tuesdays.

And the newest threat to the existence of the people involved a group of superheroes and vigilantes and even anti-heroes gathering together to discuss the best way to tackle it.

Familiar faces and new ones, arrived at one deeply hidden lair (not really), not causing any reasons for suspicions (again – not really).

Who would pay attention to various, spandex-clad people, climbing to one apartment in the suburbs through the doors and windows, from the ground, air and water, right? It was freaking Gotham after all, weirdest things have happened.

And she was definitely someone new.

He didn’t pay much attention to that girl.

But somehow he noticed how she stood in the back of the room, watching everyone instead of joining in the conversation. How she mostly stayed quiet while the gathered was discussing plans and methods to defeat the newest opponent, only now and then throwing some well-pointed argument.

She was weird with that watchful eyes, focused face, specific kind of humor, wearing unusual clothes, speaking in a manner that indicated she knew something no one else did.

And that smell, he couldn’t quite decipher.

What was it?

Sage? Lavender? Rosemary?

Who, out of normal people, smells like kitchen seasoning?!

But –

Out of it all, she was at least useful. Or so it seemed, otherwise Dick would not bring her out to this meeting in the first place.  

And hell, he wouldn’t let her know everyone’s identities.

Well – not everyone. Jason was pretty stubborn with keeping his signature helmet on. He was not risking a stranger to know too much about him. Always the one to keep his cards close to his chest.

“Who is she?” he muttered to Dick, his voice distorted by the metal

“Her name is-“

“I don’t care about her name. What is she?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t make that face on me, Dickhead. You have aliens friends, robotic friends and turning-into-an-animal friends. What is she?”

“Oh, that!” Dick laughed, but then turned serious “I am not telling you that.”

Jason rolled his eyes. This was obviously a bait, and he was not some silly fish to rise to it.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

“You will have to- wait, what? You don’t want me tell you?” Dick’s face dropped a little

“Nope.”

“But-“

“I said nope.”

“Come on, Jas-“

“Don’t use my real name, idiot!”

“But I want to tell you!”

“A second ago you claimed that-“

“You are no fun.” Dick pouted like a five year old, crossed arms over his chest and after a moment of zero reaction from his brother walked away, probably to share how unfairly he had been treated.

***

She was a witch.

A freaking witch.

Without hair in her ears, warts, boils and hooked nose.

A witch!

Where was her cat? Her broom? Her – whatever else was a signature for that type of supernatural being.

“You might want to take it a little easier on me, you know?”

“Huh!?” Jason spun around only to notice she was now standing behind him with a soft face expression. “What are you-?”

“Oh, don’t you know that witch can read minds?”

“What now?” he blushed under the helmet on being called out on that, but obviously did not let it show. “Who gave you the permission to invade my head, witch!?” The last word was almost spitted with anger and venom dripping from the voice, followed by crossing arms that was supposed to be intimidating. However, much to his surprise she only chuckled. “Are you laughing at me now?!”

“Yes.”

“Careful there, harpy.” The second that word left his mouth he regretted it. First, she did not deserve to be judged so superficially and Jason should know better how painful it can be. Second, it showed that he was getting agitated and that was not the point. Third, fourth and fifth – she could drop him dead on the spot with her dark magic powers.

“Careful there, tin-head.”

Oh wow. She was mean.

“Or what?” he challenged

“Or I threw a curse at you.”

“And what?”

“Don’t test me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh I bet, you’d be so happy, being able to boost to everyone who’d love to listen that you battled a witch that’s half your size, huh?”

“You don’t know me.” He scoffed, feeling a little offended and hurt.

“Well you don’t know me.”

Shit.

“What’s that scent you smell of?”

“Excuse me?!”

Idiot. At this point he felt like facepalming. So stupid trying to rectify the situation while simultaneously not wanting to say anything that would even resemble apology.

“The- ”

“It’s thyme. And verbena.”

“Why-?”

“It’s supposed to bring out luck and peace . And thyme brings out mental powers.”

“Hence the mind reading?”

“Oh, I was kidding about that. I cannot truly read minds. You were muttering to yourself and since I was standing close there was no way for me to not overhear.”

“So you are not-“

“A I’m -going-to-curse-you-with-pain-in-the-ass witch? No. I’m a little bit more reserved when it comes to that, but don’t tell anyone. I would be casted away from the clan.”

Despite himself he chuckled.

“So, what other discrepancies are there between you and the myths about the witch.”

“I’m not giving such secrets to just anyone, Hood.”

“I can respect that. Got my boundaries too.”

“Hence the helmet still on your face?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I can respect that.” She nodded, “The world can be awful when it comes to quick and superficial conclusions, right?”

His head snapped her direction. How come she was speaking freely all those words he was holding deep inside his heart. Why did it feel like she actually meant everything said and didn’t just throw around empty platitudes?

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, you look at me like I’ve just murdered a cat for a dark ritual.”

“You can’t see my face. And I don’t like cats.”

“Sure not. Cause you are a dog person, right?”

“You’re being annoying.”

“And you’re being dramatic.”

God, he was hating her already.

***

Two weeks later, he was sitting in her apartment, helmet off, with her black cat on his lap, caressing the soft fur, observing carefully how Y/N was getting ready for the Valpurga Night, taking the weirdest clothes existing from the wardrobe. Judging by the style she had either robbed a homeless man or a prank store.

“Seriously this is how you guys are dressing?” he pointed out at the black robe and a pointy hat.

“What? No! Of course not, are you crazy? This is my Halloween costume. No respectable witch will ever wear a hat like this. God, last time the chairwoman of the assembly had a channel costume and three sets of pearls. Show off she was…”

Jason laughed despite himself.

“You’ve got a Halloween costume six months in advance?”

“Stop laughing or I’ll-“

“Curse me, yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” He raised hands in surrender, causing the cat to meow desperately, demanding more touches. “See, your cat likes me, why can’t you?”

“That cat happened to swallow too much catnip when I was preparing my potions earlier today. He’s not a credible judge at the moment.”

“I’d rather take his judgment over yours.”

Y/N flicked her wrist and the blanket on the bed wrapped over Jason turning him into a giant burrito.

“Seriously, this is the best you can do? Claiming to be powerful and –“

A second later he was levitating by the ceiling, heads down, not liking it at all.

***

One month later he found himself having a panic attack during the night. All the memories from the pit, the pain, the hurt, the trauma came back flooding him like a freaking tsunami.

The last thing he wanted was seeing and hearing things that did not exist.

A lunatic that was what he was.

And there was only one person he knew who was familiar with supernatural things and knew how to play with minds and reality with her skills.

“Y/N.” he stuttered to the phone, her name the only lifeline connecting him with the remnants of crumbling reality.

“I’m on my way.”

Of course she already knew what was happening.

Of course she was already coming to him, to save him from himself.

Ten minutes later, the window creaked and she just flew inside effortlessly, discarding her cloak on the floor and rushing to his side.

“The doors are out there, you weirdo” he stuttered, hating that she saw him in this vulnerable state. “You had to make a show, didn't you?”

“Though it could lift your spirits.” She muttered, without a hint of tease in her voice “and speaking of spirits, can I?” her hands lingered around his head.

“Please…”

Softly and slowly, she placed both palms on his temples, whispering something that might have been a spell, incantation or that curse she was threatening him with since the moment they met.

Regardless of what she chose to place on him, it seemed to work. The fog on his brain slowly dispersed and he almost felt the fear and anxiety floating away.

At least she was useful.

“What- what did you-?”

“hush. Quiet. Here, take that” she handed him a little vial.

“what’s that?”

“A poison. What do you think, jar-head? It; a potion. It will strengthen you.”

“I don’t need strengthening-“

“Just take it.” Her smaller hands wrapped around his, forcing him to keep the bottle. “Please.” For a moment their gazes met and the time seemed to stop. “I can’t risk having you waking me up in the middle of the night again, right?”

“Waking you? Thought you were out casting spells and running naked over the meadow?”

“Not really. It's the incoming moon phase. It’s the time for white magic, and we both know I’m a dark witch right?”

They both chuckled softly. She was as dark as Jason was lenient towards criminals.

“Stay?” he asked softly

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

***

He didn’t plan it.

Definitely not, but how was he supposed to help being drawn towards that weirdo that seemed to shake up his world? How could he resist the pull towards the otherworldly and the only person that seemed to understand him completely?

The first time she saw him use the all caste he almost noticed the admiration in her eyes.

The first time he observed her actually casting curses and using her powers he felt like he could jump into fire for her.

And it was not because of a spell.

He was –

Oh boy….

A vigilante and a witch.

A walking zombie and a mistress of spirits and supernatural.

What could possibly go wrong?

[justwannabecat]

“That’s it! I give up!” Phantom yelled. As though he had said something blasphemous, all fighting stopped as the participants stared in confusion. “You humans think you’re the paragon of all existence, proclaiming that anything different is lesser. Well we aren’t! We’re just as sentient as you are, and we have thoughts and feelings! You just choose to ignore it so you can justify your xenophobic actions!”

Phantom turned to Technus, who had frozen in shock as Phantom went on his tirade. “And you! Tell the other ghosts I’m done saving them, too, because none of you care! You don’t care if property is destroyed, or if humans get hurt, or if other ghosts get hurt! All you care about is your stupid Obsessions! You’re too caught up in your own mind to see what you’re doing to everyone around you!”

“But your Obsession is Protection, is it not? You’ve never stepped down from a fight-“ Technus began. Phantom didn’t let him finish.

“My Obsession is Space! If I had my way, I’d spend my nights stargazing, or maybe even on the moon! Instead I’m stuck cleaning up your messes because you can’t control yourselves!” Phantom growled. He glared at the crowd of people who had gathered, curious as to why all fighting had stopped.

“Humans are cruel and hateful. Ghosts are ignorant and careless. I’m tired of wasting my time protecting both sides from the other and being blamed for it. I quit. If anyone dies, or is captured, it’s no longer my problem.“

Like that, Phantom vanished.

The Fentons celebrated, not even noticing Technus make his own escape. The crowd murmured, worry just as prevalent as confidence. The few phones that were recording the event were put away, and later the footage would be checked. Unfortunately, most recordings were corrupted beyond recognition.

Most, but not all.

——————————————————

Amity Park. Ground Zero for the start of the war between the Living and the Dead. Humanity and Ghosts.

Why it had only recently escalated to this, Batman couldn’t tell. His research found that there had been a portal opened to the Realms years ago, and the laws passed just a year after that. Most of the town was stuck behind an information blackout that the government refused to give access to. Whatever happened, Constantine assured him that it was almost certainly the government’s fault.

After almost three weeks of trying to get beyond the firewalls, he finally figured it out. “Research” that claimed ghosts were nothing but evil. News articles calling “Phantom” a troublemaker. Forums that spoke about how “Phantom” ruined the town while fighting other ghosts.

A video, old and grainy but still clear enough to be used as evidence. A glowing, white-haired boy that told everyone he was done. That he was tired of fixing everything. Of saving everyone. That nobody was good, everyone was bad, and they were on their own.

They used to have a hero, but Phantom left. Without him, both sides tore at each other until there was nothing but an all-out assault. They needed to stop this, but without a mediator they would not make it through to the ghosts.

If they could find Phantom, perhaps they could fix everything before it was too late.

[q1ngqve]

tonight’s food for thought! "૮₍ •⤙•˶ being spread on the table with your clothes unbuttoned and eyes blindfolded like a meal prepared for the the three men 😋 with your vision obscured, your other senses are heightened and you try to ground yourself by listening out to who’s who, but it only gets you even more anxious because you have absolutely zero idea who is standing between your legs and who is by your side :( one moment aventurine is on your right and the next he is on your left. your fingers dig into the shoulders of the man fucking you right now, nails threatening to tear through his clothes and onto his skin. at this point you’re still able to form coherent thoughts, but when his tip kisses at your cervix and makes you cum around his cock, your body goes limp and your brain shuts down! he sheaths himself and steps away, and the next man takes over his place. he slides in easily and you think you might know who it is! sunday? he angles himself deep into you and grips at your throat, constricting your airflow. no, that feels more like ratio… but wait! he’s circling your clit with his thumb and it feels like aventurine… but wasn’t aventurine on your left just mere seconds ago? you cum too fast on the second round, pussy still sensitive from your first. a soft grunt comes from the man above you by your ear and warm spurts of cum join the first’s, and you frown, unable to determine who it was. the last man steps up to you and drags you off the table before turning you around and making you bend over the table. you collapse against the surface, trying to support yourself because your legs are literally shaking. the third man plunges in and you gasp, feeling him stretching you and pushing the previous two loads of cum back into you! his hand grips at your waist and hair, chuckling when he notices the wetness on the blindfold from your tears. all three men tease at you, asking you to guess who’s who when they know you’re already too cockdrunk to give a correct answer. rips the blindfold off after he cums and manhandles you to the bed, making you straddle sunday and take aventurine in your mouth, while ratio’s fingers prode at your other hole! ‘tsks’ in disapproval when you squirm and beg for them to be gentle, but they claim that this is your punishment for not making the correct guesses! so just take it like a good girl, okay? ☆〜（ゝ。∂ )

[tanadrin]

Revised version of "polytheism vs elaborateness" religion chart. I started with a list of around 150 religions, sects, denominations, philosophies, and spiritual tendencies, whittled down to 100 based on what I could find information on and what meaningful differences would actually show up in a chart like this. Dark blue is Christianity and Christian-derived tendencies; light blue is Judaism and Jewish-derived tendencies; green is Islam and Islam-influenced tendencies; purple is ancient Mediterranean polytheism and related schools of thought; red is Dharmic/Hindu-influenced schools of thought; tan is Chinese religion and philosophy; orange is new religious movements; black is other, unaffiliated religions and movements.

Obviously, "what is a religion" is a complicated topic. Some of the things on this chart might strike you more as philosophical schools (Carvaka, Stoicism), epistemological approaches (Unitarian Universalism), or different ways of slicing the same tradition. The scholarly definition of "religion" is sort of fundamentally circular, and that's not something I'm interested in trying to untangle for this entirely non-scientific exercise.

Religions etc. are scored on two axis: polytheism vs elaborateness of practice. Polytheism is a rank from zero to 11, thus:

0. Strict atheist and materialist, denying the possibility of both gods and the supernatural, e.g., Carvaka.

1. Atheist. Denies the existence of significant supernatural agents worthy of worship, but may not deny all supernatural (or psychic, paranormal, etc.) beings and phenomena (e.g., Mimamsa).

2. Agnostic. This religion makes no dogmatic claims about the existence of supernatural beings worthy of worship, and it may not matter for this religion if such beings exist (e.g., Unitarian Universalists). It does not preclude--and may actually incorporate--other supernatural, psychic, or paranormal phenomena (e.g., Scientology).

3. Deist. This religion acknowledges at least one god or Supreme Being, but rejects this being's active intervention in the world after its creation (e.g., Christian Deism). Deism is marked with a gray line on the chart, in case you want to distinguish religions that specifically care about all this God business from ones that don't.

4. Tawhid monotheist. This religion acknowledges only a single transcendent god above all other natural or supernatural beings, who is usually the creator of the universe and the ground of being, and is without parts, division, or internal distinction (e.g., Islam).

5. Formal monotheism. This religion acknowledges a single god, usually transcendent above all other natural or supernatural beings, but who may have aspects, hypostases, or distinct parts (e.g., Trinitarian Christianity). Pantheism may be considered a special case of formal monotheism that identifies the universe and its many discrete phenomena with a single god or divine force.

