#this is nearly 1200 words

[local-redhead-bookworm]

Redder than Hellfire: an Alastor Analysis from the Perspective of a Redheaded Asexual

If you’ve spent any amount of time in the Hazbin Hotel fandom, you will know that Alastor is the most shipped character in the fandom. That’s rather ironic, considering he’s canonically asexual and creator sources have all but outright stated that he’s aromantic. However, Vivziepop pussyfooting around his romantic orientation is a discussion for another date. I want to discuss Alastor's unique situation as a redheaded asexual and the ways this intersection affects how the fandom treats him.

While red hair is more common in Scotland, Ireland, and other areas affected by the Vikings, red hair is a genetic mutation. This means it can occur naturally in any people group. There have been cases of it all over the world. As such, it is possible for African-American people such as Alastor to have naturally occurring red hair. I believe that his hair was dark in color, as is common among mixed-race children. However, I am not opposed to the idea of his hair having been red in life.

If we wish to assume that Alastor’s hair was red in his life, he would have twice as many stereotypes aimed at him. During the 1920s and 1930s, when Alastor would have been an adult, African-American men were stereotyped as sexually violent (and to some extent they still are stereotyped as such today). Redheads are stereotyped as “better in bed,” more sexually active than others, as well as freakier in bed. Those things combined would make for a lot of assumptions about a certain radio demon.

Redheads are either highly vilified or highly sexualized. Redheaded men as a whole are seen as ugly. Redheaded women, on the other hand, are stereotyped as fiery and sexually wild. It isn’t uncommon to see redheads as either the bully or the unattractive friend in children’s media, but in media directed toward adults the redhead is often the sexpot character.

Redhead stereotypes have a few different sources. While a few date back to ancient Egypt and Greece, the most common ones toward men can be traced back to (surprise, surprise) antisemitism, primarily depictions of Judas Iscariot. He was commonly portrayed as a redhead, which led to the perception of redheaded men as untrustworthy or crooked in their ways.

Mary Magdalene is also tied to redhead stereotypes. She has been incorrectly assumed for much of Christian history to be the sex worker who washed Jesus’ feet, and she has been commonly portrayed as a redhead, which has tied redheaded women to sex. This idea of depicting sex workers as redheads seems to date back to Lilith. There is historical precedence for Lilith being portrayed as a redhead, and she is known for wanting to be equal with Adam and being sexually out of line—in this specific instance, wanting to top, sleeping with the devil, and not having kids. These perceptions of Lilith and Mary Magdalene have led to the stereotype of redheaded women as fiery, independent, and sexually passionate. I find this connection to Lilith particularly interesting, as it’s commonly speculated that Alastor’s soul belongs to her.

Alastor’s reception by the Hazbin Hotel fandom has been more in line with the reception of redheaded women than of redheaded men. Granted, I can see why this is. Alastor isn’t exactly traditionally masculine. His silhouette is hourglass-shaped when one includes his coat, his haircut isn’t masculine, and he’s shown to be more comfortable around the female characters of Hazbin than around the male characters. He’s also highly sexualized by the fandom. Interestingly enough, he also picks up the Judas stereotypes—he’s violent, greedy, untrustworthy, in league with a demonic power, and it’s heavily speculated among fans that he will betray the protagonist.

Here is where we will deviate from strictly facts and I will discuss my own experiences as a redheaded asexual.

It is exhausting. I’ve known I was ace before I even knew the term, I just knew that sex seemed crawl-out-of-my-skin gross, exhausting, and like a poor way to use time I could be spending elsewhere. I’ve gotten used to sexual humor, but I personally still find it immature and unoriginal, and any time a sexual remark is directed at me, my brain reacts as if I’ve just heard nails on a chalkboard.

It seems like everywhere I turn, someone is joking about redheads being wild in bed. For example, one of the first men I went on a date with told me that his last ex had been a redhead who stabbed him in the butt with a pair of scissors. Another time I was at a church function, and I had not been there five minutes when a man old enough to be my grandfather came up behind me, put his hand on the small of my back, leaned in close to me and asked in a hushed voice, “you one of those crazy redheads?” I said “no” and laughed nervously, then stuck with a male friend for the rest of the evening.

Those examples are the more dramatic ones, but that’s common for redheaded women. I’m a novelty item. I remember being a child and having grown adults touch my hair without asking, and to this day it’s something I have to dodge in salons while I listen to how people pay thousands for my hair color. I’m a beautiful young woman with fiery hair, manic pixie dream girl charm, and supposedly incredible talent in bed.

I wouldn’t know if I’m any good in bed, and I have no desire to ever find out. Yet everywhere I look, I hear that I’m a hot-button commodity. In 2013 women made up roughly 22% of porn stars according to NBC, and in 2014 redheads were in 30% of TV commercials. I’ve heard and read more stories than I can count about how as soon as women dye their hair red, men immediately see these women as more sexual. I am desirable, whether I like it or not.

How does this connect to Alastor? Given what I’ve shared here both statistically and anecdotally, I feel that I’ve extensively proven that feminine redheads are seen as inherently sexual. While I don’t know that I fully believe it, I wouldn’t be shocked if part of Alastor’s personal hell is being seen as sexually desirable when he is a sex-repulsed asexual. Being perceived as inherently sexual is bad enough, but it is doubly painful when you want nothing more than for people to stop trying to get into your pants.

This sexual perception of him is not merely limited to his own fictional setting. He is also the most widely shipped Hazbin character on AO3, with thousands of fics shipping him with Lucifer, Angel Dust, Vox, Charlie, or a reader. He is by far the easiest to find NSFW fanart of. Ever since Viv made it publicly known, fans have been either pitching fits over his asexuality or choosing to ignore it because they find him hot.

I’m aware this is relevant to myself and perhaps three other people. I’m also aware he was designed when Viv was very young and she probably wasn’t putting this much thought into it. But this is an angle of his character I’ve never seen anyone talk about before and it was an angle I connected with.

Works Cited:

“Primetime TV Ads Feature an Unusually High Number of Redheads.” The Hollywood Reporter.

“The Porn Myth: Uncovering the Truth about Sex Stars.” NBC.

Lilith. Jewish Women’s Archive.

Red: A History of the Redhead by Jacky Collis Harvey.

Tagging people who seemed interested:

@sonneillonv @creepysora @usedtobethelegendcreator

[summerfevers]

if you’re up to it i would very much like to know your white collar neal timeline🎤🎤

this turned out to have many asides and be very long so the tl;dr is: peter have you considered that he's just a twenty-something teenage girl :( ?

timeline:

neal born 1984 ish. he's an aries and a millennial

neal, ellen, and neal's mom go into witsec 1987, neal age 3

2003 adler scandal i fucking guess. neal age 19

neal arrested probably mid 2005, 21

neal goes to jail for the first time, i want to say early 2006, age almost 22

pilot is set late summer 2009, age 25

same-sex marriage legalized in new york june 24th 2011, they talk about this in season 3 episode 14 which is soon after. neal's 27

more or less a year later–let's go with less–neal tells sam that he has spent the last decade running from the truth he learned at 18. taking him literally that it was 10 years ago he is now 28 it is the end of season 4 and 2012

the end of season 4 to the series finale is less than a year. he is 29 its 2013.

when we see him in paris he might be 30 but that doesn't count To Me

i present my evidence:

i don't know where we got "neal is 35" from i cant make it work. neal and co. went into witsec (which i have actually since learned is not available to people living in dc, they have their own version but it is not overseen by the federal marshalls, i don't think they can give you as many legal documents like a ssn, and they don't help you set up your new life as much? something about neal's life that would be interesting to explore.) when he was three and ellen says in season 4 that she's been in witsec for Nearly three decades. confirmed 33 or under in season 4

he also says to "sam" more than once that he's spent the last decade running from the truth he learned at 18–he very well could be rounding down here and mean like 12-13 years but i am Choosing to Believe he meant that literally. we are now at youngest 28, it is the last episode of season 4.

now due to the way the show is structured and the fact that it is never really winter. ok maybe winter 1 time because i can see in my mind neal in his little wool coat and earmuffs but largely it is summer and we never have a christmas episode. anyway due to All That our only real anchor in the timeline is that the episode where diana is Grappling with her engagement to Christie happens immediately following june 24th 2011, when same-sex marriage was legalized in new york. and also that later that season in the commutation hearing they say that neal has served 2 years of his sentence. so the pilot was set in 2009 when it aired we are at one year/season. but as the series goes on the episodes and even seasons have increasingly shorter gaps between them, and by season 6 we haven't even finished our four years. by the end of season 4 i want to say we are three years into his sentence and he's 28. between the end of season 4 and when neal dies in season 6 there has got to be less than a year that passes. actually deadass why was neal so obsessed with the pink panther case ending his sentence early we are like months out king. i get the injustice the system is broken they'd keep him forever but to people outside his circle he must have looked sooo silly for that. but whatever. he is 29 when he dies and 30 when we see him again in paris, his roaring 20s of crime and incarceration over.

