#when you wanna feel vindicated

[queenbol-of-baldurs-gate]

When you're sick as a dog and exhausted and your mum decides it's A Great Time To Piss My Child Off with two messages!!!!!!

The restraint I show with this woman not to just cuss her out every time she tries to start a fuckin fight with me, honestly I think I deserve a medal at this point.

[fisherrprince]

Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,

[thiccsaucy]

Now I’m trying to beat the sleepy little guy allegations….

[liquidstar]

look this site really is awful for ppl with OCD so i just wanna reassure anyone that you are not Tainted Forever for consuming a piece of media with questionable content. the fact that youre able to recognize it speaks to your critical thinking skills, which is good, certain depictions should be critiqued. but you dont need to ruminate on it to the point where you begin to feel guilty for simply witnessing gross or creepy writing choices. you dont have to vindicate yourself to the fictional tumblr discourser inside your head, saying that youre now a bad person bc you watched the wrong anime. your actual response to it still matters of course, but thats that and this is this. just seeing it is neutral, you didnt commit a thought crime. its literally fine.

IF YOU ARE USING THIS POST TO ONLY FURTHER YOUR STUPID PEDANTIC BLACK-AND-WHITE DISCOURSE TO GET A "GOCHA" OVER THE OTHER SIDE YOU ARE THE PROBLEM. DON'T USE OUR DISORDER TO VINDICATE YOUR BEHAVIOR. THOUGHT CRIMES ARENT REAL BUT ACTIONS STILL MATTER. PEOPLE WITH OCD ARE CAPABLE OF THINKING CRITICALLY ABOUT OUR ACTIONS AND RESPONSES, EVEN WITH INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS AND RUMINATIONS. TREATING US AS IF WE CANNOT, ONLY TO FORCE US TO USE YOUR STRINGENT UNNUANCED DISCOURSE OPINIONS ABOUT "PURITY CULTURE" (TRIGGERING TO THOSE WITH OCD) AS THE ONLY REASONABLE GUIDE DOES MORE TO EXACERBATE OUR OBSESSIONS THAN HELP US. YOU ARE THE ISSUE AS WELL. YOU ARE ALSO THE TUMBLR DISCOURSER INSIDE OUR HEADS. DO NOT USE US FOR YOUR DISCOURSE. WE ARE PEOPLE, NOT HYPOTHETICALS TO USE TO EXPLAIN IF YOUR FROZEN INCEST FANFICTION IS OKAY OR NOT. TREATING US AS IF WE CANNOT AUTONOMOUSLY HAVE OUR OWN OPINIONS ON WHEN MEDIA IS TANGIBLY HARMFUL IS ABLEIST. FORCING US TO ABIDE BY YOUR IN-GROUP'S SET OF UNEQUIVOCAL MORALS IS ABLEIST. ACTING AS THOUGH THE ONLY SOLUTION FOR US IS MINDLESS MEDIA CONSUMPTION IN WHICH "EVERY DEPICTION OF XYZ, NO MATTER HOW POORLY DONE OR EXPLOITATIVE, IS ALWAYS OKAY AND IF YOU DISAGREE YOURE ACTUALLY AN EVIL 'ANTI'" IS ABLEIST. THOSE ARE THE SAME BLACK-AND-WHITE MORALS THAT SEND US INTO OBSESSIVE SPIKES, BUT FLIPPED. A SET OF MORALS IN WHICH QUESTIONING THE IMPACT OF A PIECE OF WORK MAKES YOU AN "EVIL CONSERVATIVE PURITAN "ANTI"" DOES NOT HELP MORAL OCD.

YOU ARE THE DAMN TUMBLR DISCOUERSERS MAKING THIS SHIT WORSE FOR US! YOURE THE EXACT SAME BUT WITH FLIPPED BUZZWORDS! YOU'RE MISSING THE WHOLE DAMN POINT!

[barnacles34]

Mr. Rager, Can I Tag Along?

Part I

Synopsis: Mr. Rager finally joins the birds in the skies. Dedicated to the song Mr. Rager by Kid Cudi.

tags: 8k, smut, so much romance, fluff, addiction, recovery, virgin Ryujin

Ryujin x Male OC

CHAPTER I: 

You might hear the birds singing flying around,

You never see them too long on the ground,

You wanna be one of them, yeah.

Cocaine toxicity. Solipsism finally vindicated. He was going to die—truly. That cloudy feeling of mind and body separation, as if the ribbons of heaven had finally let him grasp their reins, swaying him toward some version of forever happiness.

Mmmm.

He thought he’d care about dying right there in the nightclub. The shame of weakness, of collapsing with foam at the corners of his mouth—he’d truly thought he’d care more about it. But now, one worry gone, he was worriless. Life had its charm, but it wasn’t for him; he’d been walking on sticks until the very end. Now, the floor felt so right. His body sank into it, slipping slowly, as if turning to slime and merging back into the earth.

Each second, his grip over his fingers weakened, a constant slackening with every passing moment. His eyelids grew heavy, and the outline of the nightclub around him blurred. He couldn’t control his fingers anymore; he was truly sinking. When would heaven begin? When would this fantasy end? Mind-death, a complete and utter submission to the lifeless realm - he’d never recover.

The faint tingling of powder lingered at the rim of his nostrils. At least, he’d had a good high - a nice ecstasy haze along the fine columbian - before dying. Finally, his eyes closed, nerves shutting down, and he felt free, unchained from his body like a ghost.

"Stay with me!" A voice, deep and feminine.

Hm?

"Don’t close your eyes!" Again, that voice.

What?

Whatever. It was too late anyway.

"How many fingers am I holding up!?" Still images flashed through his fading consciousness, fingers held up just before his face, barely visible, though he couldn’t tell how many anyway.

"What’s your name?" He couldn't place a face on the voice, but it was distinctly feminine - separate from his inner voices.

They were trying so hard. If they’d responded any faster, he might’ve been forced to go back - to life.

Go back…

Did he want to go back?

Hell.

Mr. Rager - that’d be a good name, he thought. If he were reborn, given another chance, that’s who he’d be.

"Mr. Rager!"

What? Could the paramedic hear him?

"Mr. Rager! Come back! Fight back! Don’t go off on an adventure!"

—

Flash. Eyes open. He was alive - he was… alive.

"Mr. Rager. You’re okay; don’t make any sudden movements." A soft, padded palm rubbed his forehead with a gentle, compassionate touch. He looked up. A young woman, petite yet strikingly beautiful, looked back at him.

"What’s your name?" he asked, despite himself. Still a bachelor, after all. "My name is Ryujin." She was dressed in a way he couldn’t quite place, something different from what he expected. "I’m part-time, by the way," she said, noticing his confused look. "That’s why my clothes are different." He rubbed his forehead; it was pounding, but with a distant sort of ache, incongruous with a proper headache. “What the hell happened?” he asked, properly confused. “You went into shock, someone already administered naloxone to your body, thankfully; otherwise, you would’ve-” she abruptly bit her tongue, preventing herself from talking about a potentially sensitive topic that Mr. Rager was subjected to.

“And, by the way, this was my first call ever.” A subtle transition, a conversation starter.

He blinks, trying to relieve the soreness in his eyes, “God, I’m sorry, this is such a fucking shitty situation.” And the way he said it, that emotional self-deprecation.

She might’ve realized something, “Were you trying to commit suicide?” She asked, very bluntly.

“It’s none of your business. Thank you for the hospitality, I’ll be taking my leave now.” When he tried to take the IV fastened to his vein, Ryujin softly, with the firmest grip and tone, said, “You’re going nowhere.”

All Mr. Rager could think of were cuss words, cusses against the world, against destiny to be alive for the foreseeable future. 

A resolve to suicide is the moment the mind, at the cusp of mind-death, truly enters a dead mind. The inescapable rock-bottom, a self-fulfilling prophecy where one feels truly and utterly fastened to the floor - inhibited of all its freedoms, its happiness.

–

Mr. Rager, or better known as Min amongst his peers - not friends. At the hands of his peers, Mr. Rager sustained a traumatic head injury that tormented him with chronic migraines right from the start of it all - the drunk brawl, that he decisively lost in, at just the age of 17. 

See, Mr. Rager had not a single family member except his aunt who embezzled all the funds Rager’s parents left for him. And the last time he tried to talk with his aunt was when he sustained a knife wound on his forearm from her - a deeply tormented individual, she was locked in a home-made cage for most of her adolescence.

And, unfortunately, there’s not a single time where his life is measurably better than the year before - only getting worse until the overdose.

–

Ryujin didn’t inquire further, she was hoping somewhat that her presence might help Mr. Rager. She sat next to Mr. Rager, her hand still on the side of the hospital bed, feeling its soft fabric. Mr. Rager, still irritated, asked, “Why are you still here?”

“Cause I want to be here.” A joking undertone, perfectly acted out. In truth, Ryujin pitied him so much, her first patient, a successful businessman who tried to kill himself at the age of 29 - now that’s fucking rare, usually the cases accelerate at the age  of 50 or so.

“Why’d you take this job?” 

She replied, “Artistic inspiration.”

“Hm, fantastic idea by the way.” He was sincere about it.

“Thanks.”

“Do you have enough material now?”

“Oh. Plenty. Plenty enough.” She giggled.

“What if I don’t consent to my likeness being represented in your art - medium, whatever?”

“Mr. Rager, don’t you worry, I’ll refurbish it so much that it'll be closer to the likeness of… let’s say… me.”

“Quit the teasing,” he stated, straight to the point.

“I don’t want to.” She replied back, he was one of the few people where teasing seemed to genuinely improve their immediate well-being, and for someone like Mr. Rager - it’s huge. And, he was finally laying, no longer trying to plan an escape, on the flatbed, staring at the ceiling, observing the music player. “By the way, is this music player provided to everyone recovering?” He’s not one to mix words.

“You’re pretty smart.” She replies, a confirmation, fiddling with her torn skirt, presumably from rushing into her para-medic role.

“That’s what I owe you for?”

“Mhm.” Still fiddling, a pouty sort of face formed on her face, it was her favorite skirt.

“How do you want the debt paid?” He inquired, he’s one to never ignore the nascent attachment to his favorite items - thus, he understands: the exorbitant value placed on favoritisms. “I dunno. You’ll still owe me. Big Time.” She stared back, this time, their eyes entwined with a sort of friendliness that is almost, just almost, ethically wrong in hospital circumstances.

“Very well then.” His tired eyes kept pulling on his eyelids. Genuine sleep had seemed to completely take over his body, and yeah, that’s all the meds he’s under: naloxone, antibiotics, withdrawal medicine, and a lovely dose of morphine. “I feel new.” His voice was dozing as his intra-reflection began. As he nodded off, he felt the faint grasp of her hand, so small, yet filled with so much conviction. He’s tripping balls, but she’ll never tell him - presence was what was required of her.

And that was all the validation he needed: for sleep.

As Mr. Rager finally slept; Ryujin stayed for a bit, or about 4 hours. And, still, she’s sitting beside him - making sure that he sleeps and recovers. Just from the chance encounter of a paramedic call, she felt the compulsion to guard Mr. Rager. Poor girl, if she’d seen a dead body for her first call then she’d vomit a week’s worth onto the ground. 

