#that is poor fucking logistics right there

[systlin]

Whatever else Cullen Rutherford did and setting aside all of the discourse about his 'redemption arc' and all that, he is a shitty commander send tweet

#Cullen critical #The quartermaster got in on nepotism and these supply lines are horseshit #Why is the Inquisitor personally having to mine ore to support your forward camps #that is poor fucking logistics right there #His biases blind him to properly utilizing magic tactically #I will not forgive him for not having the mountains around haven mapped out #why the FUCK cullen #You should have had a plan about how to abandon haven and fall back in case of an attack ALREADY

[theemporium]

You thought your boys were being dramatic when they first told you about their heats.

At first, you thought it was a joke they were playing on you. You were new to the lycanthrope world, you weren’t sure of the logistics and there wasn’t exactly a ‘werewolves for dummies’ book you could check out in the library. You thought maybe this was just your boyfriends pulling your leg to have some fun.

When other sources confirmed it was real, you thought they were exaggerating the whole thing to gain some sympathy points. Max had a tendency to sometimes dramatice stuff and Daniel usually went along with it because he thought it was funny. And truthfully, you just assumed that was at play here.

But then you saw it and realised they hadn’t prepared you enough. 

The only good thing was that for as long as you had been with the boys, their heats have never once matched up. One was always before the other and it meant you usually had a few days in between to rest before you dealt with the next shift. It felt like the universe was on your side. 

Until this month. 

You hadn’t even noticed their heats moving closer and closer together. It hadn’t even crossed your mind as a possibility. But then suddenly you were waking up to one boy pawing at your tits and the other one trying to tug your pyjama shorts down your legs and you realised just what you were in for for the next week. 

They were fucking relentless. Somehow the possessive nature and horniness combined to make some weird, twisted competition between them both to be the one to make you feel the best. No matter where you were or what you were doing, one of the boys was always on you.

And sometimes they both were.

“Oh fuck,” you let out a moan as you felt Daniel press up behind you, warm and comforting and overwhelming all at once. You could only let your head roll back as his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, a small growl vibrating across your skin. “I thought I banned you both from the shower.”

“But you smell so nice,” Max whined as he nosed your jaw, his hand tracing down your body before hiking your leg up around his waist. “And you were all alone. S’not nice.”

“We just wanna take care of you, darlin’,” Daniel murmured as his teeth scraped along a sensitive spot on the base of your neck that made you whine out loud. 

“You both are fucking relentless,” you moaned out, your nails digging into Max’s shoulders when the head of his cock teased your poor, used cunt. “You’re gonna fucking break me.”

“Never, schat,” Max murmured before he lifted his head, his lips tracing over yours and you could have whined when he didn’t kiss you right away. “Just gonna keep you nice and full, remember who you belong to.”

“And you’re all ours, honey,” Daniel whispered from behind, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands began to explore your body. You let out a choked noise of surprise when his fingers brushed against your other hole, teasing you as you whimpered at the thought. “Every single part of you.”

“Please,” you begged as the water cascaded down onto the three of you, hot and fast and adding to the burning need you had to have both of your boys inside you. “Shit, please.”

“Look at you,” Max cooed as he slowly thrusted into you. “S’like you’re in heat with us, just as desperate.”

Daniel’s free hand groped and squeezed your tits as his fingers slowly worked into your other entrance. “Because she’s a perfect match for us, baby. She’s our mate.”

“Our mate,” Max growled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, listening to your racing heart as they spread you open. “Ours.”

“Yours,” you cried out when Daniel pulled his fingers out, only to be replaced with the head of his cock teasing your whole. “All yours. Just yours.”

“Atta girl,” Daniel cooed softly when you let out a sob, his arms winding around you as he sunk into your ass, until they were both bottomed inside you and pressed against each other. “Such a good girl for us.”

“So good,” Max praised with a kiss pressed against your pulse point.

“Please,” you whispered, your nails leaving dents in Max’s skin but you didn’t think he would care. “Move. Use me. Fuck me. Fill me up. Pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

“Shhh, don’t need to cry,” Daniel cooed, something soft but patronising in his voice as he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in. “Gonna take such good care of our pretty mate. Just gotta trust us, darlin’.”

.

#cece's smutober #maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #formula one smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot #f1 smut

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | harness

pairing | daddy!dom!ari levinson x little!sub!reader

warnings | ddlg and dom/sub dynamics (daddy dom!ari and little sub!reader.) me not knowing anything about handiwork lol. reader struggles to ride. size kink. minimal foreplay (pussy rubbing, nipple play.) reference to rope play. p in v sex, protection unspecified. riding (with help lol.) safeword reminder. mostly sweet praise and encouragement, a little bit of mocking/humiliation tho (he calls reader a whore once.) they come together :D!!! orgasm from penetration. he comes inside. soft sweet reassurance/beginning of aftercare at the end.

word count | 1,284

an | kind of scared that people might not like this one, but i've had this fantasy for soooo long lol i just had to finally put it out there. something about a big beefy daddy laying back and casually tugging at a rope (WITH BIG ARM BC. I LOVE ARM) as he pleases to fuck his pretty little baby up and down along his cock, ,, it gets to me 🤤 also if you're confused by the logistics of the harness, i made diagrams 😭

thinking about daddy dom ari with his sweet little subby baby who has a hard time riding him (understandably!!)

you're such a good girl, you try so so hard but it's just too much 🥺 you get up there and he's soo huge you can barely take all of him. and even if you do manage to lower yourself all the way down onto his massive length, then you have to find some way to move yourself up and down along him?? poor baby, it's just too difficult 😔

so daddy comes up with a brilliant idea, he's gonna install some very special hardware in the bedroom to help with your little problem

he makes an entire day of it. mapping out the blueprint in a notebook, checking to make sure there's a sturdy ceiling beam overhead, researching the best parts to buy on his laptop as you lay comfortably at his side, snuggling into him

the harness itself he orders online, custom-made for your measurements. you're curious and ask to see, but he wants it to be a surprise. he makes a list of the rest of the parts and takes you with him to the hardware store. you get to ride in the cart as he's picking everything out 🥺

"you excited, baby?" he asks on the way home as you hum along softly to the radio. he's smiling as you nod sweetly, reaching over to brush back your hair. "gonna make sure everything's right for my little girl," he promises. "just gotta be a little patient when we get home, sweetheart. you can watch daddy work if you want"

you're a little intimidated when you see it starting to come together. he installs the eye hook as the system's anchor in the ceiling and puts together the pulley system with the sturdy rope he bought. he sees your wide eyes and comes over to kiss your forehead, promising, "don't worry, baby. it'll all be safe. daddy's making sure of it"

a few days later, the harness arrives in the mail. he brings you to the bedroom and has you undress, helping you into it. it's not too bulky or uncomfortable, but sturdy enough to be safe. your heart melts as you see the baby pink and white accents he chose. "so pretty, daddy!" you cheer as he undresses himself and climbs up to lay in the center of your shared bed

he gets you sitting up on his thighs, facing him. your poor pussy leaks excitedly as your legs are spread by the wide straps wrapped around your upper thighs. "you wanna play with daddy a little, baby?" he prompts as he softly begins to run his fingers over your bare mound

you take his big cock in your hands, teasing gently at it as he works your clit in circles for a bit with his thumb to warm you up. with the other hand, he's adjusting the ropes to make sure they're all untangled and ready for when he wants to strap you in for your first ride 🤠

his dick and your cunt are both twitching in anticipation. ari can see you eyeing the contraption a bit warily. "you're okay, baby," he hums as he brings a hand up to pinch and tweak at one of your nipples, making you whimper. the harness is conveniently designed similarly to a lot of your daddy's rope work, tightening around the breasts and thighs to keep you prone and in place

he waits for some of the apprehension to leave your face. finally asking, "you ready, sweetheart? you gonna let daddy setb you up in your pretty new harness?" your eager nodding is all the convincing it takes

he buckles you in with the safety-grade carabiners, giving the rope a gentle tug as a test. it jerks you up slightly, bouncing you on his legs. he gives you a wide, nearly greedy smile "okay baby, let's get you up on daddy's dick"

he tugs again, helping you up a bit into the air (though your legs are still resting some on the bed below) and moves you over with the other hand to position you over his hardened length. all you have to do is sit in the pretty gear and let your daddy do as he pleases. he positions his tip at your dripping entrance, gently easing you down onto him as he loosens the tension on the rope little by little. you let out such a sweet moan as you're filled to the brim, your eyes rolling back slightly in delight 😍

"shit, princess," ari takes a moment to adjust to your tiny little pussy swallowing him up. he tightens his grip on the rope, his voice low and rumbly, "you gonna be a good girl and let daddy fuck you now? that's it baby, just let daddy do the work"

he tries to go easy to start but part of him can't help it; he's been waiting for this moment for so long. he gives you a few pumps up and down on him at a gentle pace, but the feeling of you bouncing like that so effortlessly and the sight of your mouth falling open as your sweet little cries intensify quickly cause him to start acting with abandon

the system works so well, it looks like it's straight out of a porno. ari lays back, groaning deeply as he jerks at the rope at whatever pace he pleases. the way his arm looks when he flexes is so 😮‍💨each tug bounces your perfect form against him, your poor insides aching in pleasure as he rams right up against your ceiling

"d-... d-... daddy!" you sob, your little hands flailing a bit as you grow increasingly overwhelmed by his forceful pace

his eyes flash with a hint of satisfaction at your adorable undoing. "c'mon baby, you can take it. remember your word," he reminds you as he uses his free hand to gather both of your wrists and secure them tightly behind your back. you're left completely helpless, nothing but a living, breathing toy for your daddy to use

"d-daddy, it's s-so much... 'm gonna..." he's grinning wider as he sees your impending orgasm; it's rare for you to come from penetration alone

"oh are you, sweetheart? are you gonna be a good little whore and come for daddy? such a dirty girl, getting off on daddy fucking you like this"

"mmmhhh.... d-daddy!!" you're squealing as you squeeze down on his slippery cock. the sight of you coming like this nearly sends him over the edge, he quickens his pace, tugging more forcefully at the rope to bounce your poor little pussy over him faster

"fuck, baby. daddy's gonna come," he growls, tightening his grip on your wrists as his face contorts with concentration. "you want me to fill you up, princess? want daddy to come in that sweet baby cunt of yours?"

"y-yes please, daddy! please, please fill me up! please, want your come!!"

he lets go of the rope just in time, letting you slam down against him as he hits his peak. he grabs your waist to hold you firmly in place as his seed shoots up into you, your walls fluttering in sync with his dick's throbbing

when you both start to come down, you slump forward onto your big daddy bear 😮‍💨he's rubbing your back, whispering so sweetly in your ear, "good girl, so good for me, baby. so proud'a you, did so well. i'm here, sweet girl. daddy's here"

hmmm yeah i don't even care if no one else is into this, this is MY dream scenario let me have it 😭😭

#eun's writing #kinkmas 2023 #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #dom!ari levinson #daddy!ari levinson #ari levinson x little!reader #ari levinson x sub!reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson blurb #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson headcanon #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson imagine #the red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

[after-witch]

Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Behind the Curtain [Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: No more shows, yes, that’s what he says. He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Some musings from Ren Hana after the The Show Must Go On DLC (survival ending).

Word Count: 1600ish

notes: kidnapped reader, medical including eye prosthetics discussion, descriptions of past violent abuse and injuries including eye injuries

You poor, pretty thing, lying there in a hospital bed, tubes in your arms and an incessantly beeping machine monitoring your vitals at your side.

You look a mess.

You look lovely.

The wounds from your lively (and, he must admit, very well received--well, until the end) triple show debut are vibrant and gorgeously ugly.