6. Dualism. This religion acknowledges a single god worthy of worship, alongside a second inferior, often malevolent being that nevertheless wields great power in or over the world (e.g., Zoroastrianism or Gnosticism).

7. Monolatrist. This religion or practice acknowledges the existence of many gods or divine beings worthy of worship, but focuses on, or happens to be devoted to only one of them (e.g., ancient mystery cults; pre-exilic Judaism).

8. Oligotheist. This religion worships a small group of divine beings, who may function for devotional or rhetorical purposes as a single entity (e.g., Mormonism, Smartism).

9. Monogenic polytheism/Henotheism. This religion worships many gods, which it sees as proceeding from or owing their existence to, a single underlying or overarching force or supreme god (e.g., many forms of Hinduism).

10. Heterogenic polytheism. This religion worships many gods, who have diverse origins and/or natures. Though the number of gods is in practical terms probably unlimited, gods are discrete entities or personalities, i.e., they are "countably infinite" (e.g., many polytheistic traditions).

11. Animism. This religion worships many gods which may or may not be discrete entities, and which may or may not be innumerable even in principle, i.e., they are "uncountably infinite" (e.g., many animist traditions).

What counts as a god is naturally a bit of a judgement call, as is exactly where a religion falls on this scale.

Elaborateness of practice is based on assigning one point per feature from the following list of features:

Uses vs forbids accompanied music in worship

Saints or intermediary beings accept prayers/devotion

Liturgical calendar with specific rituals or festivals

Practices monasticism

Venerates relics or holy objects

Clerics have special, elaborate clothing

Clerics have special qualificiations, e.g., must be celibate or must go through elaborate initiation/training

Elaborate sacred art or architecture used in places of worship

Sites of pilgrimage, or other form of cult centralization

Sophisticated religious hierarchy beyond the congregational level

Mandatory periods of fasting and/or complex dietary rules

Specific clothing requirements for laypeople

Specific body modifications either required or forbidden for laypeople

Liturgical language

Complex ritual purity rules

Performs sacrifice

Performs human sacrifice (or cannibalism)

Uses entheogens

Uses meditation or engages in mystical practice

Additionally, a point is taken away for austerity for each of the following features:

Forbids secular music outside worship

Claims sola scriptura tradition

Practices pacifism or ahimsa

Requires vegetarianism of all adherents

These scores are probably pretty inexact, since I am not a scholar of world religion.

This chart is not scientific, it's just a goof based on that @apricops post.

Other fun dimensions along which to chart religions might be:

Orthodoxy vs orthopraxy

Authoritarianism/control of members. This would add some much needed distinctions to Christian sects in particular, and to the new religious movements.

Elaborateness of cosmological claims. Some religions (looking at you, Buddhism) really go hog-wild here.

Social egalitarianism. Even within the same framework/tradition/philosophy, some practices differ radically on how egalitarian they are.

[sirenedeslily]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀 ‎⛧ 𝐜hristopher 𝐬turniolo

❛ long shady eyes, i’m all about her. ❜

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 6k!

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, you find yourself in a dark alley, heart pounding as you lock eyes with chris sturniolo, the cocky frontman of a band. as a man-eating demon, the hunger within you stirs, and the thrill of the chase ignites something primal. with only a few moments to spare, can you resist the urge to claim him as your next victim, or will he awaken desires you never knew you had?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, smut! softdom!chris x fem!reader, plot, use of pet names, unprotected sex, biting, scratching, overstimulation, hair pulling, slight choking, blood play, dark themes (?!), substance use

the bar hummed with a low, pulsing energy, the kind that clung to your skin and thickened the air. the stage lights cast a warm glow over the band as they played, catching in the sheen of sweat on chris’s neck as his fingers moved across the guitar. his voice, rough and deep, filled the room, cutting through the haze of cheap drinks and muted conversations.

from your spot in the corner, your eyes stayed locked on him, your lips curling as you swirled the cherry in your drink, trailing the rim of the glass. you were dressed to blend in—just another face in the crowd—but the way you carried yourself was far from ordinary. there was a confidence to you that felt dangerous, like you were playing a game only you knew the rules to.

your friend beside you babbled about something unimportant, oblivious to the shift in the air, the way your attention had zeroed in on one target. chris hadn’t noticed you yet. not fully. but you could feel the moment coming, the spark when his eyes would find yours, and the connection would snap into place.

you lifted the glass to your lips, biting down softly on the cherry stem, your tongue swirling around the sweet fruit. the tension was there already, crackling in the air between you, though he was still lost in the music, strumming and singing like he didn’t have a care in the world. your gaze didn’t waver, watching him, the predator in you lurking just beneath the surface, hungry.

when chris finally looked up from the strings of his guitar, his gaze swept across the crowd before landing on you. the second your eyes met, something shifted. you smiled, slow and deliberate, sinking back into your seat, letting him feel the weight of your stare. the game had begun.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

the band finished their set, the last notes of the guitar fading into the chatter and clinking of glasses. your friend cheered, calling the band amazing, but you barely heard her. the room felt charged, as though everything had dulled except for the throbbing in your chest and the pull you felt toward chris.

“be right back,” you murmured to your friend, slipping away from the table without waiting for a response. you weaved through the crowd, your movements languid, deliberate, and out the door. the night air hit you like a shock, cool and refreshing compared to the heat of the bar, but your mind was on one thing.

chris.

you found him outside in the alley, the glow of his cigarette flaring as he took a drag. his back was against the brick wall, his dark hair hanging in his face as he stared off into the distance, lost in thought. you stepped closer, letting the sound of your heels against the pavement announce your presence. his eyes flicked toward you, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” his voice was low, a quiet challenge, almost amused.

you tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you stepped into the shadowed alley, closer to him. “maybe i like the view,” you said, your voice sweet but laced with something darker. “besides, i thought i’d find something interesting here.”

chris chuckled, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. he pushed himself off the wall, closing the space between you, his eyes raking over you in a way that was far too confident. “something interesting, huh? and what would that be?”

you looked up at him through your lashes, your fingers trailing down your bare arm, your skin practically buzzing with the tension in the air. “depends on how much you can handle,” you murmured, your voice soft, teasing.

his smile widened, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes now—something cautious, a spark of intrigue mixed with amusement. “you’ve got quite the mouth on you,” he said, voice dropping, teasing. “bet you already knew that.”

he took another step closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “got you speechless now? come on, sweetheart, use that mouth of yours. I bet you’re good with it.” his smirk lingered, challenging, daring you to respond, as though he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

you didn’t flinch under his gaze. Instead, you stepped closer, your body brushing his as you tilted your head up to look him in the eye, the smirk never leaving your lips. “careful honey, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

for a split second, his confidence faltered. It was barely noticeable, but you caught it—the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty, the brief hitch in his breath. He didn’t know who—or what—he was dealing with. not yet.

but he would.

chris leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke, his voice nothing but a low rasp now. “oh, i think i can handle whatever you’re offering.”

your lips parted, the sharpness in your gaze softening just enough to let the desire show through.

for a second, you considered making this quick, ending it before it even began. but something in the way he looked at you, the raw challenge in his eyes, made you pause. there was something different about him, something that made you want to draw this out.

you reached up, your fingers grazing his arm lightly, your touch almost tender. “is that so?” you whispered, leaning in closer until your lips were barely a breath away from his. “you should be careful, chris. sometimes , the things that look good are the most dangerous.”

his hand caught your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm, almost possessive. “i like danger,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, taunting. “and you don’t scare me.”

for a moment, the world seemed to slow. you could feel the tension between you thrumming in the air, thick and heavy, like it was holding its breath. you could taste the anticipation, the hunger that burned just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

then, you smiled—slow, wicked, and full of dark promise. “you will be.”

you pressed even closer to him, the thin straps of your tight red tank top brushing against his chest. the fabric clung to every curve of your body, your short denim skirt teasing the tops of your thighs as the night air chilled your skin. you could feel his eyes on you, lingering on the low neckline, on the way the red popped against your skin, as if daring him to look further, to touch.

and you wanted him to. the pull between you was undeniable—an electric current thrumming through the space where your bodies met. he smelled of cigarettes and leather, and the cocky grin he wore only fueled the tension between you, like he thought he had you figured out.

but you weren’t like the others. not at all.

his curls fell loosely over his forehead, dark and wild, framing his sharp features. there was a lazy confidence in the way he looked at you, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you. but the hunger in your eyes was feral, barely restrained, and he didn’t even realize how close he was to being devoured.

you leaned in, your lips ghosting over his jaw, the faintest brush of heat that made him inhale sharply. He was so sure of himself, so cocky, like you weren’t the most dangerous thing in the alley. “what are you going to do now?” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, your lips grazing his skin. “you think you can handle me?”

his hand gripped your waist tighter, pulling your body flush against his. you could feel the strength in his hold, the way his fingers pressed into your skin, possessive. “i told you,” he growled softly, his voice rough with desire. “i like danger.”

you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched when your hand slid up his chest, your nails dragging lightly over the fabric of his shirt. you smiled, slow and dangerous, before pushing him back against the wall, your body pressing into his, trapping him between the brick and you.

the shift in power was instant, but you could see that flicker in his eyes—the spark of excitement, of challenge. he liked the fight. and you loved to give it.

your lips met his in a crash of heat, teeth, and hunger. there was nothing soft about the kiss—just raw desire and the clashing of dominance. he kissed you like he was trying to claim you, but you weren’t going to be claimed. not by him. not by anyone.

you bit down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw a soft growl from his throat. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, like he needed to feel every inch of you. the pain only fueled the fire burning between you. you felt his body respond to yours, the hardness of him pressing against your thigh as his hands roamed down to your ass, grabbing you roughly.

he grinned into the kiss, cocky as ever, like he had the upper hand. “you’re a wild one, aren’t you?” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and teasing.

you pulled back, your breath ragged, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “you have no idea,” you whispered, your fingers curling in his hair, tugging his head back roughly. his curls felt soft between your fingers, but the way you yanked made him hiss in pleasure.

with a sudden move, you dragged your nails down his chest, hard enough to make him wince. he bit his lip, the pain only spurring him on. he wasn’t afraid of you. if anything, he loved it. and that made you want him even more.

your hands slid under his shirt, nails grazing the taut skin of his abdomen. he groaned, the sound low and rough, as you scratched him, marking him as yours in the most primal way. his cockiness faltered for a split second, but the grin was back as soon as you pressed your lips to his neck, biting down hard enough to bruise.

chris’s hands gripped your waist tighter, and in a sudden motion, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall now, his breath hot against your ear. “you like to bite,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “i can do that too, baby.”

his lips were on your neck in an instant, sucking and biting the skin there, his teeth grazing over your pulse point. you moaned, your body arching into him as his hands slid up under your tank top, fingers brushing the bare skin of your back. every touch was rough, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t control the desire that raged between you.

but you weren’t going to let him have all the control.

you scratched down his back, hard, your nails digging into his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. he growled in response, the sound sending a thrill down your spine, and bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to make you gasp. you loved the way he reacted to you, how much he enjoyed the pain you gave him.

even though you weren’t killing him like the others, you couldn’t stop the predator in you from taking over. your movements were fast, animalistic, every bite, every scratch a reminder of what you could do. and yet, he wasn’t afraid. he matched your intensity with his own, his hands grabbing at your hips roughly as he ground himself against you, his breath hot and uneven.

“fuck,” he breathed out, his voice a low growl. “you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

you smiled, licking your lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood from the bite you’d left on him. “you love it.”

his hands slid down your body, gripping your thighs and hoisting you up against the wall, the rough brick scraping against your back as your legs wrapped around him. his lips crashed into yours again, bruising and desperate, his fingers digging into your skin as if he couldn’t get enough. the tension between you was unbearable, the need to take and be taken surging through your veins.

you tugged at his hair again, pulling his head back to expose his neck. your teeth grazed his skin, the urge to bite hard and deep surging within you, but instead, you left soft, teasing nips down his throat, letting him feel the danger without fully giving in.

chris’s grip on you tightened, his cockiness fading just enough for you to see the raw desire in his eyes. “you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

you smirked, your hands roaming down his chest, nails scratching lightly over the muscles there. “good,” you whispered, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “let’s see how long you can keep up.”

chris’s hands gripped your thighs tighter as he pressed you against the cold brick, your back scraping slightly against the rough surface. the heat between your bodies was undeniable now, burning like a fever. he grinned, that cocky smirk never leaving his face as he moved his hips, grinding against you just enough to drive you mad.

your body arched into him, your breath catching in your throat as you felt the hardness of him pressing right where you needed it. he was teasing you, his lips hovering just inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin.

you tugged his hair harder, pulling his head back so you could bite down on the side of his neck, hard enough to leave a mark. he groaned, his hands tightening their hold on your thighs as his hips pressed even harder into you.

“i could tear you apart,” you whispered against his skin, your voice low and dangerous. you ran your tongue over the bite you’d left, savoring the salty taste of his skin. “and you’d let me. wouldn’t you baby?”

chris chuckled, a deep, raspy sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “i’d love to see you try,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

with a sudden movement, he set you down, spinning you around so you were facing the wall, his chest pressed against your back. his hand slid up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher, exposing more of your skin to the cool night air. his fingers traced the hem of your panties, teasing but not quite touching, making you squirm in anticipation.

your breath came out in ragged gasps as you felt his lips press against the back of your neck, hot and hungry. “you look so fucking good like this,” he whispered, his breath sending chills down your spine. “bet you taste even better.”

before you could respond, his hand slipped under your panties, his fingers brushing lightly over your clit, teasing you with just the faintest touch. you moaned, your hips bucking back against him, desperate for more. but he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet.

his fingers circled you slowly, agonizingly slow, just enough to drive you mad. you gritted your teeth, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but every touch was breaking you down piece by piece. “you think you can tease me like that?” you growled, your voice rough with frustration.

chris leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “i told you, i’m not scared of a pretty girl like you.” his fingers pressed harder against you now, making your body jerk in response.

you were losing control, the animal in you rising to the surface. you turned around quickly, pushing him back, your nails digging into his chest as you shoved him against the opposite wall. the look in his eyes was pure excitement—he wanted this fight, this struggle for dominance.

pressing your body against his, your lips crashing into his once again, biting at his lower lip hard enough to make him gasp. his hands moved to your ass, squeezing roughly as he kissed you back with equal ferocity, tongues clashing, breaths heavy.

your fingers moved to the waistband of his jeans and boxers, tugging them down just enough to free him, your hand wrapping around his length, feeling the heat and hardness of him against your palm. he groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking into your hand as you stroked him, slow and deliberate.

but you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. you were in control now.

you broke the kiss, your breath ragged as you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “on your knees doll,” you commanded, your voice dripping with dominance.

for a moment, he just stared at you, that cocky grin faltering for a second as he realized you weren’t playing around. but then, with a smirk, he obeyed, sinking to his knees before you, his hands gripping your thighs as he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes.

you tugged your skirt up higher, letting it rest on your hips as you stared down at him, running your fingers through his messy curls. he looked so good like this, on his knees, waiting for your command, ready to do whatever you wanted.

without a word, you stepped forward, pushing your panties aside as you pressed yourself against his mouth. He didn’t hesitate, his tongue immediately flicking over your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. you gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair as he licked and sucked at you, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.

his tongue moved with expert precision, teasing and tasting every inch of you, making your legs tremble as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your core, every flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“fuck, sweetheart,” you moaned, your head falling back as you ground yourself against his face, the pleasure overwhelming. “just like that.”

he groaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body as he pressed his tongue harder against you, his pace quickening. your fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing everything.

you were so close now, teetering on the edge, the pleasure almost too much to bear. and just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right, sending you over the edge.

your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your entire body shaking as you cried out, your thighs trembling around his head. chris didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working you through it, dragging out every last bit of pleasure until you were left gasping for breath.

you pulled away from him, your legs feeling weak, but you weren’t done yet. not even a little bit.

before he could stand, you dropped to your knees in front of him, pushing him back against the wall. his cock was hard and throbbing, and you could see the way his chest heaved as he looked at you, his eyes dark with lust.

you wasted no time, taking him into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base of him as you sucked him deep, your tongue swirling around his length. he groaned, his hand gripping your hair as you bobbed your head, your mouth working him with the same intensity he’d given you.

