#( I want him to fucking struggle with himself. I want him to struggle against factors he never anticipated before and has to adapt in ways )

[gazelessmenagerie]

No one:

me, waking up bc for some reason the heater is up and I am sweating to have to get up and crack open the window: .... The reason I focus hard on the personal struggles and inner turmoil of Broly is just because that’s how I see his character aside from the terrifying psycho he is when all hell breaks loose from him after years of what could be trauma. Yeah everyone loves his lssj form but fuck if i don’t like seeing what could possibly go on beneath the surface. What aspects could be warped or driven to be a certain way because its all he ever knew and how would it affect him when small changes are coaxed into him through repeated interactions and slowly getting used to having someone around that he legitimately becomes accustomed to.

another part of my brain: ... is this also an elaborate way to say I have no goddamn idea what to do with the lssj because in my head, he can basically obliterate just about anything? yes. yes it is. the only valid way I can see him actually getting into trouble outside of powerful transformations by capable individuals or their own power alone is actually Himself because his Anger is so prevalent that it stresses him out without the aid of that suppression device forcing him to calm down (or having certain people in some cases that manage to have enough of a bond to him that he is capable of calming down to their efforts or ways they employ). Honestly, what sort of after effects could happen to him being used to this device and the feelings it forced upon and then suddenly getting his freedom away from it? The bastard’s more intelligent than he lets on and its evident through watching him fight with what could very well just be ambush tactics and throwing his weight around as what he probably learned from growing up watching other predatory animals as he grew into power.

The Heehoo part of my brain: ... Him being a fucking psycho is hot but lmfao I don’t think I can use it much outside of plotted threads or drabbles. I blame some artists for capturing that side of him so well in illustrative mediums and I hope to one day get to that level but in a literary sense (along with artistic but that’s already a bit of a work in progress)

My body: can the cold air get in here faster? sweating up a damn storm from the heater being too high.

#|| Character Study: {Broly} #( and then I look on twitter and realize... wrow #( glad I'm not interested in any db discourse bc gd. the amount of people I'd need to block would be staggering. ) #( I just throw some choice pieces of art I do and call it a day. read some of the nice comments and fade back to here ) #( where I can splurge my ideas and wants with this fucking asshole villain and flourish. ) #( love it when he finally gets some better things but also love it when he becomes deranged and a damned menace ) #( adfljg idk. could be me overanalyzing my own muse bc I don't touch upon his viciously darker aspects as much ) #( precisely because he can fucking destroy almost anyone in an actual fight up until they surpass his lssj and then ) #( he'd eventually break his own power ceiling in attaining even higher forms. ) #( BUT. that isn't to say all forms are available to him and others require a monumentous amount of work from him ) #( on the personal growth level to actually be acheivable in the first place. ) #( I want him to fucking struggle with himself. I want him to struggle against factors he never anticipated before and has to adapt in ways ) #( beyond his instinctual habit of getting fucking pissed off. ) #( and in the same token. seeing how destructive it becomes not only to the environment/battle but to himself is just another ) #( facet I enjoy exploring and I kinda lowkey wish the actual show or maybe some medium of media could tap into that ) #( than make him just the secret boss again or like an add-in for something. idk afnlsdgj ) #( I love the fucking nuggets I get from such smaller pieces like him getting amnesiac and actually being a bit better. ) #( to how much of a drastic change of mind he gets talking to him in xenoverse and picking apart his dialogue in a ) #( constant state of lssj vs what his actual personality might be when he's in base form. ) #( still an asshole but at least he could be reasoned with a little more... or he just flat out kills you bc he fucking can and its funny ) #( the thoughts I have about this asshole are many and I only wish I could write them down and explore them without being limited to ) #( time. motivation and availability on myself and others adsnflgj ) #( thx for coming to my morning ted talk alfahsldhgkdjslgj )

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + LET ME MELT INTO YOU

— ꒰ including ꒱ — heizou, pantalone, childe, alhaitham, xiao x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, kinda soft but also not ??

— ꒰ HEIZOU ꒱

heizou loved watching you like this, severely struggling to keep your emotions contained while holding yourself against the sheets with pretty tears covering each corner of your eyes.

at any different occasion he would've been in midst of the process of fucking you roughly, but tonight, he was greedy, heizou simply took a contrasting approach to the somewhat of a brat reminding behavior you set forth today.

don't get this wrong though, other times he adored whenever you bite back, it embarrassingly turned his loins on fire when he could clearly discern that you indeed tested him right now, enthusiastically waiting for a response from him.

it's never easy with him and ultimately the little game would finish in heizou triumphing over you, frankly, it didn't matter how much you went through the process of messing with his mind, he'd truthfully have you figured out from the very beginning.

it became a habit now, to watch you squirm, you'd regret you ever thought to have a single chance against him in the first place.

"h-heizou." your attempt to stop his rough touch on you ultimately failed as you lightly curved your back off the mattress when his length was remotely massaging over your soaked folds.

"hm?" it was pretty fucking clear that, like this, you're going to lose your damn mind, "it's too much!"

he gave you not a single chance to voice any rebuttal or apologize for being a little brat, leaving himself completely sheathed right in between the squishy flesh but not once coming close to your hole, to that one place you longed for him the utmost.

"oh!" you could distinguish the insincerity in his tone from a mile away. "i do apologize, dear."

your confused look quickly flashed before him when he playfully patted his cock head on your pussy, bathing in your whines.

they turned him on, the more you had exhaled them gravelly, more so in a shaking timbre, he could notice himself throb on your folds, "i wasn't able to note anything important from your mindless blabbering."

at his words, you felt the raw drag of his rough length again, almost torturous and messy, graciously rubbing it on your delicate flesh while simultaneously smearing the filth over your puffy clit to have you coated with both his pre and your slick.

the next shaking moan you heavily heaved went straight to his groin, "please, i'm sorry!" it didn't help that your body was jolting from the overstimulating factor of his precise targeting, that your eyes had grown glassy and low lidded, your lips swollen from the numerous amounts of times you bit down to muffle your noises.

heizou wondered if it was time to give you what you want, lazily grinding himself over your wet pussy before slowly lowering his head to chase your lips, indulging in your sweet cries, "do you think you'll be good now?"

— ꒰ PANTALONE ꒱

you spread your thighs for pantalone, a little more, while your fingers were playing with your entrance and putting on a show.

jaw slacked, you gently rubbed your middle finger over your hole, yet despite that still fending your gaze from him, being far too ashamed to see pantalone stare at you so intently, so, menacing almost.

"add a finger." he commands, it wasn't a question, it was something he required for you to do .. kind of, belittling, but you regardless do as he said.

with one hand you had yourself propped up and stabilized your entire weight on it while you naturally let the first finger be sucked in, only to the first knuckle with the slight split of your cunt being barely perceivable.

a slight relief washed over your skin as you felt your body heat grow, lightly pumping the finger in and out, "how does it feel?" pantalone's voice was low, tranquil and immensely controlling, "tell me everything."

while you pleasured yourself he slowly got rid of his pants, the jingle of his belt echoing through the room.

he was pulling them down entirely and quickly discarding of them with his boxers heavily outlining the big tent.

he beckoned you to move back to the headboard of the bed while he lowered himself to the mattress, settling in between your legs, "don't stop." your mind was dwindling with anticipation, one single finger of yours was nothing in comparison to the real deal, to pantalone's cock bottoming in and out of you in his usual fast approach.

"please." you're weakly heaving, "i need you." you didn't have to tell him, pantalone had already deciphered that by the wet squelching noises a single finger was capable of making, "be good."

he's urging you, pulling down his boxers with his cock springing free, grabbing it in his palm to lazily stroke his length while spreading his pre over the slit. "be good and i'll give you what you want."

you mewled but kept going, you felt an additional layer of pleasure inflicted on you once you carefully danced your eyes over the wonderful play right in front of you, that being him fisting his cock into the little tunnel of his hand.

you rubbed yourself faster and kept going, your nipples by now standing up and entirely erected as he, in a trice, swatted your hand away to abruptly fill you with his cock.

"f-fuck, baby!" your mouth hung low with your throat drying out when he quickly lowered himself to lay flat on your body, leaving you no time to adjust to him at all.

your legs wrapped around his waist in an instant, keeping him close when you cried into his shoulder, "you see?" he notes, still relaxed despite your cunt violently clenching down on his girth, "that's what you get when you behave."

— ꒰ CHILDE ꒱

you embarrassingly hid your face in the fabric of childe's jacket when you straddled him all graciously, in his office, where at any moment someone could come burst in and catch you both.

it was in vein to be mad at ajax for it, he treasured being close to you and although his work schedule was tightly packed, there was always some space to squish in some additional time with you.

"shh." archons, his slender hands fell absolutely maddening on your thighs, more when he playfully squeezed the skin, "you don't want someone to check up on the noise you're making, hm?"

of course you wouldn't want that, but fuck, childe made it extra difficult for you today. "I-i don't!" you were a panting mess, whining for the man that was the sole reason you were in this position in the first place.

his cockhead was repeatedly nudging onto the swollen splotches of your velvety walls, it all felt lewd and disgustingly good, tremendously hot when you continued to grind down on his erected member with his guidance.

"but-" he's smirking, his pretty eyes locking down on where you were soiling his clothes.

"i don't want you to get a wrong idea." childe was suddenly pulling your head towards him with one hand, placing his lips right in front of your ear, "i love the sounds you make for me." childe was bottoming out, entirely burying his length into you, "only for me."

you squeak at the roughened pace and held onto his neck for your dear life while he took over each square of control, tearing it from your grasp.

the string of tiny whines of his names weren't able to be spotted by him as he continued to use you as his cocksleeve, his dear angel who'd always be here to warm him up, to make him sloppily cum deep inside your pussy.

he was so warm, so big and you caught yourself clenching down on him with his thrusts becoming jagged, a harsh groan through his clenched jaw being the ultimate evidence of that fact.

you struggled to keep him all in yet childe found it adorable, as he always did.

how, whenever he dragged you down so you'd swallow his complete length, you'd quickly scrunch your brows together with a couple blurred wrinkles showing themselves on your forehead.

bringing you closer to him, he selfishly pulled you back and forth, the cutest look being laced on his handsome face when his ragged breathing was lurking on your skin.

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱

alhaitham could never tear his eyes off you, his gaze open wide, observing your every muscle grow rigid at every new raw drag of his cock within your walls.

he's so heavy in you and if you were trying to describe it, which was difficult in its entirety, you'd start on how overflowing it felt, how thick and strong inside, how it accurately rubbed over your sore spots.

he leaned forward to make sure to get a clear, good look on your teary expression, "you okay?" he whispers on your lips before dragging your hips towards him to have his cock fully enveloped by you, stilling his movements.

"y-yes." although it became quite difficult to breathe for you, from the way he had flushed his body on top of yours, it still didn't stir you off your hazy euphoria. "please move!"

between the weak knocks of your hand on his broad chest and your desperate mewls, alhaitham grazed you with the sweetest smile he had available.

"whatever you say." he knows you, every nook and cranny of your sweet spots embedded in his mind and he can see it, see how he was hitting all those spots by the corrupted expression on your face.

you flinched as your body went back from relaxing to being dragged back and forth by his bare hands, your tits bouncing up and down in tandem of his precise, deep thrusts.

your throat made it more difficult for you to voice a single syllable, instead you cried out in a chorus of unclear blabbering, every sharp ram of his cock, like a dagger, pinching against your warm skin.

you didn't expect him to be able to go quicker, the pace he went for now was maddening and thrilling, his eyes were too, dragging over every little square of your body, your cute tits, your swollen lips, squished tummy and hands playing with your sore nipples.

alhaitham felt seen, not only was it his dirty thoughts being able to rush out of him, or how he turned the little fantasies he had bristling in his mind into reality today, but how comfortable he felt with you by his side, didn't matter if next to him, or like right now, under him while he was fucking you brainless.

— ꒰ XIAO ꒱

all of xiao's focus was on you and all of your focus was on him.

it's as if the world stood still in this moment, in those fleeting seconds of pure joy inflicted on each other only you mattered to him.

being intimate in its complete form was a huge deal for xiao, it felt surreal to be able to lay in bed with you, make love and melt all his frustration into your body.

he was rough when he pushed his lips on top of yours, chasing your tongue with his own and suckling on your wet muscle when he continued to hump your clothed pussy.

archons, you made him feel so so good, his voice was hushed and gritty, his hands finding both sides of your hips to keep you down on the bed, dark locks falling into his face.

you break the heated kiss to take a much needed breather, sinking your gaze to watch your wet panties outlining your squishy folds, his controlled pace and rubs only setting a new feeling in you.

no longer was the room silent, it echoed with various sounds and heavy breathing coming from both of you, xiao would most of the times prevent himself from moaning, instead humming affectionate desire towards you.

but his cock, his heavy cock was ruthless and maddening, it didn‘t matter how often you had done it before, it‘ll always leave a significant impression on your body afterwards.

"xiao— xiao!" your little whines seemed like a request, an unvoiced one, "please, i can‘t take it anymore." you emphazised your point when you lightly wiggled your hips, your clothed folds grinding up to meet the raw trail of his cock.

"not yet." he suddenly responded, his breath was fogging on your skin and arose the little hairs on the back of your neck, your sensitive pussy sobbing when xiao carefully kneaded your folds with his length, "this feels pleasant."

you didn‘t get a chance to protest nor beg him not to continue, you finally wanted him to fuck you properly, to impale you with his heavy cock instead of carrying on with his teasing— with the teasing in question not even being perceived as one by him.

the poor nerves on your lower region, tingling with sweet sensations, it was tedious and your thighs were on fire from the additional amounts of times you jerked your hips up to get into a good spot for xiao to massage you with his length.

"almost." he‘s assuring you now, in his familiar timbre muffled with a shaking exhale, placing his middle and ring finger on your burning clit to draw vicious circles on the splotch, "a-almost there."

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #heizou x reader #heizou smut #pantalone x reader #pantalone smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #al haitham x reader #al haitham smut #xiao smut #xiao x reader #childe x reader #childe smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fan fiction

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

what if Miguel's bites were aphrodasiac...?

love it!!🤭

(18+ mdni, fem!reader)

・₊✧ masterlist + taglist

- suggestive drabble below cut -

Time was always a cautious factor when with Miguel, and often, you'd have to keep your spontaneous encounters short and sweet. Between travelling the multiverse and assessing canonical threats, he always made sure to save time for you, whether that be a quick stop on the way back from another dimension or simply travelling to you during a lunch break. Whatever option was available, he chose it. He wanted to be around you all the time, so whenever he found himself missing you, he'd retreat to his office and sneak back home to see you. He knew what he was doing was risky, but he didn't care.

So now, after a long morning of correcting possible threats, all he wanted was you. To hold you, touch you, kiss you, even though he didn't trust himself not to start something he couldn't finish. Miguel knew he'd struggle to leave you afterwards, but again he didn't care— he just wanted to see your pretty face.

"Mami," Miguel calls out from the living room, closing the portal behind him. "Where are you?"

"Hi," you smile, rushing towards him with open arms. "Missed you," 

"Missed you," he grins, immediately clashing his lips with yours. "I only have a few minutes— I'm so sorry," he muffles against your lips, guiding you both to the sofa. "We had a— there was a—"

"I don't care," you murmur against him, speaking with pure need as you push Miguel onto the couch, straddling his lap. "We can talk about it later," you bribe, directing his hands to your waist as you slowly wind your hips over him. 

"Fuck—" he groans into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip. His hands are large and firm as he urgently rocks you over his hardening cock, pushing your clothed cunt down onto him. His movements are hasty and desperate as he trails rough kisses up your throat, nipping the skin between his lips. He skims his fangs over you, lightly dragging the point over your flesh, almost as if he was testing the waters— seeing how you'd react. You nod eagerly, stretching your neck to allow him more surface. He sinks his fangs into you, drawing out droplets of your blood, as he simultaneously injects you with his sweet elixir of arousal. 