Vivid stitches covered in ghastly looking iodine on your stomach, where you’d sliced your belly right open; antibiotic creams slathered over your puncture wounds; an etching of various cuts and bite marks… yours and his. Not to mention your eye.

You’ll live, you dear thing. Scarred and bruised, inside and out--but you’ll live.

He’s not an amateur. You’ll have good medical care here. He can afford it, although it’s not often used for more than employee check-ups and keeping merchandise alive long enough to be sold or entertain his streams before the big finale. Or for the occasional creative request via a high-paying donor on a stream.

But for you? He’ll make sure to use every resource to get you back into shape. Back to where you were--or more accurately, he supposes, back to where you’re going to be from now on. 

You wake up every now and then. Not to the fullest degree. You are pumped full of drugs, though, and he’s not terribly surprised at your lack of coherency. It’s cute, in a way, though he’s looking forward to enjoying you when you’re more alert. More alive. 

How alive did you feel, in those last moments before he stopped the stream? How aware were you that he meant to kill you? That you were going to die in that dark room while people paid to watch and stroked their cocks and salivated over watching the last bit of light leave your eyes? 

He couldn’t do it. No, no, that’s not right. He could have done it. He’s done it before, to others more and less worthy than yourself.

But he didn’t want to do it and therefore, he didn’t have to do it. You reminded him of that. Chat had power, sure, everyone with enough money had power. But he was in control. It was his stream. His life’s work. And you were his property, not theirs. 

Did you know that one question would change everything?

Fuck the people watching the stream. They could have someone else, and they would eventually--logistically, he needed to make it up to them soon, a token apology made in some other poor pretty thing’s blood.

But not you.

Never you. 

He smiles, just a little. It’s easier now to think about the future, in the sterile clinic room, away from the rush of the showroom with its screens, the stampede of feet when he pushed the call button, the tangy smell of your blood and the sight of you mangled and delirious beneath him. 

The rush of the moment has passed, leaving behind a slow, thoughtful ebb in its wake. 

You’re not the first merchandise he’s kept for himself. You’re not even the first person he’s taken a liking to and taken home with the intent to keep forever. And oh, that first one… he hasn’t thought about them in a while, the one that he kept for as long as he could, until they were gone.

You remind him of them, in some ways. Maybe in the way your voice softened when you asked him who gave him his scars; maybe in the pitiful way you begged him, sweet and sniffling, to cut out your eye because you knew it was best.

Maybe in the way you clenched around him, desperate, eager, hating the pain but embracing it because there was nothing else you could do. 

But, ah… he’s being nostalgic again. He lets one claw idly trace your forearm, following the line of the IV. That person is gone. Dead. Tragic and all that, and some part of him will always miss them. But there’s no point in dwelling on it, just as he’s long since moved on from Strade and his amateur basement of horrors. 

Years ago, he might have thought: what would Strade think of me now? But now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter one single bit what Strade would think of him now, or what Strade might have thought of him then. Strade was nothing. 

He had created his own world, far surpassing anything Strade could have dreamed of; Strade had some talent (he has scars to prove it) but what was talent without ambition? Without creativity, allure?

Anyone could get people to pay money to watch you kill some helpless fuck you snatched off the street.

But it took talent to do what he did, something far beyond basement videos with basic tools and a fabric mask. 

It was a talent he had in spades, carefully crafted through trial and error. Lots of errors. But what business, what world, existed without them? 

But you do make him reminisce, don’t you?

And then your hand is on his arm. Weak, fingers trembling as you try to grip him, and gain his notice.

This time, your eye isn’t quite as muddled, and you direct your gaze at him rather than flitting about the room in hazy confusion.

He watches as your throat works, swallowing, and he can practically hear the inside of your dry mouth sticking as you force open your lips.

“Is it… is it time for another show?”

He blinks down at you, his lips set in a frown. 

Your dry lips tremble when he doesn’t answer. The heart rate monitor speeds up, and he glances at it--faster and faster, like a little rabbit--before resting his hand on your forehead. The beeping slows down just a little, and your eye looks up at him, darting across his face, desperate and terrified.

“No,” he says, with a somber finality, and the words are for himself as much as they are for you. “No more shows.” 

Your smile is twitchy and slow, and your eye blinks low and lidded. The drugs want to put you to sleep. You want to stay awake. You’ll lose this battle, but he likes to see that you still have the will to live in you. It will come in handy. 

A clawed finger traces your cheek, edging around the white medical patch covering your missing eye. He can see your head try to flinch, but you’re either too drugged to fully do it or you’re stopping yourself out of worry that he won’t like it.

Either option pleases him. 

Your eye isn’t as bad as it was, but it will need more healing before you can wear a prosthetic, or so the physician said. 

He’d never looked much into them before--prosthetic eyes, that is--but as he discovered during a late night bout of phone shopping, there’s a wide array of options nowadays. Exotic styles--cats and snakes and everything in between--and fun colors and pretty add-ons, like glitter or shimmer or rainbow holographics. 

The thought of your false eye staring up at him in some impossibly beautiful hue, accenting a lovely outfit he’s dressed you in, makes him a little giddy, and he hopes you’ll be excited about them, too. Maybe in time you’ll be gazing at a selection of eyes laid out on a vanity, choosing between them like you might have done before all this with lipsticks and eyeshadows. 

Will you hold up the eye you chose for his approval, a trembling smile on your face? It would be nice to see. 

Though he’s not stupid--not as naive as he might have been, if he’d met you twenty or so years ago. You’re not going to immediately jump for joy that the man who orchestrated your kidnapping, tortured you, jacked off into your eye, pulled out said eye, and almost had you yank out your own guts got you a pretty prosthetic.

No, no… not immediately, anyway. That will take time and work and training. Thankfully, he has plenty of experience with that. 

He smiles, just a little, watching as your remaining eye fights so hard to stay open; battling against the drugs keeping you sleepy and compliant for the first step in your healing.

You’re mumbling something, and he’s not really listening to the words, until he sees tears in your eye and you repeat yourself. The words come slowly. He’ll remind the nurse to wet your mouth soon.

“You pr…promise?”

He leans forward, cupping your chin, encouraging you to keep going.

Your voice is a whimper and it’s just so damned cute. Your remaining eye is wide and those pretty tears stick to the lashes like dew. He could kiss them off, he truly could, if he wasn’t sure getting anywhere near your remaining eye right now might send you into a panic.

“You promise no… no more shows?” 

“No more shows,” he says again, gentler this time, stroking your hair. The tension in your muscles gradually relaxes from his touch, or perhaps the IV drip has given you a fresh dose of painkillers on schedule. It doesn’t matter. The effect is the same. 

No more shows, yes, that’s what he tells you. 

He does not tell you “no more pain,” because there will be pain. Life does not exist without it. His business does not exist without it. He does not exist without it. 

There is always give and take, push and pull, pain and pleasure. None can exist without the other. 

It’s a truth you’ll come to learn, as he did. And he can’t wait to bring you to that truth himself. 

#the price of flesh #ren hana #tpof spoilers #the price of flesh spoilers #afterwitch writes #I wanna write smut with him but first!! the introspection

[tossawary]

The 3-day trial system in "Ace Attorney" is absolutely nuts. I know the game is intentionally making fun of corrupt & dysfunctional legal systems and is also upping the pacing to create a sense of urgency & excitement, but I truly underestimated just how hysterically funny it would be to play this trial system. They have created some WILD logistical worldbuilding.

Like, someone gets murdered on Day 1. Phoenix Wright finds out about this on Day 2 and goes to talk to them. This person has less than 24 hours to find their own legal representation before a public defender is assigned to them, and Phoenix has to do his own investigating before the trial tomorrow morning. Day 3 is the first day of the trial, in which Phoenix is doing everything he can to prove innocence and somehow also solve the actual murder in the middle of court, and hopefully at least get the Judge to agree that they need another day of investigation and interrogation. There's an in-universe rule that a trial can only go for 3 days, so by Day 5, the third day of the trial, this nonsense needs to be wrapped up. The first game doesn't explicitly say that this is a death penalty system, but it's heavily implied at points, so depending on the case, Phoenix has THREE DAYS to potentially SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE.

And this is all hilariously, horribly BONKERS for Phoenix, but it's just as awful when you start getting into all the little bureaucratic details of trying to make this legal system actually work. A public defender might get a case at 5 PM for a murder trial at 10 AM the next morning?! (I know public defenders are often horribly overworked IRL. This is part of what the game is mocking.) Autopsies are being performed within, like, 12 hours of the murder?! They're getting results back from the forensics labs within 24 hours?! How much of the city budget is SPENT on law enforcement?! The overtime hours must be horrifying. No wonder things are constantly falling through the cracks; people are fucked if their defense attorneys are on vacation that day or if the witnesses aren't answering their phones that day.

And, also, like, did the courthouse not have OTHER trials scheduled for that day? Are they reserving a courtroom in this courthouse for emergency murder cases? Even if there's a 3-day limit to speed things up, it's a big city, shit happens, how are they seeing people this quickly? Are there just separate courthouses for all crimes below various degrees of murder? (Obviously, family law and small claims and minor crimes and such must be handled somewhere else, but still.) Or are people in Japanifornia getting last minute calls from the overworked scheduling people at the courthouse like, "Hi, witness for an assault trial, your testimony has been rescheduled because someone was murdered last night. This could take 1-3 days. We'll let you know." Then that poor witness is like, "Shit, I took a day off of work for this??? I have to call my boss again now. Fuck you!!!"

It's tempting to write an AA fic about a series of murders in this world, in which people are obviously being framed for these crimes but it's not clear who the real murderer is, because this is all happening to keep postponing a different trial, because murder cases apparently go to trial immediately in the AA universe as #1 priority. Someone needs this extra time to steal the evidence from the police station and frame someone else for their crime, because if this postponed trial goes to court, then a different, older, unsolved murder is sure to come to light.

This features a public defender OC who is... the most exhausted person... of all time... trying to hold the line of human rights. The burnout rate must be horrifying.

#tossawary ace attorney #fic ideas #character death #phoenix wright #long post #spoilers

[buckets-and-trees]

Peering In My Hollow Core

Fandom: MCU Title: Peering In My Hollow Core Characters/Pairings: Nomad!Steve x Morally Grey!Female Reader Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Even the best laid plans can go up in flames. You're both wrong, and yet also more right for each other than you know.

Content Warnings: explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT due to sex pollen, masturbation, rough fucking/vaginal sex, unprotected sex/ejaculation

Logistical Notes: I claimed prompt 13 for @lunarbuck's Star-Crossed Lovers Soulmate AU challenge and also knocking off I1 "masturbation" for @the-slumberparty's August/September Bingo challenge. And because you know I can't resist... it's also using one of the prompts (first bolded line) for @witchywithwhiskey's Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! And it's answering an ask I got from one very mischievous @stargazingfangirl18 that's been on my mind for the last two weeks.

Additional Notes: @biteofcherry and @vonalyn let me suss out how this evolved, so thank you for enduring my brainstorming! Eva also gave a line of dialogue inspiration that I found too delicious not to snatch up, and so that's bolded for acknowledgement as well (near the end). Title from Scars by Basement Jaxx.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“What’s your grand plan here, Doc?” The golden-haired, bearded hulk of a man, America’s golden boy now a rogue in the shadows is pacing before you. “Are you even a doctor?”

His tone is biting, angry, and you don’t hold it against him.

He did fall right into your trap.

“You’re a smart boy, you can guess.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I think it will bruise your ego more if I spell it out for you.”

“You should have thought of my rage before you put yourself in this situation, Doc,” he all but growls, still prowling back and forth across the living room floor. “What’s your exit strategy here?”