Anyway where the "neal is 35 or at least claims to be much older than this timeline would say he is" probably came from in-universe is that the adler scandal takes place SEVEN years before s2 when peter confronts neal about it. 2003?????? guys the thing we have to understand, to embrace, about neal's personal timeline is that i do not think anyone in that writers room was really grasping how much they had neal do in so short a time. 2003 he is like 19 guys. maybe by the time peter says it was 7 years ago it was 2011 ? and the adler thing was 2004? but no that couldn't work because it's mid 2011 like a year later in s3. so basically neal walks out of st louis and has a magical girl transformation through which he immediately becomes a great conman and criminal. and he meets mozzie basically straight away. he should still be in like calculus and ap lit at this juncture. and then they go right into the adler con ??? and neal is obviously lying through his teeth to everyone saying he is at least 21 but probably more along the lines of 23. and while most of his aliases are eventually found out by peter if no one else, no one ever goes "wait IS HE a teenager?" no one is guessing this.

so we spend a couple months fucking around and fucking UP with adler, kate probably doesn't know how old we actually are, this relationship cannot actually last very long at all because we are truly on a time crunch right now. we have less than three years for neals entire criminal career before he goes to jail. i know i said on the bullet list he went to jail early 2006 he has got to have been arrested like summer 2005 at the latest to be tried and sentenced by then and i feel like even that might be tight because he was suspected of so many other things they wanted to get evidence for. but how is neal teaching kate to be a criminal less than a year into his own career. i think neal must have been a hardcore improv kid for this to work honestly. i bet he competed. so our golden days of mozzie neal and kate against the world lasts maybe a year at best before neal and kate fight and she leaves and he spends months trying to get her back and get her attention and commits a truly breathtaking amount of crimes in this time.

also i'm skipping through forging bonds right now trying to flesh out this timeline and it was incredibly shady of peter and co to see that kate is doing so much to stay hidden from her ex boyfriend and then to reveal her to neal in order to catch him. like that was fucked up they didn't know neal yet he hadn't been suspected of violent crimes but they didn't know why kate was working so hard to escape him. like it worked out ok (arguably, but that could be a different post) but they had no reason to trust neal not to hurt her like this. she could have been running from an abusive situation he's known to be a talented criminal with no fears about escalating his crimes he could have killed her. one thing about the fbi is that they never once care about kate's safety and it does indeed get her killed one day.

in conclusion neal is known as one of the best forgers in the world when he is arrested in 2005 at age 21 maybe 2 years into his criminal career. here i am 21 what have i accomplished

[rarepairnation]

NEW UNPRECEDENTED PROBLEM! writing from faramir’s pov means that. well. there are a lot of things about his father that I UNDERSTAND that HE DOES NOT. and thus i must mischaracterise them because that is the correct way in which faramir would see them. putting in a goddamn disclaimer. views of faramir son of denethor regarding his father do not reflect views of the author.

[autumnleopard]

"For the first time since he was a little kid, Tommy found himself praying. If it was for help out of this, for relief from the pain or for salvation in any way possible, he didn’t know. He just prayed silently in his mind, trying to hold on just a little while longer."

Trying to write something for whumptober. Wish me luck.

[volfoss]

i need to be free of this fucking bookkkkk i need to see lestats totally in character rant about how people didnt like memnoch and anne rice decided to take it personally next book

[voidthewanderer]

[ love ]   your muse telling mine they love them during. For Ripper & Sweetjane.

@bleumanouche || NSFW Muse Reaction Prompts

This one gives me so many feelings oh my god. Cut is fairly quick, but that’s because the buildup is kind of quick, honestly. This took me way too long to get to, honestly, but I just wasn't completely sure how I wanted to write this one, honestly. And just the sheer amount of feelings because this is a very Ripper thing to do ngl

MDNI 18+ under cut like... immediately.

•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•~*♡*~•

Everything about her was absolutely intoxicating. How soft her skin was, her scent that filled his nasal cavity… How she practically danced with every step she took. She was perfect in every single way. He wanted her, bad. Every week, every day; in his arms, by his side. In his bed.

Nights they had together were passionate, leaving him practically breathless every chance possible. He hadn’t had so much fun with someone else in such a long time… And to be able to be with a long term partner to have it? It only made Ripper happier. He felt like nothing could get between him and Sweetjane at this point.

It had been another one of those nights, starting off so innocently. He’d been doing so much improvement of his own person, trying to learn how to cook more than what little he knew; trying to find spots that he could take her on little dates. It always ended with the duo laying in his bed, clothing trailing to the furniture as things slowly grew more and more heated between them.

Ripper had long since learned where she most enjoyed to be touched, though didn’t neglect his own desires as well. As it stood, he currently had her straddled over him, rough lips trailing down her belly, hand gripping her breast somewhat tight. He’d been aware of any touch she gave in return, feeling her pressing back against his groin, him letting out a soft growl. He pulled back to rest against the pillows beneath him, legs shifting ever so slightly to give her a seat to settle back against.

Hands shifted, locking firmly at her hips, forearms pressed against her thighs, as he gazed at Sweetjane’s body, smile growing on his lips. He couldn’t get over how unbelievably amazing her body was. He saw her smirk, “What’s got ya all smiley?”

“Just can’t believe that an old ghoul like myself was able to land such an amazing, sexy little smooth-skin like you…”

“Easy,” she hummed, feeling him press down on her hips slightly, following his movement, “Ya got heart. Ya got personality.”

She made a soft noise as his cock slowly started to fill her, him letting out an equally soft sigh. His fingers twitched against her skin slightly as he lowered her against himself, swallowing away his following noise. No, he wanted this to last… he needed it to. Something just screamed in his mind that he wanted tonight to just be a long, passionate fuck.

And it did start off as such, she followed his guide, slowly letting her take control of her ride, his yellowed eyes flicking over every little bit of her body. Keeping his attention on her breath, her scent still driving him wild. Watching her muscles shift as she slowly picked up her pace, her breasts as they lightly bounced at the new pace. His hands slowly slid down to her thighs, just wanting to touch her anywhere he could at this point.

All the while, his eyes were evident of more going on in his mind. Every so often, he’d open his mouth, like he was going to speak, but all that would come out was a soft moan. Though, it didn’t help that Sweetjane would shift her hips juuust right when he would. She wanted him to enjoy himself, just as much as she was enjoying him.

Suddenly, his hands shifted again, gripping her hips and forcing her down, his cock completely pressed inside of her cunt. She let out a gasp, though pleasured, it had been sudden. Ripper arched forward, his face buried in what he really could of her breasts. He’d never had a partner with small tits before, though it definitely made it easier to nip at them. She tried to move, though he locked one arm firm around her waist, the other snaking up her back.

She let out a chuff, “Ya ain’t gettin’ tired on me yet, are ya?”

All he did was let out a low growl, using his weight to flip her onto her back. His hands pressed into the mattress at her shoulders, him taking over his thrusts. She did manage to keep her legs locked around his hips, at least. He tried so desperately to keep a steady pace; it being so easy to just want to lose control with her…

He gave a soft groan at the first convulsion he felt against his cock; she was close. Not that he was far off either at this point. He pressed himself down, lips pressing against her neck only for a moment before biting. She moaned out into his ear and he gave a particularly heavy thrust, her mewling out again.