"Miguel," another voice calls out, interrupting. 

"Mierda," (shit) he sighs, slumping back against the sofa. "What, Lyla?"

"We got to go," she says, her voice stern as she wildly gestures. "He came back,"

"Joder," (fuck) Miguel grunts, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'll be right back," he smiles, bruising your lips with a harsh kiss. "You can't touch yourself— you have to wait for me," he smirks, extending a scolding finger to you. "Better wait for me."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fic

[delcakoo]

i’ve just been spamming you but hear me out😭😭 the knife picture got me thinking.. ni-ki but assassin AU that’s it that’s the plot🫡🫡

-🍒

cherri ur brain!!! sorry this is bad but i wanted to do smthn for u T-T slight gore warning

11:57PM — being an assasin constantly had its ups and downs, but perhaps the most annoying factor is how competitive the underground industry really is. to be specific, your strikingly handsome yet sly nemesis that went by nishimura riki, who’s challenged you on more jobs than you could count.

oh, how he pissed you off. the amount of times he’s stolen your missions and claimed bounties for himself was astronomical — though, it wasn’t like you haven’t done the same to him on numerous ocassions, including now.

either way, it was no excuse for him to be treating you like this when people could be coming to investigate any minute.

both wrists held tightly into his larger grip, niki pushes you against the luxurious wall of the park family’s mansion, hands restrained strictly above your head. both of you breathe heavily, and you try to ignore the crimson blood staining and dripping cruelly against the assasin’s once soft face (though at this point in your career, it wasn’t the most unusual sight).

his slicked back hair — once prepared neatly for the wealthy family’s party — has started falling out of place and onto his forehead, enhancing the messed up look following the harsh glare he sends your way. “what the fuck is wrong with you.” tone as sharp as the knife he places against your throat, the taller male pins you further all while you do your best to struggle away.

“i knew you were gonna find a way to mess everything up as soon as i saw you prancing around the ballroom, pretending like you weren’t busy plotting a murder in that pretty head of yours,” he spits. “this was my mission.”

“uhuh, you say that as if you weren’t planning the exact same thing, jackass.” attempting to elbow his arm away, you both seem to forget that only a feet away lies the narcissistic rich kid that is park sunghoon, blood drooling messily against his neatly slit throat while you both wrestle in each other’s grips. “always so unprofessional, do you wanna get us both caught you fucking lunatic?”

that seems to give niki a reality check. he glances over at the lifeless body pressed against the wall, biting his plump lip before reluctantly releasing you to conceal his dagger once more.

just at that moment, knocking echoes from the bedroom door nearby along with the panicked voice of a male servant. “mr. park? this young woman has been mourning for you, may you please come assist her soon? she says it is urgent!”

you and niki share a burning stare of understanding. the motive for the case; put an end to the heartbreaking son of the park family. “how many girls do you think he’s messed with?” you murmur.

niki’s movements are clearly trained as his feet silently pace over to the bedroom window. “nearly as many jobs we’ve taken combined, i’d say.”

it was weird having such a conversation with your enemy that didn’t invole threats or piercing glares in between. you despised how in the end, niki did this for.. partially good reason just like you. growing up in a community like this, it wouldn’t exactly be simple to go try and live a normal life now anyway.

following his trail, you pull your mask back on with a pondering sigh. “we could make a good team, don’t you think?”

he freezes, one booted foot up on the windowsill. “what? you got a crush on me now or something?“

you roll your eyes. “in your dreams, it was just a suggestion, doofus.” impulsively, you shove the fellow assasin out of the way, using the grip of your gloved hand to take his spot on top of the open window.

he watches as you calmly jump off the ledge, gripping onto the mansion’s roof in preparation to flee. “if you change your mind, let me know next time. i wouldn’t mind splitting pay with a pretty boy i guess.” another blank exchange of looks, and you’re off into the night sky, leaving a now flustered boy alone in the nearly pitch black mansion.

niki wasn’t too sure if he should be more interested in your offer because of the money, or the fact that he’d be spending time killing people with his crush.

assasin niki who pretends to hate u but is secretly infatuated by ur coolness >>> 😞

#delcakoo #delcakoo requests #enhypen fics #enhypen fluff #enhypen #niki fics #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki fics #niki x reader #niki #niki imagines #niki fic #niki fluff #enhypen niki #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen timestamps #enhypen drabble #enhypen imagine #enhypen drabbles #enhypen blurbs #enhypen fic #enhypen scenarios #niki drabbles #niki scenarios #niki timestamps #nishimura riki fluff

[wutheringskies]

Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian aren't the same.

Jin Guangyao is one of the best written characters I've come across. A villian that doesnt look like one, doesnt act like one, is likeable, has strong motivations and a defined personality and extremely fun to read fanfics about. But what I dislike is the role that fanon gives him; specially his role in the story with allusions to Wei Wuxian, casting Jin Guangyao as someone similar to Wei Ying. The "poor children turned to forced villains" trope. This meta is about WHY that's NOT true.

The humiliation of his mother didn't give him the right to burn down an entire brothel. (personally, I found it satisfying but). The desire of acceptance from his father was a motivation for his crimes, not a factor that validates those crimes. Often, Jin Guangyao is treated as the counter part of Wei Wuxian. They both share only three similarities, however:

1. Both came from low backgrounds and struggled a lot in their childhoods. Meng Yao had food, but witnessed constant humiliation. Wei Ying had nothing, and then got tangled into the fucked up dynamics of the Jiangs.

2. Both were found to be much different than what people believed them to be. Wei Wuxian was supposed to be evil, hateful, a murderer who kills just to satisfy his blood thirst and need for power, a monster. Jin Guangyao was supposed to be the guy who worked hard and rose to the top, humble, kind, honest and pure of heart.

3. Both had their reputations destroyed from targeted rumor mill.

That is all.

Other than that, Jin Guangyao is NOT at all similar to Wei Wuxian by any measure. He had to do bad things because he desired power, and to gain, power in a corrupt world, you need to be even more corrupted. He killed all those who looked down upon him (not bodily harm him). He clenched his teeth and killed everyone who protested against him or questioned him. He silenced everybody before they could silence him. He isn't SOLELY responsible but he only played the cards that would bring HIM benefit, not the cards that were righteous, or good, or kind.

Wei Wuxian never desired power, was willing to give up a limb for the safety of his sect. When has he ever raised his sword or his flute if not in self defense? When has he ever attacked first and when has he ever killed an innocent? The only innocent he's most directly responsible for is Jin Zixuan and that was too, in an ambush, where he was asked to back down.

Not just that, everyone is always talking about the Nightless City massacre but never about the Burial Mounds Seige 2.0 where all of the cultivators WOULD have DIED, if not for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

If your reasoning behind justifying Jin Guangyao's actions and murders is the "intention" then you come across as hypocritical if you condemn Wei Wuxian for the Nightless City massacre, ignoring everything that led to it. His prowess in cultivation, his natural genius, and his terrifying powers that he built himself even after losing a core are not crimes that he should be punished for, but he was. Because he's supposed to be just the son of a servant. How dare he be so powerful? So many attempts on his life were made and he survived them all. So many attempts to summon his soul, and they didn't work.

Is surviving a crime? For the Jiang Cheng stans who always thrust the survivor narrative onto JC, this is a question for them. Was Wei Wuxian wrong to have survived incidents in which he was being attacked? Should he have died for doing absolutely nothing wrong, other than having a different voice? For standing against a structure that always prioritizes one being above all, being the ultimate voice that cannot be questioned?

Here I'm going to quote some parts from the ExR translation of Villanous Friends:

He Su, “What was the irresistible trend? What was stirring up trouble? Jin GuangShan wanted to establish the position of chief cultivator only to imitate the QishanWen Sect in being the only ones at the top. Do you think all the world is ignorant? You frame me like this only because I spoke the truth!”

When you really succeed, all of the world of cultivation would see the true face of the LanlingJin Sect. Do you think killing me alone would put you eternally at ease? How wrong you are! We, the TingshanHe Sect, teem with talent. From now on, we’ll unite and never surrender to you Wen-dogs of another skin!”

Sounds familiar?

After a few laughs, he continued, “Sect Leader Jin, let me ask you something else. Do you think that, because the QishanWen Sect is gone, the LanlingJin Sect has all right to replace it?”

Wei WuXian added, “Everything has to be given to you? Everyone has to listen to you? Looking at how the LanlingJin Sect does things, I almost thought that it was the QishanWen Sect’s empire all over again.”

Wei WuXian, “Did I say something wrong? Forcing living people to be bait and beating them up whenever they refused to obey—is this any different from what the QishanWen Sect does?”

These were voices that questioned the greater powers. This is what happened to these voices:

Jin Guangyao: That’s not the way to go about things, is it? The TingshanHe Sect rebelled and schemed to assassinate Sect Leader Jin with all its forces before it was caught red-handed. How could that be called without a reason?”

Flashback to Wen Chao, asking if the disciples in the Xuanwu Cave were rebelling when they protected Mianmian who was asked to be the live bait of a monster.

Also, flashback to Wei Wuxian standing up for the Wens and being called a rebel when he stood up for the Wens who were being used as live baits to strengthen the Jin.

The ones over there cried, “Brother! He’s lying! We didn’t, we didn’t!”

Flashback to Wen Ning "losing control" at Koi Tower probably due to Xue Yang's invention. But the point to be taken away is that Sect Leader He Su's younger disciples, who are harmless, are framed as murderers. A position similar to what Wei Wuxian was put into.

He Su, “Utterly nonsense! Open your eyes and fucking look! There are nine-year-old children here! Old men who can’t even walk! How could they rebel against anything?! Why would they assassinate your dad out of nowhere?!”

Funny how the evils of society comprised of old grandmas, uncles, a toddler, a doctor, a fierce corpse, and a cultivator with no status, no core, no money, no voice living in a cave with a pool of blood, digging the Burial soil to grow some potatoes.

And not those who were sitting on their thrones, reveling in riches and ordering people around.

Jin GuangYao, “Because you made a mistake and committed murder, Young Master He Su, while they refused to accept Koi Tower’s conviction of you, of course.”

"A mistake" reminds me of the incident at qionggi path. Even if Jin Zixuan hadn't died that day, they would've kept cornering Wei Wuxian until he'd have no other choice but to go on the offensive (which is what he did.)

Turns out even being sooo powerful that he could shake mountains, he eventually died.

Yet, at such a place, nobody would listen to his protests. Sitting before him were two villains who already treated him as though he were dead. What they enjoyed was precisely his dying struggle. Smiling, Jin GuangYao leaned back, waving his hand, “Hush him up, hush him up.”

"You shut them in live?"

Xue Yang turned around, curling his lips, “Wei WuXian never used live humans, but I wanna try.”

So, Xue Yang is an actual demonic cultivator who's protected by the Jins, murdered 2 entire clans and this is the third one and godness knows how many more. Absolutely very few people give actual fucks about what cultivation methods to employ. The one who really cared was perhaps, Lan Wangji.

Jin Guangyao as you can see isn't being "forced" to kill people because he's of lower birth and nobody accepts him :(

He's killing people to silence those who speak against his and his father's (and they both are one and the same entity. he's acting on his father's orders which he could've disobeyed and run away but he would lose his sect reputation and standing.)

Why does his reputation and standing mean more than the lives of all these 70 people ?

Were they trying to kill him? No.

Did they attack him first to the point he would lose his life? No.

Would they have thrown him into a whore house? No.

Let us please not compare Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao.

MXTX wants us to know what's said and told may not be right. Wei Wuxian isn't fond of the techniques that are used to confirm Jin Guangyao's demise. He's critical of how nobody else is concerned. He's unsure of what NHS's motivations are - does he now want complete power? or did his plan only extend up to his revenge? He's critical of how only yesterday people were all over this guy and today they hate him. Critical of how society works on what is favourable and not what is true.

But he's not SUPPORTIVE of Jin Guangyao. He's sympathetic to people turning onto you, but not empathetic towards Jin Guangyao. He believes Jin Guangyao to be a cruel man.

Those are two different things.

Nobody knows better than Wei Wuxian how it feels to be set up at every step:

1. Firstly he was used as a punching bag for Madam Yu and an emotional one for JC throughout his childhood

2. The Wens completely played him up, setting him as the cause of LP's fall.

3. Then, he was played by the Jins and the cultivation world until his death by validating JC's jealousy against him, by villianizing him and estranging him, by setting up the ambush, by sending JZX, by making false promises, by not checking for validity, by controlling Wen Ning, by setting up the seige parade, by getting JYL there, and finally the seige. (even after his death disrespecting his all)

4. He was brought back to the world on the revenge plans of NHS and tossed like a tennis ball from the plans of NHS and JGY. Yi City arc? children would've died -> NHS. Burial Mound seige 2.0? everyone would've died -> JGY. if LWJ wasn't with him at every step of the way, Wei Ying would've once again been in such a spot. Without any status or authority he would've gotten no help, no aid, and been villianized once more. He would've been stabbed and captured with nobody to save him. He would've made himself the bait without anybody to fight the monsters off.

Each of us have individual capacities and also, each of us have the one thing we cannot let happen:

1. Wei Ying can't let injustice prevail and sit by the side doing nothing

2. Jin Guangyao can't take in being stripped of power and being a lowlife again.

Those are two very different things. JGY made every decision he could to escape his grand fear, which was personal. I don't condemn his motivations personally cause I find them hot. Similar to how I find his character hot. Yet, he's not the hero on the opposite spectrum. He's not the lowlife who was killed because people can't handle people from lower birth statuses being on the top chairs for making decisions - but that is also true - but is not the reason behind his tragedy. Not the sole reason and also not the most important reason.

The most important reason is as it is said: he believes himself to be different and values his life over others, similar to Xue Yang. Their personalities vary greatly, yet his "true" friends were Xue Yang and Su She. (He showed glimpses of the truth and of his reality to LXC. So, he's hiding the truth and LXC doesn't wish to dig deeper anyways thus not a true friendship.) One wished to take revenge in extremely unfair shares, a clan for a finger. A clan for a son. The entire cultivation world could die but he couldn't be badmouthed or put on trial or killed. The other - Su She, wished to be recognized by those who he equally hated, despised and considered arrogant and also was jealous and envious of. So, these two traits - great desire for revenge onto everyone who's ever said anything mean about him, and the desire for power. You may argue how this developed from his childhood trauma but you can't argue that this justifies his cold blooded crimes because it doesn't. Another thing I'd like to add is that, his friendship with Lan Xichen also shows his personality; not wanting to take the messy, big path (such as showing up to your own death planning party, or planning a death party) and his relatively calm nature. Yet just like the friendship it is fragmented and fake; a composure that is stuck onto the cold, and hot brimming desire for power.

There was one character who had to kill a large number of people or would have no other option left and it wasn't Jin Guangyao. There was one character who was hated by society solely because of his background and his desire to protect people and it wasn't Jin Guangyao. There was one character who had to give up everything for what he believed in and it wasn't Jin Guangyao. There was one character who ended up being the indirect reason for the passing of loved siblings due to the unjust society.

and it wasn't Jin Guangyao.

(but there were two characters who had confirmed sex before marriage. one of them was Jin Guangyao)

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs meta #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #xue yang slaughtered 2 clans and was protected by the jins #xue yang #cultivation world bullshit #jin zixuan #wei ying #burial mounds #wen remnants #my meta #my thoughts #my essays

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Can you tell me why you like Lan Xichen, if that doesn't bother you?