After another hour, Ryujin finally decided it was time to leave. She wrote a thoughtful letter, of things that needn’t be said - obviously. But she also left a partition, finagling a creative way to demand what she’s owed. After, she let her boss know that she quit on the spot, that she’d also come back to the same room - a reservation of some sort. She left, leaving the stale, minty air of the hospital with a melancholy that wouldn’t be fixed until she saw him again. Because, when she was writing the note, she wished she asked more questions - Mr. Rager just seemed to lead on the conversation to a charming degree, that other circumstances were of lesser importance. 

Ryujin, outside, breathing in the fresh air of the summer, caught the last bus of the route. This route, passing by the road that she was taken on inside the paramedic van, also led to her apartment. Unfortunately, it’s an old, decrepit apartment where only the rudest sort of parties happen. Half the time, the floor above is vibrating thump, thump, thump from the heavy jumps, or the lower floor blasts some of the most needlessly, eardrum-breaking music.

At least she has solitude. Finally free from the dictates of those she didn’t get along with, finally separated from her friends who’d get too boring if she hung along for too long. Now, her family is charming - easy to get along with; now, her friends are always interesting - fascinating to be around. Distance is a marinating technique, or whatever.

Ryujin, the charming shut-in, finally arrived at her place, and began on her art piece. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to list that’s positive about her obsession with art. It’s the time where she vents her frustrations of being a failed trainee - rather, a placement that was restricted from becoming an idol; wallows in the misery of the color tone she loves the most: dark; and, to top it off, she gets bored of visual arts when she tries to make money off of it. Some dastardly sign from the man above, “Your hobby will stay a hobby.”

All that displeasure would be the paint upon the canvas: checkmate, mental turmoil turns to art, she thought. Swipe and swipe, the dirty colored watercolor painting had nearly no form worth thinking - almost entirely brown from the intermixing of the wet, damp color. Then the second layer, an apparition of segmentation, a deeper color, colors that entice and bite back. Then the specificity of the lines, things left unspecified were on purpose. But, this recurring thought, this pounding idea, that she left a man that fell in the depths of the void alone - really began digging into her soul. This thought unto Ad Nauseam brought her nausea that really can’t be eliminated with the will of her conscience. “I should’ve stayed, I should’ve stayed” - the recurrent thoughts that never seemed to leave her. With a sad howl, she fell to the side, crying deep, ruining all her pretty into the sheets - a room so small that her chair was the bed.

–

“I’m still alive”, Mr. Rager repeated this to himself over and over after waking up - not sure whether to feel some sort of rendered triumph. For a moment, he was truly tip-toed in the void, almost encased into the endless hope, of unrendered reality and a horrible sadness; now, he’s alive, breathing, with a full control of his body.

Nothing had caught his attention, the environment, whether there were people around him or not, only life as he knew it - coursing through his veins. The feeble thumps of his chest - his heart, still persevering.

–

Several days of this sort of morning locomotion went on, it was also the time that Ryujin came over. Poor girl brought over new confectionaries - mostly of her favorites; brought lunch boxes she herself fully funded; found ways to amuse herself and Mr. Rager during the listless hours.

“What’s the interest rate of this debt? Surely, a person like me, fastened to the bed with belts (a pure exaggeration), wouldn’t be extorted with dubious rates?”

“Mr. Rager, you’ll have to declare bankruptcy by the end of it, seriously. You owe me. Big time.” She joked back, of course, she didn’t really expect much. By her own goodwill, Ryujin was looking after Mr. Rager, an exchange of her goodwill would almost sour all her community service - again, a flash of her trait, a blithely weak trait in modern society, a subtle revulsion to being paid for her services.

Mr. Rager, however, was the opposite. Rogue-man, Rager man, Mr. Rager, a name that fits him so closely, from the early onset of consciousness, an unruly rebelliousness coursing through his veins at all times, with flourish - with the crimonest red. He’s done it all, disowning his billionaire politician parents, who still relish the thought of meeting Mr. Rager one day; losing all his wealth, gaining it back the next; then, enjoying it all on a single roulette wheel, then forgiving the casino when they couldn’t pay his winnings; and then dying for a few seconds, under the angelic influence of the so-called hellish “nose candy”. But for his closure, his preference—he’s pastless, futureless.

That’s the dilemma, Ryujin hadn’t learned a single thing about Mr. Rager that was worth pulling a strand on. Contradictory statements only confounded her further, and a reply to her joke - of bankruptcy and debt - he’d say, “I’d have to find it buried somewhere.” And she’d think, “What? What the hell? What’s buried? What’s ‘it’ ?”

Often the thought was interrupted, never fully leaving its conception—Mr. Rager wanted to keep it that way. Ryujin, often on her phone, never leaving her eyes off Mr. Rager, spent her delicate hours in the breezy, spacious hospital room.

Mr. Rager, of course alarmed, would ask - every day - “why do you visit so often?”

Then, Ryujin, really not knowing an answer, would default to a bland answer of so and so - real political talk. This procession, of nothing happening, stretching on for days was repetitive. It also made them happy. She’d put on her makeup, with her artsy hands - quick and fast. The rapidity with which she approached this situation, so contrary to all the aspects of her life - seemingly, Mr. Rager had brought vitality to Ryujin.

And in comes the day of withdrawal, the hospital withdrawal - where Ryujin and Mr. Rager resided comfortably. The door clicked softly as the nurse entered; simultaneously, Ryujin and Mr. Rager’s hairs stood up - what are they alarmed for? It was not, the nurse, no, absolutely not, the nurse was jovial, happy, thinking that she was delivering happy news.

She didn’t know that both of them found their only sources of joy inside this hospital. The nurse thought that she was relieving them of a most ludicrous bill, by ending it as soon as possible - as this hospital in particular, charges in hours, yeah, real dystopian shit. And so, it was a surprise when both the people had an almost disdainful stare towards her - it’s just my imagination, the nurse thought.

–

“Are you sure? You know overdraft schedules cost significantly more?” The nurse asked, confused, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, I just want to stay here for one more day.” Mr. Rager replied.

“But, but - do you have any ailment? That’ll bring down the price.” 

“None at all, I just want to stay here for another day more.”

Rich people are nuts, the nurse, still, complied, letting him stay, leaving him for another day.

–

As the day progressed, Ryujin came back, again, in the evening. “Your schedule, how do you do that?” Mr. Rager was genuinely impressed with how Ryujin utilized her time, imagine his surprise when she just says, “I just skipped some stuff.”

“Alright, well, thanks for coming.” And that got Ryujin thinking, was this his first time thanking me? Which, in fact, did make her day. And, she wouldn’t dare challenge this once in a lifetime behavior - that’d be a quick way for that behavior to be stashed away, forever. Again, as soon as she entered, the atmosphere changed. 

It’s about damn time they understand the euphoric peacefulness they rouse for each other. And, today was one of the moments where Mr. Rager gives a slight glimpse of his life - the confounding ones that really led to nowhere. “I think my aversion to alcohol comes from the fact that I had kids with this chick, married this chick, bought a mansion for us to live in - and, only too late, realized that it was really the alcohol that talked.”

Ryujin’s heart sank, “what? You have kids?”

“Not anymore, don’t have custody over them anymore.” He was so unbothered, utterly unbothered.

“I’m sorry for asking, just curious—what happened to them?”

He chuckled, “No more personal questions after this, alright?”

She nodded, her beady eyes on full alert. The pillow that she borrowed from the hospital bed, on her lap. She was intently listening from the comfortable armchair. 

“I let her take the kids, she didn’t ask for alimony or anything like that—just that, on the condition that I don’t contact them ever again.” He stared at the ceiling, sorting some of it out, not sure if it was some traumatic experience. Nevertheless, he continued, “she found me unbearable after a while, and I found her unbearable as well. I was never there too: too busy with money. She probably didn’t chase after alimony because she already had a sweetheart - with money - to get back to.” With so much ease, as if he’d been through too many lifetimes - too many he can remember.

“Oh,” that’s it, that’s all the reaction she can give.

“Oh, what’s with that reaction?” He chuckled.

“I-I’msorryIdon’treallyknow-” she paused, “Hey! You’re being so annoying today.”

“Sometimes, a flipped script - like teaser gets teased - leads to masterpieces.”

“Any examples?”

“Nah, I just made it up.”

From then on, the conversations continued; the deep introspective pauses continued, listlessly; and both began to feel the drowsy effect of the combination of warm light and black-out curtains.

And a tired Mr. Rager loves beauty. 

“Ryujin.”

“Hm?” She looked back, staring at him with her doe eyes.

“You’re like marijuana.” One can say he has a way with words.

“What?” Her brows stitched in confusion.

“You’re fucking amazing to have around. But, I swore to never, nev-” He fell into a deep sleep, so contrary to his habits: he’s never fallen asleep with his own mind’s permission.

Her doe-like eyes opened farther open. Her heart began beating listlessly, skipping beats. I’ve got to leave, before I-. Yet she magneted closer to the bed, where Mr. Rager slept so peacefully. Did I do that? He’s always complaining about sleeping, yet- yet he slept so easily. She was making up all sorts of situations, scenarios, theories - none of them healthy for the mind.

And, before she knew it, under the bright moonlight radiating into the room, gentle shadows across his face, she leaned closer, letting her soft lips touch the peak of his cheekbone, causing shivers across her spine, and she thought fuck, fuck, I’m really doing it - and when that wasn’t enough - then his forehead, feeling the warmth radiating from his forehead on her lips. But no more, that’d be too much, too much.

Under her own shame, her bright flush cheeks, her dilated pupils, twin pools of dark moons: she quickly left the room, carrying all her stuff such that it’d be guaranteed to fall in the middle of the hallway, a real mess she made of herself.

CHAPTER II: 

Keep movin' forward, keep movin' forward

I'm so-I'm so reborn, I'm movin' forward

Along the way home, the realization washed over her like a molotov flame - its gentle but fiery shimmer covering the entirety of her body. And the way her heart pumped, any performative act she could do to stop it was useless - ultimately doing nothing, nada, zilch. The sound of his roaring laughter from her jokes, the curve of his smile, the messy stubble, god, she was really losing it inside the bus. Her every thought, motion, every constriction of her body - pulse and all - was consumed by him. Her legs rubbed together desperately, and the slightest, faintest moan left her quivering lips as she let her imagination go wild. 

And the fact that… that an elderly lady was behind her, judging her provocative movements, just nudged her on further - full on deviant shit.

As soon as she’d be home, she’d have a towel under her.

–

Fortunately, past the hospital departure, they wanted to see each other again - platonically. However, it’s been days, and though that may seem quite short, they’ve never been separated for more than 12 hours. 

And these days, these listlessly long days, let Ryujin know of her sympathetic entanglement, and, seemingly intensifying it. Ryujin, with her sore body, stared at Mr. Rager’s phone number on her phone - the curves of the numbers kept reminding her of everything she thought about days before (the curves of the numbers some dubious correlation with Mr. Rager). She’s about to do it again, two fingers, knuckle-deep, into her folds until she’s a drooling mess on the bed. She was already a mess to begin with, a crook in her neck, half her bed unmade, sleep-deprived.

That isn’t to say that Mr. Rager wasn’t just as affected. He never succumbed to the pleasure of the hand, but the dreams, the wistful dreams. Imagining her close smile against him, moaning soft and goading phrases right into his ear - melodiously erotic. Her soft palms against his broad back, pressing deep - trying her best to not scratch up his back. You’re fucking me so good, mm- she’s whimpering, right on your ear, fuck, shivers throughout. Then, halt. It’s the fucking alarm.

