#with one another is like. complex enough. but just... idk man things being just these mentions in the past tense feels so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeyinde · 6 months ago

Note

touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)

by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.

DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.

idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.

It's survival.

At first.

A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached.

Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter.

Nothing else, except—

He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling.

He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—

Mesmerising.

Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.

(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)

He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—

Ever.

And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have.

Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along.

Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars.

(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”

and he—

he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—

he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid?

slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella.

in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness.

you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”

and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest.

“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”

his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)

And now—

Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.

Protection, he calls it.

("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.")

You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is.

Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—

It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him.

Vile man. Awful.

(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)

This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore.

(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)

Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—

Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second.

Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed.

(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)

Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat.

It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl.

You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape.

You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums.

“Need somethin', pet?”

Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir—”

Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up.

You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning.

“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”

Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste.

It's gross. Disgusting.

It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—

He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—

(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)

You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony.

Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary.

“S–sir—?”

He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems.

You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”

You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue.

Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains.

Uprooted, turned into something new—

His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable.

(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)

“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”

You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it.

“I need—I need you.”

Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”

He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”

Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him.

Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins.

Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—

He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—

just like he says.

As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems.

Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.

His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing.

And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.

You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee.

Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting.

There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—

Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him.

He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.

“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting.

There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand.

He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.

Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—

“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”

It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—

He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much.

you don't want him to stop.

His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.

He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more

The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm.

It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand.

He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—

But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains.

“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.”

“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”

Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—

You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave.

“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.”

You burn, blister. “Please—”

“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?”

Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves.

“Simon—”

“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.”

“No, no, no—! I'm—”

“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes.

“Please, sir—”

“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”

The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart.

He knows you. Every part—

“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—”

It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it.

He hides his need under a layer of derision.

“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?”

His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand.

“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”

Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”

His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin.

He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”

Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self.

But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside.

There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin.

Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—

Full.

Mangled.

Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot.

He's—

Pretty.

Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—

You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—

You kiss him.

Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—

Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally.

And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.

Because you need him, don't you?

Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—

(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)

—it’s all so divine.

His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—

And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him.

Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive.

It coils around you. Thick, smothering.

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—

He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour.

But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—

“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”

“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”

The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric.

“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide.

Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.

His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.

You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort.

After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out.

His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast.

He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette.

“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”

You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore.

Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor.

“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”

Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.”

You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest.

His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”

“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”

“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”

There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—

Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china.

Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.

This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—

“Gonna be my good little wife?”

Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—

His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—

“Not gonna run?”

Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing.

How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad.

Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”

And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss.

His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his.

It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep.

It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in.

Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.

It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—

Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.

When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—

Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”

—and you swallow it down with a moan.

(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)

#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao #hope you enjoyedddddddddddd #i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x you

2K notes · View notes

r4ilway · 12 days ago

Text

Spots of Jealousy (Pt. 1)

Pt 2

Summary: Your friends invite you to a Halloween party. The man you won't acknowledge that you have a small crush on comes with another girl you've never met before. Not knowing what to feel or do, you give him a taste of his own medicine by messing with your roommate in front of him.

pairing: college!Hyunjin x college!Reader, some college!Chan x college!Reader

genre: Suggestive ❤️‍🔥

warnings: bad writing, Alcohol consumption, fake blood, a lot of tension, making out, dry humping (?), grinding

notes: hi, first fic ever on here. im really rusty on writing so im sorry if some moments seem rushed or just not right? yeah idk. also its NOT PROOFREAD!

divider by: @strangergraphics

Walking into the lecture hall, you took a seat next to the long black-haired male wearing a loose black sweater and jeans. His laptop was out on the table, and he was looking through his phone. Noticing your presence, he turned to you.

"Morning Y/N, did Felix say he'd come today?" He asked, his sleepy eyes looking into yours.

"I dunno hyunnie. He didn't text in the groupchat," You replied.

You placed some coffee candies near his hand that rested on the wooden desk. His eyebrows raised seeing them. Sure they were probably not caffeinated, but maybe it's taste that mimicked his favourite americanos would wake him up.

You settled down at your desk, and a few minutes later, Felix took a seat next to me. His blonde hair a little disheveled, and he wore an oversized shirt and swearpants.

"Morning Y/N, Hyung," He smiled softly.

"Hey Felix." You said, passing him some candy, he smiled. He opened the wrapper and ate one of them.

Our professor came in a few moments later, starting off the lesson.

While the lesson was reaching its end, Felix got bored. He looked through his phone and was reminded of what he wanted to say.

"Are yall going to the party later this week?" Felix asked in a hushed voice.

"What party?" You replied.

"Johnny's. He's hosting a halloween party on Saturday night."

"What?" Hyunjin butted in.

"You guys didn't know?" Felix questioned.

Hyunjin and I shook heads.

"Who's coming?" Hyunjin asked.

"The usual, Minho, Seungmin, Changbin, Jeongin, Chan, Jisung, and whoever else,"

Your ears perked up hearing Chan's name mentioned. He didn't seem one for parties, at least from the conversations you were having. What You had with Chan seemed complex but really was the same old trope. You met him and the boys through Hyunjin, your roommate. They'd have gatherings and since your apartment was the largest and most available, it became the designated hang-out spot. They always extend the invitation to you. When you first saw Chan you thought he was very attractive, his black undercut hair, sharp eyes and nose, and such a built body. He wasn't the most popular kid around college, but he was averagely known, by his group of friends too. So if you had found him attractive surely girls did too. The more you guys hung out, the more you got to know his caring nature, the small gestures he would do, like protecting sharp corners of furniture with his hands, his calloused hands that rubbed your thighs if were watching a scene you didn't like, or his need to always have some sort of skinship with you, his arm next to yours, your legs on his lap. The tension was ever-growing between you two, you got excited if he were to come over, him having a small smile whenever near you. You had a small crush on him, maybe a little bigger than small. But yet, none of you said anything, enjoying whatever "don't wanna love" attitude you both shared. Your texts would also have hints of flirting, like cops and robbers chasing each other.

"Johnny said to bring a date, or come with friends..the more the merrier," Felix added.

"Kay, you have an costume already?" Hyunjin asked.

"Yeah! I'm being Thor this year," He replied.

You all laughed knowing he would look ridiculous in the costume. Soon enough, the class ended. You packed up your things and left, walking out of the building.

The three of you proceeded to walk to parking lot, Felix was hanging out at your place for the day to get some work done, and you and Hyunjin just wanted to crash. While walking out of the campus, you saw chan walking with a girl. You recognised her, Haru, she was a pretty popular girl in school, always sociable and obviously attractive. Your heart sank a little seeing Chan with her. Of course he'd be with her. But what about what you guys had? All the small touches, tender words, suggestive moments? You pulled yourself out of those thoughts, no longer looking in their direction. Reaching the parking lot, you guys hopped into the car and left.

A few days passed, and Saturday evening had already arrived. The group chat with you and the 8 boys was super active, they were discussing costumes, who needed a ride and who they were coming with. You on the other hand were getting ready, your makeup took extra time as it was something you hadn't tried. There's been a recent trend of leopard makeup, and you decided to go as a sexy leopard, a leopard print halter top that cut low, exposing your cleavage, with a miniskirt of the same print. After some time, you finally finish your look and admire yourself in the mirror. Your eyes that mimicked the predator animal made you look sultry, the dark lip you had accentuated its plumpness. Good luck to anyone who saw you tonight, cause you were definitely stealing the spotlight.

Hyunjin knocked on your door and opened it, seeing you check yourself out in the mirror.

"Y/N, could you help me out with the makeup?"

You nodded. And told him to come in and sit in your chair. Hyunjin was always handsome, and you felt an attraction to him all the time. Didn't help that you would find him in just sweatpants when you were getting late night snacks, and his muscles would look oh so good in the dim lighting.

"What do you want done hyunie?"

"Some eyeshadow? Maybe blood on the corner of my lip?" He said, looking up at you.

You picked up some dark eyeshadow, and brushed it on his eyelid, making his gaze darker from his usual soft look. This was the closest you've been to each other despite living under one roof. His eyes stared up at you as while you concentrate on him. Your heart started pumping a bit faster, and the air in the room was harder to breathe.

"You have a date for tonight?" He asked.

"No, but Felix did say we can come with friends, I'm assuming we're the friends?" You lightly laughed, yet a hint of sadness in your voice.