I know why the fandom at large like him, but I disagree very hard with the "N°1 Wangxian shipper, best wingman, the only person in this cast that has eyes" thing they've got going on because all of this is directly contradicted by canon, and I'm just not a fan of blissfully ignorant characters that are fine with staying blind to the faults of others depending on how convenient it is for them.

I may be exaggerating a bit, but his "You were his only mistake" speech while advocating and protecting and giving the benefit of the doubt to Jin Guangyao made me a little bit salty, and the implications as to how he participated/supported the siege and Lan Wangji's punishment didn't really help.

I usually enjoy your takes and often agree with you, so I figured I'd ask, maybe you'd provide some insight in his character that I missed?

Hello anon,

I think part of this does simply come down to personally what type of person I myself am able to tolerate and want to see the potential of capability and being better. I do agree on with Wei Wuxian as he observes Lan Xichen's faith in Jin Guangyao, is that he unlike him was able to interact with memories of Nie Mingjue and the only reason he himself was able to believe that Jin Guangyao wasn't what he presented as. Lan Xichen isn't presented as a character to despise even in his ignorance which yes, is a factor of his one comfortable position, yet he is a kind simple man.

Simple kind men, are not meant to be politicians and should not be as they are easily manipulated. Yet the people that Wei Wuxian commends and listens to are simple, kind people. He understands very well where Lan Xichen himself comes from as a party close to Jin Guangyao and as an outside party to Wei Wuxian. They don't know each other, Wei Wuxian also is not a grudge holding person for slights against himself because they are wrong. Why would he himself care for what is not true? He knows who and what he is, whether it's liked by outsiders or not. He knows how to work with either reaction and is not sensitive to what is said about him, he also doesn't need others to take up that mantel in his stead, what he appreciates is those that trust in him as he is to support that.

Wei Wuxian also understands the casual misunderstandings perpetuated, some of which he did continue once he came back and hid for a time as Mo Xuanyu. He didn't think his unconscious love from when he was you g would reawaken, he WAS fucking around to disgust Lan Wangji to abandon him. He did not expect Lan Wangji to be caring and as loving as he was because the man hadn't so openly been anything like that in their youth.

Lan Xichen had the privilege of knowing this about Lan Wangji, hence his protectiveness and assumptions. While Wei Wuxian did not. It's a case of great misunderstanding on part of what Lan Xichen knew against what Wei Wuxian knows. As the audience we DO have a greater privilege than either of them because we get insights into both's actions and thoughts the other has no idea of. They are outside observers of the other.

Do I think Lan Xichen held a grudge towards Wei Wuxian either? No, but he was weary of Wei Wuxian's intentions to his brother given the outside view he had of them. Subconsciously yes we see that Wei Wuxian greatly loves Lan Wangji, but that is not apparent for Lan Xichen given the history he had seen. He had at one point thought a friendship with Wei Wuxian would be good for Lan Wangji who didn't ever seek companions, yet the only thing he was seeing and told was the hurt and struggle Lan Wangji struggled with. He had no investment or friendship with Wei Wuxian to think of other context.

Wei Wuxian also gets this, it is why he is terrified of the potential hurt Lan Wangji had been put through unintentionally because of himself and the assumptions of outsiders as well that influenced both of their hesitance to be open of their growing feelings, trust and love.

We all want to think of the best in those close to us. Wei Wuxian understands how that becomes so natural to the point of blinding yourself to the worst. It is what he did when it came to Jiang Cheng who continued to escalate his hate and actions towards Wei Wuxian who gave Jiang Cheng the benefit of doubt until he no longer could. And it is what Lan Xichen is faced with when it comes to the whole of Jin Guangyao's crimes exposed. Wei Wuxian was the perpetual stain and hurt for Jiang Cheng and did take the blame Jiang Cheng put upon him while reasoning with himself that Jiang Cheng had such a right and what good would it do for him to complain.

Lan Xichen trapped himself in the blindness of wanting Jin Guangyao to be reasonable in his choices in a very unfair world that condemned his class. He did know that Lan Wangji loved Wei Wuxian, he was weary of that love due to not knowing the whole. And why at the end he is disgusted, horrified, hurt in his own self snd yes embarrassed with his stubborn assumptions and blindness. He is not proud of that and what he is torn up over at the end. It's not the great tragic friendship he supposedly lost, it is his own stubbornness and ignorance he let overcome him and what he allowed to go on for too long. He is forced to see his one sided idea of Wei Wuxian was wrong, he has no hate over that, he to a point had seen Wei Wuxian as an influence for Lan Wangji to open up, yet lost his own faith in that due to his assumed biases.

He to a fault is coddling to the point of it being offensively infantilizing to Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian understands the why of this and also is completely logical in understanding as to why Lan Xixchen thinks as such. He thinks Lan Xichen is a good man, because he is, whether we the audience like it or not in the logic of their world Wei Wuxian understands the mechanism of Lan Wangji's punishment as well and the cruelty it was for the society they are stuck in that is slow to change. Simple kind men are not made to be in a world of intricacy and conspiracy because it is more complicated than they know. Good intentions and offer of protection is dangerous when you have not been exposed to cruelty that can personally hurt you and take advantage of you when you are ignorant to the extent of the backlash.

I think this is also why Wei Wuxian in the end does respect Lan Xichen he had been there as well. He can't condemn something that he had been a part of at one point and had been taken advantage himself by multiple others.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #wei wuxian #also wei Wuxian doesn't want sanctimonious speeches in defense of himself #he would like support nothing more than knowing someone else understands him #he doesn't crave the world to want him #only those that are able to and want to understand him effortlessly

[fruitybashir]

it's been 3 minutes since i read the last chapter and i just wanna ask how are our boys doing right now? will they eventually tell kris' parents that they were fake-dating but are together now? was the first officially-in-a-relationship sex good? how long has bojan been in love with kris? did he realize it during their whole friends-with-benefits thing or earlier?

okay okay okay lets get into it

1. how are they doing right now? well timeline wise, currently they are suffering. but right after the end of the fic? doing fantastic. im imagining since its a friday, kris takes another sick day and bojan skips his classes just bc fuck that, and they just went through a lot and finally have each other again and theyre both not willing to let the other out of their sight again for even just a second. kiki has probably noticed kris has not been doing so well lately, so he gladly covers kris' shift. they're gonna just lie in bed a little bit, answer texts from the other guys making sure the others know theyre doing fine, and then they take jans advice and fuck like rabbits.

on saturday they go to band practice together again and maybe just bc kris is a little shit hes gonna go "yeah the song was nice but the guitar could use some improvement" and maybe thats when they start working a third guitar into songs instead of just kris taking over bojans parts? who knows?

2. will they tell kris' parents that theyre fake-dating but together now? i think kris would want to keep that one a secret, mainly bc he knows theyre never gonna let him live it down and maks definitely wont, but he (very begrudgingly) does tell them. and they have a good laugh about it. for all eternity. bc i think miha and chantal are the kind of people who would find that shit hilaaaaaarious and bring it up all the time, they think its very very funny

and they also obv love bojan and are very glad to have him properly in their family now <3

3. was the first in-relarionship sex good? it was the fucking best. they didnt have to hold back anymore and enough "i love you"s were said to fill a book with it and then some. it was incredible.

4. how long has bojan been in love with kris? god i wish i knew. i just write the guy, i dont know what the fuck is going on inside his head. i think hes had a mild crush on kris for a while, over the last few years, not very deep or meaningful, mostly when kris picked up jan or smthn bojan would go "damn hes handsome" but that was the extent of it - also bc he was still struggling with his sexuality then.

i think over the holidate timeline .. hm. i imagine that crush skyrocketed when kris just slammed him against the wall that one night and then proceeded to give him the best head hes ever had lol. and i think he definitely acknowledged it as a crush then and it slowly developed into more. i think he maybe realised he was in love shortly after kris stayed with him when he was sick? the major factors there being that kris didnt just take care of him, but actually cared for him. he didnt just drop off some meds and left, he actually took the time to stay with bojan, took a sick day just to be with him, cooked for him, made sure he ate and drank enough, kept him company, everything. thats already an admission of love if you ask me. (both platonically or romantically) but that really did a number on bojan.

i even think bojan let himself admit that it was love pretty early on, but always had the safety layer of "we're just doing this for fun, so its okay if im in love with him bc the "only" consequence is having my own heart broken lol" but then when kris wrote him dopamin and bojan realised this could all be real, suddenly there were more potential consequences to deal with and well you read the last chapter lol

#well this got a little long. oops #i was thinking of doing that 'directors note' thing thats been going around btw? if anyone is interested in that? #now that the whole fic is finished like if anyone is still curious about specific scenes or has questions etc etc #inbox #anonymous #lore

[badgerbl00d]

aot trios as college stereotypes pt.1

☆ characters: tutor!armin x reader, roomate!eren x reader, frat boy!jean x reader

☆ up next: reuniting with one piece boys after a long time apart

☆ summary: literally just smut

☆ 18+, mdni

armin 

(1.3k)

 “Okay.. let’s try number three again.” 

You sighed, and turned towards Armin, crossing your arms in evident frustration. 

“Break? Please?” Your lips were pouted and cheeks dusted pink in frustration.

Armin felt himself getting hard again. He knew he had to keep this professional. 

He was a tutor after all. Employed by the university to help failing students. He was trying. But it was getting more and more difficult with every study session. Your skirts got shorter and shorter and shirts cut lower and lower. He stared at how your clothes stuck to your curves and how you swayed when you walked. 

“Sure,” he said, “Break.” Giving you a small smile. 

Neither of you moved at first, his hand stayed on your shoulder. 

It was a quiet night. No particularly loud frat parties or football games. There was a window in Armin’s room and you could see a lot of the campus. It was dark outside and cool in the room. The light hum of the air conditioner ran in the background. And the buzz of his desk lamp cast a golden hue on the sides of your faces. Armin looked at your face. Your lips were pink, and round. The slight pout you wore on your face was adorable, and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It was getting late and the homework had been harder than either of you had expected.

You liked your influence on him. Watching how, as long as you asked nicely, he would always give in to what you wanted. Usually you’d beg for a short break and go to the library café for a latte, or peruse the different aisles of books with him. But there was always some kind of distracting factor that prevented you from being alone together. 

Tonight it was only you. 

You softly nibbled on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say. 

“Armi-”

“Y/n-”

“Oh sorry, go ahead.”

“No, that’s okay,” Armin insists that you go first.

“Well, I- it’s embarrassing.” 

“Try me.”

A furious blush painted your face and you could no longer stand to make eye contact with your tutor.  

You didn’t know what to say.

Telling him ‘I’m horny and I get wet when you say my name’ didn’t seem like the best course of action.

“Y/n?”

You shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

Slowly, you reached a hand out to him.

He always dressed very neatly. Today’s outfit was a white button down and fitted dress pants.

Tentatively, you took a button between your fingers and toyed with it, batting your lashes to look up at him.

“I just,” you watched a blush start to spread across his face, and blinked your eyes downward to look between his thighs.

The welcoming sight of a hard bulge in his pants urged you to continue.

“I just really, really like you. I think you’re so smart and… and handsome, and-”

Armin wrapped an arm around you, lifting you out of your chair and onto his lap, before pressing an eager kiss to your mouth.

His lips were soft and he slipped his tongue between your teeth, lightly moaning into your mouth.

Of course, Armin knew exactly what you wanted. Walking into his dorm room with the shortest skirt he’d ever seen, pouting at him whenever you got frustrated, sneaking looks at him when you thought he wasn’t aware.

He pressed his mouth into yours, and sat you on top of his bulge, before sliding a finger down to your panties.

“Mmf- pleashe,” you pleaded, your words muffled as he kissed you.

He slid a long finger under the band of your panties, which were now visibly wet, a dark spot spreading over the light pink fabric. 

The smooth pad of his finger gave your clit a few swipes, before he reached down further to spread your slickness across your clit, granting him more friction.

Wet sounds filled the room and you moaned against his shoulders, struggling to sit up straight.

“Wan’ fu-fuck you,” you whined, grinding your wet panties against him.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Armin carried you to the bed, lying you on your back.

He unbuttoned his pants, throwing them to the side.

He was bigger than you’d expected, you could clearly see the outline of his dick against the thin fabric of his boxers and felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of trying to take him.

He pulled his cock out, it had a thick vein running up the underside of it. His hair was neatly trimmed and even though he wasn’t thick he was long.

His tip was flushed pink and pre-cum dribbled out of it. 

Your mouth salivated at the sight and you squirmed your hips up towards him in a pathetic display of need.

You both let out soft moans as he dragged the head of his dick up and down your sticky slit, long strands of your slick sticking to him each time he pulled away.

“‘Min p-please,” you whined, desperate to feel him inside you.

“So wet,” he purred, “Tell me if it hurts okay?”

Armin tentatively pushed the head in, earning soft moans from your pretty little mouth that left his cock throbbing inside you.

Slowly, he started fucking you, your cunt stretching to his length.

“You’re so tight,” he said, almost wincing. 

You started moving your own hips to meet his strokes halfway, mewing each time he was buried in you completely, feeling him rub against your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Wanted you to, mm, fuck me f-for so long,” you breathed, already feeling tension sart to build in your lower stomach.

Armin brought a hand to your pussy and rubbed soft circles on your puffy clit, now throbbing with pleasure.

Your whines were more frequent now, and you could feel your cunt clenching around him as he started to bury his cock deeper into you.

“Ah, s-so good baby, you feel so good,” Armin moaned, bringing his lips down to meet yours. 

Pretty moans spilled from your lips, and into his mouth.

His soft tongue slipped between your lips, further muffling your whines.

You were both getting close.

Completely cock drunk you mewled into the kiss, and spit dribbled out of your mouth.

Your nails were digging into Armin’s back and he groaned in satisfaction at the sharp pain.

He was fucking you at a relentless pace, and your legs were starting you shake.

“Close, baby,” he mumbled, “‘m close.”

“G-gonna cum,” you cried, feeling his tip kiss your g-spot with every movement of his hips.

“Please cum for me baby, please,” Armin panted into your mouth, kissing you between words.

The perverted sounds of your wet pussy getting pounded filled the room, mixing with the sounds of both of your whiny moans and cries, as you neared orgasm.

“A-armin, don’t stop,” you begged, the coil in your stomach tightening.

He licked his fingers and rubbed your clit impossibly fast.

“Mmf, ah, cumming baby.”

A relieving sensation flooded your body and you arched your back as waves of pleasure coursed through you, leaving your entire cunt aching and pulsing around him.

Armin’s breath hitched, and he gripped the sheets harder as he reached his peak.

“C-cumming, cumming,” he pushed his cock impossibly deep inside you, drawing cries from your throat .

“You feel so good, baby, I’m gonna fill you up,” he panted into your mouth, leaving wet kisses.

Hot, thick pumps of cum poured into your pussy, leaking warm liquid onto Armin’s sheets. 

He’d fucked you completely stupid, your pretty little head could only think of Armin. 

He pulled out, pressing soft kisses across your chest and up your neck.

“Shower?” he asked, brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face.

You nodded, too tired to verbally respond.

Armin chuckled at your half-assed response, “Tired, baby?” 

You nodded again, this time feeling your eyes start to flutter closed.

You were exhausted from all the homework, and his bed was so comfy.

“Stay the night,” you heard him say.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. 

“I’ll walk you to class tomorrow.” 

eren

(1.5k)

You were hot. Really, really hot.

Eren knew it, you knew it, and your boyfriend knew it.

The short shorts around the house, the panties laying around, the innocent looks you gave Eren when he’d talk to you. You were driving him insane.

Between him and his roommate, your roommate definitely deserved you. But that wasn’t Eren’s problem. He didn’t need to deserve you. Because he simply wanted you.

In his mind, that was reason enough that he should have you.

So when he heard  of your suspicion that you were getting cheated on he used it to his full advantage.

