#its so insane how he likes the collar he truly does but there's no way he could ever have obeyed it for all his life

[kelvingemstone]

sean finnerty is greatly enhanced by the costume and the accent sure but the core of his appeal is in how he is a barely controlled slavering set of jaws trying his best to put on manners and not seeing how it only serves to reveal how monstrous he has been made. a dog grown too big for the leash but you can still see the frayed collar around his neck, and he can feel it too

#sean finnerty #candela obscura #candela obscura campaign 2 #the circle of needle and thread #i love how marion literally only barely tethers him to the world. its so tragic. it makes so much sense that it ended how it did #like...be real sean could never have said no to not being who he was. to being taken over by something much bigger and more purposeful #its so insane how he likes the collar he truly does but there's no way he could ever have obeyed it for all his life

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Weekly Roundup (25/12 - 31/12)

TSUKIHIME

Some honestly sweet holiday fluff with the tsukihime cast of op's choosing

FATE/APOCRYPHA

In an alternate world, rather than summon Astolfo, Celenike summons servant Rider Goredolf Musik, driver of the Shadow and Storm Borders, he who's driving skills escaped the apocalypse twice. While everyone else is reeling from the implications that not only was a modern mage able to enter the Throne, but that said mage also was of the Musik line, Goredolf is panicking because if he, a member of Chaldea, was summoned, things are about to get very bad very fast.

FGO

Foreigner's New Years party, go as insane, as horny or as wholesome as you want

Hello fellow enjoyers of FGO! For No FGO January, I present to you all a very simple prompt. Show me your mastersonas! I don’t care under what context, how they’re doing, who they’re fucking, whether it’s wholesome, angst, whatever, I just want to see artworks/stories/whatever of your own original characters. Take this month of No FGO prompts to share what you already have, I look forward to seeing what you all have in store!

as a harmless prank, Mash and a few other servants (can be anyone like habetrot, caster cu, etc) dress up as caterpillars. It’s up to the writer/artist to decide how Morgan reacts to seeing mashu and co. in caterpillar suits.

If there was one place Ritsuka Fujimaru never expected to end up after everything with the Lostbelts and Ordeal Call was well and truly over, and the Earth was back to the way it was supposed to be... it was finding work at NFF Services, working directly under both Koyanskayas, no less. They were expecting to be worked to the bone, given their past interactions, but weirdly enough, they've been just... nice to them? Ritsuka keeps suspecting some kind of sinister plot, or cruel joke, but apparently the Koyans are just THAT invested in the well-being of their employees. Even more so in Ritsuka's case, given that they answer directly to both Light and Dark. It's still weird... but in a good way, they supposed.

Guda twin! Au where Gudako and Gudao meet once a week at Moriarty's bar to just hang and talk. Often these conversations end up being about their individual harems. (Whoever is in each harem is up to the writer but preferred that both are bisexual harems)

ranmaru x takes ritsuka back to her planet, and it’s up to the gudaguda gang to get ritsuka back!

so I found out by a yt short that takeda likes boys and writes passionate love letters to them. how about Kagetora and/or Nobunaga making fun of him for his passion for boys

thanks to the event I need some Ibuki x Habetrot for no reason other than major size difference makes brain go brrr. Smut is optional but there's gotta be emphasis on how wide the height gap is.

smut, While he mostly feeds of dreams. Merlin does occasionally need sex as every incubus does. Being one of the only human's alive, Gudako agrees, thinking that it's just gonna be a quickie. Cut to hours later. Gudako's mind has turned to mush and she's super overstimulated, begging Merlin to stop but he just. Keeps. Going. (yes I'm very horny for Merlin if you can tell)

I just finished LB6 and I have the BIGGEST Mélusine brainrot right now! I would appreciate anything about Mélusine x Female Ritsuka! Thanksss

taigong trying to have a peaceful fishing day but weird shit keeps happening so he says screw it and proceeds to annihilate anything that tries to fuck it up

Koyanskaya of Darkness is perusing her catalogue and pondering what new creatures to add to it when a flash of inspiration comes to her; what better way to add to her wares than to collar her own Light form? (smut is optional but recommended)

smut, Castoria x Tonelico sloppy sex. If they use Merlin's magic dick(tm) or not is up to the author

Agravain, despite what others might think, loved his siblings. He always had difficulty showing it, its true, but he never hated them or anything. This is why he would always send them out on missions. He believed in them that much. And so, Agravain awaits two of his siblings at the execution grounds for the traitor Guinevere when a scout arrives.

ANY

Write the killing blow your servants performed on a boss of your choosing. To give an example, here's mine. It was close to the end, Ritsuka could feel it. The immature Evil was worn down and she had only one retainer left, the other recently slain by Lobo before he was taken out. Taigong Wang and Mélusine fired off their noble phantasms, killing the last retainer before revealing that the immature Beast yet lived. She retaliated with her own, forcing Taigong out of the fight as Mélusine was the last one standing. Ritsuka used her last two command seals to heal Mélusine and give her one final order. "By my command seal, Mélusine, unleash your noble phantasm!" She took to the sky chanting. "My name is Albion. The last dragon who opens the boundary! From Geoffrey to Fromont! Show us the time, Tukedight!" Not taking any chances, she struck while Koyanskaya was still reeling from the blow. Koyanskaya retaliated with devastating strikes as the two realized something. Both were close to death and their next clash would be their last. They pushed themselves to their limit but unfortunately for the immature Beast, Mélusine was much faster. With energy from her weapons forming a dragon's maw, she crunched down on Koyanskaya, finally putting their battle to an end.

CROSSOVER

After Mirei Park's offer and ultimatum, rather than go to Fukuoka, Kiryu goes to Fuyuki and starts a new life there. He becomes intertwined with the local Yakuza and, by extension, the participants of the 5th Holy Grail War. When the events of Yakuza 5 begin, Daigo makes an alliance with the Fujimura Family, and soon, all hell breaks loose. The conspiracy is expanded in scale due to influence from magi seeking to claim the Grail for themselves, and Kiryu must work together with Rin, Shirou, Sakura, and Rider to keep the ones they love safe.

#weekly roundup

[only-lonely-lovers]

07.25.2022

tags: jerking off, marking... [whatever, term for "weirdly rubbing penis on you"]

Bird is あ / Avvy is つ

つ：dunno why but my morning mental image following me around the room as i go about my business has been tsukasa laying on his stomach pleasantly while amane lifted up upon his palm and knees over him is jerking off, and biting the loose collar of his kimono above his neck, pulling it up off of tsukasa's back. tsukasa is kicking his legs behind them happily

あ：oh a good day for him. thank you for sharing

you love the discrepancy that will start to occur like. if amane could let himself get this far at all. the fact that he'd be quite fraught still doing anything while tsukasa is like💕

���：amane is breathing through his nose and looks frustrated, like a cat flicking its tail

あ：yes. it's like. it's always severe up there this guy

つ：you look at it like…. is this improvement? it is.

あ：guy looks mad that he is about to nut. but its an improvement bc he's letting himself nut here yk

wait i swear to god i was having such intrusive thoughts the other day about a similar position. though it was more like, knees on either side of shoulder while tsukasa is laying stomach down and amane is hovering above, jerking off. but sometimes like. rubs cock on your nape. it was kind of insane but. it's like tfw i get here i can't be fucking normal at all about jerking off in any way to tsukasa

you get this far and its like i have issues.

つ：oh whats the issue. he like has to be facing away and hands to himself. oh he's so weird….

あ：don't look at me don't touch me. [comes into your collar]

つ：[nene looking at this] and this is a good day for you?