“You’re getting more volatile and heated, that’s good. That’s what I need.”

“Do you think this is a fucking game? You’re on dangerous ground.”

Your lips curl up slightly, but you try not to smirk. “I dangled myself in front of you. Good Captain America couldn’t resist trying to liberate the poor scientist who got wrongfully entangled with the remnants of HYDRA. You never even stopped to consider that I was dangling myself out in the wind to get you here like this, and you’ve read enough about HYDRA, you know what I gave you.”

“But why?” he barks.

“No one can beat you for strength. You’re driven, resourceful, able to evade an attack. Your weakness is caring,” you pause because he stops his pacing, he looks ready to spring, but doesn’t yet. His eyes haven’t left you for even a moment since he realized it’s you he needed to worry about, not save. “I need your DNA, blood samples, bodily fluid, and I can’t trap you with anything, but I banked on the one physical vulnerability even a super soldier isn’t immune from: a compound they initially developed as something called a sex pollen. In fact, I think you know they tested it on a super soldier, don’t you?”

He slams his fist on the table between you two, and it splits from his actions.

You shouldn’t have provoked him with that. It wouldn’t yield the results you were trying to manipulate him into.

“Easy, Nomad,” you raise your hands cautiously to ease the tension just slightly. “That’s what they call you now – Nomad is the moniker now that you can’t be Captain America out there to the world anymore.” He flexes his fists, another angry reflex, but one you know speaks to a slight de-escalation, self-regulation. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t agree with everything HYDRA has done.”

He lets out a bitter laugh.

“I don’t,” you insist.

“If you’re not in with them, you’ve made a deal with a devil you’ve vastly underestimated.”

“They’re a means to an end.”

“How can you be so foolish to think that?”

“No one will fund my research at the rate and without regulatory oversight the way they do. They’re desperate to have more of you but under their thumb, especially since you’re at the root of them losing their prize assassin.”

“You’re not stupid, so why are you giving them what they want?”

You lift your chin defiantly.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Oh god. You can’t tell me… Really? You think you’re gonna keep your research and development from them in the end?”

“Look at what I’ve done so far,” you gesture. “You’ve evaded every attempt they’ve made to get you, you’re evading all the countries who are supposed to enforce the accords and hand you over, and yet I have you trapped here.”

“Why do you care about a super soldier serum?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m interested in a serum, but I don’t need super soldiers. The list of your medical ailments before you were injected, and then you’re instantly cured of everything? Do you know how many people need even a drop of what cured you?”

“And you think I’d be opposed to that?”

You scoffed, “Yeah, easily. Once the research exists, it will get applied for things it was never intended to be used for, up to and including developing super soldiers for HYDRA and people who pretend they’re better than HYDRA.”

“So, who has made you this desperate?”

“You don’t get to know that.”

He scoffs now. “You don’t get to set the terms here if you intend to get what you want.”

“Don’t I? You’re uncomfortable. You’ve been uncomfortable for a while. It’s going to get worse, but I adapted the formula for what I gave you in that drink of water. All you have to do is ejaculate, and the toxin will abate from your system.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he deadpans.

Then his demeanor changes. He sniffs, and his eyes finally stray from you.

“You said this house is reinforced in its lockdown to keep me in until you initiate and secure your extraction with the HYDRA team?”

“Yes,” you answer slowly, trying to follow his line of sight and decipher what he’s looking at.

“I think you’re going to need to adjust your plans and priorities and do it quickly.”

You open your mouth to ask why, but then your mind quickly makes the leap. “They modified my ventilation system.”

“HYDRA has refused to be eliminated for decades. They can wait for a purebred super soldier and think they can get one in your womb today.”

The heat of humiliation floods your body. How could you have been so foolish not to account for a maneuver like this. They had clearly approved of your strategy too easily.

“Soon you won’t be able to think about anything more than my cock in your cunt, so you better start thinking of how you’re going to get yourself out of this, Doc, because Nomad is not who everyone knew Captain America to be, and I’m certainly not inclined to assist you in any way now. Been doing fine evading capture as you yourself asserted, I can probably figure out my own exit strategy here and fight off the sex pollen until I make it out. But for someone without any biological enhancements… I’m not optimistic over your odds. I read everything on HYDRA. This stuff was nasty when they first developed it, but you can bet they will have reverse engineered whatever you did to the formula to make it even worse.”

As if on cue, you start to feel the physical effects of whatever nearly imperceptible airborne toxin – imperceptible to you, but apparently not to enhanced individuals. Heat flares again in your body, but this time it is a pulsating sexual need.

You close your eyes to try and keep your breath steady and even, but after another moment, you whimper and draw your hands to your stomach as the poisonous desire pulses more strongly, the tremor of need undeniable.

Your eyes burst open again, seeking out the male across the room from you.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, no. I’m not giving you anything you want. If you’re as brilliant as you think you are, you don’t need me to get out of your unfortunate predicament.”

Your body is yearning for him, but you know he’s serious.

You also know he’s right; you need to think fast.

You’re coherent enough to get both of you out of the lockdown state of the house now – because HYDRA was clearly going to come for both of your – you had a failsafe to get out in case there was some loss of electrical power. But could you get away in this state?

And you know if you get out, you’ll never get the DNA you need from Steve Rogers – you’ll never be close enough to or even see him again. You know that in your bones.

Over the next hour, at different points during the feverish state that overtakes you, you can sometimes hear the super soldier nearby, doing things around your home, undoubtedly trying to apply his own ingenuity.

He might be successful.

It hardly matters.

Now you’re in the shower, under a stream of cold water, trying both to alleviate the unbearable heat your body has peaked to and to hide the sound of your sobs as best you can. You’ve stripped down to a nearly naked state. You ripped off your shirt and pants in your room, left them on the floor, your panties are on the tiled floor outside the shower, but you couldn’t spare your hands to remove your bra. At first you were almost experiencing a sliver of relief with one hand between your legs, paying every attention to your excessively slick folds and throbbing clit, thrusting your fingers in and out of your cunt as well, but it was a false grasp at hope.

You don’t know when you slid down the tiled wall of the wet glass tomb where you think you may die, curled in on yourself, one hand still trying pointlessly to trigger the orgasm that will flush the desperate physical pain from your body, surely it must come.

You don’t know how long he’s been standing in the doorway of the bathroom before you try to shift pathetically, your eyes open, and you see him slowly stroking his hard cock, watching you. You shut your eyes again, in agony wondering how he can possibly seem so collected. Why isn’t he pumping his fist in a frenzy? You couldn’t stroke your clit fast enough, and now you can’t bear to touch it, but the heel of your hand can’t help bumping it as you try to fuck yourself on your fingers.

Then a rush of air blasts over your body.

You open your eyes weakly to see Steve reach to shut off the water, before he bends down and without a word grabs your limp body from the floor, drapes you over his arm, where you hand limply, bent in half, and he hauls you back to your room, and throws you on the bed.

You continue to cry and stroke yourself while you hear him unzip and unfasten, your body a trembling heap, facing away from him as he’s undressing.

“I’m going to fuck you, and then you’re going to let me out before HYDRA comes for both of us. You’re fucking clever and I can’t get out of here without you.”

You whimper when you feel his weight on the bed behind you.

He forces you into a kneeling position, but he doesn’t care that you can’t even prop yourself up, head and shoulders slumped down on the mattress, ass in the air. His left hand grips your hip, and he groans as he guides the head of his cock up and down the slit of your dripping cunt before he finally slides in. It’s deliberate, sliding down to the base, his hips pushing into yours. The way he invades and stretches you is painful, and yet you need it, keening at the fullness.

You do catch that his breathing hitches.

He needs this, too.

You’ll give it to him if he’ll just put your body out of its misery.

After a moment of slowly rutting against you, only shifting his girth inside of you a bit, teasing, perhaps warning, you whine, “move, please, more.”

“More than you bargained for,” he growls, then pulls back, and then thrusts back into you, adopting a brutal pace, both hands anchored at your hips now, slamming you back and forth roughly.

He pulls a first orgasm from your body quickly, but the second comes not long after when he reaches around to pinch and roll your clit between his fingers, still using your pussy for chasing his pleasure.

A third, and you’ve gone from whimpers and keens to crying out and a fresh wave of tears. This is rough and you’re over stimulated, and he knows. He leans over your back to smirk against your neck.

“Please,” you cry. You don’t know if you’re begging for more or for less because your body is screaming in exhaustion, but the fire is still tormenting your veins.

Because you haven’t been filled.

The smirk turns to a sneer against your neck, and Steve snarls, "You wanted it. You staged it. So, you're going to take it and keep fucking taking it until I'm done with your pathetic fragile body."

He’s pressing into places you’ve never felt before, and you cry out more, face pressed into the sheets. He pushes back up and pulls his cock out of you. His fingers work the clasp of your bra, and he pulls it off while he flips you over so you’re on your back. You can’t even open your eyes, but you feel him looming above you, kneeling between your splayed out thighs.

But then you feel something shift. He mutters a curse and is suddenly still.

You open your eyes and look up at him, but he’s looking at your chest. His hand moves up to trace his fingers over a scar near your collarbone. You look and see the same scar evident on his chest.

You reach up and your fingers quest along his bicep, and they do find a scar there, very faint but long, matching one you’ve had nearly your entire life.

Your eyes lock on each other now, and the acknowledgement there between you is terrifying.

There are more scars, but you don’t need to continue to confirm what you know.

You’re soulmates.

You’ve betrayed him before you even knew.

You’re still beholden to the drive of the sex pollen, boneless and exhausted, but this revelation drives with adrenaline through the haze, too hard to deny. It gives you enough to say, “We can’t deal with this now if we want to get out of here with a chance to escape HYDRA, fuck me and end this.”

He does, but he can’t look at you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, and spears you with his cock. The fucking is rough, and you take it. It’s punishing penance and painful pleasure. You cling to him as he thrusts you over the cliff of ecstasy again, coming with you finally, and his spend pumps hotly into you. The physical relief from the torture is blessedly immediate. His hand ghosts over your lower abdomen where he’s just planted his seed. With his eyes closed, he touches his forehead to yours, then pushes roughly away and rolls off of you.

“Get up, get dressed, pack light,” he says, stone cold. “Between us we might get out of this dangerous trap. That’s all we need for now.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers smut #horrormoviehoeathon #tw: dubcon #sex pollen #aspen wrote something #female reader

[maliciouslove]

Beware of Hammock

ʚ pairing: slimeball denki x f!reader 

ʚ prompt: hammock 

ʚ word count: 1.1k

ʚ warnings: tw dubcon, tw alcohol consumption, tw weed mention, implied public sex, a bit lot of humiliation, compromising photos, not beta read, hammock

ʚ submission for the wet hot slimeball collab hosted by @bastardblvd :]

ʚ AN: well that was a fun little one hour writing challenge! as usual, thank you to merc and cassie for organizing and continuously giving me motivation and inspiration to create

The music blares as Denki fills everyone’s shot glasses with tequila. His best mate and emergency get-out-after-a-hookup contact Shinsou “the smoke” Hitoshi sitting next to him on the table cradling a fat joint, sitting amongst the rest of the infamous UA slut gang — Touya “the slut elder” Todorki, Katsuki “anger issues” Bakugo, Ochako “the crime lord” Uraraka, Mina “the dominatrix” Ashido, Sero “infinity rizz” Hanta and Eijirou “the cumbucket” Kirishima, the notoriously hung fratboy host of this party.

The third round of “never have I ever” is now ready to begin as Ochako lifts her shot glass above her head, commanding attention. 