“Oh.. oh cazzo…”

“Joey…”

This caused him to still for a moment, gaze locked onto her face. Her eyes were half lidded with pleasure, trying to catch her breath as he just watched her. He could feel her pussy clenching his cock on the verge of her climax, only making him more acutely locked onto her and her alone. He pressed back down against her once more, easing back into gentle. He pressed his lips against her neck once more, breathing out something before even realizing what he’d said.

“I love you.”

The words didn’t even have time to be registered before Sweetjane moaned out in her climax. Ripper letting out a growl upon feeling her pussy pulsing on his cock. He couldn’t help himself, just wanting to hold still and savor the fact that he was still able to do this with anybody.

“Me… me… ma-” Her words were quickly cut short by another loud moan. One more thrust in was all he needed for his release, his breath shaky for a moment. Ripper shifted onto his elbows, holding her face to have Sweetjane look at him, “Don’t speak… Ti amo anch'io.”

He had forgotten that she knew his former name. There had been something about her saying it, be it the tone in her voice; saying it in such bliss. Maybe it was just because she said it, he couldn’t keep his own mouth shut. He’d never declared his love during sex before; definitely understanding how awkward it felt. He reserved it for after the fact, something about those three little words feeling clumsy during something so intimate.

The fact that she was so quick to respond to it, even if it wasn’t completed. It warmed his heart. As for now? He pulled out carefully, watching her closely to make sure she was OK before rolling off the bed to grab some extra blankets and pillows. Now was time for aftercare and he had his very own queen he needed to take care of.

[thrilling-oneway]

oh i'm actually liking how this essay is going

[aparticularbandit]

yeah, this is probably going to be split into two chapters, too.

so, after this chapter, probably two more agathian backstory chapters before back into agave stuff proper.

[verstappensrealwife]

No regrets - Oscar Piastri x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

fluff, smut.

approx 1200 words

warnings: fem receiving: fingering and oral, p in v, loss of virginity, not proof read. Pussy and shaft….

based on this request :)

oscar piastri masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

He was your neighbor for goodness sake!

“Good morning!” He greeted each morning as you left your apartment at 8am sharp to head to work. You’d reply in kind and go on with your day, sometimes thinking to the cute boy across the hall.

Oscar, however, was not a morning person. He practically forced himself out of bed just to see you, speak to you, pretend to be going somewhere, then go back inside and chastise himself mentally for not even trying to ask you out.

One evening as you were coming home, he was leaving his apartment, and almost tripped over his feet when he saw you.

He was not prepared to speak to you. Each morning he’s silently sike himself up to utter two words. Now he was stuck in a situation: ignore you and pretend he didn’t just nearly fall straight into you, or mutter some words you probably won’t hear because of how quiet he would inevitably be.

“Hi,” You smiled as you pushed your key into your door.

“Hello.” He said back, not sure whether to walk away- very quickly- or stay and attempt to talk to you. It was the latter. “Sorry to be nosy but urm… well… I don’t think i actually know your name?”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You replied, holding your hand out to him to shake. His hand felt more than limp in your grasp.

“Oscar… Piastri.”

“Nice to meet you, Oscar… Piastri.” you giggled, slightly making fun of his shy demeanour

He huffed a small laugh, “Sorry to be more nosy, but I don’t think I have your number either?” He tried… he really did. And he succeeded!

“Oh! Sure, yeah!” You passed him your phone, a small smile playing on your lips as you watched him press the digits into a new contact. “Well, I should be going, a girl needs to eat.”

“I- I mean you can eat with me…” He said, “I- that sounds weird- I- Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That was the first of many dates he had invited you on. It became almost routine over the 2023 summer break for Oscar to take you out, every Friday evening, 7pm.

But by the end of August he had to of course go back to travelling the globe, racing cars.

The two of you stayed in touch, he gave you a key to his apartment to water his plants- of which only 2 were real. He routinely called you on a Friday night- unless team duties came upon him- to keep up with tradition.

But he grew tired of not being able to see you, physically.

The flight was long, and boring, but seeing Oscar as the first thing out the airport was more than exciting.He hugged you- longer than friends would hug- and led you by the small of your back to his car.

“To the hotel?” He asked you.

“Yes sir!” You smiled.

The hotel room you were put in was huge, the bed probably bigger than your kitchen at home.

Before you even touched your suitcase you fell, backwards, into the pristine white sheets of the hotel bed. Oscar falling in suit.

Lay next to eachother, you turned your head to see him already looking at you. He had a lovesick look in his eyes as he admired your face, eyes, lips. The more he stared at your lips, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing them.

His body acted before his mind and he was kissing you before he knew it. You were a little taken aback but didn’t pull away- you didn’t want to.

Until he moved his hand from your face, to your waist, to the inside of your leg.

You jumped up quickly, almost headbutting him in the nose in the process.

He was more than swift to throw apologies at you, sorries and quick movement to the other side of the bed.

There was an uncomfortable silence which Oscar hated. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words could fix, what in his mind, was the most awkward encounter with a woman in his life.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” You said quietly from the far side of the bed. He looked over at you, face flushed a light pink in embarrassment. “I– embarrassingly enough, im a virgin.”

He frowned confused. “Your a virgin? Like… never had sex… You?”

“Rub it in why dont you,” You laughed, “Why’s that so shocking?”

“Look at you! You’re like the most beautiful woman i’ve layed eyes on.” He wasn’t lying. “I thought men would be throwing themselves at you- I would.”

Now it was your turn to blush crimson, heat rising up your neck and across your face. You carefully shimmied towards him, holding his face gently. “If I’m gonna do it, I want it to be with you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He was on you like predator to prey, greedily kissing you, feeling your body needily. Until he went lower.

He was tentative, gentle in pushing his hands under the fabric of your underwear. Rubbing his finger up and down, smearing the wetness across your pussy. “Thats a good girl,” He said quietly. You weren’t meant to even hear him, but you did. And god, did it make you moan louder. He smirked at your visceral reaction. You heartbeat quickening as he pushed one finger, then two inside.

“See, no need to be nervous… Feels good, hm?”

You babbled some sort of response to him, a ‘yes’ somewhere in the jumble of the reply.

He pushed the clothes off of your bottom half completely, before moving to pull the shirt off your torso, unclipping your bra with ease and tossing it somewhere behind him. He was more than gentle as he kissed you, your neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and finally your clit.

He licked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. Indulging in the way your body reacted to him, to what he was doing to you, how he made you feel.

The first orgasm washed over you, legs shaking as he licked up everything. Climbing back up your body he was face to face, his mouth covered in a shine of liquid. “So, do you wanna do this. Really do it.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. He undressed, and kneeled between your legs, rolling a condom up the length of his shaft before positioning it infront of the entrance.

You took one final deep breath and he slowing pushed his hips towards your own. It hurt less than you had imagined- -but that didn’t take away from the fact it still stung.

He hadn’t moved in almost 2 minutes before you gave him the go ahead, pulling his hips back slowly and pushing them back towards you at the same pace. It hurt less as he carried on, eventually the sting turning to pleasure.

“Doing so- fuck- so well for me.” He groaned as he reached his peak slowly.

You could barely make words, so stuck to just moaning his name over and over again, whines of need flowing from your lips.

“Gonna cum, okay baby?”

You nodded quickly as he quickened his pace a little before his hips stuttered against yours before pulling out of you and immediately getting up. “I’ll be back- just need to clean you up.”

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

But god, you didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

[quixotical-lymbo]

Pairing: D-16/Megatron x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: After witnessing your conjunx endura descend into madness, you're left alone with your thoughts as the city of Iacon slowly begins to rebuild anew. However, your lover visits you the night he was banished from the city.  Warnings/Tags: Bittersweet, slight angst, cybertronian reader, pre-established relationship, possible corruption, ambiguous ending, and spoilers for the Transformers One movie.  Word Count: 1200+ words 

Something was wrong. 