“fuck, you’re so good at that,” he growled, his hips bucking into your mouth as you took him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate his size. You could taste the salt of his pre-cum on your tongue, and it only made you want him more.

you moved faster, your hand stroking what you couldn’t take in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head of him, making him gasp. his grip on your hair tightened, his hips moving in time with your movements, desperate and rough.

he was close, you could feel it in the way his body tensed, in the way his breaths came out in short, ragged gasps. and then, with a low growl, he came, his release hot and thick as it spilled into your mouth.

you swallowed every last drop, licking him clean as you pulled back, your lips swollen and red from the intensity of it all.

as you rose to your feet, chris’s cocky expression remained, but his breathing was ragged. he leaned back against the brick wall, watching you, still catching his breath. his body screamed of satisfaction, but there was something darker, something more primal still pulling at you.

you weren’t finished yet.

you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, eyes locked onto his, feeling the rush of power surge through your veins. his release had only whetted your appetite. You could still taste him on your tongue, but it wasn’t enough. not for you.

chris pushed himself up slightly, still towering over you, the smugness returning to his gaze as he reached for you. “you’ve got quite the ego on you,” you muttered, your voice hoarse, thick with desire. “but i’m not done with you doll.”

without missing a beat, you slammed him back into the wall, harder this time, your hand pressing against his chest, keeping him pinned in place. the impact knocked the air from his lungs, his eyes widening as the force of your strength became undeniable. you smirked down at him, your nails digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“you think you can handle me, huh?” you hissed, your voice low, dangerous. “you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

he looked at you, his lips parting slightly in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. if anything, he leaned into it, into you, his cock still hardening again, his desire growing. the thrill of your intensity, the danger, had him on the edge of insanity.

you straddled his waist again, your hands gripping his shoulders as you ground yourself against him. his head fell back, a low groan escaping his throat as you teased him, not giving him what he wanted but making sure he felt every bit of your hunger. the friction between you both was electric, the heat from your bodies nearly overwhelming.

“fuck,” chris rasped, his hands moving up to your hips, but you slapped them away, asserting your dominance once again. he stared at you, his dark eyes blown wide with lust, his lips curling into a grin.

“you’re dangerous, aren’t you?” his eyes flicked to your lips, his voice dropping lower. “those pretty eyes, that perfect mouth… you look all sweet and innocent, but i know there’s venom hiding underneath.”

you leaned down, your lips hovering just above his as you whispered, “i could devour you.”

the truth hung in the air between you. you weren’t like the others he’d been with. you were something more. something insatiable. his cockiness, his bravado, it all fueled you. he didn’t know just how close he was to being consumed by you, but that’s what made it fun. it was like playing with your food, savoring every moment before the final bite.

with a swift movement, you tore his shirt open, the buttons popping off and scattering across the alley as you exposed his chest. your nails raked down his skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake, causing him to hiss in pleasure. you watched as his muscles tensed beneath your touch, his body responding to the roughness with eagerness. he loved it. He craved it.

“you like that?” you teased, biting down on his neck again, harder this time. he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs as you marked him, your teeth sinking into his skin just enough to draw blood. the metallic taste of him flooded your senses, and you felt the hunger within you grow stronger, more urgent.

chris’s breathing quickened, his hips bucking against you as you licked the blood from his neck, your tongue gliding over the wound you’d left. you pulled back, staring down at him, the sight of him disheveled, bleeding, and desperate making you feel invincible.

“you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” you whispered, running your fingers over his chest, down to his stomach, watching the way his body reacted to every touch. he was yours now, caught in the web of your hunger, and you could do whatever you wanted with him.

but you didn’t want to kill him. not yet. you wanted to savour this, to drag it out, to play with him until he was begging for more.

chris growled, pulling you closer, his mouth crashing into yours, the kiss hungry and feral. his hands moved to your ass, squeezing roughly as he ground himself against you, the friction between you both driving you wild. you could feel him growing harder beneath you, and you knew he was close to losing control.

but you weren’t going to give in to what he wanted—this was about you.

you pulled back, breaking the kiss, and shoved him down onto the ground. the rough pavement scraped against his back, but he didn’t care. he looked up at you with that same smirk he loved to adorn, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched you, waiting to see what you would do next.

you stood over him, your foot resting on his chest as you stared down at him, your eyes dark and dangerous. “beg,” you commanded, your voice dripping with dominance.

chris’s smirk faltered for a second, but then he grinned, his hands moving to your ankles as he looked up at you. “you want me to beg? again?”

you pressed your foot harder against his chest, your nails digging into your own thighs as you fought to maintain control. “i said, beg.”

he stared at you for a moment, his eyes burning with defiance, but then he nodded, his voice low and breathless as he muttered, “please love. i want you.. crave you, need you.”

the sound of his pathetic submission sent a wave of heat through your body, your blood pounding in your ears as you stared down at him. you had him exactly where you wanted him, and it was intoxicating.

you knelt down over him, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “good boy.”

before he could respond, you pressed yourself against him, guiding his cock into you with one quick motion. he groaned loudly, his hands moving to your hips as you rode him, the feeling of him filling you completely overwhelming.

you weren’t gentle. moving with a brutal, animalistic intensity, your body grinding against his, your nails digging into his chest as you took what you wanted. chris’s moans filled the air, his body writhing beneath you as you fucked him, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the alleyway.

you leaned down, biting his shoulder hard, your teeth sinking into his flesh as you marked him again and again. each bite drew blood, and each drop only fueled your hunger further. you could feel him tensing beneath you, his body responding to your every movement, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he tried to keep up with your pace.

you moved faster, harder, the pressure building inside you as your nails scraped down his chest, leaving deep red lines in their wake. chris’s breath came out in ragged gasps, his body shaking beneath you as he neared his breaking point.

“you’re mine,” you growled, your voice rough with desire as you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. “say it.”

chris’s eyes fluttered open, a mix of surprise and desire swirling in their depths as he gazed up at you. “fuck—i’m yours… all yours,” he murmured, and those words ignited a flame deep within you, fueling a primal need to dominate him completely.

you began to move, your body gliding against his with a fervor that made his breath hitch. the sight of him unraveling beneath you was intoxicating; every shudder, every gasp that escaped his lips stoked the fire inside you. his hands gripped your thighs with a desperation that left marks on your skin, but you thrived on it, feeding off the power you held over him.

“can’t—please, i need—” he gasped, trying to articulate the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. you pushed him to the brink, reveling in the way his body responded, muscles taut and trembling with the need for release.

his pleasure peaked, and you felt the heat radiating from him as he reached his climax, the ecstasy washing over him in waves. you watched him, captivated, as he came undone beneath you. his body trembled, every muscle quaking as he surrendered completely, and for a moment, he lost himself in the pleasure.

but even as he caught his breath, you weren’t finished. the moment he came, a dark hunger surged within you, an insatiable need to keep him teetering on the edge. as his body shuddered, you continued to grind against him, feeling the remnants of his pleasure pulse inside you.

“please, i can’t take it,” he begged, his voice raw and desperate. but the plea only fueled your desire, igniting a wicked smile on your lips. you leaned down, your chest pressing against his, letting him feel every inch of you as you whispered, “you’re my doll now, and i want to see just how much you can take.”

he groaned, a mix of frustration and desire, but you could see the way his eyes darkened with need. “you’re sick,” he muttered, a hint of amusement lacing his voice despite the overwhelming sensations. you took the moment to tease him, rolling your hips just right, and the way he writhed beneath you made you feel powerful.

“just a little more, sweetheart. let me hear you,” you encouraged, and he nodded, biting his lip as you began to move again. the way he squirmed, overwhelmed by the sensations, made your heart race. tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, a testament to how far you were pushing him, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at the sight.

“do you want to stop?” you asked, feigning innocence, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in closer. but as you did, you could feel him hardening again inside you, the evidence of his desire undeniable.

he shook his head, a mix of determination and desperation etched across his features. “no… please don’t stop,” he breathed, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth as he surrendered completely to the pleasure. the sight of him, completely undone, fueled the demonic urge within you, and you continued to tease and torment him.

“you’re such a good boy,” you purred, your voice dripping with sweetness as you picked up the pace again. “my little doll, just for me.” each thrust sent shockwaves through his body, and you could feel him pulse within you, the remnants of his previous release mixing with the new waves of pleasure you were drawing from him.

with every movement, you made sure he felt every inch of you, your breasts pressing against his chest, teasing him with the soft curves of your body. he groaned again, the sound a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you reveled in the way he lost himself in the sensations.

“you’re going to make kill me,” he gasped, a mix of pleasure and frustration dancing in his eyes, yet the way he writhed beneath you told a different story. he was completely at your mercy, and you loved it.

“is that what you want?” you teased, leaning down to nip at his neck, savoring the way he shuddered beneath your touch. “to die with pleasure? you’re already so close; i can feel you pulsing inside me.”

you continued to ride him, pushing him over the edge once more, each thrust a reminder of the power you held. the way he quaked beneath you, tears streaming down his cheeks, only intensified your desire to keep going.

“look at you,” you murmured, breathless with excitement. “so beautiful when you’re like this—my doll, completely mine.”

with a final thrust, you felt him spill into you again, hot and thick, but even then, you didn’t relent. you reveled in the feeling of him, still hard despite his release, and the realization that you could push him to the brink over and over sent you into a frenzy of lust.

“one more,” you commanded, and the way he shook his head, helpless yet yearning, made you smile. “i want to see you fall apart again.”

“please,” he whimpered, body trembling as you continued to ride him, teasing him relentlessly. the overstimulation drove him wild, his body responding eagerly to every thrust, every twist of your hips.

“such a good boy,” you praised, your voice sultry as you leaned in to capture his lips with yours, drowning in the intoxicating mix of pleasure and desperation. the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in your own little realm of ecstasy.

he was yours completely, and the knowledge sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you as you continued to tease, torment, and ultimately consume him, reveling in every moment.

and with those words, you felt him come undone beneath you, his body shuddering as he reached his release, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly it hurt. the sight of him losing control, the feeling of his body trembling beneath yours, sent you over the edge as well, your own release crashing through you like a tidal wave.

your body convulsed, your breath catching in your throat as you rode out the waves of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin one final time as you collapsed onto him, both of you panting, completely spent.

you stayed like that for a moment, your bodies tangled together, the heat of your shared desire still lingering in the air. and then, slowly, you pulled away, standing up and looking down at him.

chris was still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared up at you, a mixture of awe and exhaustion in his eyes.

you licked your lips, tasting the faint trace of his blood still on your tongue, and smiled.

“i told you,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “i could devour you.”

chris lay on the cold, hard pavement, completely spent, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. his body was covered in the marks of your nails and teeth—evidence of the savage hunger that had consumed you both. his skin was littered with deep red scratches and bruises that would take days to heal, and he loved every second of it.

you took a step back, admiring your work, watching his chest rise and fall as his eyes fluttered open. his once-cocky expression was now one of complete submission, his body spent, vulnerable beneath you. but you could still see it, deep within his gaze—the desire, the lust, the craving for more. even now, he wanted you again.

the thought of it sent a shiver down your spine. the hunger in you hadn’t dissipated. you’d taken what you wanted from him, yes, but you were still hungry, still aching for more. that gnawing need that lived inside you—the one that drove you to consume—was never fully satisfied.

you crouched down next to him, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face as you ran your fingers lightly over the scratches on his chest. he winced, but his lips curled into a grin, his gaze never leaving yours.

“you’re… something else,” he panted, his voice hoarse and ragged. he let out a breathless laugh, his cocky smirk returning despite the state he was in. “i’ve never… fuck, i’ve never had anyone like you.”

you smiled down at him, but it wasn’t a smile of affection. it was the smile of a predator, pleased with its prey. you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “you have no idea.”

chris shivered beneath you, his breath hitching at the sensation, but his hands twitched toward you again, desperate to touch, to feel more of you. the man was insatiable, even after everything. you almost admired that—almost.

you stood, leaving him there on the ground, as you straightened your clothes. your red tank top clung to your skin, sticky with the sheen of sweat, while your denim skirt had ridden up just enough to show off your legs. you fixed your hair, the wildness of the moment still clinging to you as you turned to look back at chris, who was now sitting up, still breathless but watching you with that same hungry look.

he was on the verge of saying something—maybe something cocky, or maybe something sweet—but before he could, you placed a finger over your lips, signalling for him silence himself.

“shh,” you whispered, your voice sultry, the dominance still dripping from every word.

chris stared at you, his brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t speak. he just watched you, his eyes trailing over your body, still wanting more even though his body had been pushed to the limit.

you knelt in front of him, getting on his level, your hand sliding up his neck, your nails grazing his skin. his pulse was rapid, his heartbeat quick under your touch, but you didn’t care. he was still just prey. you were the one in control. you always had been.

“you should be careful,” you said softly, your lips curling into a wicked smile as you leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his lips. “not every girl you meet is going to let you walk away alive.”

the words hung heavy in the air, and chris’s eyes widened just slightly. His smirk faltered, realization dawning on him as he started to understand just how dangerous this encounter had been. but there was still a spark of arrogance in him, a thrill at the danger.

“guess i’m lucky tonight then, huh?” he rasped, his voice strained but full of bravado.

you laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood up, towering over him once again. “maybe,” you replied, your tone teasing but laced with a hint of something darker. “or maybe next time, i won’t be so merciful.”

chris’s gaze darkened, a mixture of fascination and fear dancing in his eyes as he watched you. he had no idea just how close he had come to being consumed by you—how easy it would’ve been for you to take his life like the others before him. but tonight, for some reason, you’d let him live.

he was still sitting on the ground, staring up at you, his body bruised and marked, his pride wounded but not broken. You could see it in his eyes—he wanted more. he craved the danger, the thrill, the raw, animalistic intensity that you brought out in him. But he had no idea what he was playing with.

you gave him one last look, a predatory smile curling on your lips as you turned to walk away. his voice called after you, a breathless plea disguised as arrogance.