Both awake, going through their groggy morning routines to finally meet again. Would it be as magical as it was in the hospital? Would it ever be so calm?

–

The time to meet was approaching quickly. Ryujin got ready, her perfect face, judiciously given with all her perfect talents, was colored with minimal effort, any more and she’d show off her inexperience with makeup - Mr. Rager would’ve lost it all regardless. Because, she was dressed in this tight dress, the type of dress that a girl like her deserves, expensive, ornate, sexy; but, she was a special case, she’d never worn something so ornate and so revealing, and the mirror would reflect a little doe desperately pulling on the hems that revealed her taut thick thighs, the cusp of her petite bosom, and any effort to cover was an ultimately futile effort, this was something she had come to terms with, before leaving her small studio.

And, as if she were in a Wong-Kar Wai movie, she entered the bus: all glammed out in a shitty environment. And the nervous eyes in the bus quickly looked away, intimidated heavily; still, some passengers hoped that they could get a glimpse with the spasm of their pupils to her direction - that’s how good she looked.

She sat down mindfully, crossing her legs - alarmingly aware of the stares. Her face adopted a natural blush - a face too beautiful to hide. Her eyes, set beneath her delicately arched eyebrows, stared at the reflection of herself from the wide glass. She’d never be able to understand her own beauty, too often enveloped in imposter syndrome, and the only person, Mr. Rager, would be the one, who could tell her the beauty of her cascading black hair; her large eyes, accentuated by a deep-set gaze; the beauty with which she carried herself, awkward, yet enigmatically, always, the most beautiful person in the room.

Mr. Rager, gaunt from the opioids, still looked herculean, a fitful combination that fit any clothing piece. With an androgynous face that was covered with sharp eyebrows, dark under eyes, high cheek-bones, and a sort of asymmetrical face that was almost better than the conventional symmetry: in summary, he was someone you couldn’t miss. This inherited comeliness comes with its risks, from the ease of life to the women, things that Mr. Rager succumbed to in violent fashion. Other than that, his preparation was pretty rapid, hopping into his entirely dark-tinted - for obvious reasons - car and set off into the gentle night.

Ryujin landed at the closest bus point to the meeting point. Her dress was unsuited for the weather, and her body began going frigid under a chilly summer day. That’s until a black car, a mercedes s-class, stopped ahead of her. It was nothing to be worried about, she’d just pass by it, acting as if she didn’t see it. However, the figure that exited the car was all too familiar: Mr. Rager.

“Ryujin.” Mr. Rager took a look, scanning her body - making it all too obvious with his pupils - instantly realized why he’s been thinking constantly about her - she’s just the most beautiful person.

And Ryujin, the way her knees slightly folded from seeing Mr. Rager, a slight spasm in her joints - she really missed him. And her hands crossed together between her loins, her eyes opened slightly larger.

“Don’t be so nervous.” He chuckled, that chuckle, that deep chuckle - Ryujin could feel the heat in her core. “Come in, you still have a long way to go,” she gladly accepted, entering into the car: feeling the soft seats, the fragrance of the unusual smell of vanilla and sandalwood (in a car?), and the overwhelming luxury around her surroundings.

“Be sure to dial the temperature or dial whatever you need, I’m sure you were pretty cold outside.” Mr. Rager said, aware of how Ryujin is not one to engage in something without permission - only if he knew what she’d done, the moment before she left, that day. However as he talked, all Ryujin could respond with was a chuckle, she was too focused on how the sentence sounded, how his eyes placed on her face, and occasionally, how it landed on her chest. And that was just the pinnacle for her.

He couldn't stop his gaze, this fermentation of a pending calamity was bounding closer and closer, and thrilled both parties to no end - they couldn’t even hide their own temptations behind the screen of a platonic hang out. By the seconds, the passing seconds, they got bolder, he got bolder. He let his eyes wander far down, her creamy white legs, her meticulous maintenance of it all. And Ryujin was wallowing in it all, his sharp gaze made her feel warmer, wetter - enticing her to dial down the temperature, a contrast from when she was so cold outside.

Still, they’d say nothing, despite it all. The silent hum of the tire scraping against the asphalt was all the credence, the distraction, they were allowed. The rest was this endorphin-filled, endorphin-crazed environment where both of them knew that they were pushing too quickly, given the fact that this companionship began from a suicide attempt.

Still, there’s this slip of time, where they could, possibly, love each other. Though, before these exponential entropic forces caused all sorts of calamity, they arrived at the spot. This run-down complex, that hid a quaint restaurant with private rooms, was a source of nostalgia for Mr. Rager. Ryujin followed, climbing the stairs, ascending just behind him, pulling down on her dress, sticking her thighs together as she climbed (a natural precaution). The restaurant was exactly that, quaint. They entered one of the tight-fitting cubicles, where they sat across from each other, a small sitting-table separated their bodies - unfortunately.

“Don’t be too worried about this restaurant, it may be run down, but it’s a great experience.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not worried about that, I frequent far more run down establishments than this.” As the words left her tongue, Ryujin cringed, frequent? What am I? A prostitute? Her eyebrows knitted.

“Relax Ryujin,” he chuckled, “enjoy yourself, I’ll pay for it all.”

“That’s the first step to the debt?” Ryujin grinned, loosening, gaining her natural confidence.

“Perhaps. Come on, go crazy.” There it is, that nice toothy grin, her cheeks ripple into some sort of whiskers - god, he’d do anything for that, again and again. 

The dishes came, oily dishes full of food, and Ryujin’s eyes glazed in excitement. After a brief, too quick, moment of eating, both of them leaned back - absolutely full.

“You got a bird’s stomach for your ambition, Ryujin.”

“And you’re a head taller than me, but you’re leaning as well!”

“Good point.” He chuckled, fighting indigestion through it.

“I don’t even like oily food.”

“Me too.”

This time, a collaborative laugh.

Mr. Rager paid the meager bill, leaving all the food to rot on the table - the plight of abundance.

–

“Anything you want to do today?” Mr. Rager asked, putting on his seatbelt.

“It’s really late, I really wanted to punish your wallet, you played your cards right going out so late..” Ryujin relaxed into the seat, fully comfortable, in-tune.

“Well, if you don’t have any plans. Mind if I go the reservation for us?”

“What reservation?”

“That’d ruin the surprise, Ryujin.” The ambient sound of the tires against the ground in combination with the dark night - the darkest night before morning - was an even more intense atmosphere.

This peaceful atmosphere, intense, yet peaceful, again, just like the hospital visits. This interesting continuation of happiness, so foreign to his life, was something that he could get used to. His forearm pressed against the storage compartment, letting his hand spill over; his other arm was loosely steering, as loose as the gentle dark night. 

As he trailed the road, occasional peeks at Ryujin showed her transition to sleep: drowsy eyelids that infrequently close for periods of time, then, longer periods, then, sleep. 

Who was this angel? This angel that wrought Mr. Rager all manners of hope, of happiness, of reflection. If he hadn’t been so stubborn about his affliction towards personal information, maybe, just maybe he’d understand her more, this girl - so beautifully clad in a flowery dress.

Is this love, this elusive feeling? How could it be so cruel? So cruel as to bring it to me at a time so random, and so heavily…

Again, he forgot his bad habit: speaking his thoughts out loud.

He realized too late, and he could feel her large eyes staring at him, confused. 

Yet, and yet, he felt the gentle warmth of another palm on his forearm - a reassuring grip.

“Min, I love you too.”

CHAPTER III: No Longer Mr. Rager

I want to kiss you on your space below your navalette

The place you keep so neat, so moist like a towelette

Ryujin, her beautifully beady eyes looked at you, as she lifted your forearm, planting little kisses all over it.

“Oh Ryujin.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that, Min.” A statement that left her lips as she continued worshiping his forearm.

Jesus, this woman.

He pulls into the closest parking spot, giving not a single fuck that there were a few cars there - all likely empty, anyway.

And, with all pretenses and courtesy removed, the forearm that was so judiciously worshiped, wrapped around her nape, pulling her into a searing kiss. That deep moan, that accepting moan as his mouth opened against hers. He almost forgot the most essential question - suddenly, slightly pulling away from the kiss.

“How’d you find out about my name, Ryujin?” Min asked.

“A woman doesn’t disclose her secrets, besides, how could my love not have a name?” Cheesy, feisty, what a woman.

“Good point.” Another searing kiss, dynamic, evolving, every step more depravedly romantic than the previous.

He was pretty sure that he’d break something, in the middle compartment, that separated you from total body connection. Again, you pull away, this time, it brought out a desperate whine out of her, her arms that wrapped desperately around you kept pulling you in - like a vortex.

She understood the memo as soon as he exited the car - love connection. This time, with a wider space, still constricted, was the best they could do, and they’d relish this extra space. Min, naturally assumed dominance over Ryujin, her body acclimated against his aggressive pulls and pushes - all for the pleasure of Ryujin, and she didn’t take it lightly, each breath heavy with the densest pleasure. Oh, oh, oh, keep manhandling me. She’d whisper. And he’d obey.

As Ryujin, with her tight dress, splayed against the seats on her back, took initiative to take off Min’s clothes, button-by-button. “Oh I’ll fuck you so good, Ryujin, so fucking good.” He’d repeat, over and over, and Ryujin would get more aroused by each iteration: “Yes, yes! Please.” Occasional soft bites were felt all over his collarbone, his neck, his earlobe. “Possessive little bird, I’m not going anywhere.” He caressed her head, making sure that he’d also mark her, a heavy hickey on her neck.

And Ryujin fucking loves it, she softly caresses him, soft grasps against his back, locking her taut legs around him, begging for continuations. And, Min would obey, in his own rebellious way, tightly grabbing her breasts - hidden behind the dress - then pressing kisses all over her neck, nearly all of them hickeys. 

“Fuck the reservation,” he grunted, it was an expensive reservation, but he doesn’t give a fuck: Ryujin’s right under him, begging for him to ravage her taut body. And she replies, “That’s right, that’s right, mister, master!” The end of her sentence was capitalized by Min’s heavy grasp on her breasts.

“That’s right, little bird.” Low grunts against her ears, his thick shaft, covered, grinded against her body, while his mouth assaulted hers.

And she cums, her head turns up, looking wherever - straining her neck - to release her pleasure. “Ngghhh!!!” A heavy whine, so enthusiastically human, straining against the seats that held her back. “Holy shit! That was so amazin-” enough talking, he’d motion, locking mouths together.

Silent moans, “mmmf..” hummed against his tongue, Ryujin was so turned on, and he’d love to fulfill all her wishes. Each rotation of his hip against hers were accentuated by Ryujin’s deep moan, squeaky moans, the moans that she couldn’t hide by covering her mouth. His hand, fixed onto her breasts, finally ventured below, feeling her lithe abdomen - the slightest abs - then letting his hand rest on her pelvis, just above her pussy. 