“Never have I ever… had sex mid day at a beach party…” The brunette looks pointedly at her chair neighbour. “And filmed it.”

With a wolfish smile Touya downs his shot followed by a hissing sound as the liquid burns down his throat. Surprisingly (but not really) Kiri also downs his shot, and with a smug smile — so does Ochako. 

“The way this keeps going I’m gonna be shitfaced in under ten minutes.” Touya complains, slamming his shot glass down at the table, but the rest of the slut gang just laugh. They know he’d be shitfaced in ten minutes regardless of the game, as poor Touya has too many daddy issues to not attempt to drown them in booze.

“Mate, I gotta know, fer science n’ all — what is the worst or weirdest place you’ve had sex?” Denki asks with curiosity spaekling in his eyes. 

He’d never admit it but he looks up to Touya in a very sick and twisted way. It’s his biggest wish to one day have a body count as high as his. That scoreboard hidden in his locker at Slimebucks mocks him daily and reminds him of his noble goal to be a bigger slut than Touya himself.

After a pause to think, the eldest Todoroki confidently states: 

“On a fucking hammock. The logistics are just..” Touya can only shake his head in disapproval as the memory flashes before his eyes. He shudders. 

Kirishima lands a heavy hand on Touya’s back. 

“Can’t be that bad, can it?” 

There is a horrified look in Touya’s eyes as he clasps dramatically Kirishima’s hand in his, pulling him close to his face as if to emphasize his point. 

“Do not. Ever. Attempt. To fuck. On a hammock.” The black haired man pours himself another tequila shot and downs it. “Learn from my mistakes.”

These words of wisdom resonate in Denki’s head long after the game of “never have I ever” ended with Touya emptying the contents of his stomach under the table, unable to keep his liquor down any longer. 

Learn from my mistakes. 

But Denki could do more! He could better Touya’s mistakes, he had the confidence that he could pull of what Touya himself couldn’t. Moving through the crowds of people dancing he spots something from the corner of his eye — a hammock. 

Devious grin plastered on his face, the blonde quickly gathers up the unoccupied hammock, considering the logistics of Kirishima’s place and figuring out the best at least semi-private place he could hang up the hammock and the easiest prey he can catch to test said hammock out. 

Twenty or so minutes later he has the hammock set up behind a shed and he proceeds to the second part of a plan — finding himself a pretty pussy to fuck. And as if the Gods of Sex heard his prayers, the crowd seems to part like the Red Sea opening a path to you — the shy, but now quite drunk new girl. 

Within seconds he has an arm around your waist, twirling you and pushing you close to him as he dances right behind you, smugly enjoying the feel of your ass grinding against him.

“Didin’t think you’d make it today, pretty girl.” He whispers in your ear, partly to be seductive, partly because it was loud as balls. 

“Mina convinced me, said Kiri throws the wildest paries and it’s apparently illegal to miss them.” You giggle and with your confidence levels raised by the alcohol you turn, tits pressed to Denki’s chest and arms draped around his shoulders. 

“Well thank fuck for Mina, huh.” 

It’s easy to charm you, a gentle touch here, a whisper and a chaste kiss there, under half an hour and Denki had you wrapped around his finger, pulling you by the wrist as you giggle and follow him behind the shack where he had set up. 

Resting in a sort of sitting position on the hammock he beckons you closer with two fingers, and chock full of giddiness and alcohol you follow, letting him wrap his hands around your middle, his face resting between your tits as a playful hand squeezes your ass that is deliciously spilling out of your jean shorts. 

The alcohol has made you pliable, a cute ragdoll for him to play with. Skimpy top pulled roughly down to expose your pretty tits to him, he bites and sucks your nipples, taking whatever he wants from you as the hammock swings back and fort gently suspended in the air. The more he squishes your soft flesh, the more eager he gets. Fuck, it had been a while since his last conquest. 

The scoreboard in his locker mocks him once more. 

When he feels your hand unbuttoning his jeans and reaching for his now fully hard cock he cannot contain himself anymore — he needs to feel your clench around his cock now. 

Forgetting about the location and unusual bed replacement he’s using, he confidently (too confidently) pulls you onto his lap, only for the hammock to betray him and twist under the weight of both of you, gravity adding to this nightmare scenario as you both end up on the grass face first. 

You crawl out from the tangles mess, rubbing at your face where it had made contact with the grass and cover yourself up in the process, suddenly way too sober and aware of your actions.

Cock out and ass in the air as his neck strains to support his upper body, Denki is still tangled in the hammock, groaning in his futile attempt to stand upright and far away from the wretched hammock. 

A bright flash startles both of you followed by loud cheering and laughter. “I knew you were gonna try that, you fucking dweeb.” Touya laughs, snapping a few more pictures before Denki gets hismelf out from the compromising position, tucking his dick back into his jeans as quickly as he could. “Listen to me next time — don’t fuck on a god damn hammock.”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

#unholytext.exe #denki kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari smut #denki smut #kaminari smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw.dubcon #tw.alcohol #slimeball denki #slimeball barista denki #slimebarista denki

[fantasticallyfruity4]

Some thoughts abt punk! Steve + piercings (created w/ @midnight-corvid )

Steve begging Nancy to pierce his septum in the girls bathroom before first period.

“come on nance pleaseeee ill buy you a six pack of whatever you want! come on it'll take two seconds I already marked it all you've gotta do is shove the needle in! come on, you got the best grade in home ec right? you sew great this is no different!” 

“no Steve! its unsanitary!” “pleaseeeee?” “oh my god no! I hate you!” “do you hate me enough to stab me in the septum?”. Nancy just leaves. she's not entertaining Steves stupid shit right now.

but Robin and Eddie? 

no they fight over the honor. 

que the three of them at Steves house later that night.

robin wins, in a buzzed game of rock paper scissors. and god bless eddies, he's got a real needle he got from his “guy” because he's got a “guy”. 

so robins on Steves lap on Steves dads la-z-boy bc “fuck my dad robs infact I hope I bleed all over it”

steves a little concerned with how excited his boyfriend and best friend were to impale him, but cest la vie.

but poor Eddie looks so dejected and pouty watching steve grin while he looks at his nose in robins compact mirror at his new jewelry. so finally Steve offers “hey, wanna do my lip, babe?”

eddies way too excited.

and he takes robing place, and he's ready but then he stops.

“what's wrong?” “just uh, thinking the logistics of this for me”. 

steves lost for a second. 

“wait are you fucking thinking about your prospects of getting head right now?!?!” 

“and kisses!” Eddie protests weakly. Steve rolls his eyes. “damn it Eddie, really?”. Eddie breaks into a grin and laughs, Steve doing the same. “you're a moron” “you're a moron” 

“well, its gonna be a lame two weeks. lean back Harrington. guess its worth it If your gonna look really hot”. Eddie can live with the cost benefit analysis. 

#last night brainrot #steddie #punk steve harrington #punk steve #thinking abt Steve with snakebites #bye

[billdenbrough]

ok so. concert venue, long bathroom lines, especially on the girls’ side. anyway. the accessible bathroom is like… shaking? lmao. like there is too much noise happening there and too much movement. so all of us in line are exchanging looks like ohhhhh, okay. we know what’s up here. and the line is kinda fresh enough that it’s mostly amusement rather than like fuck all you like but i need to piss right NOW energy. so that’s good! that’s good

anyway, the door opens and these two girls fall out giggling and they’ve like. they’ve clearly fucked. another door opens at the same time so while we’re all trying to figure out the logistics of getting into stalls (for some reason, there are lots of lights above the sinks but NONE AT ALL above the stalls, and the walls are all painted black, so it’s like. a fiasco), everyone suddenly hears one of the girls who came out of the sims woohoo situation go “oh! mrs tandy!” and some other lady like “joan?” and me and the girl next to me are just trying not to catch each other’s eyes as this poor just-got-fucked-in-a-concert-venue girl had to make small talk with her idk fucking old math teacher or smth while everyone had definitely heard her banging 😭

#like to an extent if you fuck in a concert venue this is the risk you’re taking #but my GOD the immediate forced fake cheer and surprise in her voice. i died

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 5 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Grimbly (56.7%)

TW: Creepy one-sided mommy kink, later becomes mutual.

New choice! [VOTE]

When your leg lightly pokes the smaller monster, his previously cute expression morphs into a smarmy, gross smirk.

" Hah. Looks like you might wanna reconsider. " His hands are on his waist as he regards the wraith.

" Fool. They're not in the right mind to be making decisions. " The other counters.

" Mm. Cope harder. "

No matter how hard you try to keep your eyelids open, they flutter repeatedly, eventually shutting for good. Your consciousness fades on Morell's chopping table.

...

There's a chirp. Then another. You hear something rushing nearby. A liquid. The noise, paired with a slight chilly sensation, becomes uncomfortable, forcing you to gradually wake up.

Eyes eventually parting, the shapes of the revolving world finally begin to make sense, and you find yourself in a garden. Not just any garden, the same one where all this madness started. Alertness seeping back into your form, wary hues scatter until they find a fountain.. If you can call it that. Yes, it's not exactly standard. The thing takes on a strange, bent shape which seems to loop in itself like an optical illusion designed to confound the mind. Water rushes down its sides, then up, then diagonally- Like it's crawling around it, alive. You'd imagine this is what a being who has never seen a fountain in their life would make, putting aside the way this thing very clearly defies physics.

You've been around here for a while however, and as such, you know better than to question the logistics of this location. The how and why of this reality is irrelevant. Nevertheless, the sound of water cascading and dripping aimlessly is the least bit soothing to your overworked, stressed brain, so, with a quiet sigh, you glance at the flowers who have been chirping all this time- Swaying and twirling at each other as if to communicate. To think those things have teeth. That they bit you. Cursed garden indeed...

" It's beautiful in its own way, right? "

Your heart, that poor, miserable organ which has been tested thoroughly throughout this entire day, threatens to leap out your ribcage for what feels like the hundredth time.

" Geez silly, it's just me. "

Bulging eyeballs zero in on the monster sitting next to you. Grimbly... Ah yes! The one you picked, good. He's far too close, thigh brushing yours actually. How had you not noticed him before? Shortly after this initial observation, you realize you're on a bench, and a quick self-check reveals that you're wearing an entirely different get-up. In fact, you're clad in what looks to be a pastel pink Summer dress with subtle floral patterns. Huh. Well, you suppose it's better than torn, bloodied scraps?

The bat monster notes your disoriented staring and pipes up. " Ah, I hope you don't mind. It's just, you looked so bad in that trash, I found something much better for you. " Bright magenta hues almost seem to sparkle at you. " You love it, don't you? "

Yeah, sure. You love being minimally covered. Now that you think about it, he must have undressed and garbed you himself while you were out cold. Slimy fucker. Regardless, a free dress is a free dress, so you nod cautiously.

" Yay. I'm really glad, mommy! "

Fucking what now?

You give the monster a subtle side-glance. This is a grown adult. He may be small in stature but this is definitely an adult. There is no way in Heaven or Hell he's actually mistaking you for his mother, this is very clearly a "thing". A thing he's involved you in without asking. God damn it, and here you thought this one could be slightly more normal. Serves you right.

" Uhum. " Because what else are you supposed to say? That he's a creepy loser? So are the others. You can only hope that he's a less powerful creepy loser. Hell, if all he wants to do is pretend you're his "mommy" and have you pet his head, then you'll consider yourself very lucky.

Wary eyes glance around again. It's noon-ish? Indeed, between being inside, with all that ruckus and calamity, you much prefer this twisted garden. You can still hear people in the vicinity, but nowhere near the amount indoors. All the chattering, cackling and yelling was getting in your brain far before you were even handed to Morell like a tasty morsel. This... This is much better, it has saved you from a pounding headache, and your body is only somewhat sore. You must not have slept on this bench.