“what’s your name?” he called, his voice rough, still hoarse from your earlier encounter.

you stopped in your tracks, your back still to him as you considered his question. it was almost amusing, how after everything, he still wanted to know you, still wanted to pull you closer.

without turning back, you answered simply, “you don’t need to know.”

and with that, you disappeared into the night, leaving chris behind, still hungry, still aching for more.

the city lights glowed faintly in the distance as you walked away, your heart pounding in your chest, but not from excitement or pleasure—it was from the hunger. it always was. chris had been nothing more than another thrill, another taste to keep you going. it wasn’t enough. it never was.

as you moved through the streets, blending into the shadows, you felt the gnawing emptiness inside of you growing again. the hunger was insatiable, and no matter how many boys you consumed, no matter how many times you let yourself indulge in the thrill of the hunt, it would never be satisfied.

that was the curse of being what you were. you were a predator, a hunter, forever driven by the need to consume, to dominate, to devour. and while chris had been fun—cocky, arrogant, thrilling in his own way—he was just another meal. another prey in the endless cycle of your existence.

you couldn’t deny it—the thrill of it all was intoxicating. the way he’d looked at you, the way he’d fought for control only to lose it, the way his body had trembled beneath yours… it was addictive.

and maybe, just maybe, you’d let him live because deep down, you wanted to feel that thrill again.

after all, you were a predator. and predators always come back for more.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ get this freaky aah outta here 😭😭 man this is my first ever smut so the writing does in fact suck but juhvibe twin.. freaktober is here and we 🆙 (might be the only smut i write)

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @fawnchives @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss

© sirenedeslily

[imagionationstation]

Today on the Mikey Is Not Abused news

Research shows that 78% of the “Poor Mikey” fanclub claims that Mikey is incapable of standing up for himself, whether that be because he fears further abuse, fears his brothers in general, suffers from intense depression, an abuse sort of conditioning, or *insert other incredulous views here* (Statistics may not be entirely accurate and should be used with caution).

Unfortunately for them, Mikey does knows how to stand up for himself and it has been shown that he can speak his mind to even the main abuser, Raphael, and walk away unscathed.

Astonishing claim, I know, but the facts prove themselves.

Mikey has brought up beliefs on several occasions, but his lack of awareness outside his own mind often disproves his own claims.

Years of leprechauns, cream cheese demons, and certainty in cupcake uprisings have worn down his brothers’ trust in his word on many different subjects. This is not his brothers ignoring him out of spite. This is merely because he has proven himself to be an unreliable source when it comes to reality.

His lack of interest in taking most battles and training sessions seriously grate on his brothers’ nerves and often lead them to doubt his prowess and abilities on the field. Mikey being the youngest and earning all of their must protect with life instincts doesn’t exactly help his case. He knowingly brings much of their wrath upon himself- with tauntings, and purposefully infuriating acts, and the constant reappearance of Dr. Prankenstein.

When Mikey doesn’t go gun-hoe or call Raph out for a whack on the head, it’s probably because he’s conscious enough to know he likely said/did something stupid, or because he purposefully did something annoying.

However, if he sees an injustice affect another by his brothers’ hand, he will be the first one to stand up and correct it.

Mikey is proven to be more likely to speak his mind when it comes to others around him getting retribution that he deems underserved.

IN FACT, a few of the only times fans actually see an aggressive argument/challenge poised to a brother is to Raphael, often in regards to his crass judgement.

Take Fourfold Trap as an example:

“I got the answer for you! Karai’s a lost cause!”

“Don’t say that, dude!”

Mikey shoves at Raph’s shoulder to make him face him and they both begin yelling/bickering/roughly gesturing. Mikey is in no way scared of how Raph will react to this and is immediate in getting physically aggressive and speaking his mind.

Not normally how someone who’s been abused all their life would act towards the main abuser, I think. Not convincing enough?

Well, The Curse of Savanti Romero is another:

In it, Renet is seen admitting to her mistake of letting Romero loose. Raph responds by immediately coming down on her for it, even though she understands and regrets her mistake.

Mikey has zero hesitations about jumping into the picture.

“You really are the worst time traveler ever! The worst!”

“Back off, bro! She needs our help!”

Psychology of most abusers would not point to this kind of situation going well. If this were the case- in no universe would Raphael have relented under his brother’s glare and stepped away, especially not after being shoved and yelled at in front of someone outside the family. That would be seen as a calling for punishment.

Moving away would be letting the abused assert dominance and think that they’ve gotten away with a win.

If this were really an abusive relationship, then Raphael would have had a far more violent reaction to his youngest brother butting in.

Instead, he growled, glared, and then relented. He could tell this was not an issue that could be further challenged. Mikey was standing his ground, intensely meeting his glare, and so Raph stepped away.

Now, have there been times where Mikey felt like he was left out or being ignored and that made him feel insecure?

Yes. Absolutely. Mikey Gets Shellacne is a prime example.

But, have the abusers, his older brothers, been made to share similar feelings of being unable to rely on their brothers at one time or another? Perhaps due to his direct or indirect actions? Why, yes.

Because, as hard as it is to believe, every person in that family has made mistakes when dealing with another family member. Relationships are hard. Not one person, or mutant, is perfect, and facing or accepting insecurities is always a fact of growing up.

Is this to say Mikey never stands up for himself?

No. Not even close.

Is it ever portrayed as something big and dramatic as a focal point of an episode? No. Because it doesn’t need to be.

If Mikey holding onto resentment and depression from how his brother abuse him was meant to be part of his character, it would have been a plot point in the episode where they’re literally in his brain. There would have been the slightest hint of something going on somewhere in that chaotic realm.

Instead, Mikey’s brain welcomed all of his brother with open arms.

And the true, inner Mikey runs ecstatically toward his brothers and into Leo’s open arms for snuggles, no more scared of his brothers inside his mind than outside of it.

The only time that he has thoughts of “my brothers are so mean to me I should run away” is the episode The Croaking, where he takes accountability and has the realization that his brothers aren’t the jerks that he thought they were when he ran off…

“Dude. Your brothers sound awesome.”

“Yeah. They are… Even after I trashed the house.”

Mikey doesn’t often react violently to his brother’s teasing because there’s not a reason too. He understands that his brother’s pick on him, but in reality, he picks on them too. It’s not a big enough deal to point out unless an evil planet is letting Angry Mikey consume all of his thoughts and then everything is terrible.

Mikey can stand up for himself. Mikey will always stand up for others.

And that brings this article to an end. Subscribe for more!

Next time, we’ll discuss why Parasitica May or May Not have a worse reputation than it truly deserves. Cowbunga!

[songmingisthighs]

Two Is Better Than One

February Filth Fest - extra; size training/size kink, ftfwb (?)

group : ateez

pairing : mingi × reader × yunho

genre : smut

word count : 5.5 k

warning : mdni, explicit sex; piv, threesome, size training, size kink, friends with benefits relationship, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n : i am but a human, i was tempted to write this and i couldn't help myself. this was not planned for fff but i just asgnsognspso i can't not, yknow ? i am a whorish whore, i am an A B O M I N A T I O N. and i kinda went overboard with this, i didn't even realize i was rambling away. anyways enjoy :D

buy me coffee ?

Mingi's sweater felt comfortable on you, it was warm and it smelled like him. Not just his perfume, but his own scent. You've always loved the fact that he appreciated fashion down to the fabric and he ALWAYS has a keen eye. What you loved most about it was how Mingi was always willing to share his clothing items with you. And thank God he did because it made the conversation you were having with Mingi WAY easier.

"So... you want to have sex with me..." Mingi started off, looking at you, who were sitting on his bed with your legs pulled to your chest, confusedly. "As friends," you intercepted, making Mingi smack his forehead sardonically, "Right, of course, as friends, because you... Want more experience?" He asked, making sure he didn't heard you wrong. You huffed, cheeks red in embarrassment, "And because I want to get used to guys who are... You know..." You trailed off as you waved your hands at his general direction, avoiding eye contact with him, "On the bigger side."

Truly, you wanted the ground to split in half and swallow you whole because that was hard to hear, say, and experience.

It all started when you went out with your girlfriends a couple of nights ago. Their open discussion about the partners they have been with came up and soon everyone was describing the penises they've taken. While you didn't exactly have a weekly quota to fill, the number of your sexual partner was still on the normal side but one thing that your friends caught on was that the size you took were usually those in the medium to the small side. Then the jokes rolled in and you hated that. Obviously, you could've lied, you could've made the claim that you had actually taken a man whose dick is monster sized but the words died in your mouth. But at the same time, an idea popped into your head. Your best friend. Or his roommate.

Mingi chuckled, making you groan because you thought he was going to make fun of you. "Why did you think of me?" he asked, voice void of malice or tease, simply curiosity. But his question didn't make you feel better because you were forced to tell him how you thought of him in the first place. You'd have to be honest that you checked him out more times than you could admit in whatever clothing he wore. It was a known fact that Mingi looked like a damn model and that fucked you up quite a bit. You would have to confess that whenever you and he go swimming, your eyes would automatically zero in on his crotch, watching how the fabric of his swim trunks clung onto his crotch, perfectly accentuating his OBVIOUSLY BIG-looking dick. Mingi waited for your answer, but all he could see was how your face had gone a deeper shade of red, announcing your embarrassment to him wordlessly. As his eyes trailed down, he took notice of the way your legs clenched together, the expanse of your knees appearing down from his sweater that was too long for your body and your bare knees touching. Your state let him know what you were thinking, and what your answer was to his question. Or at least an idea.

You were surprised when you felt the bed dip right by your foot and even more so when he took your legs and pulled them to either side of his body. When you looked up at him, Mingi was sporting a mischievous grin, staring at you with a knowing look that made you visibly swallow the lump that was forming in your throat. "Been checking out my goods, haven't you?" he teased, adding a chuckle at the end to further let you know that he was being a tease. You pouted and were about to kick him with your right leg but failed as he managed to pull the leg and slung it over his left shoulder as he simultaneously pulled you closer to him so that your hips were on his lap and your upper body lay flat on your back. "Do you think I'm hot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side to faux innocence while his left hand tickle the skin on your upper knee where his hand rested. You rolled your eyes and mindlessly mumbled to him, "Of course, I think you're hot, I fucking have eyes," not realizing that Mingi could hear you perfectly. Pleased with your answer, Mingi chuckled and leaned forward to trap you under him with his hands on either side of your head, "Is that why you wanna fuck me? You want to tell your friends that you had sex with your hot, big-cocked best friend?" he teased, face coming closer to yours that you could feel his breath fanning on your face. "Look at me," he demanded, forcing you to look up at him, staring into his eyes to see a glint of both playfulness and want.

When Mingi dove down to take your lips in his, you were caught very off guard. You didn't expect your talk with Mingi, your request, to be taken so seriously by the man to the point that he was now on his way to let you know how it feels to be taking a cock with a size that you've never tried before. The intrusion of Mingi's tongue in your mouth made you gasp. Mingi took that chance to fully explore the cavern of your mouth, moaning into it as he pressed his body close to yours as best as he could. Your right leg which was on Mingi's shoulder was folded in half while your left fell around his waist at the pressure of his body against you. You could feel his dick pressing against your core and your head was swimming with the thought of finally being able to feel its shape after the long time you spent only oggling at it when given the chance. It didn't occur to you how perverted you sound but you quickly shove the thought away to enjoy the feeling of Mingi on you.

You took a deep breath, gasping for air even when Mingi pulled his mouth off of you. "You're wilder than I expect you to be, (y/n). I never thought you'd be so ambitious that you wanted to be used to taking a big cock," he chuckled on your skin, his warm breath tickling your skin and the vibration of his voice travelled to cover the area where his lips made contact. "Or maybe you just wanna see and feel my cock inside you, huh? Using that lame fucking excuse just to appear innocent," his head lifted from your neck, smirking down at you as you felt his hands moving inside his sweater that you were wearing, eyes widening when he realized what he felt, "You're not wearing a shirt under this?" he asked, pleasantly surprised. You pursed your lips and shook your head, not knowing why he was so surprised, "I never wear anything underneath when I borrow your clothes," you stated simply.

The new information entered Mingi's ears and run around his head continuously until he was able to understand what it was you were saying. The guttural groan that left Mingi's throat made your heart clench, stomach drop, and pussy weep. "There goes my fantasy coming true," he said before quickly pulling the sweater you wore off, exposing the flimsy sleep shorts you were wearing along with your bare breast. "You thought of me?" you asked, having your turn teasing him with a mischievous grin on your face, expecting him to deny you or even to poke back at you in retaliation. But instead, you saw him nod as he gently kneaded your breasts, his hands rough and firm but his movements were so soft and careful as if he didn't want to harm you, "Of course, a girl like you, how can I not? The day you first wore my shirt, I jerked off at the thought of you masturbating in it, the day we went swimming, I had to excuse myself so I can imagine cumming on your tits. You don't know how much I wanted to see you naked like this," he confessed, tweaking your nipples to make you moan out loud. "Well," Mingi chuckled as he eyed your sleep shorts, "More naked than this I supposed."

Mingi spared you a glance, seemingly asking for permission from you even though he could just easily strip you naked and has his way. Even in this position, he was still your gentle giant of a best friend, ever so considerate and kind. Though the reality was that you were about to find out just how rough he could be.

With your permission through the nod you gave, Mingi carefully let your left leg off of his shoulder so when he take your bottom off, there would not be any intrusion. The hands that were on your breasts slid down your body, his fingers catching on the hem of your shorts as he purposefully let his thumb rest on your mound, directly on your nub. The pressure he put made you whimper out, surprised at the suddenness of it. Mingi leaned his body down to press his lips on your stomach so he could drag it down as his hands work efficiently, pulling both your shorts and your panties off to finally expose you in your naked glory to his eyes. When you felt your bottom was free of clothing and the pieces were tossed somewhere on Mingi's floor, joining his sweater, you felt his lips rest on your lower belly. He peppered kisses around the area and only in that area, not going lower which made you frustrated as your cunt could feel his presence so close to it yet it wasn't getting the attention it deserved.

"Is this what you two do when I'm not around?"

You snapped out of your pleasure haze and looked to the side to see Yunho standing in the doorway of Mingi's room. His face was neutral safe for the high tilted arch of his left eyebrow as he took in the position you and Mingi were in. You moved to cover yourself but Mingi remained unbudging, even displeasedly grunting at you. "Am I interrupting?" Yunho joked, chuckling at how you were scattering to try to cover yourself while Mingi looked like he couldn't be bothered.

Finally, with a final push, you were able to get Mingi off of you. In return, he pulled you close to him, shielding your exposed front side from Yunho as he kept a possessive arm around your waste. Perhaps you were seeing things, but for a second you swore you saw something like disappointment flashing on Yunho's face. "You're back from the gym?" Mingi asked, too casually for your liking considering the state you were in. Yunho nodded at Mingi's question dropping his gym back in the hallway, near Mingi's doorway, "Yeah, San wanted to do legs today and I took a shower there before coming home," he shrugged before nodding towards the both of you, "Now, care to tell me what this is?" he asked whilst simultaneously taking his slow steps into the room, closer to where your bare body was, making you subconsciously lean closer into Mingi. The way your body curled to avoid his gaze made the corner of Yunho's mouth twitch, almost breaking out into a grin.

Casually, Mingi shrugged at his roommate, "(y/n) here wants to try taking a big cock so she asked me," he said oh too simply which earned him a slap on his chest. The impact caused him to jolt slightly and turn his gaze from his roommate to you, "What? That's what you told me!" he whined, bottom lip jutting out in a pout while you glared at him, "Well you didn't have to tell him that!" you hissed, embarrassed and annoyed that he so cavalierly shared that intimate information with his equally hot friend. "Whoah," Yunho interrupted just as Mingi was about to answer you, "If you wanna try taking a big cock, why not ask me?" he asked directly at you. Your eyes widened, surprised at the question Yunho asked you. Never in a million years would you have expected to hear such a question from Yunho. He was casually offering himself for you to use.

To be honest, it wasn't like you hadn't thought of him. Between Yunho and Mingi, you were more used to Mingi and you were just so used to being open to Mingi that it was a no-brainer that Mingi was the first person you go to. Just like how you know Mingi was big, you know that Yunho was big too. You can't exactly compare the two because you haven't seen their bare cocks (yet), but you could make an estimation in your brain. But now Yunho's offering his cock for you to use as well if you need it. You were pretty sure your brain was making up shit in your head.