He finally released himself from the hypnotizing kiss, staring at her body - mostly still covered by the dress: now, that, won’t do. He pulled on the bottom hem of her dress, revealing her wet core, an embarrassed squeak along with it all. “You’re so fucking hot, Jesus,” he had a taste of what her body looked like, and he just can’t get enough. All precaution thrown out the window, the expensive dress was about to be ruined, and Ryujin - ever resourceful - seemed to allow it. He pulled the upper hem of the dress down, breaking the straps that could’ve been removed easily - this is a statement, I own you - Ryujin seemed to get the memo - all beady and begging.

Her soft breasts, creamy, smooth, with pink nubs spilled out from the tight dress. He pressed both his hands, all over her body, exploring the transitions from her taut skin to the scrunched dress, making sure to remember every facet of it all. “How badly do you want it?” He whispered, wholly focused on her body, subtly noticing her wet core, the outline of her pussy growing clearer by the second. And Ryujin didn’t even have to answer the question, locking her legs around his waist, frantically trying to get her hips on his covered shaft - yeah, she’s fiending for it.

And Min, ever the indulgent, gently moved and hovered his hand over her neck, waiting for that confirmation, that wink, that nod - and, Ryujin, calming down from the intense pleasure, nodded. That first grasp, tight, measuring her tolerance, measuring just the moment when the eyes go back to her eyes - and he seemed to completely pinpoint it, that slight spasm of her body, and her inner thighs are just soaked.

Finally, Min decided it’s time to give her sopping cunt some attention. Peeling the layer to the side, wet with the highest arousal, hid her bright pink core - and it, her core, was begging to be sated, pulsing, glistening, beautifully fragrant.

Firstly, he let a single finger prod, then entered. And Ryujin was already shaking, her eyes went straight to the back of her head, and her neck vascularized - all veiny - from the soft choke. It would’ve been too cruel to give her too much pleasure, so he took his hand off her throat, instead, patting her head - letting her know that she's doing so good, so good. 

In and out, motion of the ocean, slick covering his finger the deeper he went, earning the most virile moans out of her cute mouth. “You like that, huh?” He dug deeper, until his knuckle - a loud moan. She had never felt anything like this, her two fingers could never compare, and she’s a virgin after all, and she’s about to get deflowered in the backseat of a car - and, she loves it. 

In a swift motion, where Min continued his manhandling of Ryujin, he pulled his finger out - in a hook motion to agitate her g-spot, earning a girlish yelp - then, let Ryujin taste her own juices on his finger.

“You’re doing so good.” Min whispered, so overly joyed by Ryujin, how her petite body convulsed in pleasures beyond what he could ever imagine.

“I know.” Ryujin replied, defiant to the end. She knew exactly how this inspired him to be rougher - and she loves it. He gripped her waist, gripping harder, letting her firm abdomen mold against his grip, dug deeper into her cunt, placing his thumb over her engorged clit. One. Two. Three motions around her clit, three motions of his finger into her cunt - before she squirted onto the side window, far more girlish yelps, and desperate panting. This time, Min with his wet hand, spread it all over Ryujin’s face - the essence of her arousal, via his hand, spread on her face, where makeup was placed so thoughtfully, only to be ruined by her own squirt. She’s panting amidst all this, unable to process anymore than her overwhelming second orgasm. 

“You’re a fucking mess, Ryujin, cumming this quickly?”

“You made me this way…” She huffed, “you fucking brute.”

This time, all Min does is press against her pelvis - specifically, the pelvic bone, where just below is her g-spot, and the slight pressure, was absolutely deadly. All the while, he declared, “That’s right, little bird. I’ll press you against the seat, face-down, slam into your ass with all the force I can muster - then, when I’m deep, too deep, cervix-level deep, I’ll release all my cum into your precious little womb.”

“Nghhh~~!” And another squirt, where her legs closed together, toes curled, and her head hung back. While Ryujin was trying to recover, Min placed a quick and wet kiss on her lips, but that'd be the only romanticism that Min allowed her. Quickly, he let her sit up, pulling her by her thin wrists. Then, he pulled down his own pants - letting his shaft free from the restraints of his tight clothing, the painful onset of an early blue balls in its conception, that was only fuel to the fire to fuck Ryujin good, and hard.

“Sit on my lap facing me, Ryujin.” He demanded. And no matter how much Ryujin came, squirted, panted, and yelped - she’d always oblige in Min’s demands. She quickly hooked her other leg over him, in a hovered position rather than sitting. This time, he passed his fingers through her wet hair, letting it pass behind her ear, “safe word is Mimetic,” and he earned a soft nod from Ryujin, and consent to batter her sopping, wet, sticky, engorged pussy.

He slithered a hand around her waist, holding her in place; then, placed his other hand around her neck, just on the nape. He pulled her in for one last kiss. The last bit of eye contact before penetration, and all that could be seen in Ryujin’s eyes - beady and all wet from pleasure - was a fiending desire to be fucked silly.

Slowly, he let her descend, right up until his tip kissed her wet folds. She winced from her sensitivity, just from the touch. And that’s when it flashed in her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she was ready, given the fact that she hadn’t told him about her virginity. Before she could realize her thoughts through speech, she felt the intense heat of something foreign entering - something so thick and large - and it wrought every emergency signal in her brain - all of them, positive. “Oh–OH, fuck…” is all that Ryujin squeaked out before he pushed in deeper, feeling her gentle pussy wrap around his shaft - all wet and moist. A constant sizzling whisper could be heard from Ryujin as he buried his cock deeper, until, halfway in, where she let out a deep moan. “Holy fuck,” she moaned again, deeper. Holy fuck is right, her body was so resistant, tight right at the start to the end, yet, the way it also sucked his shaft into its wet folds - Min was already addicted.

“Ryujin, you’re so tight.” He said as he kept nudging Ryujin to move farther down, waiting for her glistening pussy to completely wrap around his shaft - then, eventually, completely devour her in the backseats of his own car. Yet, as he went through it with her, he began clueing in on the note - Ryujin is very.. Too sensitive. Why Ryujin focused on getting herself down, skewering herself on his length - desperately breathing, her chest dilating in and out. Through it all, as Ryujin tried to, adorably, hide her inexperience, Min pressed a compassionate kiss right into her mouth. 

“I love that. The fact that you’re so horny for a virgin.” He whispered against her mouth, breathing hotly, immeasurably hard.

And Ryujin needn’t respond at all, all she needed to do - well, did - was reach out with her tongue for his mouth, with those prey eyes, begging to be taken, testing her fickle fate - a sign that he needed to kiss her, devour her, again and again until hell freezes over. And finally, during the desperate haze of a reunification of mouths, he finally buried himself straight to the hilt, in her pink, glistening, sopping, beautiful core. And slowly, the wet sounds of sex, so blatantly loud in this claustrophobic environment, reverberated inside the car; the wet sounds of her moans covered this hazy atmosphere, coming from her lips that detached from his mouth, streaks of saliva still connecting them both; and that feeling, this mutual feeling of utter bliss, how her back bent - contorted - into every pump.

They couldn’t stop staring at each other, two perverts, two soulmates who couldn’t go for a second without looking at each other. Even when Min pushed up harder, letting his full length pass through her virginal hole, they still maintained that sensual eye contact - that essential eye contact.

“You fuck me so good, Min.” Ryujin said as her two small breasts jolted from every pump, every contraction of his length leaving her one step closer to ruin - until her eyes went back to that dangerous place, that orgasm line. And the resulting pressure, that heavenly pressure, pressed against his shaft so strongly, that his tight-lipped mouth let out a few growls of pleasure, a sign that he’s close to painting her womb in baby batter. 

Ryujin, ever the caretaker, felt the convulsions, and began pressing desperate kisses over his face - anywhere she could reach, whilst patting him on the back. And Min would never admit he liked it, that he loved it, and he didn’t need to admit it, Ryujin already knew. 

And she knew exactly, that this was the final straw that she needed to break before she was filled with his essence, the catalyst of that final convulsion. Min immediately seized, grabbing Ryujin in a bearhug - one that could’ve bruised her - and pumped hard, that final wet sound of sex, before, rope after rope of release entered deep inside her, splashing against her cervix, filling her womb.

“FUCKKK!!” He growled, he hadn’t felt this good since ever. And the same for Ryujin, who cried a leaky yelp, where her last bits of squirt flowed down the slightest nook from their love connection. They were static for a moment, relishing in the deviant copulation they engaged in, where, almost, the condensation of their lovemaking was visible in the air of the car.

“I love you.” She kissed him again, staring all lovey-dovey, as if her pupils had gone and turned into hearts.

“I love you.” He stared at her, happy, smiling.

“I love you more.” She added, exaggerating her laugh, trying to tease.

“I concede.” He replied.

“Heyyy! You’re supposed to say it back!” “I’m more for physical demonstrations. Wanna see?”

“Uh no. Please. It feels like it's about to fall off.” She was mentioning her pussy, all swollen and gummy to the eye.

“I love it, it’s so beautiful.” He replied, fully serious, digging his mouth into her neck, he was absolutely crazy about her.

“Min, I gotta take a shower, you’re being gross-” that’s when Min pressed a finger onto her - still engorged - clit, and proceeded to say, “I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

“Ngh! Stop! Seriously, it’s about to fall off.” Unfortunately, the collected accumulation of their love juices swiftly dripped down as Ryujin jolted back from him touching her clit.

“Isn’t this gonna stain your car until the end of time?” She stared at the significant puddle of who knows what.

“Let it. A commemoration of our intense copulation.”

Ryujin blushed, quickly grabbing the tissues that Min offered her, and wiping off all that she released, her entire lower half, essentially, was wet. And Min got aroused from watching Ryujin cleaning herself - her little winces when she slightly grazed her cunt only adding fuel to the fire. “Clean my cock.” Min demanded, but when Ryujin grabbed the tissues - ready to oblige - he replied, “with your mouth.”

To be continued...

Ahhh, I love cliffhangers. Enjoy waiting for 10 months! (just kidding!)

Honestly, I wanted to take months with this project, but I just can't seem to stop myself (from writing mid stuff).

[jewish-vents]

something i’ve noticed lately is online leftists being ignorant to some (most) forms of antisemitism, but vocal ONLY about jokes/stereotypes about jewish ethnic features.

they can point out the big nose stereotypes all day long (and they should) but when we beg them to have more concern for conspiracy theories, double standards for jews/israel, disinformation about jewish history and the war, holocaust inversion/denial/fake care for survivors, using zionism as a get out of jail card for judenhass, generalizing all israelis and diaspora jews as genocidal, denying that most jews identify with zionism, misusing jewish terms, demonizing jewish culture and hebrew, actual modern day blood libel, tokenization, accusing jews of “stealing culture”, denying indigeneity, painting ashke jews as white colonizers/villains, completely disregarding other diaspora groups, calling for israelis to be murdered, trying to “revoke” israelis’ jewishness, falsely calling the jewish people /only/ a religious group, redefining or goysplaining words/concepts they learned last week, using historically antisemitic canards, desecrating jewish monuments, houses, businesses, schools, and synagogues, AND literal, physical violence against jews….

it’s silence. crickets. it’s excuses and justifications. it’s thoughtless conversation enders. it’s refusal to sit with discomfort and address one’s mistakes. it’s a buzzword copy and pasted with a flag. “death to israel” or “kys zionist”. it’s “antizionism ≠ antisemitism”.

if you refuse to acknowledge the many forms antisemitism takes, of course you’d hyperfocus on one specific type. racist tropes about jews in media are awful. they’re harmful and part of dehumanization.

but if your understanding of antisemitism starts and ends at “greedy long nosed goblins in harry potter,” and you refuse to listen to jews, and refuse to see how antisemitism functions outside of pop culture and how it manifests into verbal and physical violence, you are no ally.

spreading antisemitism will not help palestinians at all, and it’s so fucking devastating that online activists can log on and feel vindicated and like they’re all heroic just for harassing random jews. meanwhile they’re wasting time and energy that could go towards something that ACTUALLY helps the palestinian people.