It was around one in the morning when he heard you get up and walk towards the bathroom. He quietly made his way towards you, planning to ‘accidentally’ bump into you when you walked out. 

But after hearing soft sniffles come from behind the door, he got a different idea.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hey, sweetheart, I really need to piss.”

“Go away, Eren,” you sniffled, “Please.”

The door swung open and you wiped your face on the back of your sweater sleeves. 

Eren walked in and you tried to make your way back to your room but he was standing at the door, with his arms up on the door frame.

“It’s pretty late, no? You should go back to bed. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

You fought back tears, not eager at all to cry in front of Eren. You knew he could be an asshole and you really weren’t close enough to feel comfortable venting to him. 

After all it was just a lingering suspicion, a small doubt-

“Oh I see. 

Looks like you finally caught him, hm?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Tears started flooding out of your eyes, and you pressed a towel to your mouth to try and stifle the sobs not wanting to wake your boyfriend.

You’d had a sick feeling about it for a while now. Text messages late at night, checking his phone at angles that hid his screen from you, emotionally withdrawing. In reality, you’d known for weeks. 

But you hadn’t exactly wanted Eren, of all people, to confirm that.

You felt his hand on your back, rubbing small circles in an unexpected effort to comfort you.

Maybe he felt bad about it.

You looked up at him in the mirror, not able to identify what emotion was on his face.

He clearly didn’t have any genuine sympathy, but he also didn’t seem happy.

“I just- I never thought that he’d.. you know.” 

“Cheat?”

You nodded, starting to softly cry again.

Maybe it was your emotional vulnerability, or maybe you were just naïve, but when Eren lifted and sat you on the bathroom counter you didn’t protest.

You sat facing him, and he stood between your thighs.

Eren used the rough pad of his thumb to wipe the tears falling from your eyes. 

He was looking at you like you were pathetic, a condescending smile painting his face. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” he mocked, “You look so pretty when you cry.”

You batted his hand away.

Eren grabbed your wrist with surprising force and pulled you closer towards him.

“See, the thing is,” he purred, “I think that you could do a lot better.

You’re wasting your own time, it’s pathetic.”

Tears slowly rolled out of your eyes. You desperately needed some kind of comfort, and Eren was being so mean. 

He took both of your wrists into one hand and grabbed your chin with the other, firmly tilting your head upward.

“I’ve heard you, at night,” he started, “He doesn’t fuck you very well does he?”

You tried to look away from him but his grip was unrelenting. As if this wasn’t humiliating enough already.

You shook your head letting a teardrop roll onto his thumb.

“Then let me give you what he can’t.”

You weakly tried to push him away from you, but he didn’t budge.

Eren laughed, taking your wrists in his hands, “C’mon, kitty, we both know you’re stronger than that.” 

He moved in closer towards you, and you let out a small breath when you felt him getting hard against you through his sweatpants. 

You didn’t respond to him, and shifted your hips into his bulge. 

“Good girl,” he purred.

Guilt pooled in your stomach, and your eyes were still glassy, but Eren was… well, Eren had always been handsome. He was tall, and his hair was thrown into a messy bun. His hands were calloused and the way that he was looking at you like you were something to eat was causing something else to pool in your panties.

He flicked his gaze down towards your shorts and slipped a long finger underneath the waistband.

“Please…” 

You looked up at him, softly grinding your hips against him, begging him to do something.

Your eyes were still wet, and your lips were red and swollen.

Eren relinquished the last bit of self control he had and pulled your shorts down.

You had on a pair of lacy white panties, brand new.

He let out a light laugh, slipping them off and stuffing them in his pocket.

He knelt down and let his face hover over you for a few seconds, mesmerized by how you dripped for him. 

He licked a long stripe from your pulsing hole to your clit, lubricating you in spit and your own wetness.

You leaned back, your back touching the cool mirror, moaning as he started licking small circles around your clit.

He stood back up, pulling his sweatpants down. 

The imprint of his dick against his boxers was… intimidating, to say the least.

He pulled the waistband down, pulling himself out.

He was big. Very big.

His tip was a dark red and had a long vein running up the underside. Precum glazed his tip and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in months.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the counter so he could line himself up with you.

He gently tapped your clit with his head a few times, drinking up how nervous you looked now that you’d seen his cock.

He guided your hands to his hips, with surprising tenderness.

Slowly, Eren lined himself up with your slit, gently pushing in.

He bit his lip as he tried to adjust himself to your tightness, his breathing getting heavier.

You mewled as he started to move. 

He was completely stretching you out. You could feel the slight burn as he bottomed out, just barely missing your cervix. 

“Feel ok, kitty?”

You nodded, slightly hesitant. He was much bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with. 

Slowly, Eren started rocking his hips. His small thrusts felt more delicious and pleasurable than you’d expected; he clearly knew what he was doing.

Soft moans poured out of your lips and Eren drank them up.

He picked up his pace, gently rubbing your clit to ease

His pace was violent and unrelenting. 

You could feel your cervix bruising from his length and drooled at the sight of a creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock.

“Too much ‘ren,” you pressed your palms to his chest, trying to get him to slow down his pace, “C-can’t take it!”

He laughed, ignoring your pathetic whines.

“If you’re gonna act like a slut, then shut the fuck up and let me fuck you like one.”

You swallowed any further complaint and let him use your body.

The bathroom filled with lewd sounds of your hips slapping together, muffled only by the desperate pants you released as Eren pounded into you. 

“G-gonna cum, ‘ren,” you whined.

He pressed his lips to yours, kissing and sucking your lips, letting his tongue slip in and out of your mouth.

“Mmf! Mm-”

Eren brought his hand to your tits, lightly brushing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You felt your stomach tightening, your nails digging into his sculpted shoulders.

He winced, and you felt his thrust start to get sloppier and his breath catch.

You pulled him in closer to you, wincing as he licked a wet stripe on your neck.

Your gummy walls fluttered against Eren, providing you both with the last bit of stimulation you needed. 

Cum flooded your pussy in thick, hot spurts. 

Eren slowly pulled out, and you both looked down to watch it spill onto the bathroom counter.

It mixed with your own and you blushed as Eren let it pool onto his finger before softly pushing it back into you.

Your breath was heavy and ragged, and Eren’s matched.

“Not bad, kitty.” 

You both heard the distant sound of a door opening.

Fuck. 

Eren winked, leaving you alone in the bathroom, the faint sound of footsteps coming from your boyfriend’s room down the hall.  

“See you in the morning.” 

jean

 (1.7k)

Jaeger: yo kirstein… party tn??

Jean turned his phone off and rolled over. 

He hadn’t slept in weeks. 

He’d had his fair share of college hookups throughout his stay at university, and a good amount of them ended messily. 

Casual affairs that lasted a month or two and ended in a broken hearted girl and indifferent boy.

Jean knew he wasn’t ready for a real relationship. That commitment didn’t suit him. 

So why was he so hung up on you?

Probably because you were the hottest girl he’d ever seen, and you didn’t give him the time of day. You had ‘more important things to be worrying about’, at least, that was what you told him. 

It had only been a few dates, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His chest tightened with every text he sent you that was left on delivered. 

That word left a pit in his stomach and kept him up at night.

You had him whipped. All he could think about was you.

It was worse when you gave him the occasional half assed flirty text back and he caught himself up in his own naivety praying for more. 

Jean: nah man, i’m good

Jeager: L

Jean made his way to the kitchen, making the now rare emergence from his room. 

“Jean!! You going to the party tonight? Eren just texted me,” his roommated wasn’t one to turn down an invitation.

“Hey, Connie. Nah man, I'm gonna stay in for the night.”

Connie shot him a look.

“Oh okay.. but,” a sly smile spread across his face, “I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be there.”

It was only 10pm and there was already nowhere to park. 

Your palms were sweaty and then 6 missed calls on your phone from a certain someone weren’t helping.

Your friend offered to drop you off so you could get in and meet you inside. 

“Thanks Sasha!”

You hopped out and made your way up the stairs.

It smelled like weed and alcohol before you’d even gotten inside, and from the looks of it there’d be plenty of both to spare. 

You grabbed a drink and made your way to the patio area.

You quickly scanned the area for any familiar faces and saw Eren. He was popular in your Intro to Ethics class. To say he was struggling would be an understatement, and a sort of acquaintance formed out of your willingness to help him.

“Hey Eren!”

“Y/n! Didn’t think I’d see you here sweetheart.” 

You slightly blushed at the nickname.

“Want a better drink than that?” He gestured towards the unopened White Claw in your hands and you nodded. 

He winked and went to grab you a drink. 

“Thanks,” you said, taking a few sips. 

Eren was easy to talk to, his friends were friendly and made you laugh while you stood with them waiting for Sasha. 

You hadn’t even noted the time passing until Sasha walked up to you complaining about how long it took to find parking.

Sasha seemed to know everyone from the group you were with and melted into the conversation with ease.

You felt a slight buzz going to your head as you got your third refill. 

The loud music and vibrant lights started to get fuzzy as your senses dulled. 

You felt like dancing and considered asking Eren.

You giggled a little bit, “Er-”

“Hey! Y/n!”

Uh-oh. 

You turned to look, and just as quickly turned back around letting out a small gasp.

“See you Tuesday,” Eren laughed, stepping back, allowing you to make your way back inside.

“H-hold on! Damn it, Jeager,” the voice said. 

You sped up slightly and made a sharp right veering towards a bathroom. 

A warm hand grabbed onto yours, turning you towards him.

“Just let me talk to you, please.” 

“Leave me alone Jean.” 

“Just listen-”

“Look, I’ve probably had too much to drink and based on the fact that you’re talking to me at all, so have you.”

“Why don’t you want to talk?” 

“Please. You don’t have thirty five other girls to talk to?”

“No,” he laughed dryly, “And even if I did, I want to talk to you.” 

Jean stepped towards you.

You looked away, trying to hide your pathetic blush from him. 

Even in your intoxicated state a persistent nagging at the back of your mind was sure to remind you that in the morning you’d regret this, but you didn’t move back. 

“Please?” he asked. 

Jean was a lot taller than you. He wrapped a large hand around your waist and your chest was snug against his sternum. 

You furrowed your brow and tried to push him off you. 

 A dry laugh escaped his throat, his fingers tightened around your waist.

Though he was usually carefree and flirty, Jean could be imposing when he wanted. He had this air of superiority around him that did him immense favors when he felt like getting something he wanted.

A taut smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at you.

You could feel your heart beating in your chest, a warm feeling spreading throughout your lower stomach area and down your thighs.

You met two months ago when you impulsively decided to let him fuck your brains out at a party. He was so much bigger than you and his hands drug you up and down against his length so easily, that you had to fight the urge to tell him you loved him mid-desperate frat party sex. 

You hadn’t wanted it to go any further than that. You knew who Jean Kirstein was, and there probably wasn’t a woman on campus who didn’t. 

He’d left girl after girl broken hearted. 

But he asked you so sweetly on a date that you couldn’t say no.

Common sense snapped in after date number four and you came to your senses, cutting it off with him.

You’d prided yourself in how well you had resisted the urge to ask him for more. It felt like you were doing the impossible everytime you ignored one of his texts.

But now, finding yourself sandwiched between a wall and his chest, you weren’t sure you’d do too well. 

“I miss you, princess,” he said, with a revolting sincerity, “I thought we had something good.”

You bit your lip, hoping to stop yourself from saying anything you’ll regret tomorrow morning.

A suffocating pause fills the space between the two of you.

“We went on three dates,” you said, looking at him, “And it’s not like I’m stupid. I know your reputation.”

Jean scoffed. 

“Know it? Baby, you contributed to it. Or have we forgotten how we met, hm?”

You kept quiet. 

He was right. You couldn’t exactly judge him for something you helped accomplish. 

“I definitely haven’t forgotten,” you said, feeling a sudden burst of confidence swell in your chest, though it may have been desire, “I think about it all the time.”

Jean perked up at this.

“Seriously?”

You smirked at him, placing your hand over his and guiding him towards your chest,

“Find out.” 

Jean pushed you against the wall, his lips roughly smashing against yours.

Fervent desperation danced on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth, his hands winding down your body, grabbing harshly at the fat of your ass.

You whined into his mouth, reaching for the handle to the bathroom door.

The combined body weight swung the door open as the handle lowered and Jean wasted no time seating you on the sink, hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans.

You reached behind yourself to unhook your bra and helped him take his boxers off.

You hopped off the counter and knelt on the ground in front of him. 

Looking up at him, you gently took his dick in your hands and gave his pink tip a few tentative licks.

He bit down and you saw tension spread throughout his body.

A soft hand rested on the back of your head and he slowly started to guide you up and down his length.

You pouted your lips out and let spit well in your mouth, dripping down his cock as you started to suck him off.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he panted, “That’s good- really good.”

You stroked the lower half of him with your right hand, squeezing his length with just enough pressure to get him moaning.

Your mouth was wet and warm and Jean felt his mind going numb. He was finally getting what he wanted. You.

You felt the grip on the back of your head tighten and let out a soft moan against his aching dick at the slight pain from his hold on you.

“Like that, pretty?” 

You nodded.

Jean placed his other hand on the back of your head and held you in place, starting to slowly fuck your throat, sliding himself in further with every stroke.

You could feel his pubes tickling your nose as you gagged against him each time.

Tears pooled on your lower lash line and saliva was dripping from your mouth onto the floor.

Your pink panties were soaked through and you could feel the slick wetness coming from your pussy running down your thighs.

Something about Jean was so devastatingly attractive. 

His moans weren’t loud but they were frequent and breathy. 

The grip on your head started to loosen and his strokes were getting slower.

You started to move at your own pace again, using your hands to take the rest of his length.

“Gonna cum,” he winced.

You locked your lips around him, continuing to suck his tip as you felt warm pumps of cum sliding down your throat. 

His hips stuttered as you kept going and he sharply inhaled at the overstimulation.

“T-too much- too much.”

You released him with a wet pop! 

You swallowed and accepted his hand as he helped you up.

He picked you up and sat you down on the counter.

Jean leant in and pressed another kiss to your lips. You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him into you by his collar, feeling his arms wrap around your waist.

“So… about that fourth date,” you said, lightly laughing. 

Jean smiled at you, kissing your cheek. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Oh shit!”

You both started laughing.

“One second!” Jean called. 

You got your clothes back on and waited for Jean. 

“Oh, and princess?” Jean started, zipping his jeans back up.

“Hm?”

“Answer my calls next time.”

#jean x reader #eren x reader #armin x reader #jean x you #eren x you #armin x you #jean kirstein x reader #eren jeager x reader #armin arlert x reader #eren #jean #armin #eren smut #jean smut #armin smut #aot smut #snk smut #aot fluff #snk fluff #eren fluff #armin fluff #jean fluff

[st-danger]

Happy your surgery went well, Saint! And a little selfishly excited to see how completely unhinged a Saint on weed AND narcotics is. You write kinks that would usually be a hard pass for me, but I always finish them thinking “what the fuck” while simultaneously propping up a wet floor sign and calling for a cleanup on aisle me.

Do you have any unhinged thoughts to share on Dew getting rimmed to within an inch of his life?

OH I HAVE LOTS OF THOUGHTS ABOUT DEW GETTING RIMMED. Firstly...

Surgery went very well, the easiest, most positive surgical experience I've ever had (and I've had a handful of surgeries, so this was a treat). Thank you for the well wishes!

If you see this, I'm super curious as to what those kinks are? If it's stuff like piss, I think that's a kink that's layered, if that makes sense. For some people, it's the fluid itself, but the psychological aspect, whether it's release or embarrassment... kinks are interesting things to explore.

AND YEAH DEW RIMMING LET'S FUCKING GO I'M TOASTED ON THESE PAIN MEDS RIGHT NOW.