Hold on.

You're in the garden. And what a large garden it is- But that's hardly the point! What matters is that, if you can get this one off your hairs, you could maybe try to find a way out of here. After all, if you're fast enough, clever and quiet like a mouse, would it truly be impossible to just leave? There has to be an exit. Somewhere. For all intents and purposes, this is the closest you've been to freedom ever since being dumped here by the Icon of carnality. Yes... Good.

A small weight on top of your right hand jolts you. You didn't even realize you had them fisted around the hems of your dress until he gently grasped one. Forcing a deep breath out of your lungs, you meet his big, rounded eyes.

" I know your day has been tough so far. How are you feeling now? "

That calm breath was fruitless, for those words alone instill insurmountable tension within you. How dare he? How are you feeling?! Fucking hopeless, how about that! Tarnished. Frightened. Panicked. You want out. You just want out. You want to go home, you want to see your family and you want to pretend that none of this happened. That you weren't picked to be some appetizer, some distraction brought on by a demonlord.

Tears slide down your cheeks faster than you realize you're crying.

" Oh. Oh no, please don't cry mommy, I didn't mean to- I promise! "

Grimbly scoots even closer, smaller, four-fingered hands reaching for your cheeks and softly wiping away the waterworks. Although you freeze, expecting some sort of catch behind the act, he only spares you a soft smile. Before sitting sideways on your lap that is. Ugh.

" It's okay, you don't need to cry anymore. You have me now, after all. " The bat half-jokes, earning only a sniffle in return as you try to gather your bearings.

Shaky hands hover, having nowhere to poise, until the waiter rolls his bright eyes and grabs them, manually wrapping them around himself in a clumsy embrace. He's smooth, surprisingly soft. " We can talk about anything you want, okay? "

What is there to talk about, your cynical side snarks. Yet, if he's responsive to conversation, for whatever reason, then maybe you can make the most out of it.

" How many floors are there in this building? "

" It depends. " Grimbly shrugs. " Today there's extra ones, because we're kinda flooded with clients. I just hope they don't rush to the aquarium, serving there is no fun, everything's wet and slippery and I don't know how to swim. "

" Do you know how to swim, mommy? "

Your eyelid twitches. " ... Yes. "

The monster gasps. " Oh! Can you teach me someday? "

You don't even know if you'll make it past today. " Uh, sure. "

God, this is awkward.

The waiter purrs loudly, exactly like an overgrown kitten, as he dips his face into your chest, struggling with his own horns. " Thank you! " He's nuzzling, you can feel the pointed tips of those fangs dragging on your skin as he tries to shove his face on your tits. You've no doubt he picked a dress with significant cleavage for this very reason. You don't think too much of your chest, but he seems fixated on it nonetheless.

Silent, passive seconds pass. You're not too sure what you signed up for before passing out, though, thinking back on it, maybe you made the right choice? The mysterious figure in the hood was so ominous, at least this one seems way less intense. Clingy definitely, but way less intimidating.

" You're so nice... " The monster attempting to become one with your tits purrs in a saccharine tone.

" Am I? " A sort of corrosive dryness seeps from you. Your patience for games is dwindling.

" Yeah. You're not like the other ones. " Grimbly hugs you tight, sighing in a way that sounds much too infatuated while he adjusts his position on your lap, tail swatting behind his lithe figure. " You're not screaming, trying to run, or calling me names- I knew I was right when I said you were special. "

Maybe you're just too tired to do those things. Or, better yet, you know it would worsen your chances of survival. The urge to yell and flail is right around the corner, but so it the other voice asking you if you'd like to live to see another day.

" You're perfect. " He swoons, shifting his legs on your lap. " You love me already, don't you? "

Your chin is grasped, forcing you to face the hysterical-looking monster on top of you. Ah. So you were wrong. He's not any safer than the other ones, in fact, he's apparently a lot less stable. Something in the blade-thin pupils of those sweet round eyes tells you it's a horrible idea to antagonize him.

" O- Of course. " You stammer, trying to smile in a comforting way but very aware that your discomfort is shining through crystal clear. Grimbly tilts his head expectantly, and your eyelid twitches a little. " ... Sweetie. " For good measure, you give him a couple of pats on the head.

It seems you've gouged what he wanted correctly, because the waiter relaxes, leaning into the touch. " I knew it. " He lilts. It almost feels threatening.

You try to focus on the relatively calm surroundings, hearing some flapping and thumping in the distance. Not for long however, because a claw hooks onto the front of your dress and slips your tits out. You can only tense, observing the small bat hybrid excite himself with the sight of them. It certainly doesn't help that the slight breeze has your nipples rock hard like pointers. Small hands practically dart to hold your now exposed breasts, the touch greedy and self-serving more than anything. He's clearly not intending to massage you, more so rolling them for his own lurid entertainment.

A not half bad suggestion crosses your mind. What if... What if you used his own kink against him for a second? Would that work? Worth a try.

" Grimbly! " You call sternly, making the hypnotized monster blush and jump slightly. " What do you think you're doing?! Is this any way to behave? " A small part of you writhes, cringing.

" Buh- "

" But nothing. " You insist.

The smaller monster's face goes from velvet to crimson, although whether that's good or bad is up in the air. He covers his groin, expression deflating. For a moment, you almost believe he's going to come to his senses and let it die, your expectations are shifted upside down when he gives you a teary-eyed look.

" But I was so good! " His fists ball. " I didn't touch you while I was dressing you up even if I wanted to so bad! " A shiver crawls up your spine. " I'm being good for you! Aren't I? "

No. But the way the pitch in his voice rises makes you second-guess the effectiveness of pursuing this. " Mommy, why are you being so mean to me?! "

God, he's creepy.

Fine then, he wants you to play nice? Might as well get this over with.

Rolling your eyes, you shove his face between your tits, snickering at the surprised yelp he lets out, which very quickly morphs into a content murr. Those threatening pinprick points you can only guess function as fangs drag across the sensitive tissue of your breasts, and you vaguely wonder if he's going to bite at any point. Puncture into your chest. The mental image makes you shudder. His arms dart to squeeze the soft skin around himself more, and you take advantage of it by sliding a hand right down his body, to the sopping wet slit he tried to hide before.

Grimbly whimpers.

You don't know what to make of this guy.

He's definitely desperate, and even if he's got admittedly adorable looks, his attitude is invasive and abrasive. You can see through his little disguise, or maybe he's just become sloppy in his excitement, but this little fucker is toxic enough to smell. You'll have to be careful with him. For now though, you can afford being a little rougher. You deserve it even, after all that's happened to you. It's a miracle your poor body isn't sore. It should be.

With little to no hesitation, you slip two fingers into that eager hole, getting rewarded with moans that the monster tries to muffle against your skin, now merely holding onto you. The way you pump them is merciless, fingerfucking that pouch and ignoring the swollen cock begging to be freed. The bat's legs twitch, parting, his claws digging into your sides.

" Ghh- " He tries to form a sad excuse of a word, but you don't relent, getting some kicks out of torturing him this way. The sound of his slit greedily swallowing your fingers is lewd and loud.

" Mm, what was that? " You cruelly egg.

" Ngh- Mommy- "

" Yeah? " Grimbly makes another senseless noise and tries to buck into your motions. Your placid hand rises to grab him by the hip, and although you didn't expect it, you're able to keep him perfectly still. Or maybe he's letting you? You sense you have more strength over him.

" Words. " You demand.

" P- Please- Please let it out! It hurts- I need it! "

Your digits all but rip out of his hole, leaving it flexing solemnly before a short chubby cock pokes out. A smooth and slick member bobs in the air, featuring a tapered tip. He's the smallest you've seen today, but that's actually quite comforting. Just enough to make you feel good, and not have to worry about how your body is even accommodating it. Again, you're sure Vesper tampered with you in unwanted ways.

Not giving the needy waiter a moment of respite, you fist your hand around his pretty dick, pumping him fast and hard, occasionally stopping to toy with the odd tip and figuring out what feels best there. The monster atop you twitches and gasp, legs jerking while his body juggles excess sensation. But by God, if the look on his face isn't one of pure ecstasy, open-mouthed and eyes rolled, blinking with each new flare of heat.

It feels good to finally exert some sort of power over someone here. You're not foolish enough to believe you're safe, much less that you can intimidate this odd monster, but you can trick your desperate sense of control, pet it like one would a frightened animal, whisper that everything is fine- Because here you are, making the waiter choke on his own pleasured noises.

Some mean, wounded part of you wants to make Grimbly come from a harsh, merciless handjob. You want him to quiver and soak himself hopelessly, experience just a taste of the powerlessness you've been restricted to since the beginning of this cursed game, this obscene adventure born out of the depths of the Icon of Lust's debased psyche. You want to make sure he reaches that precious peak of pleasure, and then rip all touch away, see him buck like a stupid animal after your hand, cry and strangle out noises of despairing frustration as his orgasm is ruined.

For a brief instant, you stun yourself with the peculiar nature of your desires. You never once experienced a need to be so domineering and cruel... This place is sinking its filthy claws in your brain and it hasn't even been a full day yet. It's a horrifying possibility. Besides, you don't think it'd be a particularly bright idea to feed those urges.

" O-Ohn- N- Not yet! "

The waiter's ambiguous whining forces you to attention. He's thrashing a bit more, no longer the simple squirming of an overstimulated body but genuine attempts to halt things. You stop the moment he taps at your hand insistently.

Grimbly sighs, offering you a glazed smile. " I don't want to come yet, mommy. Not without you... "

Although the look he puts on is cute, you're too riled up to give him any leash, sliding him off your legs and placing him down with jarring ease. He weighs so little, it's bizarre, he definitely doesn't feel that light, and your upper body strength isn't anything to gawk at either. Huh. While he observes you vapidly, the dress is hiked up as you shift to straddle the small monster instead.

He's positively dwarfed by you, which is equal parts satisfying and arousing. The crimson burn on his cheeks agrees completely.

Although you hover tantalizingly over Grimbly's twitching cock, you don't touch or line the monster up with you, enjoying the frustrated brow crease wrinkling his otherwise smooth features. When the bat cares to look up from between plush legs, he finds you boring holes into him.

" A- Ah! " He flusters, breaking eye contact.

" What do you want? "

" Mmm... I want- " Magenta orbs flicker between the sight of your bare pussy to your eyes, begging wordlessly.

" You want? " Grabbing his member, you don't offer the bat any stimulation, even as his legs tremble and he bites his lips at the feeling of your pussy lips juuust grazing his tip.

" Please mommy! " He whines loud and high.

You actually can't contain the laugh that rips out your throat. " Please what? "

Grimbly cracks, voice acquiring a growled edge that wasn't there before. " I want your pussy! I want mommy's sweet pussy I Hhng- "

Gross. You sink onto him like an anchor.

A risky move, but fortunately, he's small enough that it went smoothly. While you blink and gasp in strong shocks of pleasure, Grimbly cries out like a needy whore, and you bet at least some people inside that blasted building heard it. Let them hear, fuck it.

He's still panting by the time dark hands hold onto your hips, throbbing inside you. Pent up little man, you doubt he'll last much longer. Drunk on the control, you can't take much more stillness, starting to ride the monster as hard as you know he wants it.

Grimbly's eyes widen and his mouth parts soundlessly, you grab the back of the bench to support yourself and grin as you fuck down onto his pretty cock, shivering at every choked out whimper he offers. What a pretty slut, maybe that's what the other ones saw when they took you. And you can't blame them for being weak to it.