(also funny that they wanna call jews white when these stereotypes are about non-white ethnic features. and they stem from nazi propaganda about jews/jewish blood “ruining” white genetics. i could go on and on about the weird racial science lefties have ran with since oct7, especially within what we understand as race/ethnicity as social groupings, what makes someone indigenous, the weird blood quantum shit, noble savage trope, and the infantilization of palestinians)

.

[jellybeanium124]

just... thinking about when Izzy said "boyfriend" in ep 10, he was being homophobic, but also he just like. fully meant it. Like he genuinely thought they were fucking on deck in episode 5. He doesn't even wanna know what they were doing in the privacy of the captain's cabin. He straight up references them as an item bc they've been dating for like a month to him. He probably thinks they've been saying "I love you" to each other all gooey and mushy whenever he's out of earshot. I doubt the show will take the time to give Izzy the correct information, but imagine how funny that would be for him to learn that they kissed closed-lipped ONCE and that's it. On the other hand maybe he would feel a little vindicated. Stede is such a loser of a pirate he couldn't even properly seduce Ed.

[nerves-nebula]

this gonna be a bitchy post lacking in nuance but who cares. im annoyed.

child predators and abusers will use literally whatever is most effective to groom someone, that's kind of the whole fuckin point. pointing out that they can use certain media to groom kids is like pointing out that you can drink liquids. like yea you sure can. you can groom a kid through their interest in sesame street. you can groom a kid with adventure time. you can twist even the most harmless story book with a Nice Upstanding Moral at the end into whatever you want.

when i was in high school I basically fell in love with any teacher that gave me food cuz i was fucking starving and that's a way more effective way to gain my trust than like, idk, sketchy fandom porn. (which i also loved as a kid/teen but I never really talked to people online or in person about it cuz i didnt wanna get adults in trouble!) and if someone online was weird to me back then i just ghosted them cuz i didn't have to exist in meat space with them if they made me uncomfortable.

anyway back to my point: should we ban granola bars cuz they were a way to fast-track the trust of food insecure kids? the way some of y'all talk about abuse, and grooming in specific is so frustrating, like, what are you fuckin talking about. grooming is a series of actions a person chooses to take to get what they want, it's manipulation, what they use to groom people with is entirely situational and moreover irrelevant.

should we all just sit in 5 x 5 cubes and paint neutral faces on a canvas till we die or should we try to have systems in place to prevent adults from gaining so much control over kids just by being kind of nice to them. and that's not even getting into how censorship literally never works the way you might want it to. it's impossible to create censorship that isn't inherently bigoted and useless because the only people with the power to properly censor are the people with the most power in general. and they do not like the rest of us. and they are also often on the side of abusers, if not abusers themselves!

yall will gives thousands of notes to posts that basically say they want the haze code back cuz you're too dumb and reactionary to think about fucking anything other than "child abuse bad so i guess i agree." then go patting yourselves on the back without having helped a single child.

yall love to feel vindicated more than you care about victims. don't act like anything you do is for the survivors if your focus is always on retribution or censorship against the abusers. you don't care about us. you don't remember we even exist half the time. none of you have looked into what actually helps us, none of you internalize our complicated feelings, none of you are willing to ease up on your christian ideas of sex and sexuality unless we explain our entire traumatic backstories to you. and then you say we're broken and need help, as if what we don't really need is for you to back us up or leave us the fuck alone.

none of you care. you just wanna find acceptable targets for your anger so you can feel good about destroying the Bad Person. dont piss me off

[dotster001]

I saw requests open and was maybe kinda sorta wondering if I could request Malleus, Lilia, Leona, Vil and Kalim with a reaaaaaally cynical s/o 👉🏼👈🏼 you don't have to if you don't wanna man this is so embarrassing

A/N: congrats! This is the first request I've done after my concussion! 😂 the fact that I made it exactly halfway through the event.... Anyways, hopefully this is what you're looking for

3k followers masterlist

He's like you sometimes. Every time there's an event he doesn't get invited to, he always feels like he knew it was coming.

But then you came into his life, and the world seemed a little bit brighter! Someone cares about him! Someone loves him!

He doesn't really understand why he doesn't have the same effect on you. He might even pout about it to Lilia, and Lilia will explain to him that all people are different. You know he loves you, even if it doesn't make you less cynical. You wouldn't be "wasting your time" otherwise.

As wise as he is in Malleus' section….the man has loved a long life, and wants you to see the upside of things from time to time.

If he has to do that through delightful pranks and hijinks, then so be it. If he has to drag you all over town, he will. If he has to dedicate a song to you at the music club, and then say "this one's for you, babe" before smashing his guitar while Cater and Kalim try to stop him, then it's gonna happen.

Eventually even the most cynical of people is going to start to see things a little bit from Lilia's point of view. Just be prepared, every time you let a smile or optimistic thought loose, he's going to pinch your sides, and kiss the tip of your nose, and laugh with glee. There is no escape.

Ha ha, same.

He feels so vindicated that his lover is just as dead inside cynical as he is. Now he has someone on his side. Someone to back him up. He can just sit back and watch as you explain to his sunshiney brother why his idea is stupid.

The only time he'll be bothered is if you ever say something like, "the odds of us staying together forever are really low." How. Dare. You. You are his perfect match, his mate. You'll be together forever, or so help him, he'll flop on top of you and never let you move again.

You're a lot like him. A realist. He likes to stand in front of Epel with you, both of your arms crossed like angry parents. It makes him feel powerful.

That said, sometimes you are cynical about a new look he has to model, and it's not fun when it happens to him.

Those are the only fights you two have in the relationship. About looks he is modeling. Which is really amusing to everyone on the outside, but not so amusing to Vil.

This is the man who lived with Jamil his whole life and never once thought, "hey, this guy is very angry all the time". He doesn't even notice your cynicism.

People try to point it out, and he releases that pretty laugh of his, and says, "haha, Y/N's just like that. Are they so silly?"

Boy is snuggly like an affectionate cat, and anything not super positive goes in one ear out the other. He means well, but being the hyper optimist he is, he only sees you surrounded by glitter and flowers and sunshine.

[bunnwich]

Okay I’m assuming that the other long ass ask you mentioned was about the Halloween event too and your take on it so fair warning, this will also be about that and will also probably be long. I only play en and try to avoid spoilers but also I love the lion man so I got some of that anyway. But you really hit on a lot of points that I feel are important when people wanna flatten Leona’s character to 2D (even though he is literally 2D I guess), but what we’re seeing now in terms of “Leona chugs respect women juice and hates men” feels like just another iteration of “lazy lion man is lazy and doesn’t wanna do anything.”

And about Leona respecting a potential friend or partner regardless of gender, it’s like two weird sides of the same coin where people will say he hates men but it feels almost infantilizing toward women (Sally specifically in this case) about him being kind to her BECAUSE she is a woman. No! He likes her because she is smart and cunning and clever and will do whatever it takes to get what she wants (poisoning someone to get to freedom)- all things Leona values, and I think there’s probably a certain amount of “finally, my kind of person” with some of the closer analogues I feel being Leona mentoring Jamil and pushing him to go after what he wants as well as letting Yuu “bully” him into helping with Azul because dammit Yuu is using everything at their disposal and figured out the trick to Azul’s contracts, both of which are worthy of respect (and it lets him destroy his own contract). I’ve lost my train of thought a smidge but yes, it’s not about respecting women specifically or a matriarchal society, it’s about being around someone he actually vibes with and respect

Switching topics but yeah, he IS a hypocrite! He’s calling out Skully’s not seeking consent specifically because the behavior annoyed him as a whole, not just the consent part. And possibly Yuu’s or anyone else’s reaction of “oh how gentlemanly” too. I feel like that one goes back to his tendency to seek any and every advantage or whatever he can use to get the result he wants. In this case, he wants Yuu to not be overly impressed or even annoyed with Skully, and that’s the way to get the result.

Okay last one but yes it is so cute to get to see Leona a bit softer and kinder since it’s such a rare sight in twst. There’s this kind of vindication too, at least for me, to see what as so obviously there to me out in the open for once.

Leona has always been soft…but not a gentleman.

HI ANON!! Actually, the other ask was not about the event but honestly, I get why you would think that. (I get Leona asks a lot about different things :3c DFGHJ)

“Leona chugs respect women juice and hates men” feels like just another iteration of “lazy lion man is lazy and doesn’t wanna do anything.”

YEAH YEAH I think I see what you mean with this. I have a couple of thoughts on that tbh- 

Ppl get excited about a character they like and then they end up saying/joking about things without thinking about other ppl in the fandom who are different from them. Which…is fine to a degree but fandom is a community (or supposed to be) AND masc/nonbinary (and/or those with those types of OCs) often ALREADY get left out of fandom content and end up feeling like they aren’t “as valid” as femme folk and their OCs.

The other thing may be that some of these ppl feel in order to “justify” liking this “flawed character” that they MUST sanitize aspects of them. And turning Leona into a “squeaky clean feminist” suddenly and “consent” king is their way of flattening his character in order to make him safer to like?? Or like a vindication for him liking their femme OCs over a masc one?

Maybe I’m wrong, but those are my thoughts.

To your second point, YES EXACTLY!! I have always felt like Leona takes a soft spot for the MC in Chapter 3 and even somewhat for Jamil in Chapter 6 when he sees aspects of himself in him. And I feel like I never see ppl bringing that up about Chapter 3 especially. 

In the manga, you can see how delighted Leona is when Yuuta figures out the secret to Azul’s Unique Magic. He respects Yuuta's tenacity and even though he “says” he only helps because he wants his personal contact destroyed, I have always believed that that is just a part of it. I think he genuinely grows to like the MC more and actions speak louder than words. If he TRULY wanted to be rid of Yuuta or the MC in the game…he would have thrown them out like he threatened to do from the beginning. He’s a pushover…for certain ppl ofc.

You can even see this with Ruggie as well. Leona “says” it’s only for his benefit but we KNOW that he helps Ruggie behind the scenes with his homework “gives him extra money” and hand-me-downs. If it was truly only a business relationship he wouldn’t bother. And in one of his birthday vignettes, Cater goes on about how much he obviously cares for his underclassmen.

I guess what is truly interesting to me is that I’ve ALWAYS known Leona has the ability for softness and kindness. And bc Sally is a sweetie and so cool and YES a lady I think he was just more open about being nicer to her. 

Let’s remember that Leona doesn't have a lot of ppl he's close to at Night Raven College, therefore we don’t get to see that side of him often.

Idk…I feel watering this all down to “Leona is just a feminist” and that is why he’s nice does as you say: infantilizes women AND waters down Leona’s capacity for said softness and kindness and just making it about “manners” he learned growing up, yk?