Snapping you out of your shocked trance, you noticed that Mingi was laughing heartily, "Oh dude, she liked you saying that, her pussy was clenching!" He announced. Your eyes widened out of surprise as red covered your face from embarrassment while Yunho broke out chuckling with a grin on his face. "Mingi! How could you say that!?" you scolded, slapping him on his chest again before trying to get out of his grasp in favour of hiding under his duvet but his grip was too tight on you. It was comfortably tight but very restricting, you tried wiggling around to get out but all you found was that you were still trapped and your pussy was rubbed just right on his thighs.

A pair of hands suddenly placed themselves on your shoulders, instinctively making you look up. Yunho was staring down at you with a smile so gentle but in contrast, his eyes has a teasing glint to them. "Don't worry baby, I find it VERY endearing that you want me too," he said in hopes that his words would comfort you even slightly.

At his words, your eyebrows furrowed, noticing something that he said. "I'm sorry, 'too'?" you asked, not sure whether or not you heard correctly. Yunho nodded nonchalantly as if the information he just revealed was common knowledge and/or no big deal at all. But the look on your face said otherwise, it showed him that you really didn't know that you were wanted by him all this time. And Yunho found great pleasure in it, he felt a wave of arousal coursing through him once again. The first time was when he hear Mingi said that you wanted to take his big cock and fit it in your cunt (he was paraphrasing, of course), and now this. You never considered the possibility of Yunho wanting you. He revelled in the knowledge that you were just so precious, especially to him.

The hands that were carefully placed on your shoulders soon made their move, pulling you back so that your body fell onto his toned, strong torso, releasing you from Mingi's grip. Yunho then swooped in to kiss you in his upside-down position. It was quite awkward but it felt nice because somehow Yunho made the position work. Whilst your mouth was occupied by Yunho, Mingi took you off of his lap so he could slide back slightly to reposition and take off his clothing. "Yunho, look," Mingi called, taking Yunho's attention away from you momentarily to point at his grey sweatpants, specifically on the spot you sat on his thigh, "(y/n)'s cunt is definitely dripping. Look at the pool she made," he pointed out, grinning proudly. While Yunho smirked at that, you looked at it in utter horror. "Dude, don't tease her like that, that's actually so hot," Yunho said as he licked his lips, hungry for your taste, before diving down to attach his lips with yours again, not giving you a chance to react his words.

You reacted, however, when Mingi bend your legs on your knees and spread them wide enough to fit himself in between them comfortably. Yunho was preoccupying you so well that you didn't realize what Mingi was up to until you felt his fingers probing your pussy. The feeling was so sudden that you gasped and detached yourself from Yunho but your hand clung to him for support. "You're so wet (y/n), did you start leaking when we started talking about your need to fuck a huge cock?" Mingi asked, smirking cockily as he began to enter you. At the feeling of your opening clenching down on him, Mingi shuddered and exhaled sharply, your tightness was thrilling to him. "Did your previous partners not fuck you right or something? How can you be this tight?" Mingi groaned the more he move around in your pussy, even pulling you slightly forward to him, slightly detaching you from Yunho slightly.

With you preoccupied with Mingi, Yunho took this as a chance to pull away so he could take his shirt and pants off as he kept a close eye on you and Mingi. Mingi had you repositioned by now, laying down on the bed as he busied his mouth with teasing your opening. Yunho felt his dick hardened at the sight of you moaning, back arching with your pebbled nipples pointing to the sky, arms going wild, moving around aimlessly due to the pleasure Mingi was giving you. You froze however when Yunho slotted himself behind you, allowing your body to rise slightly as he rested your head on his chest, moving you around as if you weighed nothing. "I want to touch you too," Yunho whispered in your ear, making your body shudder from the words he used and the way his breath blew on your earlobe. In a flash, Yunho had your left leg in his grip as his right arm reached down your body to dip into your sopping cunt. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of Mingi's tongue in your hole and Yunho's middle and ring fingers gently pushing your lips apart. "Oh, you're enjoying this so much, aren't you, dirty bitch?" Mingi smirked at your pussy, his lips moving against the flesh that caused you to wince slightly at the unfamiliar feeling. Yunho chuckled at the way Mingi called you a bitch, knowing that despite him sounding like he was degrading you, he really wanted you just as much if not more. "I bet if we try to fuck her, we'll slip right in," Yunho pointed out, making you clench at the thought of taking Mingi and Yunho. "Oh, she likes that, she WANTS that," Mingi chuckled, unlatching his mouth from your cunt while leaving his fingers in your hole, coaxing more of your juices out, "Do you think you're ready to take us, baby?" he asked, wanting you to give him the signal to proceed. Frantically, you nodded, and your hands flew to both Mingi's and Yunho's that were stimulating your cunt, stopping their movements momentarily, "Please, I really need your cocks," you pleaded, glazed eyes staring up at Yunho before going to Mingi.

In a flash, both men took off the rest of their clothing and positioned you so that you were sandwiched between them. Yunho held your body steady with his hands on your waist in front of you as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. Mingi on the other hand was situated behind you, your legs opened and your ass above his lap with his dick poking at your hole and his hands situated just above Yunho's, his fingers directly on your underboob, softly caressing the skin in a comforting manner. "Are you ready?" Yunho asked when he saw the worried look on your face, "Mingi's going to let you get used to him first and we're going to have the gravity do most of the work," he explained, smiling at you. "You seem to know the mechanism, have you done this before?" you nervously joked, staring down at his obviously large cock. While Yunho laugh at your jab, Mingi spoke up from behind, "Kinda surprised that you let me go first, but thanks man," he grinned. Yunho nodded and shrugged slightly at Mingi, "Yeah, you're smaller than me so between the two of us, she might be comfortable taking you first." Mingi furrowed his eyebrows and let his left hand off of your body for a bit to punch Yunho on his chest, "The fuck are you saying, we're basically the same size!" he protested, not liking that Yunho called him small. Technically small-er but still, Mingi didn't like that. With a roll of his eyes, Yunho nodded in Mingi's general direction, "I'm just saying, yours looked slightly slimmer than mine," he reasoned. Mingi was about to say something when you groaned and turn to glare at Mingi and Yunho, "Okay, can you both stop logging at each other's dicks and help me with my problem?"

The tip of Mingi's dick intruded your hole with a shift of his hips, effectively shutting you up as the annoyance on your face changed into one of shock; your eyes rolled back and your jaw went slack. Yunho's eyes darkened at your expression, delighted that he was able to get a front-row seat to look at what a big dick did to you. "I'm sorry baby, how is it now?" Mingi mocked, hands going back on you but this time it covered your tits. "S-so- so big," you gasped out as you inhaled sharply. The tip was bigger than you expected and maybe Mingi's tease was right earlier, maybe your previous partners have not been fucking you correctly because the feeling in your cunt was nothing like you felt before. Your previous experience was nowhere near what Mingi was giving you right now. "That's it, take your very first big cock," Yunho said, eyes trailing down to look at the way your thighs trembled slightly from Mingi's intrusion, "Do you think you can take more?" he asked. You bit your bottom lip as you mulled it over, thinking how even the tip affected you that much, were you able to take more? But hell if you weren't determined. So you quickly nodded to Yunho, your left hand reaching back to Mingi's knees to let him know that he could try to slide in more.

It was a good thing that Mingi made sure you were wet first because when he pushed in, you could feel a slight burn. His dick was stretching you out and it was uncomfortable, to say the least. With a whimper, your body dropped forward, the hands that were braced on Yunho's shoulders now enveloped it completely as you held on for support. Mingi was about halfway in your cunt when he stopped, wanting to make sure you were used to more of him before he could slip in more. Practising self-restraint was so hard for Mingi as your walls were clutching on him so tight it was like a vice. Yunho saw how Mingi's head hung low and his biceps trembled slightly and he could only imagine how amazing you felt. The more he thought about it, the more aroused he got, he could feel his cock twitching and from your position, you could feel it too. But with being so overwhelmed you couldn't even make a comment about it.

"You're doing so good, baby," Yunho cooed to comfort you, his hands gently caressing your thighs in assurance as Mingi dipped his head down to pepper kisses all over your back. "I wanna do better," you groaned out, surprising both men when you voluntarily sunk down with a cry as your head was thrown back. Your senses were overwhelmed as you could hear your heart pounding in your ears and your eyes watering, your skin felt slick with sweat and your thighs felt like they were burning. "Shit," you cursed when you felt yourself not being able to take more. You swore it felt like Mingi's dick had no end as you take every inch of him but still felt more. Both men knew it was the most you could take at that moment and they were amazed at how you were doing so far. To distract you, Mingi played with your breasts, flicking both nipples and massaging the soft flesh as Yunho reached down to stimulate your clit. You were glad they did so because although there was still pain from your hole being stretched, you could feel that pleasure was doing such a great job distracting you.

"You felt so amazing (y/n), how could you keep your cunt away from me this long? I should've fucked you from the moment we met and have you fucking yourself on me this whole time," Mingi moaned when he sneakily tried to move slightly and was delighted when he heard you hum lowly in pleasure instead of wincing. Hearing Mingi use such language and talk to you in such a way was thrilling, you loved hearing how much he wanted you and now hearing that he was lusting after you made your head feel fuzzy and your stomach churning in the best way. You couldn't even help but clench down at Mingi's dick which elicit a groan of pleasure from Mingi.

Yunho raised an eyebrow at his friend's statement and scoffed, "What makes you think she would've even wanted you? Maybe she wanted to fuck herself on me instead," he questioned. Mingi raised an eyebrow as he slowly pulled away and pushed back in again, making you bite your bottom lip to suppress a moan. "She came to me first to ask for help, if that's not proof, you're crazy," he scoffed. "Please," you started, head dropping even lower to rest on Mingi's shoulder, "I asked you because we're just closer and- ah," you whimpered when Mingi bucked up slightly, "You were here." Yunho couldn't help but laugh and peck you on the lips, "See, Mingi?" he teased, lifting his arousal-covered fingers to your mouth so you could taste yourself and clean them for him, "You were just available so technically speaking, you have the same opportunity as a dildo," he poked. In disbelief, Mingi propped you up better in his strong grip and pressed his cheek to yours, "Oh, so you wanna get used to me so when you seduce Yunho, you can take him like a champ? Can you believe that Yunho? (y/n) here wants your cock as she's fucking herself on my cock," he chuckled darkly as he eyed his friend.

In a flash, Mingi began moving in and out of you, teasing you by going as far as slipping completely out of you and bucking back in. The impact would've sent you tumbling forward but Mingi was holding you in a jealous vice. It was probably a bad idea that you poked fun at him like that but you honestly couldn't complain when Mingi was taking you so well.

The pleasure seemed to dull your attachment to reality because just as Mingi pulled out, you felt something thicker entering you. Your eyes widened as you tried to shake your head to regain your senses. It was blurry, but from the way Yunho was staring deep into your eyes with his teeth gritting, you realized that he had pushed his cock inside you. If it weren't for both men's grip on you, you were willing to bet that you would've slumped down because you couldn't feel your legs. You were sure they were shaking, but you couldn't really feel them.

"Fuck, how did you not immediately fuck her, Mingi? She's so tight and warm," Yunho groaned through gritted teeth, trying his best to not immediately snap his hips up. With his length (which you were sure not all of them) inside you, you could definitely tell that Yunho was right, he was bigger than Mingi in terms of girth but their lengths were maybe the same. "Shit," you moaned out, hands clutching onto Yunho so tightly that your nails were digging into his skin, "More, I need more," you stated, surprising both men. "Are you sure?" Mingi asked, pushing your hair away with one of his hands to look at your face better, "Don't you think you need to adjust first?" he worriedly added, genuinely not wanting to hurt you. But you were determined, nodding firmly and even pushing yourself off of him to situate yourself in a straight sitting position, "I will get adjusted by having you both fuck me," you stated, pouting at Yunho that made him just positively melt, "Please?" you begged.

Both men shared a look and nodded, wanting to give you what you were asking of them. They repositioned their hands so they could have a better grip on you before Yunho began moving slowly to accommodate your adjustment. Thankfully, having taken Mingi beforehand and with the slick you produced, Yunho found it easy to move and you did not feel as much pain as the first time. After a couple of thrusts, Yunho finally moved to slip himself out and Mingi slipped back inside you. The difference in girth was a blessing for you as you felt like you were given the chance to take a breath momentarily. The pain was almost completely gone at this point, all you could feel were pleasure but you knew that you still couldn't take them both harshly. You were glad that both men were putting you first and moving slowly, proving to you that they indeed kept up with their words that they wanted to help you.

They fell into a rhythm soon enough, slipping in when the others slipped out, stealing moans after moans from your mouth from pleasure. You felt like you were in cloud nine, finally understanding why your friends made such a big deal about taking a large sized cock. Although, you'd have to admit that it wasn't just because of their size that you were having such a pleasurable time. Had it not been for the fact that it was your friends helping you, you might not be having this much fun. You loved their possessive yet caring grip on you as they made a mess of your cunt. You were sure that there was a pool right underneath you, a mixture of your cum and their precum dropping onto the sheet bellow.

You didn't even realize when you finally came. Mingi had just re-entered you after Yunho bucked up into you harshly when your body froze and your muscles tensed up, your thighs closed slightly and your head was thrown forward onto Yunho's shoulder as you climaxed dramatically with your body shaking. Mingi's eyes rolled back as he felt your pussy clenching and gushing, the warmth of it was enough to make him cum inside you, not having enough time to pull out.

When you and Mingi slumped back, you rested on top of him as he supported his body weight with his arms, you noticed Yunho towering over you with a smirk on his face. "My turn," he said as he started to pump his dick in his hands. You watched him trying to get himself to cum using the image of you being so spent on top of Mingi and you can't help but think that it was hot. Your pussy clenched down onto Mingi's dick that was still inside you, forcing a mixture of both of your cums to leak down to your ass. Mingi moved to spread your legs widely for Yunho, letting them rest over his own legs as if he was telling Yunho where to cum. Yunho's eyes zeroed in on your puffy lips, hole stretched with Mingi's still hard dick in it and glistening with arousal. It didn't take much for him to reach his climax and painted your pussy and stomach white with his cum. Even when he dropped back, you could still see his tip spurting out the white liquid and his cock twitching.

Finally, when things wind down, you closed your eyes and let your head rest on Mingi's shoulder. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and sex, no one talked so it was quiet save for the sound of the three of you panting, trying to catch your breaths. Despite the tiredness, both men were proud of what they did, happy even that they were able to help you. Sure, you didn't take them completely, but they took their win as they didn't hear you complaining.

What surprised them was what you said when you opened your eyes again, lifting your head to look at both of them before announcing your plan.

"Give me 10 minutes, we'll go again."

Though, how can they say no?

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[spacerockfloater]

Every time Team Black stans talk about Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Dragon Twins as if they’re blessings upon this earth, an angel loses its wings.

Like, okay. They’re children, I’m excusing all of them up to a certain point. But they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise and pretending that they’re not is so foul.

Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either. And then he pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first, and faces zero consequences for his actions. He eventually grows up to become an even worse person by literally laughing in his cousin’s face, whom he disabled. And then he tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it.

Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues. Like, remember how he beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them? That’s the good future king you’re all talking about? He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true. That’s actually so sick on his behalf. Not to mention that he very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable. At least Lucerys told Borros he’s betrothed and refused to marry one of his daughters to get his support, I’ll give him that.

Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight, too. And have we forgotten that she becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?

Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death. She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up.