You knew something was wrong when you felt something burst within your spark chamber. Your digits brushed against the space where your T-cog would be and…

You winced as the pain shot through the bond again. You could describe it as the feeling of sharp pieces of Energon flowing through your circuits. Hot and angry, then as somber as ice. 

Working in the Energon mines meant that danger could be lurking around the corner at any given moment. 

You understood this fact well, especially when working in the same crew as your sparkmate and his best friend. 

The rambunctious duo always had something going wrong for them as the cycles passed. Sometimes you ended up with the short end of the stick when you joined in on the 'fun.' On the other, you were watching from the sidelines as the two would get punished for their (mostly Orion's) schemes. The emotions shared through the bond were as warm as joy, slight pinches coming from D's annoyance, and the gentle touch of the love you two shared discreetly. 

 

So, why were you only sensing pain? 

What was happening to your lover? Was he safe? Did someone hurt him? Where was Pax while your conjunx endura's chaotic turmoil nearly made your optics teary? 

Where was he? 

Where was D-16? 

 

—--

Orion was shorter….the last time you interacted with him. 

Now? He easily towered over the crowd like a sore digit. You were beside yourself as your strained audials to listen to his words. 

Betrayal, Sentinel, Change. 

They were empowering, not quite heavy but it certainly stirred hope among the miners as they cheered. 

But, what of D-16? 

For a moment, Orion's optics met yours and confirmed your fears.

Something had happened to D-16. 

Here in the open for all of the citizens of Iacon to see was the fall of Sentinel Prime. His end? An impostor sharing the face of your mate who claimed the title of 'Megatron.' 

Who was this stranger with the face of your lover and why couldn't you feel him through the bond anymore? 

You remembered trying to tug at the bond, pulling and twisting to get something to react in response to your desperation. Your optics never strayed from the figure who stood above all of you. 

Yet, nothing came. Wait…

You could have sworn you saw 'Megatron's' optics scanning the crowd before they found their way to yours. 

Time slowed for the first time and you tried to search for anything, something in that stranger's optic for any presence of D-16. 

For a moment, the fiery glow of those optics dimmed. 

Then….

He turned away and never looked back in the direction where you stood again. 

Not even after Orion Pax, now Optimus Prime, banished him from Iacon. 

Your spark broke that day. 

Darkness covered the desolate area where most miners spend their nights in recharge. You stood before your conjunx endura berth, digits caressing the chipped stickers he had collected over time of his idol. The lights shining from your optics misted and you leaned closer to rest your forehelm on the space that once belonged to D-16. 

"____." A voice spoke from behind you.

You spun around and threw a punch, but the massive servo enveloping your servo stunned you. 

"D…?" You murmured in disbelief. 

'D-16' narrowed his optics and didn't respond when you pulled your servo out of his. 

"It's...Megatron now." 

"Right, right, sorry…I'm a little late on the new…this," You threw your hand up to gesture to his shiny, new frame. 

'Megatron' didn't appear amused at your sass and even drew closer to you. His steps felt daunting with each step he took as if the ground of the miners quarters would buckle beneath his weight. 

Backing up against the berth put into perspective how smaller you were compared to the mech. Megatron stepped closer and closed the distance between the two of you. He raised a servo near your faceplate, a low growl left his intake as you turned defiantly. 

 

"Did you not see why I had to do this? Why I had to become-" 

"-Ha!" You snorted and snapped your helm to look at him. "You mean when I tried 'seeing' you earlier? I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one who cut off their sparkmate from the bond  for no reason." 

"And another thing." You pushed against the edges of the berth and stepped forward with your chassis bumping against his. The larger mech could easily shove you back, but retreated as you approached. The silver mech mesmerized by the way your optics flickered into a darker shade only to snap out of it when you questioned him with, "Why did you return to me? Why now? I was certain you'd abandon me-" 

"-do you think so lowly of me as well?!" Megatron pushed back. His servo stretched to catch you when you stumbled, but dropped it when you flinched from his approaching touch. 

His servo was clenched as he drew it back to his side. Digits rubbed together to replace the lack of heat that usually came from your frame held under his grasp.

With a tilt of your helm, you asked, "I don't know anymore…one moment I'm happy spending the rest of my days with my sparkmate, but he disappears, and then returns as a power-hungry tyrant…what else am I supposed to think of you, D…no…Megatron?" 

Megatron did not speak, not that he knew how to. 

Silence fell upon the lovers, neither willing to break the tension. Not until now. 

"I came here…to see you," D-16 yielded. His soft voice easing the suspicion gnawing at you ever since he arrived, finally your frame went lax as his face became familiar. This was your conjunx endura, the one you bonded with and not whoever was there previously. 

"To ask if you'll join me, my love." 

"What?" You hissed. 

"Come with me," Megatron urged. "I have risked everything coming back here for you and I will not ask again." 

You brought a servo to your helm and felt a pit grow in your tanks. 

"Join me because I promise you…" Megatron leaned down to hold your gaze, "...the next time we see each other will be the end of us." 

"I…" You glanced at his servo that reached for you, most likely for the last time. Your optical ridges furrowed and Megatron's optics shimmered with delight as your servo fell over his. The larger servo enveloped the smaller one and pressed the palm of your servo against his spark chamber. Right over the area where Sentinel's previous cog was ripped out of him. 

The memory struck a chord in you. Becoming the thing to make you sober from the high of what this relationship could have been. Should have been. 

It could still happen, only if you said yes…but what fate would fall on Iacon if you joined the one bot desiring the destruction of the new era? 

Megatron watched the conflict swimming on your face, his thumb caressing the back of your servo as the other came up to settle on your waist. 

 

After a while, you gave him your answer. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @kodaswrld !!

[lemoncrushh]

Kinda Perfect

Summary: It's a girls' night out and Harry shows up, but you decide not to let your new friend Tiffany know that Harry is your boyfriend.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1230

A/N: Real Harry x y/n, written in 2017. Originally an oc, edited to be a reader fic. Thanks for voting for me to repost all these silly little fics lol. I used to refer to these as blurbs or drabbles, but I think the definitions have changed over the years. They will still be listed under one shots on my masterlist, but they are shorter than most of my other one shots, around 1200-1600 words.

"Oh my God!" Tiffany shouted before immediately covering her mouth with her hand.

"What is it?" you asked, swirling your straw around your glass.

"Is that..." she leaned closer to you in the booth and whispered loudly, "Harry Styles?"

Your eyes followed her gaze across the room where indeed you spotted the tall, handsome man.

"Oh. Yeah," you smirked.

"Wow. Have you seen him here before?"

You nodded. "A few times."

Tiffany sighed, sitting back. "He's so..."

You raised a brow. "So what?"

"Gorgeous."

You jutted out your bottom lip as you pretended to consider her comment. "You think?"

"God, yes. Don't you?"

You chuckled lightly. "I suppose so."

Just then, your best friend Linda returned from the restroom with Jan. Scooting into the booth across from you, Linda grinned at you.

"He's here, did you see?" she cocked her head toward the front of the room where Harry stood.

"Yes," you eyed her.

She bit her lip as she acknowledged your intent.

"Are you talking about Harry?" asked Tiffany, your new oblivious friend.

"Yeah," Linda said quickly before lifting her beer.

"Do you guys know him or something?"

"Oh, yeah, he's Y/N's-" Jan began before you kicked her under the table. "Ouch!"

You watched Tiffany's eyes widen as she gasped. "He's your what?"

"Friend," Linda finished.

"Yeah, friend," Jan grimaced as she rubbed her shin.

"Oh! How lucky. Does that mean...I get to meet him?"

Your gaze shifted between your two other friends who just looked at you dumbfounded. Then you addressed Tiffany nonchalantly.

"Probably."

"Oh gosh! Um...maybe I should go to-"

Tiffany's words stopped abruptly when she saw the tall figure walking toward you. You bit your tongue and held my breath as Harry stepped up to your table, an easy grin on his face.

"Hello, ladies," he greeted.