While everyone in the groupchat was talking about just coming as friends and bringing their other friends, Chan didnt reply much. You let them know you didnt really have a date either and would love to match costumes with them, but they all had their own ideas. You guys ended up agreeing to just come as a group of friends, when probing Chan, he mentioned he'll be coming with someone else.

"You've seen Chan and Haru right? You think they're going together tonight?" He said

You froze for a second, your hand with the brush now pulled away from his eyes, your heart reenacting the sinking feeling when you first saw them walking earlier this week. You shrug, you really didn't know if they were and hoping they didn't.

"Ah, oh well, we'll just see later," He commented, taking your wrist to place the brush near his eye again.

You finished up his eye makeup, you had to calm down to work on his lips, and your heart was racing. You picked up some red lipstick and signalled him to open his mouth slightly. You painted on the red slowly, and his gaze continued to linger on you. You wished he'd stop, or at least not continuously keep his eyes on you like that. The tightness in your chest grew, you had to finish this now to save yourself from doing anything embarrassing. You picked up the fake blood he had in his hands and dripped it at the corner of his lips, the blood trailing further down, stopping at his chin before the drop fell to the floor. I stepped back from him, letting him look at himself in the mirror. He grinned seeing how attractive he looked.

"Thank you Y/N..you look amazing by the way." He commented.

You smiled, and started accesorising yourself, putting on the leopard ears that lied on your makeup table. You put on earrings, and bracelets, blinging yourself up.

"I'm gonna go first okay Y/N, gonna meet some other friends to pre-drink. You'll be alright hm?" He asked cuffing his sleeves up. Looking at you with his sharp gaze.

"Yes hyunnie, I'll get an uber or something," You smiled.

"Okay, see you there pretty~" He cooed, winking at you before closing the door.

When you heard the door close, the air suddenly felt clear in your airways, your heart rate slowed.

"Holy fuck.." You whispered to yourself, and sat on your bed.

Hyunjin was another problem you had in your life. He was always flirty, but he was flirty with everyone right? At least, thats what you saw. But he never really brought home a girl, or maybe he only did if you weren't around? Being roomates who were single had blurred the lines of friends so much, casual arm around shoulders or him carrying you on his back was nothing. You guys knew that this wasn't what just friends would do, but who cares right? But the tension always grew in that goddamn kitchen, it being a cosy fit for you two, so if you guys cooked together or were picking up something, you couldn't avoid each other. It didn't help with his inability to understand personal space, always being up in your face and him catching you staring at his back muscles whenever they showed. And the way he grabbed your wrist so casually yet with dominance just now, it'd be no surprise if something finally happened tonight.

You heard your phone vibrate and picked it up, seeing Felix had texted you.

Chicklix: still home? i'm getting an uber and can pick you up along the way.

Me: yeah im home

Chicklix: okay, see you in 15 😛

You turned your phone off, and checked your makeup once again. You touched up some of the leopard spots and filmed a few tiktoks to post, taking some selfies too. You headed down stairs, picking out a fruit to fill your stomach. Sitting on the living room couch, you put on your platform boots. Soon, your phone buzzed, seeing Felix text that hes here. Turning off all the lights, you left your apartment and walked to the uber, seeing the blonde in the car. You stepped in the car.

"Lets go."

You two arrived at the house, place, thanking the driver and quickly shutting the door. You finally got to see Felix under the street lights and burst out laughing.

"What?!" He asked.

"Bro, this is not thor..this is maybe a thur," You cackled, looking at the muscles that were deformed in his costume.

"OK! OK! I just wanted to feel cool, you're hating and people will like my costume. So lets go." He said, slinging his foam Mjolnir around his wrist.

You laughed and followed behind, hearing the music grow louder. The party had already started a few moments ago, the time read 12.03 AM. Stepping in, the bass of the speakers and subwoofers crawled through the floor all the way up your body. You and Felix waved through through the crowd and managed to find Minho, Changbin and Jisung amongst the crowd.

They all greeted you with smiles, complimenting your costume and makeup. Minho was dressed as Gojo Satoru, Changbin was a boxer, and Jisung was Shin from Nana. The wigs they wore were wacky, but their bodies did their costumes justice.

"Wheres the others?" Felix shouted over the music.

"The others? Hyunjin just came too, he's with Seungmin and Jeongin I think? Somewhere there," Jisung motioned, pointing west from where we were.

"So wheres Chan?" I asked, everyone was here but him.

"He's on his way i think!" Jisung replied.

I grinned at them and signalled that I'd go look for the other three. I walked in the general direction Jisung pointed me in, and soon saw a familiar silhouette with two other men.

"Y/N! You look great!" Jeongin said, with a wide red smile on his face. He donned a purple coat and green hair with white facepaint, the joker, of course.

Seungmin waved to you and he dressed as Pororo, and he really looked like it without any make up too. He was chatting with Hyunjin, who still looked as delectable as he did when he left home. They were all feeling the alcohol a little bit, which reminded you to grab one yourself. You told them you were gonna get a drink and if any of them wanted a refill.

"Help me get a drink pretty, make it strong too, thank you," Hyunjin bent down to you to whisper in your ear.

You nodded, goosebumps rising as you feel his hot breath on your ear, travelling down your spine. He was usually naturally close to you for sure, but he rarely ever did something like that. You sauntered away, your miniskirt shuffling against your upper thighs, making your ass barely shielded from wandering eyes. Yet thats what you wanted. You weren't the type to look sexy on halloween usually, last year you did a pretty accurate costume of Justin Bieber in his golden age, so you gave yourself a chance to just look irresistable tonight. You went towards the drinks and grabbed a cup, fixing yourself a tequila soda, knowing it gets you tipsy quick, you just got Hyunjin a whiskey and coke, you weren't sure what he usually gets, but this was a safe bet, pouring more whiskey than usual.

Walking back to the group, you saw an additional figure and a girl. At first, you thought it was Johnny, but Johnny had dyed hair, and this guy didn't. His black hair on the back of his head, and his biceps paraded with the tight black shirt he had on. He had a gun harness which wrapped around his chest. Judging from that and the belt and pants he wore, he was a police officer...and the girl next to him was a prisoner, in a tight orange jumpsuit, the bottom half allowed some of her ass to show through, a handcuff resting on her wrist. You sighed knowing exactly who the two were. Swallowing your pride, you walked towards them and slotted yourself between Hyunjin and Jeongin. Passing Hyunjin his drink, he smiled at you, nodding thank you before taking a drink. He made a face at the alcoholic taste that wasn't masked by the coke but remembered he asked to have it strong. You waved a small hello to Chan and Haru, not really paying any mind to them. You could feel his eyes on you, and your confidence turned into consciousness, did he think you were doing too much with your costume? Was your makeup bad? Were you showing too much skin? You suddenly felt small in his gaze, you left the house feeling so confident and so attractive and it all turned to everything opposite. And there Chan was, opposite you, looking dangerously fine. The way his black fringe covered his forehead, and his sharp eyes enhanced by the dark makeup similar to Hyunjins. Fake wound marks that went across his nose, and neck and fake bruises on his arm to make it look like he had just left a dangerous cop fight. And the stupid fucking shirt he had on, with the harness that pushed against his beautiful chest. He looked even more insatiable than normal, you hated it. Your eyes turned to Haru, her orange jumpsuit that stopped at her upper thigh, her make-up mimicking Chan's with her messy long hair. Your blood boiled thinking that no one else could've done that makeup for him but her, imagining both of them in the exact same scenario as you and Hyunjin.

You pulled yourself away from the group, not wanting to put yourself in such turmoil any longer. You gravitated towards the snacks, having little to eat that night. Take a big gulp of your drink, the taste going down your throat with resistance. You took a bite of the cream puff you had to chase the drink away, walking back to Minho and Changbin instead, but bumped into Hyunjin, he softly giggled and slung an arm around your shoulder to bring you to Changbin and Minho. They were sat on the couch, and you joined them.

"Lookin good Y/N," Minho smiled.

"Thank you Minho, I put in so much time in this makeup.." You complained.

He laughed. Hyunjin was sat next to you enjoying the music, nodding his head lazily to the music. His arm still slung around your shoulder, and he pulled you closer. You could smell the cologne he wore, and looked at the tight pants that enhanced his muscular thighs. Naturally you leaned into his touch.