THANK YOU, HE IS A HYPOCRITE. Leona as much as I defend is…rude AF. He has touched people without consent in vignettes and in the past. So I agree with your interpretation. I think it could even be interpreted as jealousy if someone wants to go that route.  But is it bc he TRULY gaf about Scully's manners? idts

As we know, he’s blunt compared to many of the characters and according to Vil and others has terrible manners. In fact, this was brought up MANY times in the Tamashina Mina event and so I think more the scene with Sally was more to show that he CAN be kind and a gentleman…when he wants to. Rather than showing he’s a simp for women or w/e.

 I'm FINE with ppl saying he’s a feminist or respects women! I believe he does! That’s harmless but- 

I just wish that ppl wouldn’t use this as an excuse to put down others AND remember that Leona isn’t just kind to women. He may have been softer to Sally but he has always been a generous person to those he believes has potential and/or respect.

I agree, I loved seeing him in this! I hope to see more of this openness from him in the future. 

Like you, I feel like I always knew it was there and have been preaching it for years! I already knew he was capable of softness. I think we just got to see it so openly bc it was someone NOT from NRC. 

And IT IS a great vindication for me too! Leona was always big bro, soft for those he admires etc. And I think before it was hidden between the lines and now it’s just out in the open.

Thanks for this ask! I’m glad my yapping is understood and that you could relate to what I meant in my previous post about him.💚💚💚 TLDR;

[apocalypseornaw]

Real or Not (Pt 1/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

When Dean starts mentioning his ex it makes you start doubting how stable your relationship is

@lacilou s idea

You were half asleep, curled up to Dean's chest. His fingers were slowly tracing patterns on your bare back as he sung along with whatever was playing on the radio, the light rumble of his voice was nearly lulling you back to sleep. The bed was warm and soft, his body against yours was an added warmth and comfort. You'd known the boys most of your life, the perks of hunting but you and Dean was a development that had just happened a few years before.

Him and Sam had discovered the men of letters bunker and as a byproduct had extended an invitation for you to use one of the many extra bedrooms. You weren't sure how the line between friends and lovers was crossed between you and Dean.

The first time you saw a spark of what could be was when a guy had gotten handsy with you in a bar after a hunt. You were sore after all three of you had gotten tossed around, the bruising on your side was already multiple shades of purple. You'd left the boys to go to the bathroom and hadn't noticed a guy watching you.

When you walked out the bathroom he'd grabbed you rather roughly. Any other time you would've kicked his ass with no problem but his fingertips had dug into the bruise forcing the air out of your lungs and a gasp of pain to escape your lips. "Hey asshole" You heard Dean's voice a half a second before the guy was ripped off of you.

You watched as Dean hit him and felt some sense of vindication when the guy went down but when Dean moved to hit him again you grabbed his arm, the bouncer was headed your way and not to mention you knew Dean.

He was strong enough to take down monsters on the daily, if he went off on this drunken asshole he could kill him. The anger in his eyes quickly dissolved when he realized it was your hand on him "Sweetheart he hurt you" you smiled slightly "I've had worse dee. You probably broke his jaw as is. Let the bouncer handle it, let's grab Sam and head back to the motel"

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

From that day on any time the three of you went out Dean would stand outside the bathroom and wait on you. You'd felt guilty for a while that his chances of hooking up was cut down extremely by every woman in the bar seeing him waiting on you but when you'd finally brought it up to him he'd simply said "You're more important to me"

The first time Dean kissed you was late one night. You and him had been dancing around feelings for each other for a while.

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

You'd been in your room, laid across the bed listening to music when he'd knocked on your door. "Come in!" You called out turning to sit up instead of being sprawled out. Dean walked in and a smile pulled onto his face "Were you asleep?" Your eyes widened when you realized how your hair probably looked. Not that he hadn't seen you at a worse time but nonetheless you smoothed a hand over your hair "No, was just listening to music" he nodded slowly but you could tell he hadn't just come to your door to see what you were up to. "Something wrong Dee?"

He motioned down the hall "There's a um meteor shower tonight. Sam told me about it, I know you like that kind of thing and there's a few clearings not far from here if you wanna take a little ride?"

You nodded "Yeah let me get my boots on and grab a hoodie" the smile he gave you made your heart flip "Take your time sweetheart"

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

About half an hour later you were laying across baby's hood next to Dean, watching the night sky. His hand found your leg, squeezing gently before he sat up "Y/N, can we talk?" You sat up too and took his offered hand to get off the impala. Once you were both standing he gave you one of those smiles that made your knees weak "Can I just kiss you and stop this dancing around? I know how I feel about you and I'm fairly certain how you feel about me"

"I'd like that" you admitted and next thing you knew his lips were on yours. Kissing Dean was better than you'd ever imagined and you'd imagined it plenty. The way he made you feel from just a kiss was dizzying. When he pulled away he slid his arms around your waist pulling you even closer "I could get used to doing that" you laughed "I could get used to you doing that"

The two of you had ended up watching the sun come up before going back to the bunker. You'd never admit under threat of torture but you were half in love with him then.

You felt his fingers hesitate just a moment before he said "I know you're awake" you cut your eyes up to see green eyes watching you closely. You smiled "I was enjoying the song" he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips but when his hands moved to your hips rolling you over on top of him the kiss deepened. When you had to move away from each other to catch your breath he grinned at you "If I get that for a song what do I get for a few?" You raised an eyebrow rolling your hips down against his which made him choke out a groan "I'm sure we can come to an agreement"

Yeah you'd never admit it but you were head over heels for the eldest Winchester.

You were moving through the bunker, humming to yourself. You'd just gotten through with laundry and was headed to see if Sam needed help with research.

You were almost to the library when you heard Dean and Sam both laughing. The sound warmed your heart, they rarely genuinely laughed. "Man you remember how Mila lost the cop that was chasing her, met us back at Bobby's and cooked breakfast" Sam said and you felt yourself falter.

Sam was one of your closest friends and yeah him and Dean had hunted close with Camila for a while especially while her and Dean were a thing but as far as you knew they hadn't talked to her in a while. Why were they reminiscing about Dean's ex? Your stomach dropped to your feet when Dean's voice was the next to say "Mila has always been a force of nature"

You knew when it came to these two your poker face was shit so you stopped dead in your tracks unsure what to do next. When they started into another story starring none other than Camila Paulso you spun on your heel and headed for the garage. You hadn't realized you were crying until your vision went blurry.

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

This wasn't like you. You weren't the overly jealous type and getting this upset over something so trivial as them reminiscing? Because you had fallen in love with Dean and honestly had no clue if he felt the same. Every insecurity you felt from when you first got with Dean came rushing back. Every little voice that said you weren't his type, that you weren't good enough for him, that he'd never love you blared through your head.

You walked over to one of the older cars you always liked and sat down next to it, forcing yourself to calm down. They were just talking. Maybe you needed a break, you could go visit Jody and the girls. A few minutes passed before your phone went off with a text from Dean "Where are you at?"

You pushed yourself to your feet, checking your reflection in the window of the car before texting back "Garage" you needed to get a grip. Dean wasn't the type to not say what he wanted. He was with you, that counted for something right?

About the time you heard his voice ring through the garage calling your name a small whisper flashed through your head saying "What if he's passing time until he can get her back?"

Why the hell was your own brain working so hard against you?

@lacilou

[belovedmusings]

Take me down slow, control, and abuse me.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Themes 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part eight of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and he just woke you up in the middle of the night after he heard you having a certain dream about his bandmate, Suguru. This is the subsequent conversation.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Choso is sweet and loyal, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, cowgirl, riding, nipple play (fem receiving), oral sex (male receiving), soft and tender sex, love bites, creampie

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Use Me (PLAZA), I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys), fue mejor (Kali Uchis, SZA)

A/N: Enjoy ;)

Read on Ao3 if you prefer!

Or read below cut:

His eyes are locked on yours. There’s no vindication—just confusion. You can’t lie to him. It hurts too much to even think about telling this precious man you love an untruth. 

“Choso,” You begin, slicing through the tension-thick air. There’s a lump already forming in your throat, and you brace yourself to lose the man you love. “I…I need to be honest with you.”

Worry instantly etches into his features. “…all right.”

“When I said I just thought he was good-looking, that…that wasn’t the entire truth. I…ever since we met him, I-I’ve been attracted to him but I-I…I love you so much, the guilt is eating me alive.”

It all comes out in a rush, the truth of your feelings, and it takes him a moment to catch up with you to process your words.

He digests the initial part first. “Ever…since we met him? You mean, at my audition?”

You nod shamefully. It’s begun–and you decide now is the best time to just get it all out. There’s no way he’s going to accept everything you’ve done, because you know you wouldn’t, but you just can’t keep hiding things from him. This is the man you love, and what is love without honesty?

After you start, it just pours out of you.

Everything that has happened. Initiating sex in the car after you left his house because he’d turned you on, listening to his voice on repeat through the band’s songs, the fantasizing, the stolen moments that happened in Suguru’s kitchen, then backstage at their concert, then three times again that same night, once at the bar, then in the car, then in your living room after Choso had been carried to bed, then two months later when you brought him back to talk after running into him at the grocery store. All of the forbidden touches, the heated words, the almost-kisses–you spill it all. He deserves to know. He’s too good of a person to be with someone as horrible as you.

By the time you finish, the two of you had sat up in bed, a bedside lamp on to illuminate the room. Sleep is lost on you both now. 

For a while, he just sits there in silence, eyes trained on the foot of the bed. It feels stuffy yet cold, and you wonder if you’ve stopped breathing at some point, waiting for his response. You’re not even sure what you expect. How can anyone possibly react to something like what you just told him?

Your heart drops through you at the first sight of a tear sliding down his cheek. He hasn’t said anything, but it’s clear that he’s hurting. 

What have you done? You were given the most precious boyfriend in the world and you’ve screwed it up by being selfish and undisciplined? 

He parts his lips, searching for the words. They only come after another beat of silence. 

“...all of that…” He begins in a gravelly voice, one you know he uses when he’s holding back his emotions, “and…all I can think about is…I’m in the way of you and him, aren’t I?”

You had no idea what you expected, but that reaction is ten-thousand times worse than anything you could’ve conjured up in your head. 

“No,” Your own voice shakes, you’re hurt because you hurt Choso, “You’re not…you’re not in the way, you’re my boyfriend. I love you.”

“But you want him,” He replies, voice strained. His eyes are still averted from you. “And he wants you. Not just a little, either.”

What argument can you make? You just have to speak from the heart. “Choso, I swear to god, I love you and Suguru hasn’t affected the way I feel about you in the slightest.”

“But I’m not your only option,” He says, monotony terribly forced as more tears stream down his cheeks. “And your other option is Suguru. The guy who is everything I am and more.”

You wonder if the crack you just felt in your heart was audible. “What?”

“He can give you the things I can…and the things I can’t.”

You need to fix this now.

“You’re the man I love,” You say, “Choso, what we have is so special, and–”

“I want what’s best for you,” Choso interrupts you, finally meeting your eyes. They’re glassy and weighted. “I just want you to be happy. He can make you happy.”

“No,” You instantly say, “No, loving you is what makes me happy. Being with you makes me happy. I don’t want to leave you, Choso. I don’t.”

“If you’re happy with me, then why…why do you want Suguru that badly?”

The full truth. What has exactly cemented itself within your soul–you need to bear it to him now. 