"Hi, Harry," Jan and Linda said in unison.

He raised his brows at you, noticing my silence. You lifted your hand and wiggled your fingers in a poor attempt of a wave. You could practically feel the nerves emitting from Tiffany as she stared up at him.

"Harry, this is our friend, Tiffany," you said.

With typical Harry Styles charm, his smile widened to reveal his perfect teeth as he held out his hand.

"Hello, Tiffany."

"Lovely to meet you," she replied in a slightly shaky voice.

You giggled to yourself as Harry's eyes locked on Tiffany's, and you saw her blush. You could feel Linda and Jan looking at you, but you knew if you turned my head you'd lose your cool.

"Are we having drinks?" asked Harry when he let go of Tiffany's hand.

"Yep," answered Jan, lifting her nearly empty glass.

"Need another one, I see. I'll be right back."

Harry patted his hand against the table, his rings clicking, before turning in the direction of the bar. However, he was stopped mid-way by a couple other people that he knew, and because he was always so polite, he engaged them in conversation.

"I should probably just get my own drink," remarked Jan with a smirk.

"He's kind of a dork," scoffed Linda.

"Are you kidding me?" asked Tiffany incredulously. "He's kinda perfect."

You dropped your head to keep from laughing as you heard Linda snicker.

"What? What did I say?"

"No guy is perfect," Linda answered. "Even Harry Styles."

"Well, I beg to differ." Tiffany sat back and crossed her arms. "Of course I could never be so lucky to get a guy like that."

"Oh c'mon, Tiff, yes you could," said Jan.

"No way," Tiffany shook her blonde curls. "He's way out of my league."

"Eh, he's not so great," you commented. "He's just like any other guy. He curses and smells sometimes."

Tiffany's jaw dropped as she glared at you. "But you're friends with him. Surely you know how amazing he is."

You shrugged. "I mean, he's cute, I'll admit. And he's funny. But he's...kind of overrated. He's annoying as fuck."

"I have a hard time believing that," Tiffany laughed.

"It's true," you rolled your eyes. "And he's not even a good kisser."

The collective gasp at the table was audible as you realized what you'd just said.

"You've kissed him?" Tiffany whined.

"Um...whoops," you mumbled.

Your eyes met Linda's as she shook her head, silently telling you you'd gone too far. You sucked in your lips and looked up, hoping to God Harry hadn't decided on that moment to stroll back to your table. You were relieved when you saw he was still chatting with a small group of people.

"Did...did you guys date?"

"Um..." you grabbed you cocktail and took a hesitant sip, prolonging your reply. Fortunately Jan took the liberty of replying for you.

"You could say that."

"Oh," Tiffany sighed. "What hap- I mean...why aren't you...um...never mind. It's none of my business."

Before you could say anything else and let her know it was okay, Harry returned to your booth with a glass in each hand. He set them in front of Jan and Tiffany who both smiled and said thank you. Then with a smirk, he beckoned you. Sliding out of the booth, you followed him to the bar where he handed you a drink. As you took a sip, he slipped his hands around your waist.

"I missed you," he whispered in your ear.

"Me too," you said softly before planting a soft kiss on his jaw.

"Mmm," he sounded at the touch. "What time can we leave?"

You chuckled, looking down at your cocktail. "I told you it's a girls' night tonight."

"All night?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded.

"So when do we get a Harry and Y/N night?"

"Maybe when you stop following me everywhere," you teased.

"'m not following you," he laughed with a hint of a pout.

Blinking slowly, you looked up at him. "Do you wanna be with me, H?"

Lifting his brows, he nodded. "Yeah."

Tilting your head slightly, you raised your hand to brush his cheek before kissing his lips. "Then be with me."

Turning for the booth, you made your way to the other side and sat down next to Tiffany. You saw that she was fiddling with a napkin, folding the corners until they met in the middle, then opening it up only to do it over again. Your heart sank in your chest. You felt horrible.

"I'm sorry," you murmured.

"It's okay," she blinked, not taking her focus from the napkin.

"No, that was cruel of me. I thought I'd have a little laugh, playing a little trick to see if you'd catch on. But it backfired. I'm really sorry."

You felt Harry sit down on the other side of you as he reached across the table to give Linda her glass. You heard her say thanks as Tiffany shrugged and looked at you.

"It really is okay," she smiled. "So you are together?"

A hand touched your back then, and you felt a warmth surge through your body. Swallowing hard, you nodded. "It's still really new...but yeah."

"I'm happy for you," Tiffany said. "I just hope you know how lucky you are."

You sighed as Harry's fingers traveled up your back and then down your arm until his hand found yours.

"I think I do," you grinned as you squeezed his hand. "And you're right. He is kinda perfect."

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[pinkanonwrites]

The Immensity of Vacancy

Energon Universe Jetfire/Human Reader, +1200 words

Just a little bittersweet something I wrote after the last issue of the Skybound comics came out. Jetfire my sweet, you did not deserve your fate.

ENERGON UNIVERSE COMIC SPOILERS AHEAD.

It was curious how even the most harrowing of circumstance could, with enough time and enough patience, shear down its jagged edges until it became something nearly palatable. 

Not comfortable. Primus, no, never comfortable. But palatable.

Stars no longer graced Jetfire’s curious optics, all light snuffed in favor of an inky nothingness soothed only by memory. There could be no ache of stasis lock when the freedom of movement had been ripped from his frame entirely, left to the whims of his fellow Cybertronians. The breems of silence would stretch into cycles, tuning his remaining audials ever finer upon the low thrum of Teletraan, the rattle-step of Autobots passing through corridors below. 

Perhaps that was why he could always hear you coming.

Your footsteps didn't boom or echo like those of Optimus Prime, never accompanied with the screech of tires like Arcee or Cliffjumper. Instead came the soft tink tink tink of tiny, booted feet against the resonant floor, the jangle of metallic jibbitz swinging from a clip on your belt. ‘Keys’ you had called them, though they were nothing like the data-keys or passcodes more familiar to him. ‘One for my car, one for my house, one for the back door at work.’ Primitive, but undeniably clever. 

You always paused in the doorway of the hangar when you approached, a brief instance of silence. Perhaps you were waiting for a transformation from him, a flourish of panels shifting and plates fluttering into place to reveal his root mode, his towering form compared to your own tiny one. You knew as well as he did that idea was an impossibility, but you paused nonetheless.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

Jetfire spent much time in recharge nowadays, the only respite from the insurmountable emptiness that surrounded him that remained in his control. It was another consistency from you, willing to let him rest for untold lengths of time, as if your own presence was not wildly preferred.

“Yes. For quite a while now.”

You let out a soft, sad sounding hum. “I’m sorry I couldn't get here earlier.”

“That's alright. I’m sure you have much of your own work to attend to.”

“Maybe, but it's not really anything exciting.” He could hear the shuffle and thunk of your backpack hitting the metal landing bay, the pull of the zipper. When you settled in your spot on the floor and leaned back against his landing gear, heat radiated through the space where your back pressed to his cool plating. “Work, mostly. Had a late shift last night, so I ran to the library this morning instead. The librarian actually recognized me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I just didn't expect it. I never went there until recently, anyway. Guess now that I’m going in a couple days a week I’m becoming a regular. Imagine that.”

Jetfire let out a soft hum. “We’ll never be wanting for reading material then.”

You seemed to hesitate for a moment as you removed something from your bag, the flutter of paper against your fingertips tickling his audials.

“I brought a new book. ‘The War Of The Worlds’. It’s an old sci-fi classic.” You softly fanned through the pages again. “It’s about, um… It’s about aliens. That come to take over Earth. It was probably a stupid choice, we can read something different if you want.”

He could understand your hesitation. Though Jetfire had not spent long interacting with the local lifeforms of your planet, he’d heard more than enough from the other Autobots about the occurrences at the power plant; The terror, the violence. The story of a hostile occupation from beings infinitely more powerful and dangerous than the planet’s inhabitants could strike offensive if presented in the wrong way, to the wrong bot. And yet…

“I would like to hear it.”