It's always been my personal headcanon that Dew loves the way it feels but it makes him feel vulnerable in a way that he struggles with, and the struggle itself is a strange turn-on, too. But I also think that varies a little with who's eating him.

Also- regardless of how good it feels, the mental anguish of it, the misery, makes him struggle to stay hard the whole time. It may feel amazing, his body might l o v e it, but it's difficult to get out of his own head. He's fine rimming others, but when it's his turn...

Swiss and Dew have a very power play heavy dynamic. The purpose of Swiss demanding Dew present himself and spread his own cheeks open for Swiss is to cause pleasure, obviously, but to really lay into the shame factor. Continue to make him feel exposed and nervous, put him in a position where he feels like he can't hide. Talk to him about it and let him know what a pretty hole he has, while Dew pushes his face into the bed to hide his blush while Swiss makes a big deal of it.

Aether, though they do play rough sometimes, Aether is the only one Dew tells he loves them regularly. He loves all of his pack mates, but him and Aether are bonded in a really unique way. And Aether will take him on his back, fold his legs up, and eat him slow and sloppy and lets Dew cry it out without calling him on it. Just a long, flat tongue lapping over, twitching against the stimulation. Licking him without worrying if Dew's cock is hard or not. Just for the sake of making him shiver and blush and beg Aether for...more? Less? It renders him a little insensate.

Rain demands Dew sit on his face for it, digging his fingers into Dew's cheeks just this side of painful, and listens to the shocked gasps while he tongues him. Rain wants to make him feel good, but he likes the overwhelm it brings Dew. Nobody is actually possessive, but it's Rain's goal to make Dew feel useless and owned by him. After all- Rain's underneath him. Dew could clamber off whenever he wants, right? Nothing's stopping him. He's shaking and scrubbing his hands over his chest and whining that Rain's mouth is too much, it feels so good but Rain, oh, he can't. He can't push his tongue in like that, he can't-

And yet.

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fic #ghost headcanons #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dew ghoul #sodo ghoul #rain ghoul #aether ghoul #aether/dew #swiss/dew #swiss/sodo #aether/sodo #rain/dew #rain/sodo #rain x dew #aether x dew #swiss x dew

[dark-elf-writes]

There’s a rage in Aizawa. He doesn’t like the fact he’d been blind for so long. That he put pieces together but didn’t get the full picture. He’d stepped in sure, made his classroom a safe space but he hadn’t noticed.

Bakugou, struggling in his bonds, is still angry. It’s not fucking fair. He’d thought, hoped, believed that Deku would realize they should be bonded again. That the red flames in Katsuki’s soul need a Sky. He’s the best. He should be bonded. Not half and half.

He tries to say this but Shouta is done. He should have been done at the assessment test but no, he’d been so damn blind for so long. He’d been busy worrying about the strange relationship of Tsuna, then about flames and watching Izuku form a similar relationship as the other group with others he’d been so stupid.

(Shouta is a Sky. No one knows this not even him. Skies don’t have Quirks. But a bored man who knew of Flames and of Quirks decided to change that. When he realized the stupid Sky took not a copy but the whole Quirk, he’d been angry. He’d sent to get the boy back. He got the boy’s Sun instead, a boy with clouds for hair.

The female Mist and the male Lightning were the only bonds Shouta had for a long time, even as Nezu’s rain prowled around him. It took Snipe’s Cloud to break through. Tensei’s Storm, always on the edge, slammed through to once the break occurred. After the man admitted to what his parents did to him and Tenya, they could finally bond.

No one knows. And Shouta cannot forgive someone who wants to take a spot he lost. Not when he fought so hard against Joke who unknowingly wanted to replace Oboro. He couldn’t let it happen.)

Oh I am feral for this.

Shouta who doesn’t understand the looks Sawada and Reborn sometimes give him. Curious, sad, full is so many questions and none of the answers he wants. Getting a straight answer out of either of them is impossible (Reborn on purpose and Sawada because he truthfully doesn’t fully understand the look himself as his intuition keeps nudging him to notice but never bothers to tell him what he’s supposed to be noticing) so he waits and listens to what they don’t say.

Sawada tipping his head to the side as he hums. “Most skies don’t have quirks. Something about how we’re made and the harmony factor is thought to be almost completely incompatible with them.”

Reborn’s lips ticking down in the shadow of his hat at Nem’s question. “It depends. Some Skies never recover from the loss of an element and lash out at anyone that tries to take their flame’s place. Others try to fill any vacancies as soon as possible.”

Squalo’s scowl and pacing as he prowls around Reborn’s classroom. How he got into the building without anyone other than presumably Nezu noticing was a mystery. “Little Boss we found more information about the bastard behind everything. They say he takes and gives quirks how the fuck is that even possible?”

The pieces he has been given nudge at him. Nudge at him more while he watches Bakugou rage against the consequences of his own actions and wonders at his own anger at Bakugou trying to force his way into Midoriya’s sky. Wonders why that bothers him nearly as much as not noticing the bullying happening right under his nose.

He does notice, later, when Midoriya and Sawada close ranks in front of him, glaring at Joke who once again tried to claim him as her own. He sees the same rage he felt at Bakugou’s repeated attempts towards Midoriya reflected back in his students even as he drags them back. He files that away to think about later. Files away Reborn’s narrowed eyed look that doesn’t leave Joke until they are back on the bus on the way back to UA as well.

#the elf talks #reborn #mha #bnha #katekyo hitman reborn #rehab class au

[belit0]

2000 Word Commission (TobiIzu, HashiIzu, MadaIzu) for Anon

Izuna in heat and the other three founders, Hashirama Tobirama and Madara all fucking him and wanting to breed him I don’t mind or care if it’s in a foursome/group sex scenario or if it’s one at a time.

In the end. it is almost 4000 thousand words, got a little carried away, so enjoy!🤗💕💫

KO-FI COMMISSIONS

Unfortunately, it is time to choose.

Izuna comes out of his meeting with the clan elders feeling dizzy, pressured, and about to start his heat, isn't this the best combination in the world? He knows he doesn't have much time left, nor are his family's expectations wrong.

Being at the perfect age, the Uchiha council believes it is time for their elite Omega to become pregnant, capitalizing on the best condition his body will ever be in to produce a flawless potential heir.

Being second in command brings both respect and demands, and he is aware of having ignored his seniors' pleas for at least a couple of years now. If his father were alive he would have forced him to marry long ago, and he considers himself fortunate to have had enough time to grow up, develop, know what he wants in life before embarking on that journey.

Aniki never forced him to choose, never would, but Izuna is no stranger to the role he must play. Should Madara be unable to produce a fit inheritor, the offspring of the second Uchiha in charge would be the ideal ones for taking care of the clan.

Three possible candidates were the ones named by the elders, Alphas he himself considered from the very moment he made his determination. Two of them would bring incomparable genes to the mix, sacred and legendary unions never before imagined before reaching peace, and the third would perpetuate the Uchiha blood for eternity, keeping the lineage pure and unaltered.

What to do?

He brings a hand to his forehead as he shuffles his feet through the corridors of the main house, feeling the temperature flush through his body. It won't be long before his instincts hit him with natural forces, and he must act fast.

Struggling for coherence and evaluating certain factors, he decides to undertake a torturous walk full of curious stares to the Hokage's tower, his first stop of the day. Climbing the stairs has never been so difficult, and he struggles to forcibly suppress his scent. Keeping his glands from releasing that sweet perfume consumes nearly all of his concentration, and he fails to notice himself colliding against a toned chest on his way up.

"Izuna! Wonderful to see you! Wow... Are you okay?" The Hokage's face quickly transmutes from a beaming smile to a worried countenance, holding the Uchiha by his forearms and bending his knees to stand face to face, assessing him closely. "You're burning up... oh darling, you should be in bed!" the Senju exclaims with concern, taking him in his arms unquestioningly and leading him into his personal office.

He closes the door and locks it behind him, carrying the stricken Izuna to a couch next to his desk. The coffee table in front of it looks cluttered with money and betting boards, but at this moment nothing could matter less to him.

Izuna knows what he must do.

Saying absolutely nothing, he stops fighting his natural instincts, easily releasing his blocked glands and feeling immediate relief at the violent passage of perfume in the room. As his body relaxes from the lack of suppression, next to him, Hashirama stiffens.

He watches carefully how his pupils dilate, how his complexion changes again in a guttural transformation, and how his posture becomes predisposed to attack. A triggered Alpha is a difficult force to stop, even more so when the one who provokes it is a fertile and in-heat Omega.

The fight the Senju exerts against his wild side is visible, and it can be assumed there is a pitched war in his brain as he tries to restrain himself. Managing impulses, for the dominant race, is simply impossible, and only those great warriors can reason with the beast living inside them.

The Senju doesn't stand a chance when Izuna boosts his scent, an intoxicating sweet and addictive fragrance acting as an aphrodisiac for any functional Alpha. It was Madara who confessed to him the terrible effect his perfume has, one of the many times his heat came unannounced during a training session with him, giving him knowledge of a lethal weapon.

Lethal in both senses, for being under a horny Alpha is highly dangerous if one does not intend to end up impregnated by the encounter. Fortunately, that is what Izuna is all about.

He runs a little secret competition, where the three participants will give the best of themselves as called by their natural, and the winner of his womb will be decided by destiny.

Hashirama is on him in less than a second, sniffing like a hungry wolf at his neck and bringing out sharp claws which act with more finesse than one would anticipate. "You smell so good, such a delicious fragrance, how am I supposed to resist the call of an Omega as beautiful as you?" the man seems to be talking to himself, totally possessed by his wild side and ignoring any kind of coherence.

He turns him over with simple movements, exposing him on his knees sooner than he estimated. The Uchiha does not fail to permeate the air with his perfume, counting on that marvelous drug to help the Senju with what he must do. The sexual tension between the two was always measurable, but one could say that about any Alpha interacting with Izuna, a flirtatious personality from birth.

He knows this Alpha desires him, he can feel his eyes scanning his form when he thinks he's not paying attention, he can read his gaze smoothly when they casually talk, he can almost hear his wild side screaming for him to fuck him right there without further ado.

He knows he is the most appropriate Omega in many ways for anyone important, and he intends to use this asset to his advantage.

His pants disappear with a tug, reduced to his bent knees, and the Senju lays him down with a gentleness unbecoming for the situation on the couch, chest against the cushions and fully presented in front of him.

"Look at this pretty hole, how dare you be so charming, little Omega?" His words make him tremble with both excitement and anger, his ass responding to every stimulation the Senju's voice offers, desperate for the dominant's validation but frustrated to bask in it, all at the same time.

"Please fuck me!" He exclaims in a mixture of need and anxiety, his body demanding that sense of completeness, his purpose being fulfilled. It takes nothing more than his aroma and pleading to set the Alpha off.

Hashirama thrusts into him slowly, using every inch of natural lubrication his hole provides and gutturally grunting at the stimulation. When the Uchiha thinks he will start to move, he grabs him with both hands by the chest and settles him on top, leaning back against the opposite end of the couch and resting on his back.

Izuna's pants remain pulled across his chest from side to side, now sagging down to his ankles and locked by his sandals. ""Ride me, pretty one." He intones in a voice both deep and soft, and that compliment sends ripples throughout his body. He follows his commands to perfection, his primal part desperate to please the Alpha beneath him, bouncing over his waist with need.

"Such a good boy, look how well you take my cock, you deserve to get properly stuffed, don't you?" His massive hands hold his hips, long claws avoiding digging into his skin and guiding him gently. Izuna assumed the Hokage would be the worst of the three, too much power inside him to be able to fight his Alpha, yet there is restraint and calm in his actions, both despairing and arousing at the same time.

"Want to be my gorgeous breeding toy?" he asks rhetorically, his hands guiding him up and down faster. There is too much stimulation, and he feels his whole body burning with pleasure and hunger, eager to be filled to the brim and satisfy the Alpha beneath his legs. "Please, yes!" he cries out between moans and heaving breaths, stroking himself off as he surrenders total control of his rhythm to Hashirama.

The Senju soon takes control, using him at will and demand just as a hole to squeeze out all the contents of his cock, holding him tighter and tighter and moving him with lust. He holds on longer than the Uchiha would have thought, estimating how a triggered Alpha can't resist the need to impregnate, to breed, but after a few good minutes of fucking he can feel that famous knot forming inside him.

A ball that grows and grows at the base of his dick, harder and harder to get inside, struggling to stay locked within his channel, making sure all his seed is buried in his belly. The Senju grunts with abandon as Izuna feels that hot liquid melt in his passage, caressing his natural desire to be full, well bred. They both finish simultaneously, and it could appear as a picturesque image ignoring the obscenity of the facts.

A good length of time elapses until his knot deflates, precious minutes Izuna uses to recompose his mind and use the brief relief allowing coherence to decide his next steps.

He disengages from the Alpha before the latter can react, knocked out by the ferocity and power of his windup, and it's the perfect time frame to fix his clothes and clench his legs, walking swiftly and carefully to his next target.

Suppressing his natural perfume again, he uses the dominant scent permeating his entire being to avoid attracting greedy eyes, disguising his heat under the scent of an unleashed Alpha to make anyone else dare not look at him.

The location of his target is a bit further away, but he manages to get there relatively quickly, using his last moments of pure lucidity before the urgency of his horniness strikes again.

He has one hand on his butt, exerting pressure, trying to keep the contents inside safe, giving the first competitor a fair chance.

The second one appears at the door of his laboratory, having detected an intruder in the guarded perimeters of the place. Izuna knows every one of his traps and protections, having taken the insufferable time to study them just to annoy him. Every time Tobirama decided to change one to throw him off, the Uchiha had already memorized the procedure to use for disabling them.

With experienced precision, he smoothly walks down the path, while the albino waits for him with crossed arms and an annoyed look on his face as usual. He wastes no time, releasing his overpowering scent and trying to win him over the same way he did with his older brother, but the Alpha aroma he carries along works against him.

" Why are you walking like a constipated duck and what is this odd combination of scents you're sporting, Uchiha?" the Hokage's brother asks disdainfully, as if the answer was of no interest to him but needing to know at the same time. He uncrosses his arms when having him inches away, and is surprised to identify the smell permeating over him as Hashirama's.

"I just fucked your brother so good I probably got myself pregnant." He confesses with a self-satisfied smile on his face, knowing that to win Tobirama over he has to appeal to his frustration, to his anger. Years of fights and confrontations provided precious information about his eternal rival, iconic ways to get to his nerves and get what he wants from him.

"Shut the fuck up." A hand reaches to close the building's door, but Izuna shoots his scent so potently that the blend between the two fragrances becomes unmistakable. He observes as the Senju sniffs the air, just like his brother, but there is confusion, indignation on his face. " Now, wait, you seriously did that?"

"Of course I did. He fucked me for hours and stuffed me full, I'm probably carrying his pup as we speak." The Uchiha enters the lab uninvited, slamming his elbow against the albino's chest and moving him out of the way. He rests his hip against one of his work tables, and turns around to look at him with satisfaction "doesn't his scent on me tell you anything? Come on, I know you're stupid but that much?"

The provocation seems to hit the right spot, perfect calculation of which buttons to push and how to generate the expected reaction. The Omega continues to release his fragrance, so intense and pure it begins to gain space in the room. Soon, the entire study area is permeated with the mingled scents, and Izuna laughs as the Senju covers his nose and growls angrily.

"Come on, Tobi, man up... what's wrong? Your brother beat you to the punch? Can't taste it because he got first? I thought the Senju clan boasted of love and closeness, maybe you're all a bunch of liars and-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" the Alpha lunges at him, right where the Uchiha needs him, and when he has him clutching his tunic with both hands and about to unleash a fist all over his face, he hits him with a surge of sweetness and spice, pheromones doing their thing to tempt the predator in front of his eyes.