“Choso,” You begin, taking his hands and locked eyes with him. “I need you to believe me when I say that I have never ever second-guessed my feelings for you. I know that I am in love with you, and every single moment with you is a blessing that I will forever be grateful for. It’s just that…since I met Suguru, I’ve begun imagining what it would be like with him. Also, not instead. I want you in my life, I want you loving me, I want you to be my boyfriend now and forever, and more if that’s what comes with our future. But I…honestly, I want Suguru there too.”

Choso looks perplexed for a moment, eyes flitting between yours as he once again absorbs all of your words. “...you want him…too?”

Your next nod is earnest yet careful. “Yes. I know it’s ridiculous, selfish, and impossible, but I love and cherish you so much…and I want Suguru. I could never be without you, Chos’, and I sure as hell could never ever replace you with him. I don’t even know if Suguru and I are actually compatible and would go anywhere. Please, believe me.”

He draws in a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you have to deal with this, and with me,” You add, “And I understand if you want me gone, I know even thinking that is horrible, and I am the worst person on Earth for hurting you.”

“I don’t want you gone,” He immediately says, surprising you thoroughly. 

“What? But I’m…I’m pretty sure all of this qualifies me as some sort of heartless…whore.”

He furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head vehemently. “You are not a whore. Do you go out every time I’m gone and sleep with random men you meet? Do you message more online? Do you send them pictures?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“You’re not a whore,” He says again, sighing heavily. “It’s…this is Suguru we’re talking about. Just Suguru. And this has gone on since we met him, for what…the better half of a year now? More than that? You haven’t even kissed him, let alone slept with him. You just…you just have a lot of affection to give.”

You look down at your lap. “It’s probably just physical, anyway…”

“You said you told him you wanted more, though, after he said that’s what he wants,” Choso points out. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me.”

“No, I-I mean, I’ve barely been around him. Who’s to say it isn’t just lust?” You feel like you’re backtracking, but also like maybe you’re telling the truth. You don’t know anymore. “Maybe I was just caught up in it all when he said it. We could end up not liking each other at all if we really got to know each other…”

After you trail off, no words fill the space between you two for another few moments. 

“So,” he exhales, “You want him…too. In what sense?”

“Well,” You begin unsurely. “I…don’t know.”

“Do you think if you slept with him, your curiosity would go away?”

There’s a seriousness that hangs in the air, one that you can’t help but feel is unwelcome.

“What?”

“I just…don’t see another solution to this. Because I love the band, and Suguru made it clear he wants me to stay. That means that at some point, you two are going to have to be around each other. If you…end up alone, it could mean you two just give in, and none of us want that. Suguru doesn’t want to go behind my back, you don’t want to cheat on me, and I don’t want either of you to betray me.”

“But I still don’t see how the correct solution is for me to sleep with him,” You reply rather bluntly, bewildered.

“Because then I’d know about it,” Choso explains. “I mean, listen…I don’t like the idea of the woman I love sleeping with another man, but this isn’t just some guy, it’s Suguru. I know he’s a good man. I know he respects me. So if I…allowed you to…see what he’s all about, then no one would be lying to anyone. There would be no problem.”

Your eyes narrow. Is your boyfriend seriously suggesting you sleep with Suguru?

“But…what about your feelings? I’d still be…getting intimate with another man. Wouldn’t that bother you?” You question him, running a hand through your hair. 

“It’s not bothering me as much as it should,” He admits, “Because…all this time, all those moments, and neither of you said ‘forget about him’ and did it behind my back. Yes, you two have gotten close, but you’ve stopped yourselves. So…I know you both care about me. It sounds so strange coming from me, but…I’d let you do it, love.”

All you can do is draw in a deep breath. What is he even saying? 

He’s seriously giving you the go-ahead? To sleep with Suguru?

“All I ask is…for you to agree to a few things,” Choso adds, “You’d use protection…and…don’t kiss him.”

Don’t kiss him.

A flash of Suguru’s lip rings comes to mind like the shutter of a camera, and you steel yourself. No kissing him. Something you’d fantasized about for the longest time…barred. 

But he’s letting you sleep with Suguru. 

So what if you can’t kiss him?

“Okay,” You nod, then you hear yourself, and you shake your head, “W-wait, no, Choso, I can’t do this to you. You can’t be okay with this!”

“But I am,” He insists, reaching up and touching your face. There is only a gentleness in his eyes, no hint of anger or animosity towards you in them. “I love you, and I want to give you the world. If I can give you this by simply allowing you, I will.”

“But it’s sex,” You argue, “For crying out loud, Choso, how can you be okay with this? I’d never be okay if you wanted to sleep with another woman!”

“That’s okay,” He assures you, “It is sex, and to the two of us it means something different. For me, it’s exclusive. For you, it's an expression. I don’t like sleeping with anyone I’m not in love with, but for you, it’s more about who you find attractive. I trust you. I know you’ll never leave me, you’ve made that clear. If, throughout this entire thing, you’ve fantasized about Suguru yet never resented me or started finding faults in me, wishing I was him…I know you love me.”

“I do,” is what you reply with immediately. “I love you so much, Chos’.”

“See? I trust you,” He repeats. “If you wanted to cheat you’d have done so by now.”

For a while, you just remain silent.

Is he really giving you a pass? To have sex with Suguru? Just like that?

“Will you look at me differently? And him?” You ask, searching his eyes with yours.

“You’re always going to be the woman I love,” Choso shakes his head. “And he’s always going to be Suguru.”

“What about when we’re all together? When you’re in the same room as me and him? Will you be able to take it?”

Choso consider your words for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I will. Things will probably be less tense now that it’s out in the open, don’t you think?”

“…well, possibly, yes.”

There is about a full minute of absolutely no sound in the room. You don’t know what to say. You weren’t expecting a full fight, because you know that’s not what Choso is about, but you sure as hell weren’t expecting this either. How are you supposed to react?

Choso has given you his permission to sleep with Suguru. You can actually do what you’ve been wanting to do–well, mostly–and more than anything, right now you’re just feeling…weird. 

“Chos’, I…I don’t know what to say…”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to. We’ve talked it over and said everything we need to say.”

Well, he’s right. You’ve asked about his feelings, about his reaction, he knows the dirty details of your thoughts…and this is the end result. The boyfriend you have been in love with since before this entire mess has started still loves you even after everything you’ve considered doing, and everything you’ve done, and what’s more is that he is green-lighting even more that you never thought he’d be okay with.

Your eyes happen upon him, and you really take him in. The way his layered hair falls in messy strands around his face, the soft droop of his chocolate eyes, smeared with his trademark purple eyeliner. You follow the shape of his jaw, the curve of his Adam’s apple down to his neck, further to the collar of his shirt, where you remember he has that tattoo of your name on his heart. More than ever now, you understand that he’d gotten that done with utmost sincerity. So much emotion sweeps over you in a tidal wave–you love your boyfriend so much, and you’re sorry he’s even in this position, whether he’s okay with it or not. 

There isn’t much time between after you’ve had that thought and when you climb into his lap, kissing him in a way that you hope conveys everything you’re feeling for him at the moment. 

Choso responds eagerly, and soon layers come off, the black ink of your name etched into his breast on full display. It’s a lot of touching and grinding–you try to knead your affection into him with your hands and the way you move your hips on his, feeling him getting hard beneath you, your lips reaching any expanse of skin of his that they can reach. 

You kiss down his frame, paying special attention to the delicate part of his neck where it meets his shoulder and leaving a mark there. It’s easy to elicit noises from him, soft and breathy in nature, and you keep going, leaving a path of claims as you devour his body slowly.

Soon, you wind up between his legs, face beside his stiff length, but before you pay it any mind, you give attention to his thighs, a place you know is particularly sensitive. That’s when the sounds leaving his lips become more pronounced, abdomen rising and falling with each new mark you bite into the flesh there.

By the time you take him into your mouth, his cock is maroon-hard and weeping, the bitterness mixing with the flavor of his musk. The both of you moan at the same time, and his hands thread into your hair, gently holding it back as you suck, rising and sinking down on him over and over in the way you know drives him mad. His noises string together, strained groans and soft whimpers mixing to create a beautiful enough symphony that even that itself is music he creates. His thumbs caress your cheeks and you feel his eyes admiring you as you suck him off, a rosy blush spreading over your face.

When he’s good and soaked, and when he’s near his peak, twitching on your tongue with the threat of release, you pull off, looking up at him.

His eyebrows are drawn up, hair messily splayed across his pillow from his writhing, a crimson over the bridge of his nose. He’s panting, chest rising and falling rigidly, deep exhales painting the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” You tell him breathlessly, climbing back up his now mark-ridden body, straddling his hips with your legs. You take him into your hand and guide him towards your heat, allowing it inside as you seat yourself down.

“Oh, fuck,” He grunts, hands finding your waist instinctively. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, having been edged already, and you know it won’t take him long to reach his peak. 

He knows this, and so when you start rolling your hips, keeping him fully inside, he begins roaming his palms over your skin, doing his best to bring you to the edge as well. The two of you move in a way that can only be disguised as a sensual, intimate dance. His hands find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs, then running a palm down your front until he finds your clit. He starts rubbing it to the tempo of your movements, and little gasps leave your mouth, spurring on more impassioned grinds from you.

You look down at him, staring up at you with reverent, lidded eyes, and you know that no matter what you do with Suguru, it can never replace what you have with Choso. 

“I love you,” You murmur, leaning down and initiating a hungry kiss. 

He returns it with fervor, speaking into your wet cavern with a reciprocal, “I love you,” before chasing it down with his tongue. He starts meeting your movements with his own, intensity increasing until soon he’s moaning down your throat and cumming deep inside, your own orgasm rippling through you at the same time.

He holds you close and you don’t stop showering him with your love, intent on making sure he knows how much he means to you.

What comes next can wait until tomorrow.

__

a/n: you get to have your cake and eat it too in this universe, mmm hmm, mm hmm. now...what will happen next?

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

Taglist (comment here or my masterlist if you want to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childofilluvatar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog , @spiteless-xo , @slutforaz , @bellaabee082 , @thedorklingqueen , @delayedrage , @poopwons , @pandisastergod , @username23345 , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @forest-haven , @midnaamethyste , @bihanspookies , @mysteriouskiller1 , @liyahthings , @makingtimemine , @tr330 , @captainstarnoir , @nana-lover05 , @vvarkiki , @missmuffinr

[onyour-right]

Episode 4 of Gen V was just *chefs kiss*

As someone who saw the instant connection between Marie and Jordan I feel so vindicated!!! I love those two so much, their kiss was everything & then Jordan stepping in to protect Marie. Scrumdidlyumptious!!! Although not to be that person but it bothers me when people say they're enemies to lovers. They're not, they are rivals to lovers which is also just as good. I wanna write for these two so badly omg

I also really like Sam and Emma together but I've been in fandom for too long to not notice the signs that one of them is gonna die at the end of the season I fear dont come for me pls they're my second fave

That little twist at the end, I strongly suspect that it was Cate's doing which is a shame but imma still love her regardless if it does turn out to be her.

Andre, I like him but he's stupid. Sam has been tortured and whatnot for years, has broken out of his prison, and then you have the audacity to ask what his problem is???? I'm sorry but you deserve that beat down LOL dumbass.