The monster clips out moans with each bounce, your legs more powerful than his, jostling his lithe figure somewhat the harder you crash onto him. It's addicting, something you never thought you'd need so bad. Chasing your own pleasure becomes a secondary goal, overshadowed entirely by wanting to ruin the winged monster beneath you.

Grimbly seems entirely hypnotized by the sway of your tits, it would almost be hilarious if it didn't help make you feel so gorgeous and desired. One palm leaves the discolored bench to shove his face directly against your boobs, hearing him groan in rapture. The waiter boy gets to work fast, rolling a slick tongue around your nipple and kissing from one to the other, only ever stopping to drool and moan out what could be mindless pleas.

You don't ever slow down.

Fevered with a foreign sense of glee, Grimbly's ripped back from your now soaked tits by the horns, you dip to share a domineering kiss with him, giggling into his mouth, peeling away only to stuff two fingers between his lips. He sucks on them automatically, and your hips snap as harshly as you can when he bites down, breaking the skin. The slight bit of alarm such sudden pain causes you is shadowed by curiosity -Then realization- As you see Grimbly swallow what few rivulets of blood he can leech out of you.

Vampiric. There's something you didn't see coming.

Apparently, the view of you flushed and debased above him, paired with the flavor of your blood and the delicious clench of your cunt around him is the perfect recipe for the monster to see stars, a mangled feminine cry released past your fingers as he seizes and pistons up pointlessly, his orgasm taking hold of him by the neck. Even then, only you remain in control, deciding how hard to milk his poor cock and taking every last bit of cum as deep as possible.

You only slow down when Grimbly begins crying and begging you for a break. Even still, you'd love to continue torturing him, maybe wring a second one out of his mess of a body. You allow yourself a couple of deep, calming breaths, trying to gather your mind in the haze of unfulfilled pleasure. Gentle palms scritch at the bat's chin and cheek, earning a satisfied, adorable purr.

" Mommy y-you... " He starts, when you rise off his spent cock, wiping some of his own seed on him with no shame. " You didn't get to come. "

" I'll live. " You shrug, watching him slump. Truth be told, your legs are a little sore from being tense with need all this time, from deliberately cunt-teasing yourself, but it's better this way.

While Grimbly slumps onto the wood of the bench and catches his breath, you focus on standing up to straighten the dress, comb over your hair, make sure the bleeding stopped, cover your breasts and think.

Your limbs are free, you're clothed and he's disoriented. The surroundings are basically devoid of others, it's calm. If ever there was a golden opportunity to dash away, this would be it. Hesitating, you glance this way and that, trying to estimate how far the garden stretches, if there's anything like gates in the distance. Which would be the fastest way out for that matter? There's almost a sort of smog effect in the air. Truth be told, the more time you spend out there, the less you like it, the more you feel like you shouldn't be here at all.

Which is true, you never should have been anywhere near this fucking hellpit. But it wasn't your choice now, was it?

Lacking any sort of direction, bare feet step onto the stone pathway that you assume leads North. It's hard to tell given how late it's getting and how blurred the sky appears from here.

You don't make it past three steps.

Something coils around your wrist, yanking hard. When you lose balance, stumbling, Grimbly meets your curved form with an eerie deadpan. When had the little shit gotten up? You didn't hear a thing! Your blood freezes.

" Where do you think you're going, mommy? "

" N-Nowhere, baby boy. " You try, as clear a lie as it is.

The bat tuts. " I really thought you loved me, you know? " It's ominous that you can't tell how serious he's being right now.

In seconds, more of a blink really, you're flung onto the very same bench. It takes a couple of stunted, very slow moments, for your brain to click that- Yes, the short thing you easily lifted minutes ago did, in fact, just launch you around like you weigh less than a feather.

You knew it was too good to hope that Grimbly was nothing more than a frail-armed little pipsqueak...

You try to stand again, jolted by pain on your right arm, which took the brunt of the impact. Something can be heard rolling on the stony ground, and when you think to track the waiter, his long tail slides an object from behind that twisted fountain. A transparent spherical shape is snatched in a four-fingered hand, you can spot something alive writhing within it. Fear starts taking a hold of you.

Grimbly unscrews the container and promptly discards the top half, by the time you realize it's imperative to start running, something foreign and wet has collided with your turning body. Frantic, you find... Strings? Tubes? Worms? Oh God, that's disgusting, they're alive and squirming like tentacles, what the fuck are you even looking at?

The purple and blue-ish things sprout to action upon the first blind palping of your skin, wrapping around your upper body tightly and latching wetly onto the back of the bench, jarringly forcing you to sit. It happens so fast that all you can do is bleat in terror and shake your head. The things pulse around your arms and torso, featuring a heartbeat of their own, invasively caressing your form. Your strength is moot against them, there's very little give no matter how hard you flex.

Panic-stricken, you can only look to Grimbly for answers. He appears perfectly calm, having taken the time to clean himself while you were bound.

" See? This is what happens when I can't trust you, mommy. " He pouts. " Trust is the foundation of every good relationship, you know? "

" What- What the fuck are you doing? "

" Nothing! " The waiter perks up, trotting over to your form and placing a light kiss on your forehead. You openly glare at him. " I need you to stay right here for me while I take care of some things in the restaurant, okay? "

" Yay! I'll be right back! After all, we aren't done. " The bat winks, seeming very excited even as he zooms past you. The last thing you hear from him being no more than a rushed- " Don't miss me too much! "

It takes a long while before you realize he wants an actual answer, to which you groan and nod, furious.

A tired, drawn-out sigh flows out your lips.

How many more times will you have to be tied up in a single day? It's getting ridiculous. From present wrapping to ropes to whatever these organic constructs twined around you are. It just gets worse and worse, doesn't it?

Minutes pass. Darkness starts to creep in. You have no way of telling the time and have long since stopped trying to twist out of the tendrils. Or bite them off. You really wish you could hit your head against the wall, maybe drag the bench out with you, but it's firmly planted into the pathway.

There's nothing to do except stare longingly at the open garden, freedom taunting you like the cruel mistress it is. To think that if, maybe, if you hadn't hesitated, put thought into it, you could have been a great distance away from here already... Miserable.

You're trying to roll your shoulders against the oppressive force of the mass around you when the sound of chatter becomes louder. Footsteps, laughter, shouting. Monsters. People are exiting to the outside area of the building. Perhaps for an event? You can't tell, but it's not important.

What matters is that you can't be seen by groups right now, especially defenseless as you are. That'll be your death sentence, the final chapter of your life's book. More alert than ever before, you start squirming in earnest. Like Hell Grimbly's coming for you. You're fucked!

" Damn it! Stupid fucking things- "

Your aggravated growl rings out as you kick and jerk pointlessly, only serving to tire yourself out. Eventually, a forced sense of calmness, resignation effectively, takes hold. You slump without grace and allow the back of your head to rest on the uncomfortable metal frame supporting the wooden bench. When your eyes open, expecting to see nothing but the distorted sky's bleeding hues, two monsters stare down at you from the rooftop of the gothic infrastructure.

No... That's a monster with two heads. A winged, horned monster with paper bags covering its two heads. One of which has a hole ripped onto it, a red glow coming from within.

The fuck is that one supposed to be?

You squint. Demon? But what is he doing on the roof? In spite of the darkening surroundings, you catch glimpses of blue skin, spotted and sprinkled along his bulky body in a pattern that's not too distinct from the one on the stone paths on the ground... Oh.

Oh. It's a gargoyle. Wow. You never actually saw one of those before in your life. They're not very common. Did he... Are the bags stuck on his heads? Is he meant to have two heads?

Momentary shock set aside, it dawns on you that this monster has been curiously eyeing you for a while now. You have no idea for how long he's been staring, perched there silently like a vulture. Perhaps he's hungry, and you're starting to look like a decent appetizer to him. An easy kill. Trepidation has you gulping, though as soon as you open your mouth to try and communicate with him, ready to have to beg if need be, a grating chorus scrapes at your brain.

Another voice joins the choir of strangers conversing not too far away, this one much more obnoxious and harsh, drowning out all the others. The clicking of boots can be heard.

" Can you believe that's all they had for a starter? Absolutely disgraceful! And to think I've been hearing about this dump like it's the be all end all of recreational establishments- I've seen better entrées in the slop bucket shitheaps of Gluttony! "

Oh, there's that headache you were fearing.

" ... Yes, m'lord. "

Two figures approach faster than the rest of the crowd.

One is a towering, very pale demon with sharp facial features and a completely ridiculous attire. The cape is just the cherry on top. Nevertheless, the fact that he's accompanied by a golden-eyed imp in a dress, looking bored out of her mind, must mean he's of some relevance. You glance between the small four-horned demoness and the one ranting angrily as they settle far too close to you for comfort.

The imp takes out a cigarette from her black dress' pocket and lights it to her red lips. She can definitely see you sweating bullets, though just as clearly doesn't give half a fuck. The other one is still much too busy yapping to no one, eyes cast elsewhere.

" I'm not staying here all day, I have better things to do with my time, I'm not like those abject failures getting ruined in there- It's madness, this whole thing! I can't believe I agreed to it in the first place. Are you even listening?! "

The servant jolts, choking on her cigarette for a second as the distant haze fades from her eyes. " H-Huh? Yes, yes of course your majesty! "

Majesty... Uh oh.

You remember the gargoyle above you, checking to see if he's still there. Surprise surprise, he is. Exactly in the same spot, though a lot more tense in the vicinity of this new pair. Between this dubiously intentioned gargoyle and the guy nagging at his imp, you're not sure who to reach out to for help.

Neither option is particularly appealing.

#Grimbly oc #Cero oc #Pebble oc #yandere monster #monster smut #yandere teratophilia #terato #terat0philliac #monsterfucker #monster x reader #minors dni #not sfw

[charmwasjess]

Sifo-Dyas Wasn’t Supposed to Die: or The Worst Theory Ever 

“All the things you should have stopped, but you didn’t, and nothing will ever be right again. And the things you’ve done,” he whispered. “By the pitiless stars, the things you’ve done…” -Dooku (on Dooku), Yoda: Dark Rendezvous by Sean Stewart

Theory: Dooku killed Sifo-Dyas not because it was planned, but to stop Sidious chucking his former best friend alive into a Jedi-torturing cave to use him as a vision-powered early warning system for his prequel era plots. (A horrible detail not of my own invention, but the exact fate Yoda sees happening to Sifo-Dyas in the Clone Wars episode where he has that Sidious-created vision.)

Anyway, STRAP IN FOR MY WORST IDEA EVER. I hear you. I hear you. Oh Jess, does your Dooku apologist garbage know no limits?! But I’m not giving Dooku a pass here, even if this is a somewhat more palatable version of events than Dooku just killing Sifo-Dyas because Sidious said so, depending on your interpretation of palatable. I realize this sounds like a stretch, but I hope I have convincing-enough evidence to back up my claims and show my work. I really believe that some things which make utterly no sense in the whole Dooku Murders Sifo-Dyas to Take Over the Clone Plot story arc suddenly become actually reasonable, or at least more clear, if you look at it all through the lens of this possibility.

Killing Sifo-Dyas Makes No Sense (for anybody)

Let’s be real: Sifo-Dyas’s murder fucking sucks, and this is even by Dooku’s admittedly poor murder standards. It’s both bad and stupid; you push even lightly on the plan with logic and it falls apart. 

For some reason, instead of killing this important person who could ruin all his plans himself, Dooku hires some criminals he doesn’t even trust (apparently for good reason, as they turn around and keep evidence to blackmail him) to do the job. The logistics of this are further complicated and stupid: Sifo-Dyas isn’t even supposed to be where he ends up getting killed; he’s unexpectedly off on a different side mission from the mission he’s originally on. That would imply that this was something of a crime of opportunity, instead of something Dooku spent a long time meticulously planning - something of a relief, since Dooku would have to be trying to do a worse job at this. There’s even a civilian witness to the attack who, of course, survives. 