Finally, even without taking all of their problematic traits into account, these people are so severely uninteresting and unimpressive. Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly. Joffrey gets shrugged off by Syrax and plummets to his demise. Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away. Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already! And Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes.

Are there much more ill behaved children in ASOIAF? Yeah, for sure, but we actually acknowledge that children like Aegon II and Joffrey Baratheon are pieces of shit. But if we could like, stop glorifying these four mediocre and borderline malicious kids solely because some of you feel the need to ride the dicks of everyone who is part of Rhaenyra’s crew, that would be great. They might be children, but they’re children with shady, putting it mildly, personalities, wielding new-clear weapons of mass destruction who actively participated in a war, especially Jacaerys and Baela. They sure were victims of the world they were raised in, but they were aggressors as well. And like, this is the ASOIAF universe, nearly all of our protagonists are children. We can’t constantly apply modern day morals and coddle them forever because “OMG, they are just babies!”, unless we are ready to apply the same logic on the Targtowers, who were basically the same age as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 45

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

45. halcyon daze

With Christmas on the horizon you take a break from your Persephone-inspired series to work on a present for John. There’s not a thing in the world you could buy him that he couldn’t buy for himself; but you have two hands, some talent and creativity: things that can’t yet be bought on Amazon. You’d noticed that he’s been working on an old set of Russian Fairytales. 

It still never fails to destroy your heart, that John favors mending the binding of children’s stories, as though he can recapture and sew back together some aspect of his own broken youth. 

Some of the illustrations in this edition are faded, one is even half destroyed, the paper torn. The writing is in cyrillic, you haven’t learned to read it yet, but with some [you hope] casually peppered questions, you manage to glean enough information to look up what they’re supposed to be. You make some replacements for him, and in the case of the Knight of Night in the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful, the warrior in black might bear more than a passing resemblance to your own dark assassin.  

When he opens this gift the wonder in his eyes is priceless to you. “I didn’t make you anything,” he apologizes guiltily, and while you are sitting amidst the piles of your freshly bestowed loot, which you still can’t help but feel guilty about. He bought you a stylish new motorcycle jacket, a fresh set of artist series gouache tubes and paper, an antique gold art nouveau lavalier necklace in the form of a flowing narcissus flower with glowing enameled accents and a dangling pearl –you are filled with so much love you fear your heart might burst.

You crawl across the floor, into his lap. He barely has time to set the drawings aside before your mouth is on his, and you are toppling him back almost into the Christmas tree with your ardor. By the time you are finished with him, you’re pretty sure he knows how happy he makes you, but just in case you tell him for good measure. “I love you more than I know how to say.” 

***

As winter drags on you look to John’s in-house gym to get exercise, even though you despise running on the treadmill. You feel like a hamster, jogging your ass off to nowhere. You try to keep up with your yoga practice, though you rarely get to finish a session. Somehow, John always manages to time walking in on you when you have your ass in the air. “Have mercy, I’m only a man,” he teases you, like this is an excuse for toppling you over and pinning you down with his body and his mouth on yours. 

It’s hard to get too mad about it, considering. 

You suppose you do still get a stretch and a workout, not to mention a belly laugh, in the end. 

Continuing your training stays interesting, although he wasn’t lying before when he said he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you. More often than not when you spar, you end up fucking on the floor. He’s never more beautiful than when his dark eyes glitter with anticipation of the hunt; you’ve learned a lot, but you know you stand zero chance against him. 

Maybe it’s not fair, when he loses patience and uses his experience and his size to put you down on the ground, sweeping your legs or twisting your arm behind you while he pulls down your leggings, baring your ass to the room. But he finds you soaking wet every time he claims his prize, guiding himself inside you, your growls quickly turning to moans for the way he fills you up and takes you down. “I fucking love it when you fight me,” he admits breathlessly, thrusting until you both cum loudly, your face pressed into the rubber floor.

It’s a game you love to lose.   

***

Winter starts to thaw, and you have cabin fever, ready to go outside. John is engrossed in a binding project: you finished your illustrations, and now he seems just as engaged in his side of the collaboration as you were yours. You find him smiling at a rendition of Dog as Cerberus with three heads when you pop into his workshop. “Want to go for a hike?”

He looks around at the mess he’s made on his worktable. “I’m not at a good stopping point,” he admits, and you understand that perfectly well. “You can go, just don’t be gone too long, alright?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, you are so surprised to receive this clearance for a solo trek. 

You kiss him on the cheek in thanks. “I’ll be back soon,” you promise, still hardly able to believe your luck. 

“Y/n?” he calls as you’re at the door. “Take Dog?”

“I’m going too far for him.” Long walks hurt his paws.

“Then take your pistol.” You nod before disappearing up the stairs. Once upon a time, the thought of going around casually armed would have seemed like pure insanity to you. Now it’s simply a fact of life. You don’t have an official license for concealed carry, but after your intensive training at the Continental you feel perfectly confident that you won’t shoot anyone–unless you mean to. You live in John’s world now: survive first, worry about getting caught later…and pay off the appropriate officials if you have to.

That’s just the thug life, you suppose. 

The air outside is crisp and fresh, leaves and pine needles perfuming the woods in a way that intoxicates you more than any man-made scent. You take off down the trail at a brisk pace, feeling like you have wings on your feet. Knowing you could walk for miles and miles in this mood, you set a timer on your phone so you don’t forget yourself. Scaring John after he’s given you this confidence will not bode well for the future. Once upon a time such a leash would have chafed, but now you understand so much better what his fears are rooted in. You’ve peered into the darkness behind the curtain; there’s no going back. 

It’s the middle of the day in the middle of the week and you haven’t seen a soul, and on such a fine day as this, it is easy to forget that there’s a bustling, seething world of human strife out there. Or so you imagine, as you are sitting on the outcrop of your favorite overlook, your feet dangling out over oblivion. Yet, when you think you hear voices coming up the trail a sudden instinct kicks in to hide, to avoid being seen. Without really even thinking about it you tip yourself off the ledge, grabbing a branch of an ancient tree growing out of the rocks to break your fall, and dropping down to conceal yourself flat upon a narrow ledge.

“Dude, where’d she go?” you hear from above, your heart pounding in your chest, the blocky hardness of your little Beretta pressing into the small of your back as you lean against the stone face of the cliff a reassuring comfort. You realize then that John is not the only one with a residual paranoia from your misadventures. As you listen to the obviously harmless hikers above, you feel utterly ridiculous, and you wait for them to go so that you can make your way back in peace. 

Maybe it’s good to be alert, but at what point does one just have to get on with one’s life? If you live like a paranoid little rat scurrying around out of sight, then Dante has won in a different way. You think about this a lot, as you make your way home up the mountain. 

***

Perhaps it’s fitting, that with the renewal of spring all around you, John finishes the binding of your book. He calls you into the basement to inspect his workmanship, standing behind you as you behold the finished tome. The cover is embossed black leather with gold leaf. There is no title, just a design of an upturned skull grown through with blooming narcissus flowers. Slowly, you flip through the pages, enchanted with how he transformed your loose paintings into something so refined. 

“I love it,” you tell him, caressing a page bearing his likeness, the God of Death embracing his consort (that may bear a passing resemblance to you) in a Klimt-esque kiss. He nuzzles into your neck, kissing behind your ear. “But you didn’t sign it,” you complain, noting the lack of his usual This Book was Bound by John Wick plate. 

“I thought…we could do it together, as a wedding present?” he offers. You realize he means signing it with your joined name, and maybe it’s silly, but the thought makes your belly erupt into butterflies. You haven’t really talked about the wedding much. Though you wear the ring happily, he hasn’t really mentioned it at all, giving you space or otherwise occupied, you’re not entirely sure. 

“I would love that,” you agree, tilting your head for a kiss. His fingers dig into your hips as it deepens, a low moan called up from his throat. 

“Have you thought about what you might like?” he asks, kissing your neck again, his hands slipping under your shirt. 

“I don’t want anything fancy,” you admit breathlessly. “All I want is you.” You find the thought of bringing your dysfunctional family together in celebration only inspires anxiety. You have no lasting affiliations with any church–you do not feel the need to seek any god’s blessing of your union. You find you are just ready for it to be so. 

You feel him pause behind you, letting out a shuddering sigh. You wonder if he’s thinking about the journey you’ve taken, to get where you are today, together. You certainly are, looking at your book, and the allegory it tells of your tumultuous courtship. It wasn’t easy, and you can’t say anything so trite as you knew it would turn out–but you realize you did have the naivety to hope. For once…maybe your forgiving nature has finally paid off for you. You feel like you’ve been living in a halcyon daze, you are so happy. You hope it never changes, even if deep down you know it will. 

Change is the only certainty we’re ever afforded.

“Surely you want something nicer than a trip to the courthouse,” he pries, certain there’s something you’re not telling him. You do still feel embarrassed sometimes, about spending his money on things, even though he gives you free reign with unparallelled generosity. 

“I really don't want a big ceremony,” you assure him. “But…would you like it, if Winston married us?”

John huffs behind you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “I'm not sure that's something he does.”

You giggle at the thought, and you can tell John at least likes the idea of his father figure–one of his few remaining friends, being there. And, you like Winston too. “I bet he’d do it for you, John.”

“Hmm. We’ll think on that.”

It’s not a no.

“You know what I do want?” you pose, turning a page of your new book.This illustration is a rather explicit one, Death kneeling at her feet with his face buried in her pussy, her back bowed in sweet agony, the dark waters of the river Styx glittering behind them. He offered her the most exquisite pleasures, but withheld release unless she agreed to be his forever. Though deep in her heart she knew she loved him immeasurably, still she refused.

Neither John nor you are immune to the effect of perusing this pornographic work together; his long fingers dip into the waistband of your jeans, his fingertips just nearly caressing your mound.   

“Anything,” he tells you, nibbling at your ear. It takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about, your clit throbbing in answer to his seeking fingers and his other hand up your shirt. As a result your answer comes in breathy bursts. 

“I want…to go on an adventure with you. A long honeymoon,” you tell him, writhing against him as his hand finds your breast, toying with the taut peak of your nipple. You know he likes to travel as much as you do. Wouldn’t it be novel to go somewhere and not even need to assassinate someone in the interim?

You feel him chuckle behind you, more than hear it. “I might have guessed. Where do you want to go?” He asks you this while his fingers tease your curls, so close to touching you where you need him most. You are past shame, when your voice cracks. 

“Where can we go?” You assume most of Europe is off the table these days. 

“Hmm. You still have a yen for South America?” 

You nod, and he laughs again, though he catches your mouth in a tooth-counting kiss before you can answer–ie defend yourself from the usual allegations. At last his middle finger dips into your wet slit, and the sound of relief that escapes you is barely human.  

“Young lady…” he growls, nipping at your ear. “This is quite a dirty little book you’ve drawn. Do you know how many times I had to come find you while I was working on this?” You moan as he swipes up your juices, finally circling your clit as his other hand dips into your bra. You feel his erection straining against the curve of your bottom; you press yourself back against him, wanting what’s yours. Your answer is part laughter, part moan–for the umpteenth time, you feel like life is perfect with this man. 

“Probably as often as I had to come find you while drawing it,” you answer cheekily, arching back to hold his neck, opening yourself completely to him. Your knees threaten to buckle as he touches you, but soon you find yourself bent over his table, his corded forearms braced like columns on either side of you as he fucks you silly amidst the smell of old books, leather, and binding glue.  

It really doesn’t get any better than this.

***

When warmer weather comes you start to take out the bikes again. After a few outings you feel sufficiently refreshed, and more than ready to take your test. You make your appointment for next week, and you feel like a teenager again, full of nervous energy for the impending exam. John finds this amusing. “You can ride, sweetheart. And if you fail, you can just take it again.” 

But the perfectionist academic in you wants to ace it on the first go. When you express the desire to go for a practice ride while John is working on a new project he nods, not even looking up from his worktable. “Be careful.” 

“Take your pistol. I know,” you tease. This has become a broken record between you two–remembering a time when he wouldn’t have dreamed of letting you out of his sight, you do not mind. He narrows his eyes at you playfully, before letting you off with that slight smile that still squeezes your heart in your chest. 

You gear up in your kevlar jeans, boots and jacket, gloves and helmet. Concealed carry is ridiculously easy, with such bulk about you. You feel a bit like a commando, every time you put on the jacket with its armored panels. You fire up the Kawasaki and potter down the driveway. You like this bike, it’s been great to learn on, but John has been teasing you about an upgrade if you’re a good girl. 

Considering you feel where he’s been inside you every time you sit down, you’re pretty sure you’re meeting the requirements. You think about this with a smile as you hit a straightaway, and let the machine open up beneath you. 

It really is the closest you can get to flying on the ground. 

Exhilarated, maybe even feeling a little cocky, you make your loop of the mountain roads and then decide to make a quick stop down in town. You’ve worn out your three favorite paint brushes, the chisel tip, the angle shader, and the tiny 3/0 you favor for small details. Mr. Morton will get you squared away. 

You park in the lot behind the art store, and carry your helmet inside. You don’t dally long, even though the smell of oil paint and linseed oil inside the little store is a marvelous thing. You chat with Mr. Morton, pet the shop cat, and tuck your score into your inside pocket before walking back out to the parking lot. 

It’s totally cliché, but the rest goes by in a blur. 

A black SUV rolls up beside you, screeching on its brakes, a man jumping out of the backseat making a B line for you. Too late, you realize your rookie mistake. Your jacket is zipped up to your chin–you can’t draw your pistol under your arm in time. But you have your helmet in your hand, and without hesitation, you introduce it to his face as hard as you can. 

“At least offer a girl some candy first, asshole!”

The driver spills out next, cursing and trying to grab you, dodging your second swing with the helmet. You side-step him, but he manages to snag your jacket. Rather than pull against his hold you let him drag you to him, meeting his groin dead-on with your knee. As he crumples you hit him in the face with your armored elbow, and run for your bike while shoving your helmet onto your head. 

Maybe you should have run back to the shop, to the thoroughfare, to the safety of witnesses. But all you can think in that moment is that John might need you. You have a terrible feeling that something bad could be happening at home, and so you start your bike and tear off faster and more recklessly than you ever have before. The handlebars wobble in your haste but you manage to get a hold of the machine, concentrating on working the clutch and the gears to pick up speed as fast as you can. If you look back, you know you’ll crash. You run a stop sign, veering around a car by the skin of your teeth, leaving the sound of screeching wheels and honking horns behind you.  

Out of town, you drop a gear and take off like a rocket up the mountain, passing cars where you definitely shouldn’t. I’m coming, John. Maybe it’s ridiculous. How much help could you possibly be to John Wick? But you won’t rest until you set eyes on him again. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, when the G Wagon roars up next to you again. In your peripheral you see the passenger in the window, his extended arm, the blocky black shape of a gun. They veer at you, trying to run you off the road. You brake the bike, letting them whip past you, nearly going off the pavement themselves in the confusion. You decide to turn off onto a sideroad, a winding death-trap of a paved goat trail that you know like the back of your hand, though you’ve never ridden it before, only drove. You hope you’ll lose them in the snarl of tight curves. It will take longer to get home, but if worse comes to worse maybe you can abandon the bike and lose them in the trees. 

Home turf advantage, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. These guys mean business–and you’re fairly sure the driver’s accent was Italian. 

You don’t really hear it past the roar of your engine and your heartbeat in your ears, when they come up behind you. You do hear the shot, and you flinch, ducking low to make yourself a smaller target. But he wasn’t aiming for you. 

He was aiming for your tire, and when it blows the bike goes wild–and you really get to experience flying.