"Who's that girl with Chan?" Minho asked.

"Haru or something," Hyunjin replied.

"Oh. Like a talking stage? Or just friend?"

"I don't know, i just see them around campus sometimes,"

You looked at Chan, the girl standing next to him as he talked to his other friends. You sighed to yourself. You weren't even sure why you hated the sight, you were not a thing with Chan, but theres definitely something going on between you two. And to match costumes too?

After a few moments of chatting Hyunjin was getting bored of sitting around, and the music wasn't hitting right yet.

"Did you guys know they have a pool table here? Wanna play?" Hyunjin asked

The 2 of you stood up, Changbin and Minho stayed behind, saying they'd maybe play later. The green suede table sat a bit further away from the main area, but you could still see it. They all picked up cue poles each, but you hesistated.

"I've never played pool you know," You commented, picking up a pole with uncertainty.

"I'll teach you," Hyunjin smiled.

Hyunjin broke the perfectly aligned balls, spreading them around the table. He then tried to get a ball in but didnt succeed. He gestured for your turn, and you walked up to the table. Hyunjin saw your struggle and came up behind you. You mimicked your pose like Hyunjin's, bending your body over, putting your pole behind the white ball but your position was off, and you didn't know how to position your fingers. Hyunjin saw your struggle and came up directly behind your bent body. You could feel the small distance between your ass and his crotch, and he quickly closed it up. He bent over, his face right next to yours.

"Put your fingers like this pretty," He whispered, posing your left fingers with his right hand.

He used the same hand and attached it to your right.

"Push with me,"

His right hand held yours and pushed the pole with enough force to push the white ball and hit a striped ball into the hole. You got up with excitement and your ass brushed against his front. You turned around and realised the closeness between you two. The air was hard to breathe again, seeing his costume in the lighting just made him even more fine. He usually wore baggy clothing, so this black button up he wore accentuated his arms, and it being slightly unbuttoned showed off his chest. You backed away and you back hit the table. He paid no mind to the space you created, closing it up again. He took away the pole in your hands and placed it on the table. His arms on each side of you.

"You're dangerous tonight Y/N," He slurred.

"Me? What about you? Everytime i make space you just come right here," You flirted, inserting a finger under his necklace, pulling him a bit closer. You sat yourself on the table, knocking some of the balls away. He stared up at you, his gaze was different. This wasn't anything like your casual flirts. The need in him was dire. His face so close to you, you could smell the alcohol. Your vision was getting a bit blurry too, which made it 10x easier to play around.

"We still have the rest of the night Y/N, lets make this game last," He smiled.

You lazily pushed him back, and got down from the table. Just then, Jeongin, Seungmin and Changbin came by to play pool too. You excused yourself, opting to find some other friends you heard would be at the party. Before you left, his arm snaked around your waist turning you towards him.

"Find me later pretty, promise?" He asked.

You nodded sweetly, pulling away from his hold and into the crowd once again. You saw your friend Belle standing alone, and approached her.

"Belle! You look amazing!" You comment, referring to her Barbie costume.

"Thank you! Y/N I havent seen you in awhile, and you look stunning babe, did you do the makeup yourself?"

"Yeah, sorry we havent talked in awhile, been so busy,"

You both sat on some stools, catching up on your lives in college. You guys also discussed the mutual friends you knew in your lives.

"Oh by the way, i keep seeing this girl with Chan all the time, who's that?" She asked.

"Girl, you don't know Haru?"

"Clearly not!"

"To be honest, I dont know much of her either..just know she's pretty and well liked,"

"But didn't you and Chan like...ya know"

"What?! What do you mean?" You exclaimed.

"Oh my god Y/N not like that! I meant you guys had something happening no?"

You sighed, thinking about whether you should just brush it off or talk about it.

"I don't know Belle, this has got me fucked up to be honest."

Belle nodded, urging you to continue.

"I dunno Belle, I mean i really think he's attractive, he casually flirts with me and always is gentle and sweet to me, he never once rejected some advances I made too. Now i'm so fucked up over him bringing another girl i dont even know to this damn party. And i dont even feel like its right for me to be mad cause we weren't ever a situationship or anything like that."

She placed a hand on your bare back, rubbing a thumb up and down in comfort. You sighed into her touch, placing a hand on her thigh as a thank you.

"I mean, if it helps you I noticed he's been looking at you a lot since he came,"

You shot her a look.

"Don't make me delusional Belle,"

"No I'm serious! When you went to play pool, his eyes just followed you to where you were going,"

"Am i supposed to believe you?"

"Well look at him right now," She gestured with a nod of her head.

You looked in the direction she pointed, and met eyes with Chan. He had Haru next to him, her hand on his thigh, but he was looking right at you. As you caught him, he didn't bother to even break the contact. You were dressed as a predator animal, but you were a prey now. You tensed up, and quickly turned back to Belle.

"He's been like that ever since he came, brought a girl with him but cant stop looking at you huh? Well i would too, with how you look tonight," She laughed.

You snapped out of your thoughts. She had a point. He brought Haru yet couldn't stop looking at you. You didn't know the reason, but you could give him a reason right now. You suddenly grabbed Belle's hand, and bumped your cups together, downing the drink before dragging her to the dancefloor. You started slow, just swaying your hips to the beat, and when the song got more hype, you started incorporating your arms, trailing them down your body, making sure every curve was covered. Belle hyped you up, wooing at you and dancing along. She started doing the same, waving her body from side to side, her arms up in the air. You cheered her on. She then started body rolling to the beat of the music and encouraged you to join her. Your back towards her chest, you guys body rolled in sync without a care of who's watching. You looked at where Chan was sitting, and saw he still had his eyes on you. His fist on the armrest of the couch, knuckles white. His tongue poking his cheek seeing you dance sexily. Belle wasn't lying. You gave him a smile, and winked at him, continuing to lose yourself to the music.

Belle dancing got the attention of some guy at the party, she then started to dance with him. You continued to dance alone, soon getting tired and wanting another drink. You made your way out of the crowd, going to pour yourself another drink. As you approached the drinks, you felt a looming presence behind you, quickly shifted to your side. With your dazed gaze, you saw the black top and instantly knew who it was. You got him. You ignored him at first, continuing to pour yourself a drink. Chan did the same, before speaking to you.

"Y/N.."

"Well hi channie," You said, looking him up and down deliciously. There was no denying how handsome he looked in the costume. The police costume enhanced his dominant nature.

"You're breathtaking pretty girl," He sighed, looking at all the skin you were showing, with your cleavage peeking through your top.

"Careful with that mouth Chan, wouldn't want your girl to hear you say that to me," You snarked, however, your heart raced at the compliment. He has never said anything of that calibre to you.

His tongue poked his cheek again, a thing he did when he was frustrated. His calloused fingers landed on your waist, holding you tenderly despite how he was feeling. You smirked. This feeling was so familiar, you were so glad to have it back.

"Quite a performer are you?" He asked, his face getting even closer to yours.

"Had to give you a reason to be staring, no?" You teased, a hand stroking his large biceps.

"I don't need a reason, pretty girl..."

"Then i don't need a reason to be with you now, besides, you have your little criminal to attend to," You laughed, pushing him away, before rushing off back to the dance floor.

Chan groaned at your act. He thought he'd finally have you, forget Haru. But you ran off just like that.

You moved through the bodies and saw the black button up you knew so well, dancing with his friends. His white painted faced turned to you as you tapped his shoulder.

"Hyunnie, wanna dance?"

"Of course pretty,"

You lead him further into the dance floor, starting to dance to the music. Hyunjin followed, unbuttoning another button from his shirt, cooling him down and letting him move easier. He started to move with you, his hands landed on your waist from the back guiding you to move with him. You whined your hips, occasionally brushing against him, you smiled at the contact. You let yourself loose, whining and grinding against him. He couldn't hold it any longer and had to look at you. He took your hand and raised it, encouraging you to do a turn. You turned your body towards him, seeing his handsome face and his exposed chest begging to be marked up.

"I never knew a leopard could be so sexy," He said.

"I never wanted a vampire to bite me so bad," You blurted.

He smirked, a fang peeking through.

"Is that a challenge pretty? Want me to bite you like one?"