あ：It's times like these she really has to be like I guess, there was a lot to their relationship, that Hanako-kun was running from I hope i watch this get a little less ???? ???? [no concluding thought]

つ：i hope it. something

あ：Some sort of gut instinct is like this surely isn't the final version of this . right

つ：a crude crayon drawing final mental image which is like tsukasa and hanako kissing and hugging, ? maybe like that ?

あ：🐠💭🫂💏🧑‍🤝‍🧑❔❔.... .. ❔

つ：no, maybe thats unrealistic….? [tries to imagine…. something less extremely different… hanako… looking pleasant/relieved jerking off above tsukasa, who is facing him] [feels weird envisioning this]

hanako-kun would not like this image i have conjured…. i should stop thinking about it………….. maybe I can't… even imagine…..?

あ：take a minute and ask yourself how often you have seen hanako looking relieved during sex in general

つ：oh god

あ：chotto matte.

つ：like ahm, wait wait. its not like that… even with me. now is it no, wait… he has issues with….. his heart, in general…..

あ：i think the closest he looks to being 'relaxed' would be like idk the smug egotistical streak but that's still kinda like [snarls] you've seen hanako relish in things at times. but he is kind of like a. maniac?

quickly trying to convey this pose also in my mind. its like. rubs cock on your spine.

つ：OH ITS ALL SO ENDEARING SOMEHOOOOW the dynamic is so funny fkls;jgkl;fkgj

あ：ITS VERY FUNNY. [final pam voice] god forgive me

つ：i think this is hanako at his funniest!!!!!! tsukasa is so heeheeheehee I LOVE IT!! god hanakoooooooo!!! its like tsukasa neutralizes his charm and also redoubles it

あ：chemically balanced

Does make me wish i saw more art of hanako being . like so awkward. his turbo virgin energy you know

つ：god do i wish. like a weirdo who cant kiss you without looking like hes crying

あ：looking like its really disintegrating him to want to kiss

ok.

[sends this image]

つ：WOOOOOOOOOO YEAHHH!!!!!! hold baby hand comfort him while he is being a bigboy confronting his demons (lust for tsukasa)

あ：it is so hard. for him.

つ：nene being the world's best girlfriend everrrrr

あ：patient good gf. generous

つ：giving to the poor [tsukasa] imagining hanako is skuffing his shoesies together as he does….

あ：a truly skittish boy. shuffa shuff...

つ：ah its my favorite to imagine situations like this lasting a very long time 'cuz of the anxiety halting nut….. just means it can stretch so long

the combination of horribly horny and yet trapped on the edge

あ：yyyeah it's just a common result of the sheer intensity, inability to relax, desire to flee. makes him really have to be handled like a tied up horse whfhghf… i imagine this is even specifically an instance where they have to do a lot of foreplay through clothes just bc amane is that apprehensive. its like when i couldnt handle a bj and needed pantomime… just rubbing and licking and breathing on thru fabric for a while. UNTIL it becomes so unbearable, amane himself has to go for pulling himself out

and then it's like hehe ok. lot of massaging with fingertips..

つ：needs to be given some kind of permission to touch it raw. so you've just got tsukasa breathing on it for a while which is already: I made a mistake i made a mistake taking it out

あ：this wasn't smart I don't know what I thought would happen

#22 #ghosties #i

[marcos-scorpion]

the nights - adrian chase x reader

a/n- hi my loves! its been a super long time since i’ve posted on here, though i’ve still been reading an insane amount of fanfic, and watching an insane amount of stuff. uni is ridiculously stressful, but it has helped me find my love for writing again, so there’s that! anyway, Adrian Chase has me in a chokehold and i adore him. this is loosely based off of what happened last summer between me and my ex, with some parts of it rephrased from a letter i sent him recently, almost a year to the day we met. anyway,, hope you enjoy, pls request some stuff and lemme know what you thing xoxo 

Warnings- idk dude it’s really sad ngl, angst no comfort 

Word count- 1.1k

———

Adrian Chase is easy to love. He’s vibrant, glowing from the inside. He’s awkward, he doesn’t always know what to say, how to act. But he cares, oh god does he care. Adrian Chase loves with his whole being, every part of his soul. I tried. I promise, I swear on every god, every superhero, that I tried to love that boy the way he deserved. He deserves sunshine, gentle hands and gentler lips. He deserves kisses in the rain, sharing one milkshake with two straws, and any other cliche he could ever desire. But I wasn’t anything he needed. I was bruised knuckles, split lips and the feeling of flying too close to the sun. I was crying alone in the rain, shattered glass. And he loved me as if I was love itself.

I remember the day we first met, his bright smile as I straightened my brand new Fennel Fields uniform. He was so awkward, so endearing. I remember the days in between, the cold nights, driving windows down in his Sebring. He always let me choose the music, although I could tell he didn’t enjoy it. I remember the nights watching Fargo reruns that he could quote from start to finish, I remember telling him I loved him for the first time, glasses reflecting back the light of the TV. It was so mundane. I’d never felt that before. The safety, the warmth. Adrian Chase felt like home. So I told him I loved him, told him I would stay with him as long as he needed me as he pressed soft kisses against my collar bones. I remember the look in his eyes as I began to crumble in front of him. The pain in his face as I screamed at him, tore at all his weak spots, every insecurity he had entrusted me with. How he still reached out to comfort me the night I lied, the night I told him he wasn’t enough, was never enough, would never be enough. Even then, with tears streaming down his face, he told me it would be ok. That he understood. He didn’t, of course. He would never understand.

I left that night. I couldn’t face him. The boy I had well and truly destroyed. He didn’t deserve any of what I threw at him. Of course, none of it was true. God, it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was perfect, my boy, my Adrian. But I could see where it would end. He would realise that the version of me he had in his mind, his heart, wasn’t real. It was never real, and it never would be. So I ran, I destroyed everything he had to offer, and left him to deal with it alone. He hated being alone. I would call him the one who got away, but in reality he would have stayed by my side. I was the coward. I ended up in Gotham, the perfect place to become someone new. And I did. I’m not proud of who I became, but it was much more suited to the type of person I was. I made friends, friends I couldn’t force away the way I did sweet Adrian, Harley and Ivy were good people, in my books at least. And they were so perfect for each other. Two people, so beyond damaged by what life had thrown at them, that they held each other together until the end. It didn’t take long for me to end up on Waller’s radar, and even less time to end up dragged into her world. It suited me. The solo mercenary tasks she would send me on. But this, the job that took me back to the one place I never wanted to, was going to hurt. She wanted me to keep an eye on her daughter, make sure she followed through with the mission.

Going back felt like going home. My heart burned as Leota drove us back into the city. I could feel her sideways glances, questioning eyes. She wouldn’t understand, and although I had grown close to her and her wife, I never wanted to tell them about Adrian. I just had to avoid Fennel Fields. I was lying to myself, of course, this entire city reminded me of him. Maybe he’s gone. Maybe he’s gotten married, happy in a house with a cute wife, maybe a little curly-haired kid running round his ankles. God, I hoped so. All I ever wanted, all I still want, is for him to be happy. I managed to sneak my way out of going to the ‘team meeting’ at Fennel Fields. But nothing would prepare me for when I did see my boy again.

I could see someone behind the bin, watching us. I was more intrigued than anything. It was clear this was the ‘vigilante’ that was running through the streets of Evergreen. My back was to him, hood pulled tight over my hair. When he finally came out, I swear my heart stopped at the sound of his voice. My blood was rushing in my ears, I couldn’t hear the conversation. Leota was staring at me, even Chris had noticed my state of sheer panic.

“Ember,” someone grabbed my arm, “(Y/N).”

It was Leota, no one else would use my actual name. Very few people did.

“What’s wrong?”

He came closer, interacting with Peacemaker, who was still glancing at me sideways.