It’s almost exhilarating, sailing through the air, until you hit the pavement hard, skidding across the unforgiving asphalt, rolling to take some of the momentum. You lay there on the tarmac, alive, but completely stunned. You tell yourself to get up–but your body doesn’t listen. You see the shadow of a man over you. It’s Helmet Man–his face is a mask of blood; it looks like you broke his nose, and he’s pissed about it.

He kicks you in the side before shoving a needle through your jeans, into the meat of your butt. On the verge of puking in your helmet, the world swims, then goes black.

------------

*author's note: Full credit to @discoscoob for suggesting that Winston should officiate, I love it, you're brilliant! 😘 And the yoga scene is totally @treedaddymcpuffpuff 's fault. I love our unhinged conversations boo 🤣 The Brain Rot would not be so strong or so FUN without you!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ :)))))))))))))))))

**maybe i should also add that certain eXplicit panels in the BRZRKR Bloodlines comic inspired a great deal of this dumpster fire 🥵🤣🤣, y'all should definitely check it out, the artwork is great!

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all chapters

[sunnysidesevenup]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THIS MENACE TO SOCIETYYYYY. TILLY I LOVE YOU

he’s 25 but here’s a foxglove fic about his 23rd birthday where I drop some random lore lmao

tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added!!): @kirexa @gimmeurmoneyagh @lallopsyou

fic under the cut! :D

“When’s your birthday, anyway?” Fellow asks. He’s not particularly interested, but he’s known Tilly for long enough that it likely should have come up by this point.

The two of them are sitting on the floor of Fellow and Gidel’s small apartment (honestly better suiting the term single room than apartment, the damn landlord a full on scammer if Fellow does say so himself). They’ve each got a coat in their hands, sewing supplies spread across the floor as they carefully repair holes in the fabric. It had finally gotten cold enough that they could no longer simply layer clothing, and thus the yearly time to sew up clothes is upon them. Tilly, since he’s there often enough, is obviously required to help—while Gidel gets to happily draw in the corner.

Said man hums to himself, swaying back and forth a bit while he sews, tongue stuck out in concentration. “Dunno.” Tilly finally says.

“How do you not know?” Fellow scoffs.

“Well, I don’t have parents or anything like that! So how would I know?” Tilly glances up from his work, shaking his head at Fellow as if he’s disappointed. “Silly.” He scolds.

The beastman glares at him, “You told me you were 22!” He argues, affronted.

Tilly grins at him, “Hmm, yeah. It just felt right. Maybe I’m older than you, though?” His grin turns a little devious, and he tilts his head. “You’d show me more respect if I was older, right~?”

Fellow tosses one of the coats at him, hitting him in the face with it.

In typical Tilly fashion, he instantly collapses backwards, whining about being injured. Gidel, the traitor, giggles at him, while Fellow only snatches up the coat the other was repairing.

He observes the stitching, and scoffs immediately. “This is terrible.” He says, already removing the clumsy attempts.

Tilly finally pauses his dramatic whining, pulling the coat off his face but remaining laid on the ground—although he rolls sideways to better look at the man. “I’ve never sewn anything before, I was simply guessing.”

Fellow rolls his eyes, “You’re really useless on your own, you know that? How have ya’ even survived this long?”

“I’m very lucky.” Tilly says seriously.

“No, you’re not.” He shoots back. “Get up, I’m going to teach you how to do this. You’ve got to know some life skills! Ya’ can’t just live in your little fantasy world where everything goes right for you forever, you know.”

The purple haired man sits up, toxic green eyes staring widely at him. “But my fantasy world is so nice!” He coos, leaning closer to observe what Fellow is doing. Then, in a considering voice, he adds: “Although if it was a real dream world, you’d probably be wearing a maid dre—“

Fellow smacks him in the face with the coat again.

While Tilly whines from where he’s laid out on the floor once more, the beastman stares down at him with absolutely zero sympathy. “There’s no way you’re older than me when you act like that.” He states, voice dripping with condescension and annoyance.

“You’re so rude to me.”

“You deserve it, you absolute buffoon.”

Tilly sits up again, shaking his head. “How people act has nothing to do with their age, ya’ know! I could very easily be 4 years older than you and you’d never know.” He taps his chin in contemplation, a smirk crossing his face. “In fact, I think that’s what I’ll go with from now on! Please show me the respect a senior deserves.” He puts his hands on his hips, a proud look on his face as if Fellow would respond in any other way than bafflement.

“You can’t just change your age!”

“Why not? It’s not like I know when I was born in the first place.”

Fellow sputters, “Wh— No! No, I am NOT having you claim to be OLDER than me!”

“Aww,” Tilly puts a hand over his heart, his eyes widening in false sympathy. “The lovely younger man under my care seems to be struggling, how shall I help him?”

This time, Fellow forgoes the coat in favor of simply tackling Tilly to the floor. Gidel, of course, ignores them rolling around and wrestling, far too used to this behavior from the two of them.

Finally, he manages to pin Tilly down, and he contemplates using the coats to just suffocate him and end his misery already. The other man, meanwhile, just pouts at him. “This isn’t fair at all, you’re much taller than me.” He says.

“And older.” Fellow declares firmly, glaring at him. “Say it, I’m the older one.”

“Only children fight over who’s the oldest.” Tilly says, like he wasn’t just participating in exactly that.

Fellow just squeezes his pinned wrists in response, and finally the man sighs, giving in. “Alright, I’m 22.”

The beastman grins victoriously. “Good.” He says, finally moving to get off him. He suddenly stops, however, as a thought occurs to him. “Huh, wait. How do ya’ decide when you age if you don’t know your birthday?”

Tilly laughs. “Well, whenever it feels right, of course!”

“That’s a terrible way to do things.” He shoots back immediately.

“You wound me deeply, ya’ know?” The human sighs. “And from such an Honest Fellow, too! Surely you must be correct, of course.”

Once again, Fellow is reminded that he HATES Tilly saying his name. There’s just something so infuriating about it.

“Just pick a date for your birthday, and be done with it.” He growls instead, choosing not to acknowledge the goading. Nothing good ever comes from acknowledging Tilly’s taunts, he’d learned long ago.

“Hmm, maybe.” He says, but Fellow can tell from his uninterested tone that Tilly likely won’t follow his suggestion at all. It’s typical of him to ignore perfectly reasonable advice, no matter how annoying and illogical this course of action may be.

A fantasy world he lives in, truly.

Tilly’s words a few minutes ago pop into his head again, and Fellow hurriedly gets back to his sewing. Why he insists on taunting him like that specifically, he doesn’t get. Not that he gets much about the guy in the first place.

Tilly sighs, also going back to the sewing. However, he simply stares at his work for a bit, and then glances back over to Fellow. “You’re right, I’m bad at this.” He admits dejectedly, but then nigh instantly perks up. “I’ll just get you a new coat, problem solved!”

Fellow points his needle at him. “Life skills, remember? Try living in the real world, ya’ sound like some pampered rich kid.”

The man gasps, “Take that back.”

“Get to sewing, then.” He smirks at him, pointing to the stitching. “C’mon, it’s not that difficult. Even Gidel can do this.”

“Well, Gidel is much better than me at a lot of things.” Tilly states, looking over to the corner where said boy has been ignoring them. “Aren’t you?”

Gidel nods.

“At least we agree on one thing, then. Gidel is much better than you in every way.”

“Aww, you say that like you love him more than me…”

Fellow gives him a disgusted look. “I don’t love you at all, in fact.”

Tilly doesn’t seem particularly troubled by his words, not that he expected him to be.

Still, his eyes feel a bit piercing as they observe Fellow. The toxic green color had always made his gaze just a little too intense, after all. It’s almost like he’s calling him out for something, although Fellow has no idea what it could possibly be. It’s not like he was lying.

Tilly finally looks away, wandering instead over to Gidel to see what he’s drawing. Fellow debates scolding him, since he was JUST telling him to learn how to sew, but he lets it happen. They’ve got plenty of time, and he’ll just make the man be the one to go without a coat for a while as punishment.

(Whether or not this ends with Tilly roping him into sharing his own is inconsequential. He’ll make sure not to give in this time, no matter how annoying he gets or how much he begs.)

The bigger question, however, is Tilly’s birthday. Just randomly deciding when to start saying you’re a year older does sound like something the strange man would do, but just as Fellow had said, that was a truly awful system. He would never go about things like that, which is why he’s the rational one who is doing much better for himself, obviously.

So, if Tilly wouldn’t decide on a date, Fellow would. A very simple solution! He’d even get him a gift so he couldn’t protest. A full proof plan, surely—and then Tilly would be required to get Fellow something for his own birthday in compensation. A win-win, as one would say. Quite smart.

(He ignores the little voice in his head that asks why he’d even care about this in the first place. No need to think about it too hard.)

-

“There you are.”

Tilly glances over his shoulder as Fellow approaches, perched on a crate in a random alleyway. He’s got a deck of cards in his hands, and what he could possibly be doing Fellow doesn’t know. He doesn’t move from his position, simply shuffling the cards, and flashes the beastman a grin. “Pick a card!” He says, holding a splayed hand out to him.

Fellow frowns at him. “Not right now, I’ve got something for you.”

Tilly frowns right back at him, raising an eyebrow. He then reaches out a hand, his fingers sliding into Fellow’s hair. Right before the man can swat him away, he’s already pulled back, a new card in his hand. He twirls it around, and then adds it to his deck. “You’re so boring.” He says.

The beastman stares at him, wide eyed. “Don’t do that.” He tells him.

Tilly tilts his head, a sly grin on his face. “Do what?”

“You—ugh, you’re distracting me.”

“I’m distracting?” The man bats his eyelashes, and Fellow rolls his eyes.

“Here.” He says instead of acknowledging his words, and pushes a box into Tilly’s chest.

He raises an eyebrow, a confused look on his face. “What’s this? Are you proposing? Well, I suppose I can accep—

“It’s a birthday gift, you fool.” Fellow cuts him off, crossing his arms.

“….It’s my birthday?” Tilly asks.

He nods back at him, confirming. “Today’s your birthday.”

“Oh!” Tilly’s eyes light up, and he stares down at the box. “I’ve never had a proper birthday! Is it normal to propose on them?”

“It’s OBVIOUSLY not a proposal!”

The man’s lips quirk up into another smirk, an obvious indication that he’s taunting. But his attention quickly goes back to the box, a simple little thing that doesn’t even have wrapping paper or any type of decoration. He stares at it like it’s gold, and after a bit of this, Fellow begins to become uncomfortable. It’s just a cheap gift, after all.

“Go on then, open it. I don’t have all day.”

Tilly hums, acknowledging him, and sets his deck of cards aside to better look at the box. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.” He says, and it’s a strange thing to hear from a man who’s been known to beg strangers for a multitude of items.

“I’m not heartless. You looked so pathetic when we talked about your birthday, I just had to get you something.” Fellow says, waving away whatever weird idea Tilly might have in his head. His words don’t seem to convince him of anything though, as the way he opens the gift is almost reverent.

“Oh.” He says upon seeing the gift.

It’s a cheap pair of gloves, probably not the quality of the one’s the man wears even now—but Fellow has never seen him take off the pair in the first place. How a man who wears so many different styles of clothing could wear one pair of gloves with every single one of them alludes him, but it did give him the idea to buy him some more.

Much to his surprise, Tilly instantly pulls them out and then proceeds to take his current pair off.

He’s never seen him without them, and the sight is shocking for a variety of reasons. From the nonchalant way he performs the action, to the scars that are revealed as he slides the fabric off—crisscrossing along both his palms like someone ran a knife over them multiple times, forming a strange, morbid star.

He pulls the new pair on, face unreadable as he flexes his hands, and Fellow chooses not to comment on it. “So? How are they?” He asks instead.

“Hmm. Scratchier than my other pair.” Tilly says, and Fellow is instantly annoyed again, suddenly free from the spell of the strange moment.

“Tch, give them back if you don’t like them, then!” He scowls, grabbing Tilly’s hand to pull the gloves off himself. Annoying, ungrateful brat! He could at least pretend Fellow’s gift was good, he’d bought it with honestly earned money!

“Wow, hey!” The man grabs his hands right back, lacing their fingers together as a way to stop him. There’s better ways, definitely, but when has he ever done anything normally?

“Don’t do that.” Tilly says, glaring at him. “These are mine.”

“Wh—I bought them for you.” He protests, caught off guard by the odd handholding they’re now engaging in.

“Yeah, and now they’re mine.” Tilly’s green eyes soften, then, and he smiles. “Thanks.”

Fellow has seen many of Tilly’s smiles. He seems to never run out of them—a plethora of different moods and falsehoods. Mischievous grins, false masks of innocence, the flirty smile he gives men and women when he wants something from them. Somehow, he’s never seen this one from him. It feels more honest—a genuine emotion he’s never quite seen. It feels forbidden, and weirdly precious all at once.

The beastman rips his hands away, spinning on his heels so his back is to Tilly. “You better get me something good for my birthday, now.” He says seriously, and then immediately stalks away. There’s no movement behind him, so the chances of being followed are low. Good. He can only tolerate Tilly’s presence for so long, after all!

The minute he’s sure he’s out of the other’s eyesight, he releases a breath and tugs a hand roughly through his hair.

What was THAT? He thinks. Why do I feel embarrassed?

“It better be worth it when my birthday comes around.” Fellow mutters to himself, leaned against the wall of an alleyway.

He ignores the part of him that claims it was already worth it. That’s foolish—what did he get, a smile? That wasn’t useful at all.

[terkmc]

G-Jitsu, grappling in spaaaace

While comparatively rare, melee combat in low-to-zero-G has proved a massive headache for early combatants in space, as much of the underlying principles of terrestrial martial art no longer work properly without solid ground and footing. For example, the turning of the hip crucial to throwing a proper punch of a slash instead results in the fighter spinning in place while in zero G, and direct strikes will often result in both the attacker and defender floating harmlessly away from each other. Early space melee combat was a messy affair and doubly so for unarmed combat, resembling wild flailing more than any proper techniques.

But as with almost everything else, time was needed for adaptation to take place, and slowly but surely various forms of dedicated zero-G martial arts started to appear, chief amongst them G-Jitsu. Originally a series of ad hocs techniques invented by station security and interstellar marines, G-Jitsu is a primarily grappling based martial art, anchoring the user to their opponent instead of the ground in order to do anything effective in space. Comprising of a vast series of grapple, throw, joint locks and close ranged strikes incorporating elbows and knees, G-Jitsu resembles old Cradle Judo and Jiu Jitsu preserved from the Vault, with the lack of gravity opening up a vast arrays of free form grappling maneuver impossible planet side.

G-Jitsu core tenet is often phrased as “Never Let Go”, representing its extreme focus on grappling and always having a hand on the opponent, as well as the importance of endurance conditioning. Spacing is almost non-existent in G-Jitsu, and a bout of G-Jitsu will almost always start and end with the fighters never being more than an arms length from each other. A G-Jitsu fight is a brutal affair, a long drawn out brawl leaving the loser with broken joints and shattered helmets, and the winner bloodied and bruised.

G-Jitsu is extremely popular among various space station security forces, allowing practitioners to grab, apprehend and force compliance through its various locks and holds, as well as Trunk security and marines, who are expected to sometime be forced to engage in melee combats inside the cramped corridor of a ship with gravity being a luxury.