He couldn’t help that part of himself that yearned to understand. To learn. How often would he get the chance to hear the perspective of another species, better yet from the species themselves? Considering his current state, likely never again.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be this, I brought other books. To Kill A Mockingbird, Treasure Island, maybe some Shakespeare-?”

“No, I… I want to hear it. I’d like to understand.”

You hesitated further still, as if you were waiting for Jetfire to change his mind. Then you let out a small, huffy noise, like you were trying to clear your vents. Jetfire recognized the sound to be what you’d called a “sniffle”. Paper shuffled, you let out a low, steadying sigh, and began to read.

“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own…”

You were a delightful narrator, though you’d often brush off Jetfire’s compliments as to the former. ‘You should hear David Attenborough!’ you’d reply, though Jetfire had no idea who this apparent man was. Your cadence and accent would adjust slightly when switching characters, like you were putting on a play. The first descriptions of the alien conquerors were read with a faux suspense, as if you could scare the Cybertronian with narration alone. And yet, when you came upon the paragraph describing the first human deaths, there did your energy began to falter. You shifted against his landing gear, swallowing thickly as you described the heat ray that jumped from man to man, ‘...as if each man were suddenly and momentarily turned to fire.’ Your hesitance didn’t seem to stem from the words themselves, but the context in who you were reading them to. Did the recent Decepticon attack on the hospital strike as close to home mentally as it did physically?

You paused again at the end of the chapter. Usually here Jetfire would have rattled off the questions he’d saved while you were reading, foreign concepts and names of unknown locations and the intricacies of human interaction that he didn’t quite comprehend. But he found himself in silence here as well. Not stunned, not scared, merely… contemplative.

“Sorry. It’s not too late to read something else, you know. Treasure Island’s still on the docket.” You murmured, fingers tapping absentmindedly along the book’s spine. 

“There’s no need to apologize. Already it’s a fascinating tale.” He paused for a moment, mulling over his words. The question he was about to ask seemed painfully obvious. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave it unsaid. “Are all humans this afraid of… aliens?”

‘Will all humans be this afraid of us?’ He did not ask.

“I think…” You hummed, head thunking back against his landing gear plating. “I think that most humans are afraid of the unknown. The idea that there’s something out there we can’t understand. We don’t like being reminded that we aren’t actually in control. That at any point in time we could die.”

Jetfire thought back to Cybertron- the expeditions failed, the cities razed, the lives lost- and he understood the sentiment exactly. 

“Would it comfort you to know that the experience isn’t uniquely human?” 

You barked out a short laugh. “A little, actually.”

Jetfire had spent so much of his life in the cold. The cold of space. The cold of the ice. The cold of the silent, empty hangar. But here, in this moment, with your body pressed to his plating, your voice filling the blackness, he felt inexplicably warm. 

“I’d still like to hear more, if you would continue.”

Though Jetfire could not see your smile, it was more than enough to hear it in your voice.

“Sure thing, big guy.”

[husbandograveyard]

Part of my 2024 Kinktober - Masterlist here

Prompt: Thigh riding Word count: 1200 Reader: No pronouns used, reader has a vagina and breasts, no nicknames used Cw: power imbalance, a bit of powerplay, Sukuna talks down on reader, but no explicit degradation, dom!Sukuna and sub!reader, thigh riding, slight begging, nipple pulling, Sukuna has 4 arms, size difference minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked

“Strip” 

That was all he said while staring at you intently, making you shiver as you shed your layers, putting them to the side. Usually, you would neatly fold them, but you had heard the impatience in his voice. You knew the consequences would be yours to feel if you made him any more impatient. Any other day you could have tried to take it as a challenge, but not today. The way he looked at you and the way he spoke made it more than clear: you shouldn’t even think about being a brat now. 

Now you stood before him, completely naked. Even sitting down he was almost as tall as you were standing up. You felt vulnerable, his eyes scanning your figure, one of his hands motioning to come closer, and closer, until one of your knees nearly bumped into one of his. He had all his clothes on still, and you couldn’t fully read his expression. It made the situation even more daunting, even though generally good things came out of these situations. 

You felt the tension rise while he made you wait for a few more seconds. You studied his expression, which still wasn’t clear, and he didn’t break eye contact unless you did it first. The feeling was intense, and you were startled slightly when one of his lower hands hooked behind your knee, effectively pulling you into him. 

It took you a second to register what he wanted you to do, before you spread your legs slightly, enough to take a seat on his thigh. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sensation of the fabric on your bare sex, and you felt your body reacting instinctively: pressing yourself down just a little bit more, looking for more of that contact. 

His two lower hands settled on your hips, holding you in place firmly. You looked up at him, eyes pleading for more instructions, your hips moving a bit: a search for more friction badly disguised as settling.

“Desperate already?” The amusement was clear in his voice as he almost sneered at you. 

You weren’t sure what to reply. Agree with him, and risk him denying you pleasure? Or try to deny it? You weren't that desperate yet, though the anticipation made you more aroused than you cared to admit. You stayed silent in your indecisiveness. Generally Sukuna already had planned out what he wanted to do with you, and you were just there to follow along, occasionally resisting the inevitable. 

He didn’t really wait for an answer, the hands on your hips suddenly pulling you forward while still holding you down. You let out a sound that was something in between a yelp and a moan, placing your hands on his chest in an attempt to steady yourself. The sudden movement had sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body, but the speed at which it happened had taken you too off guard to properly savor it. 

You didn’t have to wait too long to be able to feel it again though, as Sukuna swiftly repeated the motions, handling your body with ease. He did it again and again, yet you couldn’t get a grasp of the rhythm he was setting- leaving you to buck your hips in desperation as you searched for the right rhythm, the right angle, anything to get the buildup you were craving. 

As if he read your mind, Sukuna flexed his thigh muscles and shifted his leg slightly, so most of the pressure was now directly on your clit. The movement was small, and you couldn’t do anything but moan loudly as he kept up his relentless, rhythmless handling of your body. 

“Sukuna- I- you- please..” 

You were starting to struggle to form coherent thoughts, let alone form sentences to say. You weren’t exactly sure what you were asking for either. 

One of his free hands came up to tilt your chin, keeping your eyes fixed on his, while his final free hand trailed up from your sides to your chest, just another sensation that was completely out of control. You cried out when he pulled at a nipple, right at the same time the stimulation between your legs was at another height. It was all too much, and at the same time, not enough. Everything was out of your control, and if he could just give you that little bit more, you knew you could- 

“Look at me.” 

You weren’t even aware you had closed your eyes by now, too lost in all the sensations to register that you had shut out one of them. You opened your eyes, feeling your already erratic heartbeat missing a few beats just by seeing the way he was looking at you. 

“What are you asking for?” 

You whined in response, he knew damn well what the answer to that question was. Just as well as he knew that it would take all of your power to be able to formulate it. Meanwhile his sensory assaults on your body didn’t rest, and you felt a constant buildup that just as constantly slipped away, it was nothing but frustration filled with pleasure. 

You were about to answer when he pulled at your other nipple harshly, and you let out a cry. He chuckled in response, thoroughly amused at your reactions, rock hard at the sight of you completely at his mercy. He’d have his turn after. For now, he’d just enjoy your reactions, your desperate helplessness. 

“Say it. Beg for it if you need.” 

You groaned, your thigh muscles and abs tensing from the effort of seeking out the exact rhythm you needed. You didn’t want to- truly, but you couldn’t not ask for it. You needed relief and release and you needed it now.

“Please- Sukuna,” you started, voice strained from the effort, unable to breathe as deeply as you would like. 

Sukuna didn’t let up on his movements, dragging your cunt over the now soaked fabric of his yukata, keeping your gaze fixed on him.   

“Please”, you groan, “let me cum”, adding another ‘please’ for good measure, knowing fully well about the effect your pleas have on him. 

It seemed to satisfy him just enough for him to slow down a little, movements becoming more precise and matching the rhythm of your hips. You grasped onto his upper arms with a gasp, your fingertips digging into his skin as the buildup was there faster than you anticipated- as if your body had been preparing ever since this started. 