It all happens with violence and passion, a mixture of roughness and excitement typical of the dynamic the two have always carried forward. The albino turns him over on his desk, making him rest his chest on the cold metal and pulling down his pants without warning. His touches are a perfect blend of sadism and need, bare claws tearing through the skin of his buttocks, opening his hole wide for a sudden penetration.

Tobirama never had great power over his Alpha, too disconnected from his feelings to restrain or reason with it, and that's exactly what Izuna appeals to. Unconsciousness, pure desire, primitive needs being satisfied amidst violence and heat. His former enemy thrusts into him without a drop of affection in between, grabbing his hips and piercing his skin with his claws.

Blood trickles down the side of his legs, but the Uchiha hisses in equal parts arousal and pain. It is the savagery with which the Senju fucks him the same one he fantasized about over and over again on the battlefield, when his anti-Alpha defenses were not yet well assembled and the dominants were able to get to him much more easily.

The number of times he imagined himself under this man, being fucked mercilessly and without hesitation, yet today his fantasy becomes reality and is even better than in his head.

" Fucking Omega, you sure need someone to put you in your place, to show you how you're just a pathetic hole for me to stuff." Words come out between grunts and strains, and despite how shattered his mind is under the Alpha's terrible onslaught on him, Izuna is amazed at how this one managed to formulate a complete sentence.

Maybe he doesn't lose as much control as he expected, maybe Tobirama is just like that.

"Dirty boy, you come crawling all the way here in heat, begging me to fuck you, disgusting." The degradation of his speech travels right down to between his legs, but as he reaches to jerk himself off in the small space between his body and the table, Tobirama takes both of his hands and positions them on his back.

He pulls his arms into an awkward position, forcing them still in an unnatural angle without being able to touch himself. The burning in his hole and the sharp pain in his extremities provide a new wave of arousal he didn't think he was capable of feeling, his own cock throbbing with the need to be stroked.

"Fuck!" he hisses into the air, more to himself than to the one working his rear, his words earning him a harder tug on his hands. He swears his arms are about to give under the pressure as he feels the now familiar sensation of that knot forming, and he knows there isn't much left.

"Yes, I'll fuck you, surrendering to my cock like a needy whore. How little respect you have for yourself to come pleading for me to breed you, hm?" The grunting and aggression goes on and on, but what he didn't expect was to feel the Senju's fangs on the back of his neck as he finishes. He pulls his ponytail out of the way, and both canines dig into his skin, tearing it again and creating a sharp point of pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

It is not a bonding mark, but one used by dominants to keep a stressed Omega calm, to relax the prey's muscles beneath their teeth, leave them soft and pliable to their liking. Izuna always considered having that point of weakness available was an abuse of nature, but the combination of his belly being filled for the second time plus the sudden quietness throughout his body knocks him out.

Everything goes black around him, and the ache in his arms and skin disappears completely. The only thing he hears before he loses consciousness is another insult from Tobirama, and a huge knot locked inside him.

His body falls apart on the workbench, muscles flabby and mind dull, completely devoted to the trust he has in his former enemy.

...

Izuna wakes up in his bed, in the safety of his home, and for a moment he believes his whole journey was a dream. That thought disappears when he tries to sit up and receives a huge call of agony on his backside, looking at his wrists and noticing claw marks all over his skin. What happened is as real as everything inside him, and a sense of anxiety and reassurance washes over him once realizing there is only one competitor left.

He lets his hair down to hide the mark Tobirama probably left there, trying to decipher if it was him who brought him here or if his older brother had found him in his lab. It wouldn't make sense, of course, since Madara went into council with the elders as soon as he left that room in the morning.

He makes an effort to get up, and as he approaches the window of the bedroom, he estimates it is probably the middle of the night. There is no news of the Senju brothers' chakra around, and he is tacitly grateful for the time he will have available to finish his mission.

"Are you going to sleep already?" That wonderfully deep voice booms against the four walls of his chamber, Madara watching him with an adorable smile as he turns around. He runs into his older brother's arms, making sure to release the scent that tells of his unrestrained state.

His Aniki knows him so well he was probably aware of his heat before he did, but the younger Uchiha intends to make sure this one understands what he needs. The elders must have had the same talk with him this morning, the same words of demand they gave Izuna, this time directed at the clan leader.

Requiring purity to be maintained in the lineage.

"You were with the Senju brothers, I see." He comments with little grace in his voice, and kisses his crown before turning his attention to his hands. "What happened here?" his tone changes, sternness in the conjugation of his words, hardness in his eyes as if scolding him.

"Training with Tobirama, you know how he gets about proving superiority." He tries to wrench his hands from his brother's grip, to pretend, but he is too observant to fall for his games. He carries him over to the bed and sits him on the mattress before leaving to fetch gauze and cleaning supplies, intending to disinfect his wounds and dress them.

Madara makes gentle work of the injured areas on his skin, delicately caressing each injury so as not to produce more pain in them. He takes his time with each one, and it is Izuna who reveals the cuts on his waist for him to treat those too.

There are doubts on his countenance when he gives the location of the attack, the symmetry of the cuts, how they are located on both sides of his hip, but the younger Uchiha quickly silences them with a smile, inviting him to sit next to him on the bed.

The clan leader wraps his arms around his brother's body, and generates a cloud of his own scent to envelop the younger Uchiha in it, silently imbuing him with his fragrance as Izuna hides in his neck, cocooned by his arms and his care.

It is the comfort of the environment and how safe he feels in Madara's presence that make him completely relax, the symptoms of his heat returning with full force as he detects a strong and capable Alpha, trustworthy, reliable. His every caress on his back makes him purr, and his natural instincts are completely revealed in front of the only dominant he can count on for absolutely everything.

Some people would think it unnatural for the Omega and the main Alpha of the family to bond with each other, but for Izuna it would be an entirely natural process beyond blood and purity, giving himself in soul and life to the one person who went through the same adversities as him, the one presence who never abandoned him, who stood by his side even in the most difficult of times.

Producing an heir for Madara would be the greatest act of love he could give him, appreciation for all his efforts and companionship, the greatest show of affection he could perform. He knows how the elders asked them both to do so, understands it is a real possibility, and indeed hopes he is the one who succeeds in impregnating him.

That's why when they both surrender to the sheets and give themselves into each other's arms, mouths entwined and claws in the air, Izuna feels complete, liberated, ready to be taken as he truly desires. His brother's touches are precise, with just the right strength and the necessary delicacy, knowing his body like a map he drew himself.

He continues to fervently release his dominant perfume, filling the room with Alpha's ecstasy and bathing him in it, inviting him to consciously erase any traces of others on himself. Not forcing him to do so, but giving him the chance to stop it, to tell him to stop, he enjoys every second of his brother choosing his scent over anyone else's.

Quick kisses and slow caresses lead to a loving encounter replete with affection, where Izuna is cherished as the most beautiful Omega in the world and praised as an ancestral god, Madara working his flesh beyond natural heat and arousal, showing him how precious he is in his eyes with pure concentrated love.

It feels totally right when he penetrates and bites his neck, extremely close to the area where Alphas mark their mates, and finds he wouldn't mind being claimed by him at all. It is his older brother with whom he ends his heat, allowing him indiscriminate access to his belly, surrendering himself to the will of his knot and the mercy of his fangs, marked over and over again by his very blood without any complaint whatsoever.

The Uchiha ends the day brimming with seed, properly bred by the three most powerful Alphas in the world, sweetly awaiting an early revelation, under the anxiety of not knowing who will be the winner of his little competition until his cub is born.

Place your bets.

#uchiha izuna x uchiha madara #izuna uchiha x madara uchiha #madaizu #tobiizu #hashiizu #madara uchiha x izuna uchiha #uchiha madara x uchiha izuna #madara x izuna #izuna x madara #tobirama senju x izuna uchiha #senju tobirama x uchiha izuna #tobirama x izuna #uchiha izuna x senju tobirama #izuna uchiha x tobirama senju #hashirama senju x izuna uchiha #senju hashirama x uchiha izuna #hashirama x izuna #izuna x hashirama #uchiha izuna x senju hashirama #izuna uchiha x hashirama senju #naruto founders #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines #naruto #izuna #uchiha izuna #izuna uchiha #uchiha clan #uchiha madara #madara uchiha

[kcyars19992]

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Always remember this part:

I want y’all(yes every single last one of you, heck even the aliens if they exist among us) to realize Tory had the opportunity to take a plea deal and serve damn there no time.

Megan lied to police to protect Tory immediately after he shot her, he slandered her in the blogs and so she decided to tell the truth to law enforcement.

The courts offered a plea deal, Tory threw it back in their face and dragged this out for years to keep the lie going and burned up his own money on legal fees and taxpayer dollars on a trial. The courts gave bail, Tory used that time to torment and harass Megan which only hurt his case and was a key factor in his heavy sentencing when the day came.

At every single turn the goodwill of the universe/God offered this man an opportunity to save himself — and he laughed at it and sabotaged it.

He could have owned up to his actions.

INSTEAD, he was so arrogant in the process bc he thought painting Megan as a liar on social media would hold up on trial. It backfired in the worst way possible.

The Tory fans, his family, even Tory himself may never publicly admit it — but he completely allowed his dangerous ego to land him in a cage for the rest of his 30s. One day he’ll have to face that.

He is the maker of his own self destruction, the creator of his own downfall, the artist of his own shortcoming, pride and ego led to where he is now.

and that’s why I don’t feel sorry for him, it’s not thoughts and prayers is sorrows sorrows prayers. It’s not prayers up but prayers down for him. He had an opportunity to not be CHARGED at ALL cuz she was willing to PROTECT his buck tooth hammer head toddler built bitch ass. She lied to protect that ungrateful piece of work, trying to prevent him from being another name , another hashtag, another life taken by the cops, another black man getting shot to death by the police or having his life choked out in a illegal chokehold as he’s screaming, “I can’t breathe!” , another black man screaming “ mother!”, another Trayvon, Sandra, tamir, Ahmaud, tyre, Mike, Eric, Breonna, George, Jacob, Elijah, and other black lives either taken away or forever traumatized and he repays her by being so cruel, and mean towards her having people hurt her for no good reason but to gas him up, and you expect me to feel some level of sympathy because he said that he had a difficult childhood, losing his mom at a young age and an alcohol addiction? yeah I don’t think so.

Fuck him. I don’t feel sorry for him. He deserves every bit of those 10 years . He should’ve been taken accountability for his actions, but no , he gone too big for his britches, and he chose to be a full blown psychopath and a sociopath .

Now look at this Canadian Bitch.

Ashy

Lace front looking like something out of the dollar store struggling to hold on to his head Down to the wig glue damn. 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Broke because his lawyers he got from craigslist Or Amazon or education connection

gonna be ****d by bubba in the showers or spreading wide for poptarts and ramen noodles soup

All because he can’t control his big ego in his small body of his and his violent tendencies

Oh well, maybe he should have just took a plea deal or better yet shut the heck up or here’s an even better idea 💡: never shot at her!

Meg cut him deep wit that “The only reason why your popular at the moment is because you are in a feature with Jack Harlow “comment and he with his violent tendencies and toxic masculinity couldn’t take it.

That munchkin is thinking what does he got that I don’t?

I don’t know, perhaps good looks, talent, a full set of hair, charm, attractive personality, and him not in a jail cell for the next ten years and possible deportation

That troll had the nerve , the audacity , to be talking about no weapons formed against him shall prosper, when shot a black woman who was walking away from him and then lied and gaslit her, slut shamed her, made up a misogynistic lie that another woman shot her out of jealousy, violated a restraining order, and antagonized her and her boyfriend through his music and you wonder why I don’t feel any ounce of sympathy towards him and others like him.

It’s one thing for a man to harm a woman because she rejected or criticized him and his work that makes him a coward but when that same man torments her even though she was generous and kind enough to not press charges against him then he is no different than the sadists who take pleasure from causing others pain

If anything he is the weapon and it was, and is prospering against him ! He didn’t deserve 1/10000000th of the consideration she gave him that night. She was too kind to him. People can really take other peoples kindness for weakness and you wonder why TV shows like snapped is on TV and it’s been around for like 33 seasons as of this year.

I’m not sorry that he’s suffering now. sorrows, sorrows prayers

#This whole case had me changing my opinions and views(at least for the moment) #celebrating the police and the system #being xenophobic towards Canadian people #posting stories with reader plus white celebrities with fluffy or smutty material #nearly being racist towards black men #saying that some of them nigcels deserved to be another hashtag #and backing the death penalty. #megan thee stallion #i’m not sad for her #i’m outraged #i’m just glad she’s in a better place now #those people can speak for themselves they know who they are #and they can go straight to hell #they will pay for their crimes #for sucking that abusers meat #Instagram #As always a loud and sincere fuck you to everyone who has doubted her and supported that Canadian cuntery who must not be named #She went through unnecessary trauma for two years #That’s unforgivable #Next level fuckery #That that type of ish that would lead to an episode of snapped or deadly women #once again #🖕🏿daystar Peterson #annnnn boom #just like that #may all who come against black women rot #Don’t fuck with black women #If you can’t love them then at least don’t harm them #can’t wait to see that sociopath locked up on August 7th. #can’t wait to see that sociopath locked up on august 7th

[shadovan]

❰❰ HURT ❱❱ sender is hurt protecting receiver

@lcftyambiticns Instead gets a drabble, apparently.

It was hard for Tareque to allow himself to feel anger when the insults prattled off at him. He knew what he was. Most people knew what he was. Outside of the circle of peers he kept in Neverwinter's city, he was essentially a monster in the eyes of most.

He couldn't hold their fear against him. That fear was justified, whether he ever wanted to admit it or not.

It was only when they actively hunted him that he lashed out. Sometimes they came to his tower. Other times they stalked him in the streets. Whether it be by holy devotion or some underlying vengeance, there always seemed to be someone with a blade trying to end him.

He heard them before he saw them, this time. Eyes closed, he listened to their footsteps along the cobble. Boots? Yes, definitely boots. Two pair, it seemed. Three, possibly, but -- ah, no, just two.

They certainly weren't making much of an attempt at being discreet. Had someone perhaps alerted the guard to the undead horror roaming about Baldur's Gate? He wouldn't have been surprised.

Fools, he thought. These ones were moving quickly. With a quiet sigh, Tareque took a few steps away from Razzlebabble Tower, which had been his initial destination. Unfortunately, it seemed he had some unexpected company to deal with first. Fine, he had some energy to burn off anyhow.

These ones were even more oblivious than the lich had expected. They swung their swords at him, the blades shifting through him like mist, it was easy to predict their motions. What did they think he was? A zombie? A vampire? No, the sun was still setting. Did they even know what they were trying to fell?

"Fucking hell, get off me you pest," he hissed, grabbing the wrist of one before kicking them away from him.

While he could assume their moves, what Tareque hadn't factored into the struggle was the sudden familiar presence that had leapt into the chaos in attempt to halt the guards from their unnecessary commands. "Lorri, what--?!"

-- The shout of pain told that his surprise was a few seconds too late. The close proximity had resulted in a rather deep cut along Lorroakan's arm.

He scowled, teeth gritting as Tareque lunged on the guard, pummeling them to the ground as he wrapped his hands around their neck-- growling as he strangled the life out of them. The breath froze from their body with a deathly chill.

"WHY? I didn't fucking touch anyone!!" He yelled at the dying guard in blatant frustration. "Why the hell did you have to attack first?!" He never started the episodes so angry, but the unfolding events drew it out of him in a way he couldn't resist! Not entirely, at least.

"Damnit!" He scowled, letting go of the dead guard and scrambling to his feet, more strings of curses passing his lips. In truth, he was more angry with himself than his attackers.