Miraculously, the crash does manage to kill Sifo-Dyas (perhaps the only successful part of the whole fucking plot) but then, they move his corpse, so if this is a whole “stage a believable crash death to hide the murder element and buy time for the Clone Wars plot” thing, it’s missing a pretty key component. Then they further fuck that up by forgetting to take his very distinctive lightsaber out of the crash site, definitely linking Sifo-Dyas to whatever happened there. As a cherry on top of this disastrous murder sundae, Dooku then can’t resist Jedi Funeral burning Sifo’s body, in front of a bunch of fucking witnesses no less. He probably uglycried in front of them too, but now this is just my speculation.

But even if the murder was perfectly executed, WHICH IT WASN'T, killing Sifo-Dyas creates a tangible link back to Dooku, from the physical evidence to the established association between the characters - a trail of breadcrumbs Anakin and Obi-Wan are easily able to follow back as is explored in the Clone Wars “Lost One” episode. And Dooku knows better; he used to be a Jedi who helped with Jedi death investigations, as we see in Tales. Killing Sifo-Dyas opens up a whole host of “whys” and extra attention at a time when the Sith need what happened on Kamino to stay very quiet. 

And why murder someone who is already actively working with you? Especially when Sifo-Dyas needs the clones to stay secret too? Dooku seems already to have had everything he needed in terms of access to the Kaminoans, as he’s able to successfully pull off the plan without Sifo-Dyas after his death. He’s also the one with the money, he’s got the connection to Jango; he could have easily gone behind his back. And furthermore, Sifo-Dyas trusted him - seemingly a large narrative reason for bothering to detail their long friendship and history of trying to change vision outcomes. Books like Dooku: Jedi Lost do a lot of work to establish that Sifo-Dyas could have had reason to go to Dooku in good faith and expect him to listen. 

Keeping Sifo-Dyas Alive Makes Sense (for Sidious)

This idea about the Sith Torture cave is not my random invention. Sidious uses a vision of Sifo-Dyas trapped for 12 years in a Jedi-torturing cave to fuck with Yoda – and let’s be real, probably also Dooku, who does not look like he’s having a good time in this episode. In fact, Sidious used Dooku’s blood as a ritual component to CREATE the vision. (There being enough love/bond/connection left in Dooku’s blood to use it to attack Yoda after he’s been a Sith for 12 years is probably another horrible post.) But this seems to establish the alternative cave scenario for Sifo-Dyas as something that both Sidious and Dooku have at least thought about, and are still thinking about, years after his death, and powerfully enough to weave it into a vision.

And can you imagine how interested Sidious is in Sifo-Dyas’s powers, especially if they’re offering spoiler trailers for all of his favorite plans? He is very interested in prophecy, the future, and arguably uses some of those aspects in his manipulation of Anakin. Sifo-Dyas represents both a great threat and a great opportunity to a Sith Lord whose multi-tentacle plans are endlessly convoluted, and by their very nature require multiple contingency plans. How advantageous to have someone around whose one weird power is seeing alternative possible futures?

Keeping Sifo-Dyas alive but captive removes the only other person who knows the exact details about the Clone plot while preserving something potentially very valuable to Sidious. And there’s a further positive: a problem with the whole secret weapon clone army situation is that they need to be revealed at the pivotal moment in the new war. Someone trusted needs to tell the Jedi Council about the Clone Army and convince them to use them in the crisis. Who better to do this than producing beloved, missing Master Sifo-Dyas (who ten years of torture in a Sith cave has made very cooperative and corrupted indeed) to reveal the army to the Republic? 

In Conclusion

But... Sifo-Dyas was his best friend, once, and Dooku chokes. Sentimentality, if not outright lingering love, is a flaw for Dooku as a Sith, and one he trips over repeatedly throughout his atrocities. And we can’t confuse this with actual valor. He doesn’t try to save Sifo-Dyas, only give him a less insanely brutal fate. He orders his death, and it’s a sloppy rush job for all the reasons you might expect from a sudden change of plan, and possibly, the need to kill him before Sidious figured out what he was actually doing. This might even explain him using a third party to do the job: he has plausible deniability to say “well, I ordered them to capture him, but they fucked it up.” Which of course, they did. 

Bonus Round

This theory would also explain two lingering clues we have about Sifo-Dyas’s death involving the behavior of the two guilty participants around the topic:

Dooku

Dooku is really putting the “lie” in “unreliable narrator” during this era, so it can be difficult (and perhaps foolish) to look too deeply into his reactions. But I think it’s fair to say that Dooku acts “pretty fucking weird” about Sifo-Dyas’s death.

In the Lost One episode, he makes an impassioned appeal to Obi-Wan about joining him (a favorite topic of Dooku’s), claiming that Sifo-Dyas understood what he was doing and worked with him willingly. This conversation is only taking place because they caught Dooku in the literal fucking act of covering up evidence of Sifo-Dyas’s murder. It’s not like anyone is unclear about what they’re doing here. Dooku knows. Obi-Wan and Anakin know. Dooku knows that they know. And yet, he still, seemingly genuinely, wants to tell them that Sifo-Dyas sought him out and worked with him. “Join me, just like this guy I ended up murdering” is not a great argument, and Dooku has to know that. So what is the source of his doublethink on this topic? What’s the detail he’s holding onto that’s letting him keep his elaborate palace of denial intact here?

In Tales of the Jedi, Dooku makes an unclear, brief, stammering mention of Sifo-Dyas in the list of the things he’s done for Sidious, and yet killing Yaddle outright is an obvious difficult struggle for him, and narratively shown as a clear before/after moment for Dooku’s fall. The Sith ghost version of Dooku in the Yoda comic outright calls her his first kill. (Lol, Ramil Serenno would like a word.) But you’d think murdering his former best friend who was actively working with him would be a bigger deal? There's this pattern where it almost seems as if Dooku thinks about what happened to Sifo-Dyas differently than his other kills, as if he has some reason to think what he did was less bad or more necessary, even insisting on repeating the absurd “we were working together” narrative when it really has lost relevance in light of how that ended up.

Sidious

Sidious is as onscreen physically violent to Dooku as we ever see him in non-Legends canon in the Lost One Sifo-Dyas episode. He goes into the conversation angry and ends up choking Dooku out over holocomm. If Dooku did, as we assume, exactly what Sidious wanted him to in killing Sifo-Dyas back 10-12 years ago, why does he come into that conversation so violently furious and willing to outright hurt Dooku in a way that he doesn't over other mistakes?

Bonus Bonus Round

In season 5, I suspect the reason we got Sifo-Dyas being tortured in the Sith cave in Yoda’s vision was because Clone Wars was going to make this reveal (and make it so that this was indeed Sifo-Dyas’s fate in the new canon), storyboard or animated part of it, and then decided not to and recycled the images for Yoda’s vision. My pure speculation, but it would fit with their pattern of unused/scrapped/recycled Clone Wars storylines.

*

That’s it! That’s all! You can’t get the time you spent reading this post back, but now this horrible theory lives in your head too. 

#the clone wars #sifo dyas #count dooku #star wars theories #star wars meta #text post #long post #darth sidious #star wars

[according2thelore]

Hi hi hi. I was rereading through everything that you’ve shared with the es/ls verse (bc why not!?) and I had a thought and I wanted to share bc it’s a very typical me consideration about time travel and I wanted to know if you’ve marinated on it?

So es!boys are not together yet, right? But ls!boys are. So is there an inevitable conversation between late season Dean and Sam’s about not pursuing anything with early-season boys so as to not steal first times?

Because I can kind of hear Sammy be like look Dean, we don’t know if they’re going to keep all of these memories and experiences when we send them back, we don’t know how to send them back yet and this more than anything could change everything!!

If those firsts are given up when es boys are so much younger, and then to possibly even ls version and not each other, will that fuck over the timeline?

And then finally late season Sam and Dean kind of acknowledge that it’s not even the timeline worry that makes them talk about this so much as the jealousy aspect of, these were things that were ours and Dean especially would want to guard and protect that as much possible. Though he kind of has resentment and dislike for his younger self, I don’t think he would dare steal it from him either.

And so at this point, I can see that adding like this immense extra level of tension for the ls!boys, because early season Dean especially won’t give a fuck. Maybe the only argument that would sway him is like the idea of early-season Sam, losing out on the firsts he was supposed to have?? Maybe.

So at some point, it’s like literally a boiler room ready to explode with tension between the four of them and I just like that idea a lot.

Anything like that gone through your head or have you been letting that be the problem for even further in the future boys? Lol.

hi!!!!

omg!!! our minds! the last few posts deal with this exact theme, but i haven't really laid it out. so lets roll out a blanket and lay! this! thing! out!

FOR SURE!!! because while LS!Sam&Dean are very much together, ES!Sam&Dean are not! they haven't had those experiences, they haven't had those moments or those talks or--frankly--that sex.

so while kissing dean is an everyday activity for LS!Sam, he has to consciously catch himself before he kisses ES!Dean good morning, because that poor boy is not used to that!

i actually think LS!Dean would be the first to bring this up out loud (despite his aggravation w his younger self) because he's very conscious of how protective he is of their relationship. i'm sure he just comes out and says it, a "we can't do anything with them." and while LS!Sam agrees, and has already been operating on this rule, he's still gotta throw out the hypotheticals, like maybe they won't even remember this. i knew i was in love with you when i was that young. they already know we're like this, so further damage can even be done? our existence in their lives has altered the future. if they already know this is inevitable--

and LS!Dean very firmly says, "april 19th, 2009. detroit. in that motel with all the hubcaps on the walls. that's when--that's when it happened for me. so."

and before LS!Sam can interrupt (because he absolutely is going to interrupt, holy shit?? the date?? sam remembers the night itself, but dean clearly has marked this out in a calendar in his mind.), dean keeps going, "that date is important to me, so his is going to be important to him. it's probably not going to be in 2009 anymore, given what they know now, but his sam should be the first sam he kisses. it'll...i mean, fuck. it has to be his sam."

it makes sense to me that LS!Dean's consideration of it is primarily emotional/instinctual (this first was important and it was mine), while LS!Sam's protestations are logistical/practical (we can't do this because of the implications for the future, for how this will impact the timeline of our lives). (LS!Dean can of course see the practical, and LS!Sam is NOT immune to ES!Sam watching LS!Dean w hungry, possessive eyes and getting pissed; but primarily, they rationalize differently)

and of course LS!Sam has already implicitly agreed with this, but they make an official Thing about it--no stealing firsts. kisses, fucks, hand jobs, hell, even overlong hugs. none of it.

because even speaking in terms of life events, LS!Dean is 100% sure that he WILL kill himself if he and sam are a thing when sam dies at cold oak. and now that sam thinks about it, if he and dean were together when dean was ripped apart by hellhounds, it would have ruined him beyond recovery. he would've been a shell of a person, carrion for birds.

they don't want to be the thing tipping them over the edge in any concrete way, because if ES!Sam&Dean get together now, they're together through all of it. and that has the real potential to be deadly.

you are incredibly correct about this just adding to the powder keg. because they all want each other so badly! we've established ES!Dean is a yearn machine, and even if he understands, it doesn't make it easier. he needs to be ES!Sam's first only a little more than he wants to choke on LS!Sam's dick until he passes out.

i'm sure LS!Dean has to pull ES!Dean aside like, hey, i will kiss your sam and be the first dean he touches and that's a fucking wake up call. ES!Dean understands the stakes immediately.

so we've got a pin-less grenade of tension sitting between all four of them, and none of them are going to jump on it. it'll kill all of them, or it won't go off, and those are the only two possibilities.

because knowing and wanting are two different things, and they want.

it's a constant tug-of-war of leaning too close, knowing you're doing it, and forcing yourself back. it's a sustained inhale with no exhale, just pressure in your lungs building and building and building.

and i think more than anything this is difficult for the LS!boys because they're literally looking at these younger versions of each other, versions that they loved and can't have, boys they had daydreams and nightmares and sex dreams about. and catching yourself in the reflex of doing something is harder when--finally being allowed to--loving your brother is habit.

the tension and pressure must be torture! but they're also so possessive/crazy about each other that it makes sense they want to protect the divinity/religiosity of their first moments--this is the most rational course of events, despite the fact that they're frothing at the mouth.

yours was so much more eloquently explained and written, and i agree with you 100%! this ask was awesome! i have thought about this so much!

thank you sm for marinating on this w me! we are well-seasoned, i believe. ;)

i loved this ask--thank you again! you picked up on that tension/potential immediately--in awe of your humongous brain!

kissing you on both cheeks! mwah!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #quietdiscerning

[etoilesombre]

Anybody ever think about how fucking weird this exchange is?