"Hmm, its up to you hyunnie, could mark me up in front of all these people, make me look pretty," You flirted into his ear, as youlooked off to the side to find Chan sat on a sofa Haru sat on his lap. She was giggling to whatever the other boys at the sofa were saying, but Chan paid no mind. All he saw was you, and how he wished your hands were on him instead of Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was a several drinks deep, so he easily pushed your hair away from your neck, tilting your head. He attached his mouth onto the bare skin. His lips leaving soft kisses on the area, and he started to suck and nip at the skin slowly, yet hard. You moaned lightly at the feeling, your neck was an erogenous zone, so it heightened your senses so much. You felt 2 fangs prod at the skin, and you gasped. He has his arm around your waist, and looks up to see his hyung staring right at him. The red that you painted on him was now painted on you. He detached his mouth, a light trail of saliva followed. He could feel the anger from Chan's intense gaze, and gave a cocky grin. He looked at the masterpiece he created, grinning to himself.

"So beautiful.." He said softly.

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment. Feeling a wave of confidence after the compliment, you pulled him towards a nearby couch. He sat down, and you sat down next to him, a hand on your thigh as you both maintained the tension. Earned It by The Weeknd started playing, and you got up, having the perfect plan.

You make it look like it's magic

You sauntered your hips to the beat, your back a few feet away from Hyunjin. His legs spread wide, almost calling you. Chan sat directly opposite you two, Haru still on his lap. He stared you down hungrily.

But I see nobody, nobody but you

You mouthed the lyrics, staring right into Chan's predator eyes. You then turned back towards Hyunjin, walking towards him, giving the same show to Chan now. He had a full view of your ass barely covered by the miniskirt.

I'm never confused, Hey Hey I'm so used to being used

You straddled Hyunjins lap, he naturally placed his hands on your waist. You started to grind slowly against him, he could not focus on anything else but you. You felt his cock through his pants, it was semi-hard under you.

So I love when you call unexpected, cause i hate when the moment's expected.

You got up, and sat on his lap, your skin rubbed against the tight pants he wore, feeling every part of his thigh and groin.

So I'ma care for you, you, you

The speakers sang, as you grinded your ass into him, swaying side to side to the song. Your body gave attention to Hyunjin, but your eyes entirely looking at Chan. His gaze followed your every move, he clenched his fists up, controlling himself. You felt a hand on the curve of your back, and leaned into the touch. Your hands rubbed Hyunjins thighs up and down. You felt something poking you as you grinded into his clothed cock. Hyunjin pulled you even further into him, creating delicious friction to relieve him. Hyunjin was enjoying the entire show you put on for him, his ego grew and grew realising you gave him what his hyung wanted so badly. Jokes on him for bringing another girl here other than you. He tapped you, you turned around. He pulled you into his lap once more, now your legs straddled his left thigh, an arm around your waist.

"God Y/N...You're making me fucking crazy. Mark me up will you pretty?"

You happily obliged, planting a kiss on his cheek that left a mark. You moved down, planting soft kisses on his neck. You felt the skin of his neck vibrate as he hummed at the feeling. You reached his chest, and kissed and sucked near his collabone. You continued to do the same to wherever you could find skin, leaving your lip print all over him. Pulling away, you admired the masterpiece you made of him, and pulled out your phone to take a picture. Showing him, he laughed and pulled you closer with one arm, your arm around his neck.

"Hm pretty, making me an artpiece yeah? Wanna show everyone that I'm yours?" He said, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder.

You giggled softly. Leaning into him. The closeness and tension that never stopped was too much for you to even handle any more. Your faces so near each other, he stared at your lips with such want. You made the decision for him, your lips meeting his for the first time. His soft lips melted into yours, he opened his lips slightly and continued to kiss you gently. His hands roamed your body, and you placed a hand on his chest. You opened your mouth wider, allowing him to kiss you deeper. At the moment, it felt like it was just you two there, never mind the music and the many people around you. You pulled away from him, looking at his pretty face now with messed-up lipstick. You had to have him, to finally let go of it all.

Leaning into Hyunjin's ear, you whispered to him, "Hyunnie...wanna go home? I think we gave them enough of a show," You suggested, your breath on him made him shudder. He couldn't contain it either.

He nodded. In an instant, he let you stand up, him following along. You went to say goodbye to Belle and the boys, passing by Chan but paying no mind. You could feel his head turn as you two walked away from the crowd and to the front door. He sighed, seeing the image of Hyunjin's arm around your waist and the way yours and Hyunjin's lipstick were messed up, remnants of each other's makeup evident. There was no question what you would do back home.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz smut #bang chan x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #bang chan smut

178 notes · View notes

chiocchi · 11 months ago

Note

If you don't mind answering, why do you ship Tom Riddle and Harry Potter? Besides the whole issue that they are enemies, and the age difference, both characters are heterosexual. It's canonical fact. If it's the dynamic you like... Have you thought about Tomione's ship? They have a lot of potential together. And in the right direction, they would be a couple that could make it in the books.

JDKLJKLFJSDLKFJA This kinda feels like people knocking on your door and trying to get you to believe in their religion. It's pretty funny.

I don't know why are you calling issues to a part of the pairing's appeal lkajdsjfs (And Hermione is Harry's age and they are on the same side too?). And not sure about that canonical fact. Harry can be read as bisexual quite easily and Voldemort|Tom... idk he seems more obsessed with power, immortality, and Harry. But even if that's the case, I don't see why it should matter. We're in fandom after all.

I don't know if I'll be able to convey why I like this ship so much. For starters, I'm really into the unique connection they share. There was a piece of Voldemort's soul inside Harry's; they had a mental link; a whole language they're the only ones to speak (for the most part); Voldemort chose him and marked him; and there's even a prophecy that linked them together. There aren't two people more connected than them. They're soulmates, and the fact that Voldemort didn't intend it and Harry hates it adds another layer of complexity.

But not only that, they're like a broken reflection of each other, which I find fascinating. In his second year, Harry was worried about the similarities between them. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles, they both considered Hogwarts their first real home. I feel like they would have really understood each other in other circumstances. They would have been friends. Because one of their key differences is that Harry found friends and adults that loved him while Tom was probably bullied and, y'know, the whole Dumbledore thing.

Not to mention that Harry would die for everyone whereas Tom would kill everyone. They're insane in their own way. I love their similarities and differences, but more than anything else, I love when they're together. The fanfics and fanarts are awesome.

And the whole thing of being enemies feels quite gay sometimes klafjdlskfja. Harry can't help but think Tom is handsome and, despite everything Voldemort did, Harry wanted to give him one last chance to show remorse. I have no doubt Harry is crazy enough to actually forgive him.

I've thought about Tomione and I've come to the conclusion that I don't like it. pinktom has a really good post about it and I agree with it. Besides, Hermione liked Ron and had something with Krum, and they're nothing like Tom. Just because she's heterosexual doesn't mean she's attracted to any man, y'know? klajdlfkdjs I don't think they would have been a couple in the books, no matter the direction. If it's the dynamic you like, have you thought about Tomarry? More believable, more intense, and a wider range of wholesomeness to fucked up in the fics. It's really interesting. Unless you don't like men being together? Hmm? Suspicious (just kidding. To each their own. So no need to go to other people's asks to try to change their minds :kek:).

Also Harry is my favorite character and he's not replaceable. I kinda don't care about any other character tbh. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

#weird asks

421 notes · View notes

mourninglamby · 4 months ago

Note

I remember that the first dsmp art of yours that I ever saw was an alliumduo comic of ranboo realizing that he trapped tommy in the prison... it was so haunting and was the first fancontent of the lore that made me go THIS IS AWESOME!! you definitely were one of the artists that made the dsmp feel like there was so much more to it and made me so much more invested 💕💕💕

I remembered this after seeing your new allium duo fanart, and i guess I wanted to ask what your thoughts on alliumduo nowadays are, compared to back when you made that comic, if u want to share. Lots of love! 💖

THANK YOUUU I still rly like that comic tbh .. as for my current day thoughts on c!alliumduo, I think they had so much potential as two teenagers traumatized by the same man but in different ways. C!tommy feeling protective of c!Ranboo when c!wilbur started to sink his hooks in vs. c!Ranboo yelling at c!sam for leaving him in the prison with c!dream…… idk I have a lot of love in my heart for their unspoken solidarity. I also think ranboo The Guy (despite all the many many many many issues with his characters’ story and overall execution) is so aware of the horrors c!tommy went thru (the whole “I think Tommy is just Scared” thing). So this manifests in his character as sympathy for c!Tommy’s helplessness ….. c!Ranboo and c!tommy being so fearful but in starkly contrasting ways (prone to isolation vs prone to angry outbursts) and all the shit with c!clingy vs. c!bee…….. still coming out of it with strong mutual affection and assurance … idk. It feels hopeful in the realistic, messy way. The way that says “someone somewhere will understand you, in spite of the hurdles it takes to let them in.”