Lorroakan --

Anger shifted to concern as Tareque's attention focused back on the wizard. He hesitated, hearing the approach of more guards. The second one had vanished, apparently to gather others on nearby patrol.

"I... I'll be back... Go inside, put pressure on that," he demanded, reluctantly, before darting the opposite direction, just in the line of vision for the guards to see. He couldn't exactly allow Lorroakan's precious reputation to be besmirched from the clear sight of a lich who had just slain a guard in his willing company.

#Letters & Whispers;; Answered #lcftyambiticns #lcftyamibiticns #Study until your idols become your rivals;; Lorroakan (lcftyambiticns) #Verses/BG3|DnD/ Once Was #cut for length #That unexpectedly turned into a thing.

[stronghours]

2008; 21, 45

It took twenty minutes flat, between Jules slamming the door shut upon his exit from the backseat to Martin spotting his dark head reappearing over the hoods of parked cars. He returned by himself, without Paul. Walking normally, he slid into the passenger seat and closed the door with little politeness. He offered no words. Martin played at fumbling with the keys to lengthen the time between the silence and the engine in case words were going to be offered right away. He doubted it, and correctly.

“Take me somewhere,” Jules said, once they’d nosed into traffic. He sounded terribly hoarse. A livid red puddle marred his cheek, and the rest of his skin transitioned from saturated to sallow between streetlights.

“Home?” Martin asked.

Jules nixed this with another bout of silence.

Martin tried again. “My apartment?”

Jules rested his temple against the window. “I’m hungry,” he said, and Martin took this as an offered kindness – Jules was as pathological about food as he was with money, and dining out married the worst of both factors, all of which Jules had laid out for him: The admittance of appetite; the act of eating; being observed eating; being at the mercy of someone else’s kitchen; being at the mercy of your companion’s meal; the exchange of cash; the indignity of being paid for; wanting to be paid for; worrying if you would be paid for.

Considering the arrangement in the parking garage and inside Paul’s apartment, Martin wondered if Jules had experienced a sudden epiphany about how silly that struggle and anxiety had been, and resolved to let it all go and become a much easier person to date. Ha-ha! Jules’ voice caroled in his brain: As if!

Martin had been chauffeured in Jules’ car often enough now to start finding the silence in his rental off-putting. He always forgot to put on the radio. If Jules had to take a sharp turn in his own, the cumulative plastic clatter of dozens upon dozens of CD jewel cases were enough to rain out whatever bridgeless, hookless, sonic cut-and-paste he was using to transmigrate his muffled emotions. Jules would tell him the names of artists and albums; Martin would try very hard to remember, until he figured out Jules was freest identifying the names of musicians toward which he felt the least.

I like this, Martin gently prompted, white lied, once when Jules had been stuck on the same album for a week and his curiosity would not let him resist. This was before the first of their several consummations and he’d felt unpleasantly disconnected from his romantic pursuit. Huh, Jules replied, underneath a barrage of repetitious guitar and martial drums and a singer’s shredded voice bellowing BLOWYOURBRAINS! OUUUUUUUT! BLOWYOURBRAINS! OUUUUU-HOOOU-OOOOOOOOUT!

And after they’d bonded a little more, and Martin told Jules how, historically, he was usually the one pursued by his marks, Jules cackled against his bare thigh and showed all the crooked and missing teeth on his bad left side, and thereon Martin’s education began. At least, his education regarding the song, which was about a pedophiliac serial killer – a religious cult – the biologically essential murder of male/female coitus – cannibalism – a playground snatching – a parent fucking their child.

Don’t worry about it, I like other stuff too, Jules said.

-

In the street outside the diner in Jules’ neighborhood, the only place cheap enough to hoodwink his neuroticism, he was stricken with an explosive coughing fit and didn’t fight when Martin helped him step over the curb. Inside, the sympathetic waitress Martin liked was nowhere to be seen, and they were gestured sharply to the booth near the washroom by a nasty young man not much older than Jules, whom Jules had affectionately dubbed their hate-crime server.

Jules hacked into his napkin and ducked his head under the sticky tabletop.

“Did Paul not even give you a glass of water?”

Jules resurfaced instantly. “Oh yeah, I asked for a glass of water,” he said. “And a cuddle, and a blankie.”

Martin wanted to touch his face. “Did he hit you?”

“You know he hit me.”

Martin did not like the grimy neighborhood, or the diner, or the ugly-minded server Jules found so funny, or the cruel tut-tut look on his lover’s casual face. Jules sucked down a glass of water, no ice, and Martin imagined him as a loner at the table, cruising the waiter as a gag and getting slammed straight to hell. He did know Paul hit. They’d discussed the hit explicitly, the two grown-ups, far away from their little pitcher.

“Fix your face,” Jules said. “The trauma is minimal.”

“Something’s bothering you.”

“God, sure. I felt like I was watching a movie I didn’t like, but not enough I could walk out of the theater.” Jules held the lukewarm glass to his jaw. “It was bothering me in the backseat of the car while you two went through you little pimp script, and it bothered me when I saw you two exchange the envelope that may or may not have had real money inside, and it bothered me walking up with Paul, and in the elevator, and in the foyer of Paul’s apartment – it was bothering me. First of all, where were you?”

Jules pointed.

“I was in the car,” Martin said, accustomed to these debriefs.

“Wrong answer.”

Martin immersed himself. “I was the pimp, selling you to a stranger.”

“Right answer,” Jules said, “to a question I wasn’t asking. Let me try again.”

But he didn’t try, right away. The server slammed menus onto the table with such force the table’s uneven legs barked against the floor; even Jules recoiled. Martin would have stood up, but Jules kicked him in the shin.

“It’s like, so funny that he’s getting worse,” Jules said, and stole Martin’s water cup.

“He wasn’t always that bad?”

“Singular guys like that don’t care about one faggot in their vicinity,” Jules explained. The smack mark on his face was, if anything, getting worse and he was beginning to squint. “When I got to go to high school, everybody could clock me, but nobody cared, because I wasn’t trying to fuck anyone.”

Any erotic fulfillment Martin might have gleaned from Jules’ delinquent teen escapades had been overrun by the discovery that he had fallen out of touch with what the kids were going through. Most of his dear friends were his age, many were older, and the young people around them had acted as mute, respectful ears to their compiled experiences. He’d been spoiled. Now he had Jules to observe and immerse himself within, who couldn’t have cared less about Martin’s coming of age through the seventies and eighties, was indifferent toward AIDS, was outright caustic toward the leather protocols that had given Martin so much direction in his youth, and, as far as Martin could tell, incapable of personal nostalgia, even when it related to the time periods of his most beloved, horrible music or his rancid gore films and video nasties. Martin had never met an artistic twenty-something so fundamentally bad at fantasy. Once, trying to rev up the evening early in the relationship, Martin had asked what Jules thought about when he masturbated. “You think I masturbate?” Jules, appalled, answered.

If he had taken that that little anecdote seriously, before his meeting with Paul, Martin realized, then this night would not have happened.

But Jules was traveling on his own track. “I think I’ve been really open with you,” he said, a sudden burst. “I think I’ve allowed a lot. I think we got really close in a really short period of time. What are you not getting from me that made tonight happen?”

“What do you think tonight was?” Martin’s desperate attempt to merge.

“A stupid, therapeutic roleplay scenario.” Jules’ voice was distorted by his hand palpating his cheek. Worse than angry, he sounded cheated.

“I didn’t mean it as a therapeutic.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jules said. “It was a transaction play. I’m not dumb. I know what you know about what I’ve done. You brought cash props. If you included it, you included it for a reason. Not only do I have to suck off some stranger and get slapped around, I have to ponder on healing themes and come to some kind of positive conclusion. We just start getting really, really intimate, and you impose this – this – this – distance. You weren’t even in the room! You were sitting in a fucking car!”

“I guess,” Martin tried, “I can’t convince you I did this solely because it was a scenario that gets me off? That your reaction beyond going through with it didn’t matter?”

“Get real,” Jules said. “Anything you do to me, you do for me.”

It was a pretty good line; Martin was touched. He reached out to grasp Jules’ free hand with both of his. He wished they were anywhere else but in public. “Oh, my buddy,” he said, absolutely nothing else in his head but goo. “Oh, kiddo.”

But Jules was capable of horrible sternness and didn’t react to this tenderness. “I can’t believe you weren’t even in the room with us. He had this framed print of Salvador Dali on the cover of TIME. And one of those stupid balls of fake leaves in a gold rim. I saw that from like, the floor, and was all if Marty was in here, I wouldn’t be noticing the shitty culture.”

“Why on earth didn’t you call it?” Martin gave his wrist a tug. Jules tugged back, listless.

“I don’t know,” he said. He thought about it. “I guess I know what a huge bitch I can be. I guess I wanted to give it a shot and see what I was missing.”

The physical reality was untenable – parties had arrived, been seated, waited, and served around the pair, and Jules, with the mute, desperate pain of a house pet, could not stop pawing at his face. Martin, hot and uneasy, rose to leave and Jules followed; but not as meekly as he looked. He said, in an overloud voice as they passed from inside to outside, and the male server swept behind their backs: “You know he’d fuck a man, right?” The jingle-bells strapped to the door were not so cheerful when they were pointedly slammed.

“It’s true,” Jules said, as Martin steered him over curb. “They’re only that mad when they know they’d fuck. If it came down to it.” And he was silent until they reached Martin’s sublet, where Martin distracted himself with ice in the freezer and Jules half-undressed on the edge of the bed before resting his head in hand, ruminating somewhere behind his empty face.

Martin believed his romantic habits were healthily balanced, and had been so for some time – he had not made a habit of linking up with very young men or particularly aggressive ones; but he’d collected a few throughout his late thirties and forties, just enough to know Jules was not the angriest, the most socially wronged, or the most antisocial among them – he was fastidious, virtually sober, socially perceptive, and possessed of a well-muscled work ethic bizarre to behold in a twenty-one year old – (Martin handed over the ice) but (Martin began to undress; in the long closet mirror, Jules’ forearm flexed) he was, or had been, or could remain, one of the most inaccessible.

While Martin had done his chasing and wooing, this had been exciting, sexually frustrating, pleasantly silly. He’d felt very young. He listened hard to Jules’ music in the car and wondered if the kid was sending him subconscious clues and messages through the song choices, a conceit he had to give up after he heard, beneath the instrumental clutter of one song, the voice of Mario Savio intoning, and you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels! Upon the levers! Upon all the apparatus and you’ve got to make it stop! And you’ve got to indicate to the people who run it, to the people who own it -! In retrospect, he had not been prepared for Jules, so firmly guarded, to have swung open the door so sudden and wide. He’d thought, once inside that door, the places Jules would go were the places Martin could guide him.

Because Jules had given him the right, Martin seized him by the shoulders without asking and pressed him back against the mattress. The ice slapped against the floor, and Jules rubbed his wet face against the sheets with the indifference of someone who’d seen it coming. He said, “ok,” just a vocal reflex, then looked Martin flat in the face with big, black, take-it-or-leave-it eyes and Martin’s wrist, scraped lightly by Jules’ fingers, was shocked by his freezing hand. He knew at once two things: that the plaintive, whiny atmosphere souring his headspace, the one with words that went will you please lighten up, will you please let me understand you, will you please let me like you harkened back not to his hearty memories as a grown man fucking and relating with other grown men, but to his experiences with his daughter Claudia during her teenage years; and that he would not in a million years be getting hard tonight.

He pressed his face into Jules’ neck and demurred.

Jules was canny. “You can’t even make love to me,” he said, and wriggled towards his side of the bed. The first time Jules had uttered the phrase make love Martin almost fell on the floor laughing; instinct and a miraculously timed sneeze stopped his lungs (that’s romantic, Jules had responded mildly, and handed over the Kleenex)

Sometime during the night, which Martin only became aware of in the morning, Jules migrated backwards against his chest, and he could enjoy a few minutes of conscious rest against the rare treat of a pliant and silent Jules. But the evening before asserted itself. He’d pretty much fucked it up, he decided. He’d allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of security. Jules had stroked his ego for three months straight and he’d lost his edge. Possibly he’d lost it long ago.  Jules wasn’t waking up and Martin tried hard to follow.

He lay with one arm lightly around Jules’ ribs and the light lengthened across the walls and he entertained all sorts of grim, unproductive thoughts. You weren’t even in the room! Why hadn’t he been in the room? Such a small, simple detail. Jules tended to sleep with at least one hand palm-upward on the pillow, his fingertips nestled together. He’d held something in his sleep and dropped it. Martin wanted to find it and give it back, no matter how trivial – a tennis ball, a wadded washcloth, the belt Martin used to beat him and choke him, a yarn skein, the car keys to the 99’  – but Jules was only careless with his body, not his belongings – so odious, so sick at heart that you can’t take part, you can’t even passively take part put your body upon the gears and upon the wheels and upon the levers – There’d been a big, clashing piano. He’d forgotten the band already.

He woke up again much later, Jules superheated against his torso, beginning to grumble and sniffle under the blanket. Martin’s phone made a racket in the kitchen, and he went to make it quiet. It was Paul.

“Congratulations,” said Paul, bright and clear, possibly up for hours. “That’s a hell of a lot of raw talent for you to deal with. I’m not sure why you leave the house.”

Martin was so instantly incensed, so suddenly and hideously jealous, he could not move or speak. Then, in a clap of the hand, the velocity halted, the emotions vanished, and the memory of their clarity and clearness left him empty and amused and sweet-tempered. He was just a stupid old guy, he decided, and moved into the bedroom. “Oh sure,” he replied.

Jules was upright and cross-legged, his long, bare, gorgeous back to him, his head enough in profile Martin could half-read the expression on his face. It was either suspicious or gloomy, and it was his business now.

“How’s your boy?” Paul asked.

“Oh, fine,” Martin said. Jules turned, confirmed he was on the phone, and gathered up the blanket around him, like he intended to leave and give Martin privacy. Instead, Martin engaged the speaker and tossed the phone onto the bed.

“Between you and me,” Paul’s degraded voice bloomed, “I think the hit was a little sloppy on my part. But you know what it’s like when you’ve only got one hit in you.”

“We’ve all been there,” Martin replied casually, tucking himself back in while Jules performed a series of double-takes and emphasized, by merely bulging his eyes, what the fuck Marty? “But too excessive for what I was thinking. It was pretty much a wash once you let him go.”

“Well, tell the kid I apologize. Tell him he’s welcome back anytime.”

Jules slithered irresistibly into Martin’s lap and hooked him around the neck with both elbows. He wore a toothy, lunatic smile and his eyes were bright and focused.

“I think, as an experiment, we might have found out all we needed.” Martin leaned back to accommodate.

“Sure, but what a shame. Come to think of it, he’s very sexy, but what was I picking up on – is he, uh, just the tiniest bit, kind of creepy?”

Jules was bluntly slapping Martin’s ribcage with the heel of his hand to express his mute hilarity. “Be thankful –” Martin fended off the hand. “Be thankful you don’t have to watch movies with him. Women fucking corpses. Women sawing off corpse penises. Women getting pregnant from corpses. You’re better off not dealing with it.”

Jules battered him with such intensity Martin had to seize him in his arms and crush him, not an easy task. Jules was smaller than him, but not small in general, he was rangy and a scrapper.

“I had a feeling he was not super immersed,” Paul continued. “He appeared unfocused. It was off-putting. I almost called it, but I decided it wasn’t worth it. I hope you agree.”

“Everything’s just fine.” Martin adjusted his hold as Jules settled down. “Just fine. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

They talked casual for a while – Paul recommended an up-and-coming workshop in their neck of the woods, run by an old acquaintance they shared (where did all these old acquaintances come from?) regarding headspace reinforcement, for the sake of Jules’ training – until Martin’s breeziness convinced him there couldn’t be anything else to discuss about yesterday’s tryst, except for the fact it had been nothing to write home about. Martin said good-bye, but Jules’ darting hand killed the call. With his heel, he launched the cell toward the foot of the bed.