“Adrian..” It was barely a whisper, but he heard. He whipped his head around, immediately going to protest his identity. But when masked face landed on mine, he stopped. I could feel his stare, even through the red visor. No one spoke, everyone watching us stare at each other in silence. He began to speak, my eyes widening.

“(Y/N), I-I,” and he broke into a sob. So I ran. Like a fucking coward, like I did all those years ago. I ran. I avoided the team for days, hoping, praying, that when I did return to our makeshift HQ, he wouldn’t be there. I couldn’t avoid him forever. I had a job to do. I just needed to focus on the job. I could see him, through the glass, laughing with Peacemaker. The smile never quite reached his eyes, his laugh never quite what it used to be. A deep breath, as the pain in my chest twisted tighter. That was me. I ruined him. I walked in, approaching the pair who had stopped laughing when I entered. I wanted to speak, to apologise, to sob and break down and beg for his forgiveness I didn’t deserve. Chris looked between us, before stepping back slightly.

“So,” I started, a watery smile on my face as my lash line pooled with tears, “I see you finally managed the superhero thing?”

He nodded, no words, his mouth set in a straight line. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what I had done. I knew what I turned my sweet Adrian into. And I couldn’t bare to face it properly.

He had flown too close to the sun, and I had left him burning.

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante #peacemaker vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #peacemaker #hbo peacemaker #angst #angst no comfort #just pain really #freddie stroma #freddie stroma x reader #dceu #adrian chase x you #moth writes

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

#triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #not rpf #yes im on hiatus yes i wrote a fic #we exist #and did i mention i've never seen the movie 🙂

[solarwonux]

Wildflower || Lee Chan

chan x f!reader

w.c: 3.0k

warnings: smut, thigh riding, car sex, drinking, mentions of weed

note: another repost aaaa I’m sorry but good news my semester had ended so now I can finally sit down and write. Anyway, enjoy let me know your thoughts

p.s listen to wildflower by 5sos while reading this if you’d like.

p.p.s my requests are open so if you’d like one send them in hehe,xx

masterlist

The flames of the campfire burned making your eyes sting in discomfort. You blinked rapidly trying to regain the moisture back in your eyes but your efforts were deemed as unsuccessful. You sighed, placing your head on top of Chan’s shoulder, feeling him shake as he laughed at something Jun had said. The arm that was securely wrapped around you got tighter, making the butterflies in your stomach erupt, just like they did everytime you were in his presence.

“You okay?” He glazed over at you, his cheeks flushed pink from the wine he had been indulging in all throughout the night. “I’m fine, my eyes are just a little dry.” You assured him, giving him a slight nod of the head. “I have some eye drops in my car if you want them.”

“God, yes please.”

Chan grinned and leaned down. He placed a soft kiss against your forehead before turning to face his friends, who had started poking fun at Chan, making all sorts of childish remarks. Chan rolled his eyes and grabbed a twig from the ground before throwing it at Soonyoung who was making kissy faces at the two of you like a five year old.

“You guys are so annoying.” He chuckled. He removed the blanket he had placed over the two of you. The cool wind of the ocean breeze hitting your arms making you shiver slightly. “Sometimes you just make it so easy for us.” Jeonghan said pointedly tilting his cup of wine in the direction you two were sitting in before bringing it up to his rosy lips and chugging it down.

“Whatever, we’re going.” Chan stood up and threw the blanket onto Joshua’s lap, who’s face lit up as he rushed to cover his body with the thin wool. “We’ll be back in like ten minutes.” He pulled you up by your arms gently and pecked your lips once you were at eye level with him.

“Ten minutes huh, so you’re like a hit it and quit it type of guy.” Jeonghan joked, sending the rest of the boys into fits of uncontrollable laughter. “We’re going to my car to get eye drops…I really hate all of you.” Chan groaned, pulling on your arm, silently asking you to follow him and get away from your friends as fast as possible. You trailed behind him laughing, listening to how they now decided to take it upon themselves and gossip about yours and Chan’s sex life. Each one making insane claims, only making Chan’s steps get faster causing him to trip every few steps due to the sinking sand surrounding your bare feet.

“I bet getting eye drops is like code for sex now a days.”

It was unclear, in your wine filled haze, how the two of you went from desperately searching for eye drops to now making out in the back seat of his car.

Eye drops.

That was the only purpose of your trip to the nearly empty parking lot. But when he couldn’t find them mumbling curses as he tore his car apart, finally realizing that Vernon had probably taken them after they had smoked a week ago. He gave up, staying silent for a few seconds before pulling you into the back seat. One you had familiarized yourself with after years of dating and sneaking around. Your scent etched in between the cracks of the old leather seats, a thought that always managed to turn your insides into mush.

“Mmm…we should go back.” You mumbled clinging onto Chan as you pushed his head further into your neck. He hummed nodding his head slightly as he desperately sucked a love bite onto the skin of your collar bone. “We should, but I don’t want to.” He raised his head, smirking, hooking his thumbs around your belt loops and pulling you onto his lap. “I have a few propositions for you.” He smirked and brought your shirt over your head revealing the white lace of your bra. “So innocent.” His fingers delicately traced along the lace detailing, as you waited for his so-called propositions or genius ideas as he sometimes liked to call them.

“Why don’t we try that thing you mentioned the other day over lunch last week?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and if your body wasn’t already feeling hot due to the alcohol coursing through your veins. The memory of your lunch date last Monday would’ve surely done it. “Here. Where we can get caught by our friends or worse the police?”

“That’s what makes it more exciting.” He winked and unbuttoned your shorts. His fingers teasing the seam of your matching panties waiting for your go ahead. It made your heart sore knowing that after years of dating he still waited for your approval. “Fuck it let’s do it.” You raised your body and brought down your shorts, hitting the back of your head in the process causing a loud laugh to erupt from Chan’s lips.

“Stop laughing and help me.”

“What did you want me to do? Look at you like you’ve sprung a third head?” He helped you take them off and threw them over the front seat. “You’re right I prefer you laughing.” You nodded before straddling his thigh and hooking your arms around his neck. He hummed and placed an arm underneath his head smugly before grabbing hold of your hip with his other one.

“Go on baby girl, I’m giving a free pass to get off on my thigh.”

“Like I need a pass anyway.”

“Hmm…I guess you’re right. I succumb to you in every possible way. All you have to do is open your mouth and ask.” Chan brought his arm down again before reaching over and placing his thumb against your bottom lip. He tugged on it making you open your mouth before inserting it, your tongue swirling around the calloused digit making him groan. “I miss seeing your mouth around me but I guess that can wait, now move baby.” He gave your hip a light tap before inserting his hand in between the waistband of your panties and groping your ass cheek.

You opened your mouth in an inaudible moan, his thumb falling out of your lips and onto your chin painting it with your saliva. You moved your hips experimentally, testing the waters scared that the fantasy you had been creating in your head wouldn’t be as pleasurable as you had pictured. Only to be proved wrong when the friction of his bare thigh against your panty clothed core sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Back to my propositions. If you can come undone on just my thigh, I promise I’ll fuck you until your seeing stars.”

Chan snickered watching your face contort in blissful pleasure as you started to confidently move your hips. He nosed at your neck before licking a strip up the shell of your ear making you whimper. “Does this make you feel good?” He teased, a smirk evident in his voice as he bounced his leg up. A choked moan escaping your chapped lips joining the heat in the air, while you shamelessly started to grind down on his thigh.

“G-God this is better than I imagined.” You threw your head back resting it on the seat in front of you. “I don’t know what’s better, hearing you say you’ve imagined this or watching it happen in front of me.” His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth. He clawed at your hips guiding you into a steady rhythm before taking his free hand and inserting it in the front of panties making you gasp.. He guides his fingers lower, gathering your slick before taking them out and bringing them up to his lips, lapping them sensually while you watched with hooded eyes.