Also… C!ranboo helping c!dream in enderwalk to keep c!Tommy in the cell resulting in a canon death, vs c!tommy unknowingly helping c!wilbur essentially orchestrate a canon death for c!ranboo in ho16. They both have been used as tools in the machinations of their respective deaths. C!tommy doesn’t know about enderwalk. C!ranboo doesn’t know the intricacies of c!wilbur and c!dreams deep hooks in c!tommy. I mourn the fact that this was never addressed because i know in my soul that they would have understood each other in a more overt way had they talked about it. C!tommy’s strong loyalty and compassion and c!ranboos nurturing nature outweigh their grief.

I think it would have been beautiful to see victims who hurt each other in the thick of their abuse find solidarity in forgiveness. Not forgiveness for what happened to them, but for each other’s role as a puppet to the real perpetrators of their trauma. It would have helped get the story back on the trajectory of murdering c!dream and casting out c!wilbur, because if they had discussed things with each other and worked through their complex feelings, I KNOW they could have found the words to describe what they went through, and then hopefully take initiative to rally up enough support to take c!d and c!wil down. Sigh…… oh well. Maybe one day I’ll work on another comic about them. I still think it’s a story worth telling.

(Note: I used to see a lot of people use the phrase “trauma bond” to describe c!allium or c!clingy … while I understand what you want it to mean, this is an incorrect way to use this term. A trauma bond is formed between the abused and the abuser. Please read more about it here if you are confused! I really don’t want to see this term misused anymore. It’s very uncomfortable >_<)

#dsmp #c!alliumduo #I don’t think I’m very coherent in this one #i just woke up lol #but I wanted to get this out bc I been thinking abt them #a LOT lately #abuse mention

83 notes · View notes

mamaclownhunter · 22 days ago

Text

I am- enamored- whenever the book or fanfiction refers to SQQ’s fighting as dancing.

Like- idk I am a fan of unconventional flourishing fighting. And in my brain I have like this fluttering light footed style that SQQ has.

Like that first fight with the demons and he has one hand behind his back and a fan in his hand.

I imagine he kinda fights like a airbender or Tai Lee like he is almost lightweight and the harder you try to hit him the wind and the strikes push him away like someone trying to swipe at a tree. I see him gleefully on top of his enemies weapons like he doesn’t weigh a thing. So like when Shen Quingqui is describing his fighting I imagine it as the very default Xianxia fighting- but also like this fluttering all robes very ethereal looking fighting

And Shen Yuan is internally being a huge fucking nerd

I am enamored with over dramatic but extremely competent and effective SQQ.

Also this is an excuse that Shen Yuan childhood sport was dancing that he was forced to do as a kid and he did like it but he also has adhd and had a hard time with executive dysfunction when it got competitive. He likes it for moving around and I imagine he dances when he thinks idly instead of pacing. Nothing crazy or complex. Gentle turns and little two steps.

Please please plleeeaaaase imagine a scene- with white lotus or post canon Binghe Shen Quingqui just dancing with him for fun. To pass time. Pass energy.

With White Lotus it is an important skill. For a cultivator, for a man to woo a woman, in general exercise. So he taught Binghe how to dance to improve his footwork and core.

He waves it off that women liked men who can dance. That being able to dance with someone is a great way to gauge your chemistry with them (bullshit but he is trying to narrow and raise Binghe’s standards and he misses dancing)

Binghe is just happy to have an excuse to be close to his Shizun. Another skill he is being gently taught and praised for. As he gets older of course he gets better at it.

Proficient enough to dance like SQQ fights, it is why he knows before SQQ instructs him- they have that chemistry to do that improv swing dancing and just seem to have choreographed despite making it up on the spot.

I want their fighting in the future post abyss to be dancing.

I want them to come back so easily and fall in sync. I know that is canon but I want the dancing flavor to it. I want Binghe to dip Shen Quingqui, I want him to still dance with him gently.

I want them to be in the bamboo forest just dancing their anxieties away.

#Shang Qinghua sings #Shen Quingqui dances #svsss #bingqui #luo binghe #I am a mess

38 notes · View notes

cerealboxlore · 2 years ago

Note

hey so to add on to deaged billy, what if he as captain marvel often says “do good and good will follow” to the league, but as billy he ends up saying “no good deed goes unpunished”

i wanna see the league’s reaction to that

i also want him to have a super emotional scene where he saves someone despite the danger it puts him in and says with a breaking voice “sure no good deed goes unpunished, but it makes a difference. a small difference but a difference”

another thing i want is for when he turns back into marvel (assuming his identity isn’t discovered) that one of the leaguers (i’m imagining hal? idk tho) remarking on how feral he was as a child and marvel responding with the most feral grin to ever grin “who says i ever stopped?” and then switching back immediately to his normal marvellous self

I apologize for not getting to this ask soon enough, but wowie it has been dancing a real show stopping number in my brain cells for some time now.

First of all, I absolutely adore the "no good deed goes unpunished" motto for Billy as himself, seeing as when he is not Captain Marvel, he is more vulnerable to the truths and dangers of the world, and his experience in it has molded him into the pure of heart, yet bitter, child, he is today. Billy believes in the best in people and believes in doing good for others, but he doesn't believe in himself (to be worthy or deserving of anything good in return).

And I can totally see a scene happening where Billy continues to stand up against major threats and villains, despite only being in his mortal form with no magic or strength to him.

Maybe he's in Metropolis when a magical disturbance problem happens, and knowing Lex Luthor, he'd take advantage of a situation to take down superman with something he isn't good against. Lois Lane could be in danger while Superman is busy fighting a magical foe that Billy can't fight for once due to his inability to transform back into Captain Marvel, and seeing her about to get hurt pushes Billy to help her. He pushes her out of harms way but in doing so, leaves himself vulnerable to an attack and gets himself blasted across the room, injuring his tiny mortal self.

The pain is immense. It's worst than anything uncle Ebeneezer or muggers would make him feel. He knows that he's bleeding, he knows that his ribs cracked and heard his bones snap, but he refuses to lay down. Billy Batson may not have the powers of Captain Marvel at the moment, but Billy Batson, has the courage of Billy Batson.

He willingly stands up for what he believes in and is willing to fall for it, too. He doesn't care what others think, he just cares if they are safe.

Gosh, Imagine Billy Batson standing up to fist fight Lex Luthor. Small child gonna be roasting him for being bald and having an inferiority complex, haha. Or just kick him in the groin and run away 🏃‍♂️

As for the last thing you mentioned with Billy being a feral child, both in his mortal form and champion form, I love it. I am here for Billy being feral 24/7.

Superman: It's good to have you back as yourself, Captain. I have to say though, it was strange seeing you as the child you were. You were...how do I say this...

Hal: Feral. Rabid. An ungodly child who bit plastic man for stealing his doughnut.

Superman: Yes. What he said. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to you as a child that encouraged such good behavior and manners that we see in you in the present??

Hal: Pft, yeah, I think spooky wouldn't mind some advice on how to become a tame boy scout for his own herd of feral kids.

Captain Marvel, smirking: Well, hold on. You're assuming I stopped. I never said I did.

With the spirit of Billy in him, he gives them a wink with a cheeky smile, warning them of what was to come if he ever felt like it.

Feral Billy showing up in his Captain Marvel form reminded me of this fic on AO3, where Captain Marvel plays a prank on his coworkers about telling them his real age, then when they freaked out, said it was April Fool's. Cyborg knew though. Cyborg suffered in knowing the truth.

I'll reblog this with the link to the fic when I find it! I think you'd like it (if you haven't already read it).