[hiskillingjar]

I don't know if this is weird enough, but I’m an acousticophiliac. I am wildly excited by the sound of chainsaws, the closer and longer I am to the sound, the more horny I become. oh, if Strade held my face over his table saw or sat on me with a chainsaw in his hands... I wonder how he'll react to how wet it makes me :3

what is this, a crossover episode? 🎥📼

1800+ words, cw for canon typical rape n violence, rough object insertation and slurs. it's a chat, what do you expect?

mountthep: come on yr being WAY too nice with this one. easily convinced by some good pussy huh??? crustykilljoy: YAAA I WANNA SEE SOMETHING FUCKED UP!!!! XD woundfucker: you freaks have no sense of fucking tension lmao. is this your first stream or something?? mountthep: if i wanted to see tension i would have stayed in film school faggot

You let out a muffled shriek as your slack body was thrown over a metal table, the firm hand in your hair and the heavy body above yours pinning you down and keeping you still against it.

You had been put through hell for the last few hours, and that was putting it lightly.

Your head was spinning from the myriad of oozing cuts all over your body, ranging in depth (some papercut shallow, others worryingly deep), burning like a fire and streaming rivulets of blood down your sweaty, pallid skin. Your legs were trembling from the amount of effort it was taking just to hold yourself upright, and though you tried to adjust yourself against the table, give yourself some degree of relief, it was to no avail.

Strade wouldn’t give you any opportunity to move, to resist him, for even a second.

"Heh, you guys are a riot tonight!" He chuckled behind the mask covering his face, permitting him an anonymity that you were not allowed (you had long figured that you weren't getting out of this alive, though, so what did you care about anonymity?) "Look, I know most of you don't have a little thing called patience, but please, try to, for me? I'll be sure to reward you if you do~"

crustykilljoy: ASDFSXFCGD ME NEXT ME NEXT HEHEHEHEHE <3333 [woundfucker PAID 200 tokens] wirehead92: way to feel vindicated woundfucker lmao Anon: wait isn't that like 2k?? dollygirl: he's dropped 20k in one livestream before. he's the only guy B3G_CRY actually takes reqs from. woundfucker: git good brokie :) how about you turn that saw on big guy, see her really start to squirm??

"Now, that's not a bad idea," Strade praised approvingly, speaking to the blinking red eye of the camera behind you, its gaze fixed on your lashed backside, bruises and blood painting a canvas of pain, and your bound ankles. "High risk, high reward, eh, ‘woundfucker’?"

You mindlessly murmured a slurred question into your thick, duct tape gag, trying to look behind your shoulder as Strade shifted to your left and leaned down.

You then heard the click of a switch, before the sharp, dangerous, rotating-too-fast-to-be-seen-by-the-naked-eye saw blade, mere inches from your head, started to whir and buzz and vibrate.

Your once hazy eyes widened instantly, blood shot and filled with unshed tears, and you tried, instinctually, to jerk backwards in spite of your bindings, away from the imminent danger in front of you, but Strade kept you pinned still with a gruff laugh.

"Haha, woah there!" He said, moving the hand in your hair to the back of your neck, keeping your head pinned down to the cool, metal table. "Don't squirm so much, buddy, or you're going to cause an accident!"

Your entire body started to tremble erratically like a trapped animal, tears now fully streaming down your cheeks as you watched the saw, unable to watch anything else. When you were this close, you could see the slightest scrape of metal on metal causing jumping sparks, not big enough to hurt you or pose any major threat, but enough to prove to you that it was very real, that the saw could and would hurt you if you didn’t stay still.

The table was positively vibrating underneath you, making the sound that much louder and rocking you right to your very core.

A core that was stirring and tightening painfully, making your thighs clench together and a whimper curl from your gagged lips.

Anon: hold up is she getting turned on??? mountthep: lmao what a slut, no wonder her ass got kidnapped dollygirl: not the first won’t be the last :) crustykilljoy: STICK SOMETHING UP THERE ASDFFNFKIIJJJJ :333 FILL THAT CUNT!!!

"Hm?" Strade hummed casually, keeping your head pinned down but moving his body away from yours. "Is that right?"

You felt his warm touch trace over your cunt then, as if inspecting it, and you couldn't stop yourself from moaning when his fingers rubbed the dripping wet of your slit thoughtfully.

"Ahhh, and here I thought you weren’t enjoying yourself.” He crooned with a sick grin (you didn’t even need to look at him to see it) as he slid a finger inside you, his calloused thumb rubbing a tight circle against your clit and making you squeak and shiver all the more. “What is it, sweet thing? You don’t like the saw? You don’t like me showing off your pussy to all my guests?”

"Mmph...mmm," You groaned into your gag, pressing your hot face into the cold metal and feeling the thrumming vibrations of the buzzsawcut right through you.

“Yeeeah, I don't think you mind it, do you, fraulein?” He said, somehow even softer (as if he was speaking just for you) as he slid a second finger inside of you with ease and hooked them, curling them and rubbing them slowly against your insides while he teased your clit, making your legs clench up even tighter. “No, no, I don't think you mind it at all, actually…”

You couldn't stop yourself from pressing your hips back, chasing after more of those nice, slow touches, the only modicum of pleasure you had felt after hours and hours of pain.

This should have been your breaking point, you thought for a fleeting moment, this should have been the thing that made you cuss and scream and vomit all over his boots (forcing him to seal your mouth up with thick tape, stuck in your hair, sure to be painful if he ever tried to remove it), but it felt like more of a relief to be violated, to be raped, than it did to be hurt.

You would have gladly accepted this kind of torment over any other, given the choice.

[crustykilljoy PAID 10 TOKENS] mounttp: you dumb bitch!! crustykilljoy: PLEEEEEEASE PLEASE RAPE HER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ADNFNFJJJ XD I WANNA SEE IT SO BADDDDDD ME NEXT ME NEXT mountthep: im going to fucking kill you next time i see you you fucking cunt dollygirl: crusty woman(?) of the people woundfucker: lol mad your gf is ogling someone else?

"Ooh, danke for the generosity! I'm always happy to appease my newbies," Strade said with a good-natured laugh, ever the charmer, even when the person he was charming wasn’t in the room. "Especially when they're good enough to leave a tip~"

With that, Strade abruptly pulled his fingers out of you and the warm touch of his skin was replaced with something colder and blunt.

As it slowly breached your entrance, your cunt straining to take in the new intrusion, you quickly figured out that it was the handle of a hammer, long and solid without even an inch of flexibility to it.

In spite of the painful sensation, you moaned again, flinching as the edge of the handle dragged against your sensitive insides, providing you with no kind of pleasurable stimulation other than the sheer force of being filled so deeply.

It was painful, dreadfully so, but it paled in comparison to everything else you had gone through that night.

And you knew that you were providing plenty of lubrication for the porous wood to slide inside of you.

"Would you look at that, hm? So slick and wet..." Strade murmured with another dark smile as he pressed the handle a little further inside of you. You might have been disgusted with yourself that there was such little resistance, but you didn't have the mind to feel much of anything anymore, other than a dissociative kind of pleasure. "Christ, you're practically drooling on the cement, hah!"

Strade smoothed the hand through your sweaty hair, then, before idly pressing his groin against your bloody hip, so you felt the initial stirrings of arousal in his trousers.

Typical.

"Nasty, right?" He said, presumably for his chat to hear. "You almost don't feel that bad about raping meat like this." He paused, easing the handle in even further, so deep that you could feel it begin to meet resistance, wood hitting bone and organs while the thick metal head suddenly pressed cold against your aching clit. "Not that I'd feel that bad anyway…"

He then pressed his palm against the head, forcing the hammer even deeper inside (forcing out a pained shriek from you) as he began to grind his hips down against your bloody thigh, stimulating himself while he was torturing you.

Despite your shrieks of pain, you moaned again, your dead eyes fluttering and rolling back into your skull, barely even noticing as he slowly inched your head closer to the whirring saw blade, making the sound that much louder and effecting you so much more heavily.

"Yeah, I think you like the way that thrums, don't you?" He asked, once again lowering his voice (just for you) as he took the head of the hammer in hand and pulled it back, inching the handle out of your aching cunt, before, suddenly, slamming it back inside of you and making you yelp into your gag (making your body squirm even more).

He was probably tearing up your walls, treating your cunt like this, but you had the sense that he probably didn't care that much.

 "I can feel in your body how much you like it." He continued to pull back the hammer and thrust it into you, using it like some kind of demented sex toy, in spite of how painful it was. "Little freak~"

woundfucker: i think her pussys starting to bleed lol wirehead92: yeah i bet you hate that, username woundfucker crustykilljoy: ASDFDFAFSHB HEHEHEHEHE TAKING IT SOOOOO GOOD GOOD GIRL :DDD Anon: Internal bleeding is going to kill her quicker than anything else, though. Boring. mountthep: agreed :P

"Fussy lot tonight, hm?" Strade hummed, pushing in the hammer one last time before pulling his body back completely, reaching down to squeeze his erection with an impatient sigh through his teeth. "You're lucky that I'm kind enough to share this with you, ya know...ah, but I did promise to reward your patience, didn’t I?"

"Hmmph.." You groaned, your body slack and utterly exhausted, as he reached forward and tangled his fingers in your hair again, pressing his hips to the head of the hammer, nudging it into your town up insides even deeper.

"Nothing personal, fraulein," He murmured, caging your body down and speaking to you in a low whisper. "I think we could have had a lot more fun together..."

With that, Strade pushed your head into the whirring teeth of the saw blade.

[lilislegacy]

you wanna know what i think about ? the way everyone diminished annabeth for still caring about luke to the point of acussing her of being a spy only for her still caring about him that makes crack that ends the war. I wonder if she felt vindicated after that or if they felt guilty and what about when they found out she was his anchor too ?

thanks for the ask @thatcatangelwriter!

sorry this took 8 million years to respond to. but yeah that’s a super interesting thought. i kinda wish we got more of annabeth’s pov regarding her feelings about the whole luke situation. in all likelihood, i think she was probably just incredibly sad about the way it worked out for him. i don’t know if she would have felt vindication exactly, but i think she simply found comfort in the fact that he is remembered as a hero, thanks to percy’s efforts to ensure that. and about the anchor thing… i have no idea. i just know when she found that out, it must have been a melting pot of emotions. there’s a lot of history and complex feelings there.

everything about luke and annabeth is so complicated. her feelings about him were, rightfully, all over the place. our girl was in the trenches

[iaus]

jsut got the clearest mental image of early on in the situationship where porter is having a completely normal one about being off with jace and he's at a gay bar because he's going to fuck someone goddamn it if stardiamond isn't going to pay attention to him he's still going to get off.

but he sees jace there with some dude that's nearly 7 foot tall and porter is so normal about it. he definitely doesn't get his crystal out and text jace

what are you doing

and he definitely doesn't punch a wall when jace texts back

grading papers

he definitely doesn't watch jace flirt with this guy and ignore anyone who is trying to pick him up. he definitely doesn't keep texting jace things like

wanna come over after you're done?

want me to come over?

and definitely doesn't feel absolutely vindicated when after about half an hour of jace getting free drinks from this guy where jace is like

yea. fine. i'll be there in twenty.

before realizing he is gonna have to drive 70 in a 45 zone to make it back home before jace gets there