“I want to feel you inside me, please.” You sat up and tugged at his shirt before bringing it over his head. “Please baby I want to feel full.” You dug your nails into his chest feeling the tension build up in the pit of your stomach.

“You will, once you come.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. He kissed your cheek before undoing the clasp of your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders. “It’s amazing how I don’t have to do anything for you to fall apart.” He boosted, taking your earlobe in between his teeth. You moaned out loudly as he started bouncing his leg and pushing you down on him even further.

“Let go for me baby.” He whispered in your ear before leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck. He bit down on your collar bone making you cry out as your body shook. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, sighing out his name. Chan let out a satisfied hum as he held your body close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You panted as your head fell in the crock of his neck. You sighed happily and ran your hand down his toned stomach, playing with the knot of his swimming trunks.

“That was the hottest thing ever love, we should do it more often.”

If there was one thing you would never complain about regarding your boyfriend was the fact that he always kept true to his promises. But if there was one thing that you could complain about was how truly evil he was when it came to giving you what you wanted.

You hated it.

“Channie stop fucking around and just get on with it.” You groaned as he pressed the head of his cock on your clit.

“Patience is a virtue honey.”

“Well my patience is wearing thin, if we take any longer the guys are going to come looking for us.” You arched your back as he ran his cock down your pussy lips, making you clench over nothing. He pulled back and spread your arousal along with his precum over his angry head, giving himself a few tugs before positioning himself at your entrance again.

“Frankly I am a little offended that you’re thinking about other men, while we’re in such a compromising position.” Chan says as he slowly starts to push in, your heat taking him and wrapping around him deliciously. Even after years of dating he still had such an overwhelming effect on you and he knew that. It made his chest swell up with pride knowing he was the only one that could make you feel the way he did.

“You always take me so well, always so tight. It’s like you’re made for me sweetheart.” He groaned once he was fully sheathed inside of you. Chan leaned down and captured your lips with his, swallowing your whimpers as he slowly started moving. He kept his pace, giving you time to adjust to him knowing fully well that it had been awhile since the two of you had had some alone time.

“B-Baby…f-fuck. You can move a little more.” You mumbled against his lips, clinging onto him. Your nails blissfully digging into his shoulder blades making him moan. He picked up his pace, his mouth trailing down the navel of your breasts, mumbling sweet sinful phrases, etching them into your skin. You arched your back, pushing yourself further into his mouth as he started hitting the mushy soft spot inside of you. Impressed that he had wasted no time in finding it, proving to you once again that he knew your body as if it were his second skin.

“Angel please let me cum inside of you.” He begged his kisses on your skin getting more desperate as well as his thrusts, causing the little coil of pleasure to form in the pit of your stomach. And as much as you didn’t want this moment to end, to stay underneath him in the cramped back seat of his car. To beg him to make you come undone over and over until your body couldn’t handle it anymore. You knew you couldn’t. It had been well over ten minutes.

“Hmm…are you sure?” You placed both of your hands on either side of his head pulling him off your nipple. The loss of his mouth disappoints you but you need to see his face. Needed to see the pleasure he was feeling painted over his perfect features. “Are we ready for that?” You let out a whimper as his thrusts got slower yet harder, making it a point for you to really feel him inside you. To take in how the head of his cock hit your g-spot. To feel the ridges and his veins pulsing against your soft velvety walls, indicating that he was starting to get close.

“More than ready…p-please I want to fill you up with my cum.” He begged resting his forehead against yours, his mouth opened with pleasure. His hot alcohol induced breath fanning your face making chills run down your spin. You nodded, your whimpers getting more desperate as he started to rub his thumb along your clit in moderate circles. The pressure increased as the two of you desperately started to chase your highs. The heat of his car wrapping like a blanket around the two of you making the intensity of the moment even higher.

It made you feel as if the two of you were back in high school and sneaking around with one another. Making out in the same seats during lunch time choosing each other rather than your food. It brought back memories of all the nights underneath the stars at the abandoned football field, listening to him spew random facts about space. And the first night the two of you made love to one another by the lake on a raggedy old blanket his grandma had given him for the holiday season. It was overwhelming to have him this close to you always. To feel him and every inch of his body knowing very well you were the only one that was able to make him come undone the way he always did. And it sent you to the moon.

“C-Channie I’m close.” You breathed out. Your hands moved down his back, pushing him deeper into you. Trying your hardest to feel him closer than what he already was. He moaned out your name like a prayer, his thumb on your clit getting faster as well as his deep thrusts. The dam that had been kept away broke and you felt your orgasm crash harder than before.

“F-Fuck me.” Chan moaned his head falling into your neck as he came undone, painting your walls with his sticky substance. He thrusted into you a bit more, your walls milking him out as he mumbled sweet praises against the shell of your ear.

“I already did.” You joked, a low laugh escaping his lungs as your chests heaved against one another. “I have a proposition for you now.” You whispered snaking your hand up his back and resting it against the back of his head.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We should do that more often.” You giggled. He raised his head giving you a smug look before cupping your chin and bringing it up so his lips were hovering over yours. “How about a round two and we call it a night.” He proposed giving you a chaste kiss before rubbing his nose against yours.

“I think that’s the greatest idea you’ve had all day.”

Chan held onto your hand tightly as the two of you slowly made your way back to the beach camp. Your body was exhausted and you could tell Chan’s was also. Which made you laugh as sometimes the two of you liked to think you had the same stamina you had when you were younger. Each time you were proved wrong but neither of you liked to admit it.

“Finally, we were starting to think you guys got kidnapped.” Seokmin said as he leaned forward roasting a marshmallow.

“To be fair DK and Hoshi were the only ones that thought that. The rest of us knew exactly what was going on.” Vernon spoke, taking a bite out of his s’more, groaning in disappointment when the melted marshmallow fell out of the confinements of the cracker and onto his chin.

“We were looking for eye drops, which by the way I know you took.” Chan sat down on one of the empty lounge chairs. He pulled your arm gently before circling them around your waist and bringing you down onto his lap. You smiled shaking your head as the lewd comments started to filter in.

“I knew that was code for sex.”

“No it’s code for actually looking for eye drops.” Chan gazed over at you. “Right baby?” He sent you a playfully wink making you laugh. No matter what came out of your mouth next, the teasing would never stop. And you knew they would be bringing up the eye drop story as they were now deeming it, until the day you took your last breath. So you shook your head and gave Chan a quick peck before turning to face your friends.

“Chan’s right we were just looking for eye drops.”

#dino smut #chan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #dino scenarios #dino imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt fanfiction #chan scenarios #chan imagines #lee chan #dino

[monstas1ut2]

Diabolik Lovers x POC!Reader!

~Warnings!~

•Mature!Smutty!

•May Have Some Errors?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If You Gave Them Head”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Shu Sakamaki

-Soft, and slow... The definition of having sex in the moonlight. Shu isn't the type to be so aggressive towards you, only if you're being a brat. His main reason being that he's lazy, he wouldn't dare push his energy out unless he really feels the need to.. like when you're sad or depressed and just need some love.

-Shu loves the way your lips are, make sure you have lip gloss on first... honestly, it doesn't even matter.. just make your lips glossy by licking them... he'll mentally drool over it.

-Shu will record you... Though he's such a secretive and secretly romantic guy.. it will NOT surface. It's locked in his phone as memories, just like your moans.. he listens to them while alone if he misses you...in more ways than one.

-Things he'd say while getting head would be "Choking on it?... slow down then..." or "Look at me..." or "Take it like a big girl..."

-Shu actually moans a lot.. but they're soft, his face Will be red and his eyes will be staring down at you.