“You dog.” He slithered all the way up Martin’s chest, something he tended to do when he was turned on. Martin preferred it to clawing. “That was one of your old friends!”

“The great thing about casual old friends,” Martin corrected, gathering Jules up and depositing him down once more, “Is what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Still,” Jules said, even while Martin tended to his oblivious body. “Aren’t we all responsible for each other? Wasn’t this his chance to grow? Are we just on earth to use each other? Ow -! Man, I can’t believe he called me creepy. That’s sooo –”

Without pain, or shock, or novelty, it sometimes took Jules ten or fifteen minutes to settle down into sex. He would not shut up, he would brace himself against Martin’s body like an inexperienced swimmer being dragged out into the lake, he would kick himself free from Martin’s snares, roll away, hold his head, then roll back. After finding a superficial calm, his body would rediscover the motions and his awkward, bony hands would caress Martin’s hardworking back. But Martin would feel one of his open eyes against his cheek and know he was staring blindly at the ceiling, maybe thinking what the hell is going on?

Jules once said to him, only once, and casually, “too bad you can’t just beat the shit out of me all the time,” and Martin knew better than to vocally disagree. He didn’t know how to tell Jules that after the great opening of the door, the permission to start fucks while the other was asleep, the granted across-the-board freedom to apply maintenance discipline, the instructions to continue after a no, no, stop, that sometimes after experiencing all these gifts, you would not want them. You could take them or leave them. You could leave them behind as decisively as you forced yourself to forget the time your creepy, youthful boyfriend un-blinked up at you as you both made love; and you had to forget, because you saw that inexplicable, parentified expression on his childless face, the one that said, please lighten up, please let me like you, please let me understand you – twenty-one years old! So who had he learned it from?

#safeworld

[gch1995]

I’ve contemplated a lot about why Luke was the sort of person that Anakin felt inspired enough to turn his back on Sidious and the dark side for, while Padme, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka weren’t.

While Anakin does become a hypocrite who no one was obligated to forgive after he turned dark, regardless of his tragic circumstances and compromised agency, I think Luke was the one who finally inspired him to turn back because, in spite of as “above it all” as Obi-Wan, Padme, and even Ahsoka wanted to believe they were, they still had many of the same issues Anakin developed of feeling pressured to be people pleasers to corrupt authority figures, expectations, and rules that they knew were wrong out of fear of the unknown under compromised agency, moral hypocrisy, pride, manipulative tactics, selfishness, and/or an exceedingly vengeful side in their anger that they were not willing to pull back on when they dueled him or other enemies that piss him off.

Padme, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka loved Anakin, but they were also prideful, self-centered, and terrified people who were too afraid to admit that their methods flawed, too afraid to take a stand against the standards of these broken systems they were born into, too afraid to admit they were wrong, too afraid to take risks to do better, and too afraid to admit that they weren’t as “above it all” as they pretended to be.

Luke Skywalker being Anakin’s son is definitely one of the influencing factors that inspires him to turn back to the light. However, it’s also because Luke is self-accepting of his bad decisions, flaws, and mistakes. He’s aware that the old Jedi Order was deeply flawed, hypocritical, and misguided, in spite of their good intentions. He’s unwilling to stoop to the same level as his enemies. He won’t let himself get carried away with baiting his father into a fight when he gets angry, and start making justifications of how he’s “right” just because he has good intentions, just because he was fucked with first, just because he’s not a Sith, or just because it’s “too dangerous” to take a risk to be honest, kind, and offer one of his enemies (his father) a better opportunity when he sees that he really is also a victim of Sidious who is still struggling against his darker instincts and searching for freedom and love from family. He refuses to enable Anakin’s slave mentality and ultimately refuses to let his father believe that “Anakin Skywalker is dead.”

This isn’t saying that Anakin is an innocent, that Luke was obligated to forgive him, or that his victims didn’t have valid reasons to fear him and resent him. Of course, they did. The point is that in those little moments where he tries to reach out to Ahsoka, Padme, and Obi-Wan about being unhappy with the Jedi and keeping secrets of his marriage before going dark, backs off, says “Don’t make me destroy you,” or lets them go, they all had an opportunity to refuse to further perpetuate the cycle of abuse by acting in anger and vengeance. They could have refused to encourage his sense of compromised agency. They could have broken the cycle of system sting abuse, crime, and oppression with Anakin in those instances by being the bigger person.

Instead Padme and Obi-Wan encouraged him to continue to stay with the Jedi and/or keep his marriage secret when they knew their systems were corrupt, and knew he was becoming increasingly emotionally/mentally unstable and unhappy in ways that made him a danger to himself and those around him out of fear of the unknown by pretending that he would just get better if they told him he would when he tried to say otherwise.

Instead, Ahsoka ended up declaring that she’d “avenge her master” when he refused to join her right away and told her “Anakin Skywalker is dead because he destroyed him.”

Instead, Obi-Wan egged him on into a duel on Mustafar by using Padme as bait, and refused to back off after getting him to let go of Padme from his reckless blind rage/paranoia force choke before killing her when he thought she brought Obi-Wan to kill him and even got him to a point where he could tell Obi-Wan “Don’t make me kill you.” When Anakin cornered him again 10 years later for revenge that he clearly didn’t want as much as he had convinced himself he did because he still cared about Obi-Wan deep down, tells Obi-Wan “I destroyed Anakin Skywalker, not you,” and even gives Obi-Wan a chance to run away, Obi-Wan allows Anakin to continue to believe that Anakin is dead, convinces himself that he is, and he runs away to compartmentalize his own guilt over how he mistreated Anakin.

Instead, another ten years later, Obi-Wan more or less encourages Anakin/Vader to kill him by just standing there after confronting him in A New Hope, and saying “I’ll become more powerful than you can ever imagine.”

So the reason as to why Anakin can’t be inspired to atone or do better by Ahsoka, Padme, or Obi-Wan isn’t just because he’s a deeply flawed person. It’s because they are too, they live in denial of it, and let him live in denial of it, too.

#Padme Amidala was deeply flawed #Anakin was deeply flawed #Ahsoka was deeply flawed #obi wan was deeply flawed #and they all lived in denial of just how deeply broken and flawed they all were and kept encouraging Anakin to pretend like he was okay #sacrificing his better instincts and happiness to try to conform to these broken systems that they all knew were messed up out of fear #until he finally stopped trying to fight back and became a serious problem for their well-being out of fear of these corrupt authorities too #when he couldn’t get anyone to listen when he DID try to reach out for emotional support and escape to fight back #like in spite of telling them that ‘Anakin Skywalker is dead’ are obi-wan Ahsoka and Luke willing to let him believe that or not? #when he tells obi-wan and Luke ‘don’t make me destroy you’ hesitated to kill them or gives them a chance to reason with him or walk away #are they going to run away act defensively or stoop to his level and try to kill him when he’s hesitating and being vulnerable? #when he gives obi wan ahsoka and Luke a chance to back off in their duels as vader are they going to fight run away or try to reason? #when he tells Ahsoka revenge is not the Jedi way is she going to agree that vengeance is bad or stoop to his level? #it’s because Anakin is desperately looking for someone who is good and self-aware enough to realize that both sides are messed up #and he can feel safe just being the best version of himself rather than throwing away his moral integrity and sense of self to conform #it’s like he’s testing people he cares about to see if they will encourage him to break the cycle of toxicity in the galaxy #to realize that both the old Jedi/Republic and Sith/Empire were deeply fucked up governments and institutions #or continue to enable and perpetuate it themselves #to not stoop to his level and enable or perpetuate terrible behaviors choices or crimes ‘for good’ fear of the unknown or revenge #to these broken systems that enable and perpetuate systematic abuse of power crime and vengeance ‘for the greater good’ out of fear #pt jedi critical #anti jedi apologists #anakin skywalker #darth vader #luke skywalker #Luke was the only one who could inspire Anakin to redeem himself because he was the only one who didn’t get caught up in the cycle himself #and the only one who refused to let his father believe that ‘Anakin was dead’

[imkkvs]

Fine Line of Love and Duty

summary: two people of different status, equally yearning for the other, struggle to understand and bypass the complexity of their feelings for each other. 

pairing: dream and george [1.5k]

tags: royalty au, angst, they’re hopelessly in love?, boys kissing gasp 

a/n: erm first time posting on tumblr, gonna be completely honest, I wrote this in 2021, edited it today and now I’m deciding to post it. Not super immersed in the fandom anymore but I hope you guys like it!

-

George’s head slammed against the desk as he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned loudly. He had been up for over 24 hours now and the exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. Turns out, sorting through peace treaties with neighboring kingdoms had its faults. For instance, how much fucking time it takes to get them done and approved. George faintly registered a door being opened on the opposite side of his room. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. 

Dream.

George’s personal guard moved across the room towards him, but the king just kept his head down. Half the reason was because he was just too exhausted to lift it and the other half because he had to mentally prepare himself to look at the knight now standing in front of his desk. 

“My King,” Dream spoke softly, affection almost traceable in his tone, but he was more careful than that. He didn’t let it show, per the king’s orders. “You should get some sleep.”

“Can’t…” George sat up and yawned as he stretched across the back of his chair. “Gotta…” he made a vague motion towards his desk as he mumbled sleepily, “Finish…”

“What could possibly be so important to keep you awake for so long?” Dream responded, letting a bit of irritation slip through his now fading demeanor and he hunched over the desk, craning his neck to look at the upside down papers George had scattered across the surface. 

“King stuff, you wouldn’t understand,” George said cockily and chuckled as the knight’s head snapped up with a baffled look. “You’re just a commoner, so get back to your post or I’ll fire you.” George was joking, if his tone wasn’t evident enough, the face he was pulling sure was. 

Dream reveled at the sight of the king dropping his guard around him. Sure, they had been best friends since they were young boys, but Dream would never get around the shock factor that came with every little thing George did. Even just sitting there, hair tousled and rough around his crown that lay askew on his head, slumped in his over-sized chair, eyes drooping slightly due to lack of sleep, lips curled into a slight smirk as his gaze raked Dream’s tense form, he still managed to look good. So good. Pretty, even.

Dream dropped his head and clenched his jaw, pushing the thoughts out momentarily and sighing deeply. “Of course. I shall leave my king be… if that is what he truly wishes,” Dream looked at George through his lashes and hid a smirk.

George made a sound and turned his head to the side, attempting to hide his blush from Dream’s now lifted gaze, though he made no sign of dismissal. Dream stood up straight, his tall form tense and perfect underneath the sheen his light armor reflected in the low light of candles scattered around the room. A dark flame danced in his eyes and George could tell he was debating on saying something impulsive. Something stupid that would make George question the boundaries of their relationship yet again. 

“You are breathtaking.”

George’s breath hitches at the words combined with Dream’s gaze. He stood intimidatingly across the desk and his eyes dared George to deny his statement. Due to his tired state, George didn’t have his social filter at the ready so his next words were not meant to be heard. 

“You’re the only one I want to hear that from.” 

George stood and met the almost lustful stare being directed at him. Dream stood his ground as the king slowly made his way towards him, positioning his body between the guard and the desk. George propped himself onto the top of the desk and smirked up at the knight’s icy eyes. Dream’s fists clenched as he resisted the urge to hold George close to him. He was still the king, and Dream had to respect that. 

Chainmail clinked together under George’s fingers as he grabbed Dream by his torso and pulled him close. Their foreheads rested on one another’s and they both stayed silent. Hot tar poured itself into the air in the form of tension, noses brushed, eyes closed, breath mingled together like woven twine. Both drowning in unsaid words, George struggled with the fact that the one thing he wanted most was the only thing unattainable to him. Funny, how life treats you. 

“As king, I could get whatever I wanted…” George spoke softly, eyes cast down, trying to ignore how close Dream’s lips were to his own, “Everything is at my fingertips. Mine for the taking, if I just said the word. Everything. Except the one thing I want most in this small world.”

Dream’s brows creased and he spoke hastily, almost earnestly, “But you can have it. You can have me, I’m all yours.” Dream’s arms wrapped around George’s shoulders without a second thought as he spoke and George tensed at the sudden action.

“I can’t have you. You deserve better and-”

“There is nobody in this kingdom that could ever compare to you!”

“-and you have to try to understand that I cannot think of myself first!” George pulled away slightly to look into Dream’s eyes, the sudden fire heating his words startling the brave knight. “My people are the most important thing to me and I cannot possibly think of myself first when I have them to protect!” 

Dream’s eyes searched the king’s, but he did not find hatred or anger, despite the heated tone. Dream saw George’s passion and protective nature over his kingdom but he also saw fear. A slight thread of fear and worry laced into the fabric of George’s gaze and Dream grasped onto it tightly, because if George was afraid, he had to be afraid of something. And the knight had sworn to fight off every breathing creature, night terror, or intrusive thought that may have frightened the royal man he cared so deeply for. 

“What are you afraid of, my King?” Dream’s tone delicate and soft, offering sanctuary for George to lay in and be vulnerable. 

George thought for a moment and he finally looked into Dream’s pleading eyes. 

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

His voice had a coarse edge to it like he was holding back tears. Dream was shocked by the sudden emotion and didn’t think before he spurred himself into action.

He pulled George into a fierce kiss and held onto the sides of his face like his life depended on it. George made a small noise, but it was swallowed by Dream’s mouth. The king soon relaxed into the kiss and found himself pulling his knight closer. Dream was pulled in between George’s legs and leaned into the body pulling him in. The king was pushed back and almost fell backward onto his desk, which seemed to snap him out of the heavenly trance those soft lips had held him under. He suddenly pushed Dream away and shot to his feet. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was shrill and he looked panicked. 

“You can’t tell me that didn’t feel good! It felt… it felt right! Didn’t it, George?” Dream stepped towards the shorter male but paused as he was met with a fiery gaze and quickly realized his mistake. Before he could rush to fix it, George’s voice bit back in a fit of fury.

“I am your king! You have no right to address me in such a familiar tone!” George snarled, hostility flashing in his eyes. Hurt washed over Dream’s features and he backed away a couple of steps. George’s gaze was trained on his every move, the intensity not wavering a bit. George took a step towards Dream, the knight backing away slightly in respect and confusion.

George took a steadying breath before bearing the courage to look into Dream’s eyes and say something that he knew would hurt him, but at the moment, he didn’t care. George was too fired up about the kiss. He wasn’t even mad at Dream, he was mad at how much Dream affected his composure. He was king, not some commoner that could fool around and do whatever he wanted. He had to keep his poise. 

“Learn your place, knight. Before I send for someone to reteach you,” George spoke firmly, like he was talking to just another guard. It hurt Dream but he didn’t show it. George pushed past the knight, moving his shoulder out of reach from the others’ body, and strode to his conjoined washroom. Dream watched him go and flinched as the heavy wooden door slammed behind the king. 

Dream’s demeanor washed away in an instant and his head hung forward on his shoulders. After a few moments of steadying himself, he straightened out George’s desk, stacking papers here and there, and softly shut the door on his way out. He stood outside the king’s chambers, emotionless, staring at the wall opposite him. The hallway was dark, the only light coming from a few lanterns lit down the way from George’s room. Nobody else was positioned in this wing of the castle. The only people occupying the hall were Dream and George. 

And with George bathing, nobody was there to see the rare occasion of a warm tear glide itself down Dream’s freckled cheek, before being wiped away by the scratch of the metal laying on the back of Dream’s arm. 

Dream stood there, all night. Waiting for dawn. Waiting in silence.

#dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #dreamnotfound #dream team #dnf #mcyt