#This was a lovely ask #Tysm #Your asks are always something I look forward to #Billy batson #dc captain marvel #Shazam #justice league #Superman #Clark Kent #lois lane #lex luthor #green lantern #hal jordan #Writing #If you see spelling errors #no you didnt

374 notes · View notes

atopvisenyashill · 1 month ago

Note

you think the reason why grrm is reluctant to do gay incest is because he's like "oh, readers will assume i associate real lgbt ppl with incest and degeneracy and i don't want them to think that :( i shall commit myself to portraying same-sex relationships as realistic, humanizing romances :) none of the nasty, toxic stuff, i shall save that for the heterosexuals"

i'm not totally sure about that being a reason although then again...okay this might be a little all over the place but like on the one hand i feel like 'well he just writes whatever and doesn't think about the audience' but i DO think that part of his inability to hunker down and write the last two books is because he's kinda concerned about audience reception of what he's written. like, in context i'm sure a lot of what those two idiots wrote for the later seasons makes so much more sense, is in general much better, but the backlash being that crazy, imo, really has him sweating. especially because (iirc) there was already a lot of "now what are we doing" comments when he introduced the young griff and quentyn story lines seemingly out of nowhere in adwd. although with that said, he's been kind of handwavey of some of the misogyny criticisms so idk that he cares one way or another whether people think his queer characters are toxic or not lmao.

i've been of the mind that he essentially realized that gay people exist sometime in the mid aughts though alkjsfl. For Me, there feels like a bit of a change from the sort of subtextually playing around with gender roles and sexuality thing to more overt queer themes as the series goes on - JonCon being our first canon queer pov, the crazy toxic yuri going on with Taena/Cersei and how it's a lot more nuanced than some of his other similar pairings (*coughs*), Sweets being a rather significant minor character in Tyrion (and briefly Quentyn's) chapters. I think when he first started writing, he felt like the complexity of the Renly/Loras relationship was like..."enough" rep, that anything more would be inaccurate, only to come around to the idea years later that perhaps it's more accurate that more queer characters exist. and he's always prided himself on the accuracy, and defended the accuracy of what insane conservative culture war people would call "dei representation" ie the mere existence of queer people, of people of color, of queer people, in history. people will say arya or brienne are anachronistic, and he will fight them p hard on that and rightly. people will pretend like renly, loras, and joncon are anachronistic and he'll double down by giving loras and joncon two of the most well known romantic lines in the series. etc etc. so moving into f&b, i think the narrative focus on rhaena and her girlfriends, laenor and his boyfriends, and all the implied stuff about aegon the conqueror, the dragonstone polycule, daemon wanting to be viserys' wife, etc etc, i think that was him trying to branch out a bit and be like "okay so what characters do i have where it would strengthen the narrative if there was a level of queerness here" (because iirc, rhaena was stated to marry androw farman for love, like ANDROW himself initially in twoiaf, but he changed it to being for elissa later. i think he felt like having a lesbian queen here would be narratively interesting - and like, he's correct, rhaena being a lesbian is probably one of the better narrative choices of f&b).

but i also feel like....i know i say this a lot but he IS ultimately a white man named george who is pushing 80 and grew up in fucking jersey lmao. i don't want to knock him too much, like, i think he is much more self aware than people give him credit for, but i also think similar to his like, old timey old fashioned orientalism he is like Genuinely kind of afraid of writing a gay character aljsflkj

#asks #psychicpiratementality

11 notes · View notes

arolegos · 1 month ago

Text

@fiberturkey89 OK HI i love treating ninjago charactes like my oc so heres the umm explanation for my morro design!!! YAP SESSION under cut cause i dont wanna flood ppl with my yapping ...

ok so to me he was a member of the cloud kingdom!!! i know this is a somewhat popular headcanon although im not sure who first came up with it. i just wanted a reason to make him look cool at first

every different realm and region has a majority species . To me . i could go on and on about each one that i Made up but for now i will focus on the CK species (plus euphrasia for additional um. idk. context?)

idk what id call the species name. ill just call them Writers . for now. Ummm as u can see i believe that their species has a LOT of wings. like a whole bunch. each person can have up to like 3 colours for their wings, with white being the main one. the colours don't have meaning Yet but idk . they're mostly whatever colour i think fit best with their character .

they also got Eyes on their wings . this would be the tertiary colour (or the same colour as secondary) . they have a Lot of feathers on their body (neck-chest, arm-wrist, around knee-ankle). They also have . featheered tails . Ok that's about as much as ill detail for their species bc i do have madeup culture for them But i don't want this to turn into a 9 paragraph yap session . I will focus on morro now

MORRO FAKE LORE! WOOHOO!!

ok so in the world where hes my oc. he was a part of the writers of destiny (or rather one in training but he lived in the cloud kingdom nonetheless) . anyways . he didn't really like the life there bc he always wanted to be More than just a writer of destiny. he wanted to be there to experience the damn thing himself, but that obviously wasn't allowed in the cloud kingdom (bc . well. u can see that theyre kinda strict on their rules (one destiny one path sort of thing or whatever) . so he eventually gets kicked out after enough misdemeanours (so probably he misbehaved like One time) . anyways they bound him to a flightless life (bc . flying was . well. a pretty big thing in a community full of people who have wings all over their body) and exiled him to Ninjago .

he cant fly back home so he doesn't. not that he would anyway. this is why he keeps his wings folded/closed almost all the time. they do not serve any purpose. he would love to chop them off if he could

he makes a few friends on the streets but theyre hardly 'friends' in the natural sense of that word.

also. in a fucked up twist of the world, he ends up being the elemental master of wind.

(this ones connected to another thing i also made up but if the Ninjago writers get to forget things and make things up at random So Can I; anyways my point is that wojira was defeated by Nyad . who was one of the two elements that matched the um amulet thing. and since she transformed into the sea i cant imagine the first EM of wind was just like Oh well okay then i guess its all over. In my mind they became one with the wind too and was probably from an even higher plane than the cloud kingdom but their powers ended up there anyway . Taken by some. Freak.)

around this time is when he meets wu and stuff. u know everything that happens from here so i will not be retelling shit but i am sooo adamant on them Not being father and son sorry. or at the very least i think it was only one-sided . i think wu wanted company and morro reminded him of a younger version of his older brother . thought of him as a 'son' bc thats the only way he could really see him. whereas morro thought wu was some stinky old man who was nice. very nice and sweet to him. promised him a destiny bigger than himself. but not a father. what even is a father? he does not see that in wu sorry . tgey will never be father and son to me . that relationship dynamic is too simple for the complexity of their relationship

yeagh well wu 'lied' about his destiny (I mean . of cours i dont actually think that way. wu kind of Had no way to tell if he really was destined to be the green ninja although It is kinda Freaked up to suggest it to a like. 10 year old. i guess he did learn his lesson . ) and morro was like Fuck u i choose my own destiny . And left and died. ok yea this is all stuff u already knew

(also i imagine he went looking for FSM's tombstone (aka he was Really just looking for the realm crystal) so he could go back home . to rewrite his own destiny. to be like Yeah i actually AM the green ninja and you cant stop me.)

okkokokk this is a bit graphic cause. believe it or not. morro dies. so like. i will be describing that a little

annywaayyyysss morro goes to the cave of despair and. gets lost. falls a bunch. at some point he realises hes like completely lost as in like to the point of no return . and while hes panicking there are Fuckinf geysers gushing out and rumbling the damn ground. he falls but he doesn't die immediately. he breaks his wings first though. not that they would've helped him fly out. but im just explaining why his wings look so wilted and like theyre just 'hanging off' in his ghost design. its bc they r. those are broken wings that cannot move naturally . he cannot keep them folded bc they are broken

his cause of death was thirst . starvation was a factor too but like. thirst got his ass first (as it would anyone). he ripped his sleeves while venturing around the cave but he did use some to try and wrap around his wounds . didn't really Help tho cause he died anyway .

Extra fucked up fake lore ? Writers have feathered tails that fall off to impending doom. as a final play on a destined fate (Dying!!!! LOL!!!!). so like days before morro dies the feathers of his tail fall off one by one until there are None left . if it makes it any better it doesn't hurt like a broken bone . just imagine if one day you woke up to your.? idk? leg gone? like it didn't hurt its just gone and you can feel that its gone but not the pain of the loss. if u get what i mean. or maybe thats not the right comparison. idk. your hair i guess?