-Reiji Sakamaki

-Rough, but this sadistic vampire tends to praise you for everything.. making this not such a pain. Granting you bruises on your plump lips and a sore throat... it's a bit much but Reiji tries to refrain himself from being so rough, though seeing you like that.. on your knees in front of him as he sips on his tea... Magical yeah?

-Reiji loves watching you cry, the tears welling up in your eyes as they fall. He likes seeing those eyes of yours water up behind your long eyelashes. Flutter those eyelashes up at him while slurping him up... he might just loose control.

-Having a pure white collar on your neck is something that turns him on to the max. Just seeing the difference between it and your darker skin... He aches at the sight almost every time, like he's edging himself. Which is why he makes you wear it every time. He just loved the thought of you looking innocent as an Angel.

-Things he'd say while getting head would be "Such a good girl..." or "You're quite good at this now, I've taught you well.." or "Dont you loose a single drop.... you want your reward.. yes?"

-Reiji holds in his moans, no doubt about it. It's not that he doesn't feel what you're giving him.. He most definitely does, he enjoys it everytime, those praises aren't just for nothing. One time you were so determined that you managed to push out a moan from him... it was so masculine and hot that you noticed how much of a slut you wanted to be for him..

-Ayato Sakamaki

-Rough... It's also apparent to say, you are barely in control half the time. The redhead doesn't know what slow means, or pain. He disregards your pleads as he grabs a fist full of your bonnet and he thrusts into your mouth. Though if he's not grabbing your bonnet, it's you being pushed against a wall, on your ass as you stuck your tongue out.. his cock going in and out of your throat.

-The reason Ayato is this way is because he loves how much mess it makes of you. He delves in the end result of seeing you so fucked over. Your bonnet either off or sliding off, as well as your scarf that was under it. He also likes if your breasts are drenched in your spit and his cum. Please let's not let the male see you break a nail.. he'll tease you about it.

-Ayato, being his egotistical self loves forcing you to lick every single drop of his cum.. even if it's on the floor.. though only if you wanted to.. he's not THAT disrespectful towards you, he still respects you.. since that day you shamelessly slapped his face about something.

-Things he'd say while getting head would be like "It's big in your throat huh..?" Or "Make a mess, yours truly likes how slutty you are..." or "don't puke... then again... yours truly doesn't care..."

-Ayato is loud, alright? He's loud.. and he'll let anyone know what you two did and how you two did it. Though if you're really self conscious about the situation, he'd try to be a sweetheart and calm down.

-Laito Sakamaki

-Actually gentle.... Laito loves watching you play with him, and will not care if you hesitate to go farther. He likes seeing you fawn over him and lick at his sensitive spots. Laito will only grip at your hair or your bonnet, if you guide his hand there. He just likes seeing you have fun giving him pleasure. Laito would have his hair strands wild and those green eyes would watch you take him in your mouth.

-Laito feels like soft head is what he loves best with you. Since he's actually committed to this relationship, he doesn't have to rush to eat you out.. and you don't have to rush to suck him up. The thought of softly cumming in your mouth or on your face is pretty to him.

-Laito loves waking up to it, it's just the thought of you not being told to do it.. it turned him on. He ends up growing in your throat and he can't help but lightly buck his hips up toward you.

-Things he says while getting head would be like "you're so pretty (y/n)~.." or "Stop being such a tease (y/n)..." or "I love you..."

-Laito is your average moaner actually, when he cums though.. it's some volume towards it.. Sometimes he has to cover his own mouth from being so loud towards the end. Though if you were to give him an insane amount of pleasure, the whole mansion would echo.

-Kanato Sakamaki

-This depends, Kanato could be rough one day... or soft the next. We all know how his rough days could go... he could dislocate your jaw from being so rough but he refrains at times... telling himself that he'd hate himself if he caused harm to you.. though luckily, he's very soft with you most of the time! He doesn't even ask for it. So when you do it out of the blue he blushes and let's you.

-Kanato loves the way you stare at him, also.. if you just recently got your new nails. He thinks it's undoubtedly cute while your wrap your fingers around his cock. Nails on display as your lips were wrapped around him. It sent shivers up his spine, and he never can hold back his orgasm.

-Kanato, loves when you suck him off with whipped cream. It's not surprising.. no.. so you were prepared. He loves the way it pushes out of your mouth and drops to the floor. It just looks so sexy when it looks like you can't contain it all in your mouth.. you look full... and you look like a piece of chocolate with the whipped cream and that's what turns him on.

-Things he says when he's getting head would be like "Doll... K-Keep your mouth open.." or "say you love it..." or "touch yourself.."

-Kanato moans a lot, though they won't be so noticeable unless someone gets pretty close to your room door. His breaths are what gives it away though, it's like he gets so tired afterwards. Though not too tired to blow your back out afterwards.

-Subaru Sakamaki

-In the middle, that is where Subaru lies. He basically gives you the dick in such a dominant way that he's rough but those soft words slip from his mouth constantly. He doesn't like hurting you, we know that.. which is why he can't help but to mumble out things like that... just to reassure you.

-Subaru likes seeing you beg for it, he loves seeing you want him in ways that only you could. He just loves the feeling of seeing you make grabby hands for his cock, and he lets you have it. Subaru will definitely thrust his way in your mouth too...

-If you kiss him after you sucked his cock, he'll be pretty annoyed.. but he loves it actually, he loves your lips in general.. just like how, if he eats you out.. he's going to kiss you. He thinks it's gross and honestly he'll never admit such a thing but he loves it.

-Things he says when he's getting head would be like "I'm sorry..." or "Fuck... that feels good.." or "I-In or out..?"

-Karlheinz

-Let's just say... Its not what you think...he's been with many woman and they willingly did it for him... not to mention put him before themselves and let him break their jaws just from being so rough.. though you? He literally lets you do what you please, if you felt like teasing him that day.. yes you're in for it later but he's enjoying it.

-Karlheinz, loving a powerful black woman like you was literally the best decision he'd ever made. He didn't mind the sassy sayings coming from you... nor did he mind the way that you'd tease him constantly like licking his tip non stop or licking him in long strokes. He just loves to see the fire in your eyes burn out later on.

-Karlheinz will even feed into your little Roleplay and will actually moan out for you... even though he's completely fine and he knows he can suppress it quite well. Though they aren't fake... and the pleasure was better than any woman he'd ever had... so.

-Things he says when he's getting head would be like "Oh darling... look at how beautiful you are..." or "you treat your king with the upmost respect don't you..?" Or "Someone's getting punished later on..."

-Karlheinz.. doesnt moan on accident or in the moment, he just feeds into your little Roleplay and tends to push that to the back of his mind while he's burning your ass in the damn bed.

#black reader #poc reader #lemons #smut #boyfriend scenarios #diabolik lovers scenarios #diabolik lovers #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #karlheinz

[just-someone-who-likes-to-write]

Overprotective

(Requested by Anonymous : Could I request a nuada x hellboys sister, maybe where Red dosent trust nuada until nuada saves her one day? Please and thank you!)

(A/N): It feels so good to be back and writing and hopefully I will be able to empty my ask box, the story is kind of a follow up to my other fic “Nuada X Mischievous Reader”, other than that please enjoy!

Warning: Grammatical Error, some angst, talk of R*pe but not actually any, sibling love, some comedy.

Word Count: 3,580 

When Nuada was finally defeated he was forced to join the B.P.R.D  as a way to repent for his crimes, only for the fact that they can't kill him because of his link to Nuala. If they kill him they will also be killing Nuala and by killing the only two royalty of the Bethmoora clan, they will risk another war happening. So they went with the safer route and its to recruit the prince in hopes he does become better.