Flint: Oh, matter of ship business. I've noticed the berths for the vanguard are less than ideal. I'd like to have them set in here. Give the men a little more space to breathe. Dufresne: You want the vanguard to quarter in the captain's cabin? Flint: I'm not a tyrant, Mr. Dufresne. The ship belongs to all of us. This seems a way to ensure that we all benefit from it equally. Dufresne: It also seems a way to ensure that the next time someone raises a pistol towards you, well, the vanguard has a rooting interest.

ok so FIRST this does not make sense just on the face of it. Half their crew is dead, and they just moved to a MUCH bigger ship. There are other cabins around you know. But Black Sails doesn't care about things like that, it's fine, moving right along.

This man was JUST almost deposed as captain. When he was reinstated barely more than half of the crew voted for him. Sleeping in a room with a bunch of people who wanted to hang you three days ago seems... like a poor choice. Is he completely 100% sure nobody on the vanguard would have opposed him? Then why would he need to win their favor? Is he just not going to sleep? Does he think he's so intimidating no one would even try?? Because you're setting up the ideal situation for letting somebody get away with it. I get that they basically just needed a logistical excuse to have those last couple lines spoken, but I've been doing confused dog head tilt about this for like two years.

#the reality is he knows he's main character on a mission #so he's not gonna get randomly killed #but its so WEIRD #the writers are being SO conscious of themes and parallels #but there's a specific kind of common sense implications they just don't give a fuck about #black sails #lmao unrelated to anything #the only other time the phrase 'ship's business' gets used in the whole script is hennessey going to take a piss #in the previous episode #unrelated to anything #dad jokes persis throughout history #i should probably go to work

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s1e4

filed under episodes you couldn't make today and that you shouldn't have made then. not that i don't love it because I DO but whew

watercolors!

(hamster who was turned into a human boy voice) no, my life is my life, this is--

i do think we need to grapple with how dumb tutting looks out of context

that napkin full of technicolor pills would've done numbers on 2014 tumblr at least

the physical kids is as suggestive a name for that group as they deserve

the moths are real bad !!!!!

ALICE'S BROW RAISE. i'm gonna find a screenshot of it i can't let it go

that's an episode of lost in space-- star trek-- what?-- that's an episode of star trek-- fine, that's an episode of star trek

there is so much eyebrow acting in this episode actually

in my first watch i was so pro-julia the whole time because quentin hadn't become an all-time little meow meow for me yet god this was always a terrible thing for her. the fake engagement is a particularly cruel dig like... how can i torture q the most? tell him nothing that's brought him joy and purpose in the last few years was real, tell him he's being left behind, tell him people are moving forward without him, everyone else knows how to be normal but him

ohhhhhhh julia did you want to see the fireworks? did you? rookie gaslighting mistake miss wicker

laughing at you? what kind of a friend would do that? AND THEN THE SMIRK ohhhhh she and marina could have been so good together

one thing that's real? you're always a raging dick

someone in the discord said penny is leaning into it so hard and i have to agree like... they should not have done this but at least arjun gets to have fun

[whispers] hashtag agree

in 2015 singing shake it off was one of the strangest things a man on television could do but eight years later it just seems like me watching myself in my apartment any given friday night

i understand the logistics that inhibit the pairing but alice and eliot had so much potential like at LEAST platonically

okay all of the stuff above was awful of julia but actually the most awful thing was making q think he'd harm his father (and that that harm was linked to magic use! which will come back around when magic shuts off!)

penny helping by shouting at quentin as loud and aggressively as he can :-) you racist motherfucker !!!!!!

julia and marina having a sexy raspy voice-off

high-end designer cooperative magic... said while wearing her little leather bondage outfit... hitting on kady... affectionately, you melodramatic cunt

our little q :-) he knows where he would take him on a first fucking date

do we know what marina's discipline was/would've been? ik it's not like (barf) hogwarts houses or whatever but i'm curious where brakebills placed her

jesus christ i didn't remember he was gonna get a fucking lobotomy

there's a lot of eye horror in this show which is just the worst

ughhhh bad episode for julia

god eliot is so obvious right from the start it is insane... patting q's head giving him things... fuckin loverboy

poor you and your taste of honey worse than none at all :-( marina they could NEVER make me hate you

#unauthorized magicians rewatch #the magicians #text

[after-witch]

Something that makes his tail twitch when you curl up on Derek's lap while he's perusing merchandise, burying your head against his shoulder, whispering answers to whatever questions Derek throws your way.

This but after Ren has fallen for you, and Derek knows it. Sitting there, smug arrogant little fucker as you curl into his side, covered in fresh bruises and wounds and just gives Ren the nastiest little smirk. Maybe forces you down on his cock, making you choke and splutter as Ren does his announcer spiel, his cockiness growing because he definately hears Ren stumble every so slightly over his words.

I think Derek is smart enough not to push it too far, I'm assuming Ren has power, or some sway, over who gets to bid and who doesn't, and Derek doesn't want to lose his place at the auction. But he definitely does show off. 'I have what you want. Look how they bow down for me not you.'

If Ren decided to take you, it would be very sneaky, Derek would know it was him, but not be able to prove it. neither would be willing to back down, but I think Ren would win eventually only because Derek's temper would betray him, unless daddy dearest had some serious power. Ren is smart and sneaky and violent. Derek is arrogant, entitled and violent.

Ren I think would have some kind of mild fucked up romanticism in his possession and need to own you, Derek would be fueled entirely by that's mine, give it back.

It would endly badly for you in all outcomes.

'Non this is *mwah* and I feel bad for sitting on it for so long, but--

I am here for

And here's the thing... Derek is a little shit. A little punk. Fox!Ren could eat losers like him for breakfast, metaphorically and otherwise. He's not intimidated by Derek, no, no, no. He's only irritated because there's logistics to be thought of, here.

Derek is smart enough to know that this is a business, and his daddy's money--not just in buying "merch" but in spending on streams--is not something Fox wants to lose.

He's also smart enough to know not to cross certain lines. It's not some serious rivalry, in his head. Just something he does to humiliate his darling while pressing Fox's buttons a little bit. It's all in good fun, yeah?

But he's not quite intelligent enough to realize that you don't necessarily have to "cross the line" with someone like Fox to make him want to do something.

It's not a singular crossing the line that makes him start formulating a plan to get you... no no, it's little baby steps. The way you bury your head in Derek's chest when he makes lewd comments about the poor person being sold as "merch" during an auction. The way , when he watches the surveillance footage of the bidders afterward, that you bite your lip and look sorrowful and upset when someone places that highest bid on someone (how, he wonders, can you maintain any sympathy for someone else when you're stuck with Derek? You sweet, sweet thing)--all these little things that make him want to have you for himself.

He'd appreciate you more than Derek could. He'd appreciate you properly. To Derek, you're a thing. To be beaten and fucked and tormented simply because he can.

And yes, you should experience those things... but not just because he gets off on it, like Derek does with you.

You're a possession to be... cultivated. Not tossed about with no regard to what he does and says, and how you come out in the end. You're akin to some sort of finicky plant, really. With the right pruning and cutting, under his ownership, you'll blossom into the perfect pet.

#tpof

[secretmellowblog]

Anyone who thinks AI is going to “revolutionize/democratize copyright law” is a fucking idiot and just as stupid as all those people who thought NFTs would revolutionize copyright. Because no, it will not? It won’t? That’s now how any of this works? You are just lying? It’s the same argument people always made about Nfts— “currently it looks like it’s just a scummy way for Silicon Valley types and big companies to enrich themselves at the expense of everyone else, but in our distant libertarian cyber future it will somehow revolutionize/democratize the concept of ownership in some nebulous poorly defined way we haven’t figured out the logistics of yet!”

The thing is. In my opinion the biggest problem with current copyright law isn’t that it allows people to have any kind of rights over the work, or that people having some kind of rights over their work is inherently always bad. The much greater problem with current copyright law is that it is massively skewed in favor of corporations, and benefits them to an insane degree while giving very little to the people who actually create the work. The people who actually make your favorite movies and comics and games usually don’t have any rights whatsoever over their creations, and instead massive companies have complete control over them.

And that’s the whole problem with the unevenness of current copyright law. if I as an individual violate Disney’s copyright by stealing a single image owned by them, or create derivative work/fanfic based on their stuff, they can sue me. But if a big corporation steals my entire life’s work and everything I’ve ever made to shove in a algorithm and create infinite derivative copies, I can do nothing. Theft on a small scale is a crime— but theft on a massive scale is business.

OpenAI is not some leftist project about taking power away from corporations by revolutionizing ownership. it is itself a giant corporation determined to get as much value for its investors as possible. It needs to be regulated. And laws protecting individual working class artists from a massive corporation determined to use their stolen labor to make them obsolete are necessary, actually!

This is not creating a world free of copyright; it’s creating a world where only individuals are bound by whatever rules exists, and whatever pretense used to exist that we had any rights over our work whatsoever is gone, because now only corporations can own things. AI can generate an image but it cannot generate a movie, which is one of the only “products” that can’t be “generated”, so only big companies with the budgets to make larger projects will be able to generate things that can be owned.

I thought we all agreed that the idea that a libertarian world where “~we don’t need laws and regulations let the free market decide and somehow everything will work itself out-“ was utterly stupid, and there needed to be limits on corporate power?

I find it literally insane that people think it’s somehow progressive to cheer on a massive corporation attempting to get infinite power, and that working class artists who are already overworked and underpaid are ~not real leftists- for pointing out it’s wrong to cheer on corporations getting to play by their own separate rules (rules that WE are bound to but they are not), even when their technology relies on the exploited labor of the people they’re going to drive deeper into poverty.

The leftism leaves people’s bodies when you tell them that they don’t actually need a machine whose data was trained by underpaid impoverished workers in Kenya making less than $2 an hour to write free shitty fanfic for them… and that the machine doesn’t create things “withojt labor,” it creates things by finding corporates loopholes to current laws that allows them to avoid paying the people for their labor. Everything you generate with image/text generators is things that are generated by the all the free labor of the artists they didn’t pay, and all the poor people in developing countries that they exploited. It doesn’t create things without labor, it creates things by obfuscating where the labor came from.

#it’s actually very progressive and leftist to root for a massive megacorporation to use people’s stolen labor #it’s actually a daring artistic statement to create auto generated glurge using exploited Kenyan labor