. in his last moments his thoughts are not of any happy memories Because he straight up has none sorry gang i dont want him happy. Ok kidding im sure he thought of wu. im sure part of him wished wu had come after him. im sure a part of him wished he hadn't stepped into the cave. but i also Believe he probably welcomed death pretty nicely. with a warm hug and all. he probably leapt into that mfs arms.

anywaygsss . he gets sent to the cursed realm (Whicg is crazy im not going to lie but apparently he did a bunch of crazy shit while looking for the FSM's tomb so. maybe deserved. i dont know.) and the preeminent is like Yooo what is this freak doing here . Do my taxes. and morro is like Ok but u have to curse some realms. And the preeminent is like Yeah i already planned on doing that

also its only BC he went to the cursed realm that his wings are black in his ghost form!!! it looks more decayed and Cursed that way

ok yeah thats all the stuff i made up i think . unless i missed something. i dont think i did

also Lloyd would not have had his wings while he was being possessed . he only had like traces of them (ghost feathers would fall off his back when he moved but they weren't /actually/ there . it confused the fuck out of the ninja the first time. they were like Woah your voice got deeper. Why are you shedding feathers.)

morro is my favourite fucked up evil OC im so thankful they didn't give him a redemption arc thank yiu so much i love it when villains refuse to be redeemed even when given the chance im cheering adn clapping. morro never get revived. thank you.

#i know you technically asked for only wing lore #but i thought the other context was necessary for my design of him...#:3 #do i tag this #ninjago #ninjago morro #just so i can search myself #fake lore dump by leg #all of them are my ocs sorry i dont make the rules #genuinely morro isn't even one of my favs for me to be doing all this #but icl hes very silly and i love him #i just realised i never specified any age #i assume he died at early 20? maybe like literally days after his lonely 20th bday #he left the monastery at 15 #so he did fucked up things for 5 years #which i think warrants enough sins to end up in the cursed realm #probably? i guess #not normal about species-making btw #ask me about my madeup species for roby and bleckt. ask meabouGETS SHOT #ask me about what i made roxGETS KILLED BY A TANK #ask me about my madeup species for shintaro. ask me the difference of shintaro and ckGETS MAULED BY A BEAR #blabberpar

9 notes · View notes

loquarocoeur · 2 months ago

Note

Hey lovely! I’m back w another anon, at this point I’ll put an emoji so you know it’s the same person saying hi bc I’m not sending this on my blog name but ashshsjsh.

The asks and your responses on the spanking shit have me wanting to send this ask that I’ve been thinking about, but like. After the end of ‘pushing buttons’ I rlly enjoyed the bit where charles was almost insecure, and max responded the way he did so beautifully about how he loves charles the most bc he’s charles and what about it him he finds so loving and hot and how he was mentioning Charles’s pleasure too and that just. Really made me want to have a fic perhaps on the doms pleasure a bit. Not entirely but if you’d want to I’d love for you to get into charles head and thoughts a bit. It’s hard to explain what I mean because I’m being vague bc I’m embarrassed enough typing this as is lmfao but I hope you kinda get what I mean here? How you were talking about charles headspace in the other ask and everything I just got very Inchrested

I just love this verse and the way you write and maybe I die everytime I see another blog post of yours about some smutty shit! Maybe!

- 🦢 (I’ll make myself the swan emoji anon bc why the fuck not. Hi it’s me I sent the asks like max speaking Italian for maybe one line perfectly and made the suggestion about the ‘monza fic having the hotel tifosi chanting. Idk I just wanted to lyk it was me ahahshsjjs)

Okay hi, hello, I'm here with my thoughts now and absolutely YES, prepare for an essay:

Like idk, I've been meaning and trying to get into Charles' head a bit more since forever, but it is just quite hard nailing him down, he's just a very complex character nowadays with that duality between his 'dom persona' I guess and then absolute golden retriever, head over heels, bend over backwards, and jump when Max says jump sweetheart he is outside of that headspace

It's just there's just so many things from Charles' perspective to think of, you know, specifically talking about sex scenes now:

Like, okay, first of all, he's just a man, Max barely needs to take off his shirt. Like he's absolutely insatiable, he goes insane for a glimpse of Max's stomach, the only time he won't even try to start anything in the shower is if he got an orgasm five minutes ago, so obviously there's the aspect that he just thinks Max is fucking hot, just looking at Max does it for him, and also men are men, it feels good getting their dicks wet I guess

But then there's also obviously the thing that we don't talk about enough in fandom and that's that doms like being dominant just as much as subs like being submissive

And you know it's hard to nail it down and elucidate it, because we don't have enough examples for it, because (and this is also totally fine of course) fandom is just usually very focused on the perspective of more submissive people for probably many reasons which we won't get into rn, but the point is like you have to make this shit up as you go, there's not a script and an easy how-to like there is for writing submissive perspectives because we've all read thousands of those of course

Because like obviously Max technically has as much if not more control over the situation as Charles does with safewords and all, but Charles obviously LIKES being or feeling in control

There's kind of this underlying societal belief that we often get where it's just perceived as inherently bad when someone wants or likes to be in control or in a position of power, which is why I feel we hear the dom perspective waaay less than the sub one, because ironically, the doms are too shy to speak up I guess lol

But you know Charles obviously likes that he can tell Max what to do and he does it, he likes how Max, just as a person, is quite dominant in the way he behaves, he's not a follower, when someone says sit down Max asks why, and he's no different with Charles when they're just them and there's no dom/subness going on, but he likes how when they're in that space and Charles says sit down Max sits the fuck down

And then I think the thing I always emphasized most is how Charles just gets off on seeing Max feel good, like he gets off on making Max feel so good he loses all function, and that comes back to Charles having just as much of a praise kink as Max, but he doesn't need Max to tell him he's doing good, he needs to see it

And then it's just how do I fit all this in and consolidate it with the way that of course, Charles is far from quiet or reserved during sex, he won't shut up actually, but there's these times when, from Max's perspective, you have no idea what's going on in his head, because he has this talent for just turning his face blank

And don't think I as the author somehow know any more than you do when it comes to Max's perspective like guys idk either, I was just there

But yes, I do hope to elaborate on it a bit more in the future🥰❤️❤️❤️

#asks #yours verse #yours verse yapping

17 notes · View notes

monstersinthecosmos · 1 year ago

Note

As a fellow Marius lover, I always find it kind of disheartening how most of the content/fandom talk about him (meta, fic, fanart, etc.) revolves around m/m ships (Marius/Armand in particular but I’d even go as far to include Marius/Daniel here) when, in my opinion, Marius is like the one male character in the VC universe whose relationships with women are far more interesting than his relationships with other men (the only other character might be Lestat but even then it’s pretty 50/50). They’re so monumental and so full of complexities and pain and so much love and they define him and inform his character in ways that I think, his relationships with men simply do not. Interesting/hot under the right circumstances? Sure but like ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THIS MAN??? AND HOW HE RELATES TO WOMEN??? It’s one of the best things Anne ever wrote and I can never get enough of it and it makes me sad how little content there is of it and I feel I can never say this out loud because I would never want to make people feel bad about what they ship (truly not my intention here) but ugh SO MUCH potential there for life changing discourse and meta about Marius and the women he’s loved and lost and have shaped who he is and there’s like… nothing.

Tl;dr the reason I’m sending this ask is because I’m a firm believer that you must be the change you want to see in this world and because YOU get it! And every time you post or write about Marius/Pandora (or Marius/Akasha! Or talk about Marius/Bianca) an angel gets its (black) wings. You are seen, you are loved and appreciated tysm <3

OKAY FIRST OF ALL THIS WAS SUCH A DELIGHT TO GET IN MY INBOX, SECOND IM GOING TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST AND ADMIT I FEEL TOO INCOHERENT TO TACKLE THIS TOPIC HAHA. I don’t feel articulate enough to do it justice. And I don’t say that to be obnoxious and self deprecating but like in all honesty idk how to synthesize it neatly but I think you’re sharing some GREAT IDEAS.

I have to say this in bullet points because I don’t feel equipped to string this into a cohesive post:

Marius was based on Anne’s husband, and Marius/Pandora was based on their marriage!!!!! And I think it explains a lot about why their relationship feels so fuckin POTENT to me, like it’s so genuine!!!!!!! And like knowing that I think it makes sense why she wrote him so HOT lol. Like she’s just writing thirsty stuff about her husband right? LOL

Also like insofar as there’s a lot of genderfluidity in VC there’s also something vaguely misogynist about it at times. And Anne Rice was a mega feminist and her work had so much womens lib in it!!!!! So I don’t think it’s intended as misogyny at all vs. Anne having conversations about gender and maybe her own relationship to gender. I think enough characters have said vaguely misogynist stuff that it makes me think it’s an Anne Problem vs being Watsonian. (This is also a historical/time period issue and we can discuss another time if and when vampires are supposed to break out of that when they transcend humanity and social constructs even when they’re still saying weird sexist shit at their big ages.) But I say that to say all VC characters are a tad sexist, even if perhaps she was writing with the intention of her own male power fantasy/male superiority/penis envy. AND THAT MAKES MARIUS VERY INTERESTING.