 Now, Hellboy believes in second chances, he believes that his people can be good, that someday humans and monsters can live together happily. He joked about how when Nuada sees the good in humans that he might take a human lover, even saying it to Nuada himself, who made it clear that such a remark irritated him, which encourage Hellboy to keep on annoying him.

Who knew that teasing him about taking a human lover would turn on him in the form of walking into his younger sister while she was cuddling the elven prince… both almost naked.

 That day he kept chasing Nuada trying to shoot him down. It was until Manning got involved that he stopped.

 "Red stop trying to kill my boyfriend!" Exclaimed (Y/n) who stood in front  Nuada to shield him from her big brother.

 "You are too young for a boyfriend!" Retorted Hellboy earning a facepalm from Liz and Abraham.

 "I am a grown woman Red!" You said with crossed arms. "And have been for a long time now, just accept it."

 "W…Well..you!...He!" Stammered Hellboy, and you just smirked victoriously.

 "Yes Red." Said Abraham. "(Y/n) is old enough to have a partner."

 Hellboy's eyes lighted up with an idea. With his stone hand, he pointed a finger at Nuada and smirked.

 "But HE is TOO old for her." (Y/n)'s eyes widened in shock, and Nuada just rolled his eyes.

 “And what does that make you to Lizzy?... Huh!?” Replied (Y/n). “You may be physically an adult but we both know how old are you in the head Red.”

 As the sibling fight started to get even more heated the lovers of said siblings came forward to separate them. Liz came in front of red and started to push him backward while Nuada wrapped his arm around (Y/n)’s waist and started to whisper comforting words into her ears, which seemed to work for she looked up to him and smiled before sharing a gentle kiss.  However, that only seemed to anger Hellboy further.

 “Get your hands off her!” He was still being held back by a pregnant Liz. (Y/n) frowned at his outburst she opened her mouth to say something back but Nuada stopped her.

 “I know how enraged you must be to see your sister,  who had always admired you be with another because I felt the same thing towards Abraham and I must confess I do still feel it sometimes…” he started. “But know that I truly care for (Y/n) and I will protect her-“

 “Bullsh*t!” Said Hellboy cutting him off. “You are still that insane elf who wants to destroy all humanity!”

 “Brother Red, you noted how Nuada is getting better.” Said Abraham.

 “Yeah!” Agreed Liz. “And weren’t you the one who said Nuada should get a human girlfriend?”

 “Not my freaking baby sister!!” He screamed.

 “I’m not little anymore Red!” Screamed (Y/n)  back. “I can date whoever I want!... And I love Nuada,  So there! “

 Not wanting to argue anymore (Y/n) started to drag Nuada, who was stunned by her sudden confession, Out of the room and he followed without hesitation,  leaving behind a very angry demon.

 “He is no good for you (Y/n)!... And I’m gonna prove it!!” Hellboy shouted one last time making sure Nuada heard him.

 ---

 For the next couple of weeks, Hellboy did everything in his power to prove that Nuada was using his little sister and is still evil. He kept a watch on Nuada while he trained, ate, and even when he casual walking down the hallway. Nuada, of course,  is a warrior so he could feel Hellboy's eyes on him, he actually could see him because the demon did a very slobby job at hiding, but for the sake of his dear (Y/n), He was willing to put up with whatever her brother puts him through.

 "Was it everything you needed?" Asked the woman on the desk as she took the file full of papers from Nuada.

 "Yes, thank you for your help." He replied politely.

 "Anything for the infamous Nuada." Said the woman in a sultry manner.

 It wasn't the first time someone tried to seduce him in this building, especially after his and (Y/n) relationship became public. But he ignored them all because he already had his beloved. So Nuada nodded, and turned around to leave ignoring her advances towards him. anyone could tell from his blank look on his face that he wasn't interested in the woman in any way, however, someone thinks other ways. Sensing an attack is coming Nuada just sighed and prepared himself because he knew who is the source. Just as he stepped out of the office a stone hand got a hold of his collar shirt, yanking him up in the air before slamming him against the concrete walls violently, cranking them. Nuada grunted from the pain but he kept calm. He opened his golden eyes and meet the yellow once that glared back at him.

 "You bastard!" Growled Hellboy. "How dare you cheat on my baby sister!"

 "I did not betray (Y/n) in any-"

 "Bullsh*t!" Hellboy exclaimed cutting him off.

 His outburst was attracting unwanted attention, Nuada could already see humans whispering to each other, he knew of how the humans love to gossip and twist stories just so they could enjoy the reaction they receive not carrying that twisting fact can hurt people lives, and he didn't want his relationship with (Y/n) end because of a gossip. He again tried to calm the demon.

 "Hellboy…" he called in a low voice. "This isn't the place to talk about such things."

 "So you admit that you are cheating on (Y/n)." Stated Red who ignored the rising whispers around them.

 "I am not!" Nuada tightened his hold on the stone wrist. He knew it won't hurt him but he hoped that he would take the hint.

 "Don't deny it I saw you all the time." He confessed. "Wherever you go there is always a girl stuck to your hip."

 Nuada's eyes widened at the accusation. It was true that whenever he wanted to train or eat, a woman would approach him, but that's only because his beloved was not there to scare them off.

 "It's not what you think-" Before he could finish Hellboy pulled him from the wall before slamming him in again.

 "Save it!"

 "Red what are you doing!?"

 Both creatures turned to see a very angry (Y/n) marching towards them, behind her was Nuala who just stood behind looking troubled on what she should do. (Y/n) however, knew. She pushed Hellboy away Nuada forcing him to let the prince go, she rushed to Nuada.

 "Are you ok?" She asked with a worried look, Nuada just nodded as he stood straight and massaged his neck, she turned to her brother."Red, what is the meaning of this?"

 "I'll tell you what's going on…" he pointed to Nuada behind her. "I caught this guy cheating on you with another woman."

 "What?" a confused look crossed (Y/n) face.

 "I caught him flirting with women around the building!" Said Hellboy, (Y/n) just shock her head.

 "No, Nuada would never do that to me." She replied with her arms crossed.

 "Ask him yourself!" he said with a grin.

 "Nuada care to explain?" Asked (Y/n) with her arms crossed.

 "And don't lie!" Added Hellboy before receiving a glare from (Y/n), which silenced him.

 His little sister is a sweet girl but when she is pissed she is even more dangerous than him, and he learned that from harsh experience after teasing his sister too much when she was younger. (Y/n) turned to her lover before locking her arm around his and dragging him away with her. Hellboy was going to go after them but was stopped by Nuala who told him Liz was feeling unwell again, so he rushed to her forgetting Nuada for now.

    The ride in the vehicle to their next mission was so quiet you could hear the voices of people outside as they passed them by at such speed.

 And Hellboy can't help but feel a bang of guilt because he was the cause.

 After him making a scene and accusing Nuada of cheating, (Y/n) turned to Nuada for an explanation. Turns out she didn't know about him being flirted with by so many women and the fact that he never told her angered (Y/n) further, which resulted in their first fight.

 Now, (Y/n) sat beside Abraham with the mission's file in her hands reading it carefully, while Nuada sat far in the corner near the doors, and once in a while he would steal glances at (Y/n) hoping she would look at him but she stood still like a stone.

 She deserves the nickname their father gave her, "The Iron Lady".

 "So..uhh.." Stammered Abraham. "We are getting close to the location."

 "Very well." Said (Y/n) finally after not saying anything since before the ride.

 Hellboy sighed wishing Liz was here to help but he knew if she was here she will blame him for the fight, and she won't be wrong.

 "the creatures we are against are against are a bunch of rouge Nagas, who did not only attacked and feed on some humans but also kidnapped a few." Explained Abraham.