Due to its spontaneous origin, there’s no central authority on what G-Jitsu actually consists of, although there is a list of almost universally agreed on basic techniques that forms a basic foundation, and there exists dozens of schools all claiming to be the original and true inheritor of G-Jitsu. As a side effect of this, G-Jitsu has no certification or quality control, making assessing the quality of any particular G-Jitsu training wholly dependent on word of mouth and reputation.

KAY

Kay deserves a special mention due to it being a formalized dueling ritual in what is otherwise a free form and unformalized martial art. Named after the original K1 Safety Tether used during early space combat, a Kay is a 1-on-1 duel between two combatants, willingly tied together.

The initiator of a Kay will initiate a challenge by locking eyes with their opponent, and tap on their tether system (commonly waist mounted) twice before pointing at the opponent. If this proverbial gauntlet throw is accepted, the challenged party will also tap on their tether system twice, and both will then launch their tether at the opponent. Once launched, these tethers are grabbed by the opposing party and looped around the waist before being reeled in, officially locking the two in a mortal struggle from which there's no retreat.

While mostly relegated to official competition or personal fights, the use of Kay has been noted to sometimes happen during active combat, almost always as a form of honor duel between fighters who have a history, and with a noted increase in frequency the closer one gets to the Karrakin Trade Baronies’s space.

[laiiaaa]

THE PART WHERE YOU KISS ME — JJ MAYBANK

summary: You're stuck with the job of getting a very drunk, very lovesick JJ into bed.

length: 2.4k

contains: tooth-rotting fluff, obsessed boyfriend JJ, soooo touchy he can't keep his hands off of you (can you tell my love language is physical touch lmfao???), mentions of heavy drinking of course, zero plot, he's a flirty little freak and i hate him

note: Not the happiest with this but I haven't posted in a week and I'm in the middle of writing three other pieces right now...so take this as an apology gift for not having the GFAW chapter out yet <3

Driving to the Chateau this late is never ideal, especially when you’re tired and ticked off from a busy shift. Your feet and back ache, your head could use a few Advil, and you would be perfectly happy to stay home and sleep for twelve hours. 

But when Kie calls you, groaning and saying Your boyfriend is wasted and won’t shut up about you and you need to come pull him to bed, you go. It’s as simple as that, really. Partially because JJ is already painfully stubborn when sober and only gets worse as the night goes on (code for: he won’t listen to anyone but you), and partly because you get a sweet kick out of his clinginess and extra loving.

So when you finally pull up and hop out of your car, the sound of Pope sighing Finally doesn’t surprise nor offend you.  Kie and Sarah scurry over, welcoming you with hugs and jokes about how sorry they are they had to call you while John B and Pope still tend to the drunken blonde.

“It’s alright,” you assure them, “I don’t mind.” And you really don’t, not at all, not when he acts all the more helplessly in love with you.

The bonfire still burns on, red-hot embers breaking off into the midnight sky. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon plays from a speaker nearby, and beer bottles litter the ground as you approach. The fire’s warmth wraps around you, a handle of Tito’s—only half full—entering your field of vision as you find JJ reclined back on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes while his other hand taps along to the song. You crouch down next to him and hear him hum in tune.

John B stands behind you, feeling a little helpless. “He’s been talking about you nonstop since he got, like, three shots deep.”

“And as much as we love you guys together,” Sarah adds, leaning into the boy’s side, “He doesn’t listen very well once he gets started.”

You shoot them a smile over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I get it. You guys can head in if you want, this might take a while.” The two lovebirds wave you goodnight as they walk back inside with Kie and Pope, and you turn your attention back to your exceptionally troublesome boy. “JJ? Time to go to bed.”

He grumbles without moving an inch. “I told you to fuck off, Sarah, I just wanna see my girl.”

Your heart flutters at the name—his girl. You’ve never heard him call you that. Does he seriously think you’re Sarah? “Your girl?”

“Yeah, you know the gorgeous one?”

“Might ring a bell.”

“Yeah, well, she’s the most…the most beautiful person in the history of…of forever, and she’s mine, so get outta here n’…go flirt with John B or somethin’.” He lazily waves you off, mumbling something you don’t quite hear.

A smile fights its way to the surface, and you gently place your hand on the smooth plane of his shoulder. “Oh, but I wanted to flirt with you instead. How’s that sound, hm?”

He quickly pushes your touch away. “It sounds like my girl’s gonna kill you any second now, so watch it, Blondie.” He slurs his words as he speaks, pulling giggles from your lips. You gently take his wrist in your hand to remove his arm from his eyes and press a kiss where your fingertips touch him. His eyes stay closed, and he juts his chin in the opposite direction in protest.

“Jay, baby, I’m not killing anyone anytime soon,” you coo, leaning over his chest and face while running a hand through his hair. 

He opens one eye, suspicious of your claims, but quickly realizes it’s you, and turns to look at you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, his expression swallowed by a smile. “When did you get here, baby?”

“Oh, just now,” you answer, laughter lacing your words, “Kie called me over.” You press a kiss to his forehead before sitting back up, your hand quickly taken by his.

“You should’ve come sooner.” His other hand makes its way to your thigh, smoothing over your skin. “I was waiting for you, all by myself, and—” he abruptly sits up— “there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers. He casts a glance to the Chateau. “It’s top secret.”

With him this close, you can smell the vodka on his breath. “Yeah? What is it?” You loop your arms around his neck and scratch at the nape of his neck, to which he instinctively responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing the palms of his hands along your back.

“This is top secret, classified information, princess, you can’t just get it for free. Everything comes with a price.” A sly little grin comes over him, tugging you a little closer.

Knowing JJ, you already know where this is headed. You decide to play along anyway: “Name it, then. I’m sure we can strike a deal somehow.”

He mulls over his words before saying, “Hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“You—” he points at your chest— “give me three—no, five kisses for the info up front.” When you raise your eyebrows in suspicion, he continues, “And every follow up question is worth another kiss.”

“This must be very important information.”

“Very.” His hands, still soaking in the feeling of you beneath them, start to play with the hem of your tank top, fingertips slipping beneath the fabric to feel skin. “Better pay up soon.”

You feign a look of shock and place a hand on his chest. “I didn’t even agree yet, don’t get too excited.” 

He pouts with furrowed brows, convinced his offer would be impossible to resist. “Why? Baby, come on,” he urges, holding you tighter, “This is the part where you kiss me.” His eyelids droop with drunkenness and fatigue as he presses his lips to your neck, but you quickly take his jaw in your hand and pull him away. 

“Ah ah ah,” you tease. “You come to bed first, then I’ll give you kisses for your secrets.”

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.” His hands work their way from your waist down to your hips again, soon grazing your thighs the way he knows erupts butterflies in your stomach. “I wanna stay here with you…have you boss me around. You’re very sexy when you do it.” He smirks while looking up at you, and you know for a fact he’s just trying to push your buttons.

You roll your eyes and push his face away as you start to stand up. “You’re a pain in the ass, I hope you know that.” As bitter as you try to sound, you’ll always have a soft spot for him the way he does for you, especially when your bitterness is met with that beautiful smile of his. You hold out both hands, towering over him and urging him to stand. “C’mon, Jay.”

He leans his weight onto his hands, stubborn as always. “Will you stay the night?”

“Not if you keep this up, I won’t.” You lend him a condescending smile. 

“But Baby,” he groans, finally complying now that the stakes have been raised. “I haven’t seen you all day, and I miss you.” He starts to shuffle where he sits, taking hold of your hands as you pull him up, dizziness causing him to stumble into your arms. “Can’t a boy just get some love from his girl?” 

There he goes again—his girl. 

You loop his arm over your shoulder and wrap yours around his waist as you lead him into the Chateau, surrounded by his warmth and the smell that’s so distinctly him: a bit of beachiness, mandarin and musky from his body wash, a hint of marijuana.

“You’re very kind,” he rambles on, “for coming here so late. I missed you.”

“I know, baby. You told me.”

He makes his way up the steps with you, following as you open the door. “Well, I’m making sure you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, love.” You smile to yourself, a little caught off guard with how open he’s become.

“I still have to tell you that top secret information,” he whispers, leaning down to your ear-level. His body wraps around you as you stand in front of him to open the door to his bedroom, his arms start to wrap around your waist again. “And you still owe me kisses for it.”

You usher him into his room, shutting the door behind you. “C’mon, let’s get into bed. That was the rule.”

He does as you wish without complaint for once, though when he does sit at the edge of his bed, he also pulls you to stand in between his legs. “I’m in bed now.”

“I can see that,” you giggle, hands massaging his neck and shoulders.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a kiss now?”

“Not yet.” You tug at the fabric of his shirt. “Take this off, please?” You don’t think much when you say it, but once the words slip out and you see JJ’s brows raise as a cocky smirk crosses his face, you realize you need to cover your tracks.

He bites his tongue to oblige, nabbing the back of his tee before pulling it over his head. Revealed to you are his broad shoulders, his chest, those toned arms that are, admittedly, to die for, though you’d never tell him that directly. 

“You’re trying to undress me, baby?” he asks, too quick for you to correct yourself. His hands take purchase of your hips before taking up your thighs, his hands molding to your curves and getting treacherously close to your inner thighs.

Your face goes hot—why is he so good at this?—but you keep a straight face and grab his face, one hand cupping his jaw while the other supports the back of his head. “Do you want your kiss or not?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, almost immediately. His eyes glaze over, entranced by everything you are. A drunk smile is sent your way, and he can’t really tell whether the tingling all over his body is just from the vodka, or if it’s your hands on his body, your snippy tone that he knows is full of love. He’s sure that no matter how flustered he can make you, it’ll never compare to how you make him feel with even the slightest of touches.

Your grip goes soft, and you rake your hand through his hair, his eyes falling shut and his head gone slack into your hands. “You’re beyond wasted, aren't you?”

He laughs heartily now, eyes still shut as he nods his head. “I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, princess.” Giggles line his words and his face scrunches in a smile, dimple on display.

“How much did you drink?”

“A few beers.”

“And?” You tug lightly on his hair.

“Mm, some vodka, maybe. A few shots.” His hands drag from the backs of your thighs, to your hips, to your waist.

“JJ.” You stare down at his clearly vodka-dazed face. “How many is a few?”

He hums to himself, as deep in thought one can be when wasted. “Maybe seven…or nine…don’t remember,” he mumbles.

You sigh to yourself, not surprised by his recklessness but still not all too happy with it. 

But before you can formulate a single thought, a single articulated response, he starts to pout—eyes still closed of course, because your boy is nothing if not a truth-teller. “You sound mad.” Even when wasted he knows you so well.

“I’m not,” you fib a little, for his own sake. You kiss his forehead, then his cheek before letting go of him entirely to pull back the covers for him. “Come on, time to sleep, yeah?” You give a soft tug on his hand as his body goes pliant.

He slowly but surely crawls properly into bed, giving you a show of his back muscles flexing and relaxing before falling face-first into his pillow with a hmph. You lay down next to him as he lifts his arm with all his might, slowly turning onto his side to make space for you. Legs intertwine without words, the warmth of his body blankets your senses, his weight grounds you.

“You need to hurry, princess. I need to…need to give you the information.” The words are half-muffled by his pillow, and his eyes are still shut. 

“Oh. We’re still doing that?” You’re surprised he even remembers the information at this point—whatever it might be. 

He squeezes you tighter into his body, pulling a smile from you as he groans. “Yes, we’re still doing that…it’s important. You need three more…”

“Okay, okay,” you soothe, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. “Does that count?”

“Mhm, two more.” A stupid, drunk, terribly charming grin crosses his face, and it feels like you’re falling for him all over again, teetering at the edge of a cliff. His arm, still heavy on your waist, shifts a little, and his fingers dance along your back and light fires where they touch.

You curl your hand, gently, along the crook of his neck and kiss his jaw. “And that counts as well?”

With the way you’re whispering your words into his neck, JJ swears he could die happily. “Mm, sure does.”

For the fifth and final kiss, the corner of his mouth. It curls into your kiss like he knew it was coming, and you give him one more just for good measure—and, maybe, because seeing him smile is worth his weight in gold. You brush your hand through his hair before hugging him a little tighter towards your chest, all too aware now that you won’t be getting any information out of him the rest of the night. This minor inconvenience, however, doesn’t seem to compare to having him in your arms, his breath against your neck, his arm wrapped around you to tell you he’s there, and he’s there to stay, and he wants to be there more than anywhere else.

You think that you could play this game a million times over. The part where you kiss him—that is, when his lovely, sweet little smile peeks through that rough shell—will never get old enough to retire.

(But for tonight, you can live without more of his drunken teasing. Just for tonight.)

[thesensteawitch]

What Change Is Coming Toward You? 🍀🧹✨

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left To Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea SOULS!

This is a collective reading with written and an audio message which you'll find at the end of this blog. So take what resonates and claim this reading in the comments!🫶🏻

Also, feel free to DM me if you wish to book a TAROT READING WITH ME !✨

BOOKING FORM • RATE CARD • TIP MY BLOG

Take a deep breath before you start reading.🪄

Pile 1

A drastic shift of energy is happening in your life. It seems you felt really stuck in a connection. You've thought of everything when it comes to this person. All possible scenarios have been exhausted. It was a tough way to come out of something until you had nothing left to give. But it's over now. Suddenly the energy will shift from you having nothing to everything. Luck is on your side, especially when it comes to finding love in the area of your life you most desire. You seem to be having zero hope toward finding the one. But something positive is happening behind your back (in your favor), which will surprise you. Keep wondering what it could be, but it's going to be better than you ever imagined.

You may be seeing numbers- 1010, 222, 11

In the END of this blog you can find the audio message about how you will feel after the change enters your life and what signs you will see as a confirmation.🫶🏻 (Time Stamp- 00:00)

Pile 2

You're about to begin a new journey. The path that was meant to be walked by you is now ready to be explored. You've always wanted something more out of life. There was a feeling of emptiness within you. Without meaning, you do nothing. You're about to find the emotional fulfillment and the deepest meaning in something that you are about to pursue in your path ahead. It's going to be magical, vast, and mysterious. Expect to live in the enchanting world that you once thought existed when you were a kid. A lot of mind-blowing ideas will be sent to you by the universe. You're centered and grounded to receive the downloads from the universe without any blockage. You'll now realize why it was necessary for you to be alone. Why were you kept away from people? Because only you can realize your purpose. God wanted you to be in the quiet so that you could listen to the purpose of your life. Your vision is expanding.

You may be seeing numbers- 555, 3939, 111, 333.

In the END of this blog you can find the audio message about how you will feel after the change enters your life and what signs you will see as a confirmation.🫶🏻 (Time Stamp- 1:19)

Pile 3

You've been waiting for your life to change. I feel there's an opportunity right around the corner, and you know it. But you don't know if it's really that good as it claims it to be. You're juggling between two thoughts, jobs, or wishes. You're trying to keep your balance, not letting your hopes high. You're in self-delusion. Your mind is playing tricks with you. What is coming towards you is going to give you the epitome of success or happiness. Until now you have been struggling to make your ends meet (be it in love or finances), and suddenly you will be surprised to see the amount of fortune this new opportunity is going to give you. Don't try to sabotage your success. You deserve it. You were living your life for less than what you deserved. Thinking won't help you. Just listen to your intuition and let this opportunity come to you. You're about to be blessed. Your intuition knows what's coming towards you, but your mind wants to keep you safe by sending false messages. It seems you'll be receiving two blessings.

You may be seeing Numbers- 1010, 234, 432

In the END of this blog you can find the audio message about how you will feel after the change enters your life and what signs you will see as a confirmation.🫶🏻 (Time Stamp- 2:20)

Here is the AUDIO MESSAGE!⭐🌈