“Go on then”, Sukuna said, looking you straight in the eyes, “cum.” 

You nodded desperately, focusing on the almost electric jolts of pleasure you were feeling now. You only needed to roll your hips a few more times before you felt the buildup reach a climax, your muscles tensing up as you clenched around nothing when you came, crying out Sukuna’s name, messing up his clothes even more. 

You felt yourself slump forward just a little as you came, your hands steadying you on his chest. Even though you had stilled your hips by now, Sukuna hadn’t let up on his movements and you were whining out, pleasure mixing with something you could only describe as ‘too much’. You heard Sukuna snicker. 

“Let’s see if we can do that again.”

[joannerowling]

I'd like to say a few words today for the Israeli victims of Hamas and especially for those of you who may have known a victim, or were simply affected because it's your culture, your country, your people.

I'm French, and i've been on and off tumblr since 2013, so i remember what it was like to be online during the Charlie Hebdo killings in 2015. Different 7 of a different month and year, very different crimes and scale, but a similar scenario online. The whole Internet, lead by American users, almost immediately started saying the victims deserved it, using cartoons of the journal which they didn't understand to illustrate their point. These posts had millions of notes, while the French people's attempt to correct the misconception struggled to get a tenth of that. We were not allowed to mourn. Foreign press, especially in English speaking countries (= the internationally most read press) refused to publish the caricatures which their peers had been brutally murdered for, because, they said, it would be insensitive to the people who believed in Islam's god, a make-believe man in the sky concept which has been responsible for the death and enslavement of entire cultures. In those days i think i lost my faith in humanity, and i don't say that lightly. There's a before and after.

So i think i can imagine a fraction of the grief that you must feel, not just over what happened on 7/10/23 (which was so infinitely worse than what happened to CH), but the hostile reactions since. The rage at those callous dismissals, the minimising of horror, the insistence that "all sides must be heard" even on THAT day, the suspicious analysis of the ways you express your sorrow. And of course, the fear, as you know that some people are out there outright celebrating, and some would gladly kill again especially today, and some would excuse them.

What really helped me feel better in 2015 was seeing some people go against the grain and be frank about their support, and their understanding of who were the victims and who were the criminals. So today especially i wanted to let you know that i support you, and i know that there are more who do. You are not your government, you are not a mindless blob of [insert ethnicity here], you are people who went through something horrible, who were the target of barbaric men who sought only to explicitly torture, rape and murder innocents. There is no ambiguity on what happened on that day. Those were not casualities. 1200 Israelis is the same percentage of the population as 39960 Americans in the US. If nearly fourty hundreds American people – children, babies and women, were tortured, murdered and raped on the same day, you bet your arse that there would be ceremonies and public displays of mourning and international support.

So there, that's what i wanted to say. I'm sorry for your losses, may the dead rest and may the living heal in peace.

[thecameronchronicles]

Coming Out On Top

TW: smut. Language. Dom!Reader. 

SUMMARY: You prove to Rafe to can take the reins after one too many taunts. 

WORD COUNT: 1200

REQUESTED

IM COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS

Idea for a story!!

Rafe is always saying how reader “can’t handle being on top” and so they trick him into handcuffs to show him they can handle it and rafe is all “you’re gonna regret this” but he actually enjoys it🫣 

🤍🤍🤍🤍

Coming Out On Top

You were the epitome of innocence. Before Rafe, there was little you knew about sex. The basic scientific properties were enough to sound intelligible and deduce that which was spoken with your friends. But until him, you weren't aware of how he could turn sensations into tremors. But of the ways he made you satisfied and blissed, there was one annoyance he had uttered one too many times. His arrogance was ignored until now as you set out to prove a point. 

"You don't wanna stay at the party any-oh!" You pushed him into his bedroom door as it gave way to his weight. Your foot kicked it closed as you continued to guide him towards the bed. But even if you had a mission, you basked in the way he held you. Soft hands with cruel fingers eating into your naked hips as you dropped the dress to your ankles and straddled him at the edge of his bed. 

"You don't want me to do anything to you?"

"I just want you inside me..." You confessed as he moved to guide you on your back, before your hands came to his chest. 

"I want to be on top." To this, he smirked. Even if it had taken some time with him, you were confident in most angles and positions. Your favorite matching that of his own. But this was one chosen, you were never able to exercise as he simply took control. Just as you found depth and rhythm, you were spun onto your back or stomach. Of course, he made your anger deplete with the several orgasms that came as consolation. But tonight you were going to prove Rafe Cameron wrong. 

"But baby, you can't handle it..." 

"I want to try, Rafe...please...it makes me so wet just thinking about it." You knew exactly how to convince him if anything. Just the mention of what he would have and he was willing to do whatever it took to make it happen. So he agreed. But the second he was distracted, the sound of metal cuffs pinned him to the bed. 

"Baby-" he spoke rather angrily. "Come on, take these off..."

"I need to practice..." You pouted, lowering down his body and unbuckling his pants. 

"Oh Rafe..." He moaned to your hands stroking him in perfect swirls. Precum already leaking from his tip as he rocked in to your grip. 

"Fuck... You're gonna regret this…" Your mouth wrapped around him slowly but you took him deeply, curses spoken between the moans of your name. 

"You still want me to let you go?"

"I want that pretty little ass riding me..." He shot as you bit your bottom lip, spitting on his cock as he groaned before you set yourself in position. 

He fought against the cuffs. 

"Sit on my face first...I need it..." He nearly begged as you framed his cheeks with your thighs as he savored you immediately. His eyes rolling to how you already dripped against his mouth. 

"Good girl..." He growled between breaths before you held onto the headboard as it squeaked to your motions. 

"Just like that baby...oh my God!" You nearly sobbed as you withdrew just before that rush overtook you. 

"Come back here and ride my face until you come..." 

"I want to come on your cock, baby..." You impaled yourself slowly on him as he groaned. Trying the binds again, he forced them against the headboard to chime as you began to move. Slowly until a purposeful pace was made as he scowled to the sight. 

"I want you in my hands...I want to make that ass every shade of fucking red for tying me down..." He broke weak of his dominance to the pleasure in his voice. 

"You feel so good, Rafe..." You rocked and bobbed, reading his expressions and continuing until you began to tire. His expression illuminating, admitting what he refused to. He loves when you took control. At least for now. 

"Maybe..." You reversed your motions as he growled. 

"Fuck...you're killing me..." 

"Ahh! Oh Rafe!"

"Use that cock baby...it's yours...feel good on me..." You dug your nails into his skin as you rode into him, every perfect inch hitting you precisely where you found the deepest of sensations. 

"I miss you pulling me hair when you take me like this..." You teased over your shoulder. 

"Take off these cuffs baby and I'll pull it so fucking tight for you..."

"Not until you come..." He hit his heels into the bed in frustration. 

"I don't want to...You look so good taking me..."

"Like this?" You asked, showcasing how his cock disappeared and emerged from your greedy sex. 

"Slower...I wanna watch..." You obliged. 

"Spread those cheeks baby...let me see it..." You lowered for balance but obeyed as he moaned. 

"Perfect...so fucking perfect..." 

"Yeah? You think I can handle it now, baby?"

"How you handle me so well..."

"Does it make you wanna come?"

"Fuck yeah..." 

You threw your head back as you relished to how deep he was inside of you. But each time he tightened and hardened, you edged him. Once to switch back to a normal straddle and again to suck him back to your throat. 

"Fuck!" He grunted. "Baby! Make me come!"

"Pretty please?"

"Please! Please baby! I'm so fucking close..." He grunted, eyes wild with desire as you returned to him. 

"Inside of me?"

"Every inch..." 

"You want to make a mess of me, Rafe? Every inch of me covered?"

"Mmm...fuuuuck....here it...baby-" He tensed and erupted, that familiar warmth coating you from within as you slowly rise and slammed down on him again. 

"Shit! It's-" you did it again. "It's-" you continued as he moaned and whimpered. Overstimulation at its finest as you adored the way this strong man fell apart beneath you. His cock flexing and reliant solely on your mercy. 