Cause like really the three main ladies in his life (Akasha, Pandora, Bianca) DO define him so much! And we don’t see him pine for Armand the way he did for any of them! Why!!!

Like there’s that aspect of sexism where women can be infantilized by men who don’t think they’re being unkind and it makes me wonder, especially when the author is a boomer, like where is that line between condescension and respect? I don’t have an answer here, this is too big-brained for me LOL but like he is SO devoted to the women in his life and I just wonder like if he sees them as creatures unlike himself, you know?

This is headcanon territory but I bet he’s such a fucking sub to Pandora lol and it just thrills me that he spent 2000 years begging Akasha for affection and she ignored him the whole damn time wow. And he continued to simp!

AND ALSO LIKE, I think people DO NOT DISCUSS THIS OFTEN ENOUGH, but did we forget that he chose Armand because he needed a Bianca rebound? He was absolutely TORTURED by his love for Bianca and picked Armand because he didn’t want to kill her oh my god. Oh my god!!! HE KEPT HER LETTER IN HIS POCKET OVER HIS HEART OKAY??? HE DIDN’T WANT TO DRAG HER INTO HIS COLD AND FATAL DOMAIN????? Fuck lol

It’s so fucked up that he didn’t go after Armand but spent like actual fucking millennia trying to find Pandora. HE KNEW EXACTLY WHERE ARMAND WAS AND LEFT HIM THERE LOL BUT PANDORA HAUNTED HIM EVERY NIGHT OF HIS LIFE FOR CENTURIES.

After everything he wound up spending like 200 years with Bianca or something and ?????? CORRECT because Bianca was the fledgling he actually wanted!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But it’s odd, I know I’ve said this 337589235 times, but Marius like. Has an idea of the person he wants to be and he tries SO HARD to live by logic & reason and he just can’t reconcile with the fact that he has EMOTIONS. And so like part of the person he wants to be like, open/empathetic/wise and he begs his lovers/students/fledglings to CHALLENGE HIM when he’s not actually healed enough to be challenged? And to me there’s something kinda like, extra spicy about it when you’re in Rice World and you’re a lil sexist; how much that burns EXTRA when it’s Pandora or Bianca sticking up to you or AKASHA FUCKIN IGNORING YOU.

Just really incredible that this person who is like the epitome of a patriarch has such fucked up relationships with all the women in his life. And like he underestimates these women, like the way he tries to manipulate Bianca and she leaves him! PANDORA AND AKASHA ARE UNAVAILABLE TO HIM AND BIANCA FUCKIN LEAVES.

akasSHA JUST IGNROING HIM!! JUST STRAIGHT UP FUCKIN IGNORING HIM FOR 2,000 YEARS!!!! HE'S OBSESSED WITH HER!

Anyway Enkil is ignoring him too but he doesn’t give a shit about that guy tbh lol

Also the amount of space he gives Eudoxia and Zenobia in his book like there’s more here too but tbh it’s midnight and I can’t start unpacking. I just think like, in 2000 years it’s interesting how Eudoxia wound up having such a lasting impact on his life.

I did just peek at the Eudoxia part and I’m dying, he goes “Her face was small, oval, and as close to perfection as anything I've ever beheld, even though she bore no resemblance to Pandora who was for me perfection itself.” CERTIFIED WIFE GUY.

What kinda mommy issues are we dealing with here? HIS MOTHER WAS A SLAVE THAT DIED IN CHILDBIRTH AND HE INHERITED HER GENES AND LOOKED LIKE HER AND DIDN’T LOOK LIKE HIS FATHER & BROTHERS? AND HE’S SORT OF AN OUTCAST AS A HUMAN LIKE ? THE STIGMA HERE? AND THEN HE SPENDS 2000 YEARS WORSHIPPING HIS NEW MOTHER??? PERHAPS YOU COULD SAY ENSLAVED TO HER? IDK MAN.

IS THIS ALSO WHY HE WAS SO OBSESSED WITH LOSING PANDORA?

The irony too, and something I think a lot of people miss, is that he DIDN’T WANT TO MARRY PANDORA LOL. He wanted to be betrothed to a child so that he could FUCK OFF and NOT get married because she wasn’t old enough to get married! He fucked off! He went exploring! He said this is not for me!

AND TO GO OUT INTO THE WORLD AND BE MURDERED BY HIS MOTHERS PEOPLE???? IDK.

I’m not sure how these last two points tie into anything but I just wanted to mention his complicated relationship with Pandora and his own heritage lol. And then Akasha like DELIVERS Pandora to him because she’s like “wow this guy needs somebody lol and I am not emotionally available” — Akasha who was famously a violent genocidal radfem and who would not approve of his relationship with Armand but explicitly allowed him to have Pandora and Bianca. IDK WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN!

Did Akasha approve of these women because she knew Marius was completely pussywhipped and would worship them and she wanted to see someone mommydom the fuck out of him and she knew that Armand would never be that person? 🫢

And again I want to say like, taking the author into consideration!! Anne Rice had a HORRIFIC relationship with her mom so you see these themes pop up occasionally in her work. DESPITE ALL OF THAT SHE IS STILL A FEMINIST AND WRITES ABOUT MATRILINEAR FAMILIES like The Great Family or the Mayfairs. But thinking about Mothers in Anne Rice Works makes me think a lot about this like, the damage they can do and the voids they can leave even when you’re a feminist and love women! You see a TON of this with Gabrielle and I always think that Lestat & Marius are such similar characters that you can do a lot of extrapolating or backwards engineering to ask questions about them and how they work, since we get SO MUCH Lestat POV in this series to work with and how we can zoom out sometimes and ask like, what is common across her entire body of work and what is more specifically common between Lestat & Marius and WHAT EVEN MORE INTERESTINGLY is a result that they were both based on her husband in their inceptions.

Like how much of this has to do with Marius’s actual feelings towards men vs women on purpose, or how much was subconscious author bias, how much was simply that Anne Rice based him on her husband and she was THIRSTY, idk. It’s always hard to say in VC because Anne was such an intuitive and self-indulgent author and the stories are so weird!!! So your mileage may vary!

But I agree with you that these are FASCINATING relationships!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I like Marius/Armand too (I recently made a post about how I didn’t “””””ship”””” them but then I spent 2 months working on a M/A fic every day and now I think I’ve corrupted and converted myself LMAO) but yeah like. There’s such a lack of substance between them in the end. He treats Armand like he’s temporary, fucks up and moves on, and it’s such a departure from how DEVOTED he was with all his other partners.

Wow I didn’t think I had a lot to say, sorry about that. !!! EVERY TIME I BROUGHT A POINT UP I THOUGHT OF 5 MORE POINTS GOSH I COULD TALK ABOUT MARIUS ALL DAY.

#tldr he has mommy issues #marius de romanus #vampire chronicles #thank you hekateinhell for discussing this with me in DM so that i could scream and yell and make sense of it!#hekate is mommy issues expert she helped unlock some bonus points!#deep ass thoughts about vampires #also i wanted to keep fandom discourse out of this bc i dont got time but this is like #such a timeless topic in fandom spaces about the popularity of mlm ships vs het or wlw ships #and like what that all means #it's been discussed to death and i don't think it's a condemnation of fandom at all #it just is what it is #so this is always going to be the case when it comes to fandoms & female characters #but i think people need to stop complaining about shit like that HAHA #fandom is a potluck yknow #like you gotta participate and make your own contributions too #marius is already such a divisive character i'm not gonna split hairs about who we're shipping him with LMAO THE POOL IS ALRAEDY TOO SHALLO #but i would love to put more bianca & pandora content into the world!!!#and like you i do not want this to sound like i'm being salty abotu what anyone ships! it's all good my dudes!#akasha #akasha/marius #bianca solderini #marius/bianca #pandora #marius/pandora

48 notes · View notes