 "Kidnapped?" Asked Hellboy.

 "Yes, there are two possibilities for why…" Abraham turned to them and he counted. "The first would be to feed those who can't hunt by themselves, which is unlikely considering the nature of the Naga."

 "And the second reason?" Pressed Hellboy.

 Abraham paused finding it difficult to say, but (Y/n) didn't.

 "Breeding." She said closing the file. "They kidnap humans to breed them."

 "They r*pe the humans!?" exclaimed Hellboy his eyes widened.

 "More like using them as a vessel to carry the eggs, so the young once can find something to nibble on when they hatch." She explained. "But yeah, it will be against the victims well, so it is that."

 "(Y/n) I think you should stay behind." Said Nuada the look on his face was serious.

 "Why so you can act all high and mighty for your girlfriends?" She replied annoyingly without even looking at him as she started to prepare herself with weapons.

 "This is not the time or place for such talk." Nuada was irritated now. "You read the file yourself they are using humans for breeding and you will be a target to them."

 "What, you think just because I'm a girl I can't take care of myself?" She finally turned to him her hands on her hips and her eyes glared dangerously at him. Nuada glared back.

 "Stop being stubborn for once and listen to me!" He said sternly but (Y/n) was not phased.

 When the vehicle came to a stop (Y/n) hurried to the doors ignoring Nuada completely. He might try to hide it but Hellboy did see the look of hurt cross his face, making the guilt he feels even greater.

 "Uhh.. hey man… listen-" Hellboy started reached to place a hand on the Elf's shoulder to comfort him but what cut off by Nuada slapping his hand away from him, he gave him a harsh glared before going after his angry lover.

 "I deserve it." sighed Hellboy before going after them as well.

 ---

 When they reached underground they realized that they needed to split and Because (Y/n) and Abraham are the weakest of the bunch they decided that one with stay with Hellboy and the other with Nuada, before Nuada could say or do anything (Y/n) dragged Hellboy to one way, leaving Nuada with Abraham. Now, Both Hellboy and (Y/n) walked down the dark path staying glued together each one holding a gun, the only thing they could hear was their own breathing and footsteps. His little sister was concentrated on the mission at hand but Hellboy wasn't.

 "Sooo…" He started. "you guys are still in a fight?"

 Hellboy knew his question was a stupid one but he couldn't think of any other.

 "What sharp preservation you have." She replied sarcastically, making Hellboy wince at her tone.

 "Are… Are you going to.. break up?"

 "No!" (Y/n) immediately answered stopping on her track to look at her brother who was takin back by her sudden outburst. She sighed.

 "Me and Nuada… aren't breaking up." She said slowly before continuing to walk, her brother followed.

 "It's true, I am angry at Nuada for hiding such an important thing from me but that isn’t the only reason…" she started to explain. "We told me how I am overreacting that he doesn’t understand why it is important for me to know…"

 She stopped when a whimper escaped her throat, she quickly turned away from Hellboy to wipe her tears. When they were young Hellboy never saw her cry, the last time he saw her cry openly was when their father died, and now here she is choking up tears because of a fight she had with the one she loves… a fight her caused. Hellboy wanted to comfort her but the sound of hissing pulled them out of their thoughts, before they knew it a Naga jumped from a hiding sport tackling Hellboy to the ground, separating him from (Y/n).

 He held the creature's head with his stone hand crunching it and throw the body away, but just when he was about to call for his sister, another pair of Nagas attacked him keeping him still. As he struggled with them he was forced to watch as his sister defended her self by shooting one of them in the eye making him whale in pain, she was focused on the one coming in front of her that she didn’t see the one creeping up behind her.

 "Behind you!" He called drawing her attention but it was too late. The moment (Y/n) turned to face the Naga behind her it hit her head causing her to lose consciousness and fall.  "NO!"

 Hellboy started shooting his way out and to (Y/n) but when he was finally free it was too late and his sister was gone. They took her.

 Consumed by rage Hellboy started to slaughter the Nagas around him with a roar, his massacre caused the rest to flee from him out of fear. The demon ignored them as he ran through a tunnel that the Naga who took (Y/n) slithered in. Horrible images started to invade his brain at what his baby sister is probably going through, it motivated him to run even faster, however as he came closer he could hear the slashing of flesh and clink on the iron echo from the end of the tunnel. When he finally reached the end he was surprised by the sight that greeted him.

 (Y/n) was thankfully safe, she is still unconscious but her head was laying on Abrahams's lap as he checked for injuries, but that wasn't was surprised him. what surprised him is Nuada clearly consumed by bloodlust and he tore through the Nagas mercilessly. Hellboy pulled himself from the shock as he ran to Abraham.

 "Is she ok?!" he asked worriedly, Abraham Nodded.

 "Yes, she is just unconscious from the hit."

 A whale of pain pulled them from their conversation. they turned as saw Nuada starting to chase those who tried to slither away or hide from him, By now Nuada was covered in blood.

 "What happened?" Asked Hellboy, who didn't care about the other creatures' fate.

 "We were hiding in one of the holes, observing the nest for survivals when one of the Nagas came in with (Y/n) unconscious…" He paused for a second look back to Nuada who was taking deep breaths to calm himself. "I tried to stop him but the moment I held his hand I could sense the pure rage he felt but also the hint of fear for (Y/n)'s safety."

 Hellboy was stunned by what he heard, their conversation was cut short when they saw Nuada come towards them and kneel in front of (Y/n) he reached out for her only to stop when he realized how his hand was bloody and that the rest of him was covered in blood. He looked up at Abraham.

 "No injuries, just unconscious." He answered the silent question Causing Nuada to sigh in relief, he then turned to Hellboy.

 "I could go and hunt the once who escaped, you can leave."

 "No no!" Stopped him Hellboy. "It won't be needed, from what I saw I doubt that they will be back."

 Nuada just nodded to him before looking back at (Y/n), his eyes held a worried stare, he looked at himself again.

 "Could you carry her?... I do not wish to dirty her."

 "Of course."

 With (Y/n) in his arms, Hellboy and the others made their way out of the underground Naga nest. A couple of medics rushed to them with a stretcher when they saw (Y/n) limp body, when they took her away Nuada didn't waste time to follow them, and when they tried to stop him from coming into the vehicle with them he gave one murderous glare, which silenced them.

 Hellboy can't deny it anymore he knew what he has to do.

 ---

 Hellboy made his way through the hallway of the infirmary searching for a particular couple. The moment he that his sister was awake he hurried out of his room to go and see her. when he came closer to the room he slowed down for her heard laughter. He peeked inside to see (Y/n) awake and well with Nuada beside her, his hands holding hers tight. Both of them were smiling at one another and chuckling. Hellboy was relieved that they had gone back together, he was tempted to just leave them to have their moment because he knows they needed it, but he still had this burden that won't go away unless he acts.

 "I am sorry." He said making (Y/n) jump in surprised, Nuada however wasn't probably already knew he was there hiding.

 "Red, It's alright you." Said (Y/n) with a reassuring smile.

 "It is?" Hellboy asked with a raised brow.

 "Yeah…" She started. "It was my fault I should have listened to    Nuada and stayed behind instead of forcing my way in the mission. Next time I promise to stay behind in major mission."

 "No… it's not about that...I mean I AM sorry for not protecting you but the apology was….for.. something else…"

 When he saw the confused look on (Y/n) face Hellboy sighed in defeat.

 "I am sorry for getting in your way… with Nuada I mean." He admitted. "I still don't like it when I see him with you… but high what brother does like to see his baby sister get all chummy with his Ex-enemy or any guy of that matter really!"

 He chuckled awkwardly when he got no response.