"Make me come again...oh baby...please please please..."

"But I want to..." 

"My face...come back... sit-" He struggled to speak.

"I want to use you...This perfect...hard...thick cock...all mine..."

"Take it...fuck me baby..." You resorted to your wiles. Your body both heaven and hell above him as the sight was serene but the fact he could only watch was torture. Your breath, your breasts, your moans, everything brought him to that second edge. 

"Rafe, I'm gonna come! Oh God!"

"Give it to me baby...please " Your body betrayed any attempt to fight this as you washed over him, channeling his second release. Sticky and dripping, you reached over him. 

"Clean me up, Rafe." He was gluttonous to this, every drop cleansed before he strived for a third. Your body shaking and nearing for that edge he brought effortlessly by only his tongue. 

"Untie me." He demanded, his jaw wet in the evidence of your recent release. 

"My turn." He growled, thing you to the bed after you were on all fours. A long night ahead…

TAGLIST:

@rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999

@penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf 

@belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

3RD RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

[sherwees]

cw : obsession, manipulation, implications of domestic abuse and why does yangyang have a helicopter in his backyard?

side note : @ne0pearl and @teasteeper wanted me to drop this so here it is!!

side side note : yangyang beret?!

best friend yangyang that'll try to prove that he's better than your boyfriend by buying you all types of luxuries ranging from dolce&gabbana, louis vuitton and rolex. Something else that adorned your neck besides the 1200 dollar necklaces was the hickies that he would leave just so he could hear you struggle trying to explain that they were just bruises; your best lie was saying that it was an allergic reaction.

he'll spend hours on his free days, just scrolling through clothing catalogs (sometimes with his sidekick, hendery) just to pick out his gifts for you. hendery always found something that was perfect and he was a little too exact about your interests but it wasn't that much of a big deal.

when he would looked up at you with his arms around your waist, doe eyes and all in your new outfit in the dressing room. you giggle then grab at the price tag and let out an honestly dramatic gasp with your hand covering your mouth and all. “oh my gosh! 5,000 for a coat?!” you squealed but he immediately shushed you as he stood up with a smug look, eyebrow raised. “don't worry about it.. let your best friend treat you well~” his voice low, smooth like his hands lowering to your ass, giving it a light squeeze before twirling you around.

your boyfriend, winwin which happens to be one of his closest friends always questions him about his gifts makes the happiness crawl up his neck in tingles. his scrunched eyebrows, the hurt in his voice and the looks he gives him just riles him on. deeper into you, deeper into his craze.

yangyang that loves scaring the truth out of you. he loves being all dry in your texts after you maybe say the wrong thing or he catches you hanging out with your boyfriend. sometimes, he would corner you and bombard you with questions that barely have an answer, just like the first day you both started dating.

“do you really love me?” he randomly blurted one morning, you turn on your heel with a confused look at his more angered look. he only walked closer and your ass uncomfortably pressed against the counter but he didn't stop until he stood only a few inches away from you but repeated the question slower as if you didn't already get it. “yeah, as a friend..” you shrugged nonchalantly before attempt to turn back to your cereal but there was suddenly a resounding bang from the cabinet by your ear and you shrieked. “what the fuck!” you whined, covering your ear with hopes to lull the ringing. yangyang muttered, “naïve little whore” before turning you around with a swift tug at your shoulder,

“so all those times together meant nothing to you”

“but I have a boyfri–”

“if you truly loved sicheng, you would've took a sign and left the dressing room that day.” His words spewed like a firework explosion. You cupped your palm around his mouth with a gasp, shaking your head slowly with a quick “Nuh uh!”, you could tell that he was smiling behind your palm. He then licked it with a chuckle, your hand slamming against the counter in the process which elicited a hard grunt from you.

“You're so pretty when you're mad~” he said whilst circling his hand around your neck to grasp and squeeze your nape before heading in for a kiss.

he scared you though. sometimes, he would shove himself in the crane of your neck to whisper belitting words and lies about your relationship; that'll only make you overthink. his persuasion was so good to the point where he convinced you to make him your ‘first time’ because winwin was inexperienced and “wouldn't understand you like he did.”

sometimes, he would even refuse to apologize or convince you that a situation never happened. that day he snuck into your room in the middle of the night. never happened. when he grasped your neck and nearly suffocated you unconscious. was the past and he “changed”. he wanted your relationship to be perfect.

everytime you and winwin had a simple misunderstanding, he would be the first to run to you about what winwin said supposedly:

“He was like, ‘she's too whiny about everything and I just don't fucking understand her! I just wished she understood me more!’” He mocked winwin's emotional state then bellowed a laugh before continuing to blow on his noir nails. A slick, sick grin raised at the corners of his lips once he noticed that your lips was distorted in held back laughter, his dried hand grabbed your cheek caressing it with his tongue peaked from his plump lips.

“But you know I love you more right?”

but when it came up to you both having a misunderstanding, it was different. when he could roughly cradle your balled up figure on the couch, he attempted to coo at you but his tone was urgent,scratchy and whiny as his hands sporadically quaked, patting to find his phone throughout the many pockets of his baggy pants. the only thing that could make you stay at least what he thought would make you stay was buying you things; his bank account locked one day when he was in a raging fit and nearly spent 3 bands just for you to forgive him.

“Look!” he attempted to shove his phone in your face, the high brightness of his phone making your sensitive orbs strain more caused you to wince and shield your face. He mumbled a fast apology, turning down the brightness and scrolled through the pandora website with unsteady fingers.. “I'll buy you something– please forgive me? I didn't mean to hit you.. I'll never put my hands on you ever again..” he lied vowed with you, his voice shook as the tears caked at his waterline nearly overflowing.

“yangyang, just leave me–” you looked over to him with slight surprise when you saw his expression, he seemed unfamiliar because he was actually crying?

“NO!” he yelled, his voice rasp. His black nails digging into your back and left knee, his cries only become louder; you could tell his esophagus was giving out because he started to hiccup.

yangyang was like a child, a snotty three year old. if you didn't give him what he wanted, he would make a tantrum. when he would try to make it up to you, he would finally give you what you wanted. you stared up at the ceiling and to yangyang's bloodshot red eyes, his lips agape; sore and chapped as he grunted and moaned. his hand pressed against your shoulder, his free hand travels to your wrist and his breath was hot&gruff against the top of your limp hand until he laid a chaste kiss on it. “I'll always make it up to you, alright?” he opens your fingers with his thumb before rubbing your palm against his cheek, the warmth of him causing you to slightly smile. “there's my girl..” His toothy smile made it's appearance finally, his thrusts only quickened through your slick channel.

he threw his head back, his hands finding leverage from the bottom of his your shirt as the tandems of pleasure coursed through his veins rapidly. Your high was approaching, quick and heavy but to your luck, yangyang stilled inside of you already. His uncomfortably warm seed pumped into your hole at a steady rate, he manages to lower himself down to mark your jaw and any open area of tan skin he saw. I mean.. at least he was happy, right?

it's been a month since you and winwin uttered a word to each other. His contact was simply back to “Sicheng 🙂”, nothing further. yangyang insisted on removing the emoji or just blocking him, yangyang was like your parent now. he monitored your phone, always looking over your shoulder and got snappy when he was suspicious on your relationships with people.

through your moments of uncertainty, his friend sidekick hendery was always there for you. yangyang would always glare at your closeness or whenever you two thought you were alone. shame started to lay in yangyang's soul heavily, his mind was clouded with regret.

his members were practically scared of him now, xiaojun accidentally slipped that ten was talking to someone and xiaojun only huffed through his nose as ten walked off with his head low, when kun snapped at yangyang about how winwin started to stress himself out from the several opportunities he had in china; even some he volunteered for just so he could stay away from them.

I guess so.

his thumb mindlessly exited all the shopping websites that he had opened, he looked over to you and hendery in the kitchen; you laughing as he swiped off the whipped cream from your nose. is this how winwin felt? worthless, just sitting there as you just slipped through his fingers like jello until you melted into pieces.