 "I just wanted to say I am sorry to have yelled at you and said you were still little." He turned to Nuada. "And I am sorry for accusing you of being unfaithful to my baby sister-… I mean (Y/n)."

 A smile spread on (Y/n) face when she heard him say that, she got up from the bed with ease and went to give Her brother a tight hug which he returned.

 "Apology accepted." She stated then slowly pulled away from him. "And you can still call me your baby sister, just don't treat me as one too much."

 "I'll try." Hellboy chuckled at that statement.

 "Hmmm…."

 They turned and looked at Nuada who had a dissatisfied look.

 "What an apology is no good for you?" Asked Hellboy annoyedly.

 "Actually, no it is not." Said Nuada as he stood up from his chair. "You Hellboy had stabbed my honor, accused me of adultery and even if you walked through every hall in this establishment and shouted my innocence the humans would still whisper of how I am a "Cheater", as you call it."

 Hellboy sighed annoyedly at Nuada's words, but for his sister, he will get over it.

 "And what do you want me to do about it?" He asked wanting to get over with it.

 "I just want you to stand there and watch." Said Nuada with a smirk as he took (Y/n) hand and walked her a safe distance from the red demon.

 "Watch?" Asked Hellboy confused. "Watch what?"

 "This."

 Nuada almost purred his words as he wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist, pressing her against his, which made her yelp in surprise, but she was silenced quickly by a deep kiss from Nuada. (Y/n) had missed Nuada too much so instead of fighting back she gave in to the passion and let herself melt in the elven prince arms as she kissed back, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction.

 Hellboy's eyes twitched at what he saw and when his body started to shake Nuada saw this as his cue to pick up (Y/n) bridal style and run away from the angry red demon.

--- 

I hope you all enjoyed this fic and will look forward for more, I Can’t take more request so please be patient and thank you.

#Prince Nuada #prince nuada x reader #nuada x reader #hellboy the golden army #hellboy 2 the golden army

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Seriously though if someone was watching the tent scene from 1x07 without having watched the rest of the show I honestly think they would probably side with Aleksander(which is why they had to have him collar her first so he doesn’t come off looking reasonable). I mean what he did to Alina was wrong but you really can’t help but feel for him and understand where he’s coming from. It’s Alina who sounds insane in this scenario she blames him about things he’s never done(the deaths of her friends which she was actually responsible for her as well as her parents whom she’s never shown ti really care about before)and then blames him on things that he’s doing to protect their people(staging a coup which Woody take the king who’s also her friends’ rapist that she’s also putting the blame on Aleksander for). She makes stuff up about his motivation da that aren’t backed up(how he’s just using his soldiers)and then says he never cares about who gets hurt as long as he wins when he’s been telling her how many times what he’s doing is for the Grisha. I’m sorry I don’t want to hate Alina but the convulted writing makes it really hard not to.Abe how pathetic is it that Aleks had to keep threatening M*l so she can do what she has to yet we’re supposed to root for her? WTH?!

Yeah that scene was frustrating in alot of ways because Alina clearly didn't have all the information for one and like you said she's listing off all these 'crimes' that Aleks has committed and they are either not really his fault like her friends dying in the fold, when she says 'you killed my friends' I mean if you want to get technical about it then sure he created the fold and the fold is what killed them but at the end of the day Alina was the one that burned those maps and they never would have been on the skiff if she hadn't done that so they both have blame in it, Aleks for creating the fold and Alina for burning the maps, therefore I think its very unfair for Alina to be putting that blame solely on Aleks. I also was bothered that she never really seemed to show any guilt or remorse about her friends dying other than one small scene in ep 2 when she says 'they're all gone, it's all my fault.' Then there's the whole overthrowing the king thing which I really don't know why Alina was angry about that or saw it as a bad thing when she knows how awful the king is. I did feel like the writers were really trying to push this idea that Aleks was the bad guy now and look at all these bad things he has done but the writing makes no sense because earlier in the episode they showed us this flashback that clearly shows that Aleks never intended to create the fold and that it was an accident and that he was just trying to protect the grisha. So when Alina accuses him of doing it for his own gain and he answers that all he's ever done is to keep grisha safe we as an audience have that flashback as evidence of this not of Alina's claims.

Obviously Aleks putting that collar on Alina was wrong but as you said you can't help but feel sympathetic for him. I mean in that scene I definitely felt bad for Aleks but I also did feel bad for Alina because she clearly felt hurt and some bad writing choices aside I do think the scene did make you kind of see both sides. On one side Aleks really is trying to protect the grisha and you can see with the way that he is pleading with her that he does genuinely care about her and want her forgiveness. But on the flip side of this Alina has every right to feel hurt and betrayed by him because of the collar, obviously she is going to be inclined to think the worst of him because he committed this truly horrific act against her. But it is definitely one of those scenes that leaves you wanting to scream 'just talk' at the tv screen because really a good long conversation and I actually think they could come back together and work together.

#darklina #answered

[kgraces]

Any Other Canvas

@badthingshappenbingo

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Cold-Blooded Torture

For @iwhumpyou

Read it on Ao3 here!

Who is Jason Todd?

He is: the Red Hood, a merciless crime lord, one of the world’s best marksmen, a dead man walking, a skilled assassin, a former street rat, cold-blooded, the son of Bruce Wayne, no one’s son, Batman’s greatest failure, poisoned by the Lazarus Pit, partially insane, lethal. 

Robin. 

More importantly, Jason Todd is alive. 

Tim isn’t sure if it’s the waters of the Pit crawling through his veins, or if his anger is truly this potent, but Jason stalks closer with murderous intent, nonetheless. His hands shake; he feels the fury directed toward him as a bone-crushing weight against his chest, and his heart beats like a bird’s fluttering wings in a frantic rhythm. 

“Hello little cuckoo bird,” Jason says, and his voice is a low, soft growl through the voice modulators in his helmet. He snarls, and it sounds like a feral animal is clawing against his rib cage—a predator crooning at its prey. Tim stiffens, eyes going wide behind the domino mask. He’s done research on the Red Hood, even been shuttled off to San Francisco to keep him as far away as possible, but seeing him in person—knowing it’s Jason underneath that helmet—and hearing the darkness in his tone is jarring.  

“Jason,” Tim says warily. He backs up half a step, muscles tensing when Jason follows him. “Why are you here?” He has a few guesses, but stalling might give him enough time to come up with a plan. 

“You’re wearing a death shroud, Replacement, and that’s an invitation,” Jason replies, voice soft and almost condescending. “One I intend to respond to in kind.” 

Tim is alone in the Tower, and the comms are down. A sickening dread creeps through him, but he ignores the feeling to focus on finding a way out. Tim reaches for his bo staff, readying himself for a fight. Jason surprises him, though, by drawing a gun and shooting him in the thigh before he can even react. Tim lets out a shout, using the staff to keep himself upright. He can’t see Jason’s expression under the helmet, but the laugh rumbling from his chest is chilling. 

Tim’s mind blanks, plans deserting him as he switches into a primal fight-or-flight mode. He chooses flight, crippled as he is by the injury to his leg. He stumbles a little, shaking off the pain as best he can, and runs toward the stairwell. If he can reach his room, he might be able to get a distress call out with his personal panic button. He falters at the first step, leg shrieking at him, but Tim grits his teeth and glances around, frantic. He can hear heavy footsteps behind him—close, too close.  

It’s fine. He can do this.

Tim leaps, grabbing onto the rail of the landing directly across from him. He clambers up and over the railing. The door to the stairwell opens, and his breath hitches. Tim bolts down the stairs as quickly as he can with a bullet still lodged in his thigh. He hears mechanized laughter behind him, and a jolt of fear runs through his bones. Tim pushes himself to go faster. He’s almost at the bottom of the stairs now. If he can just make it to the door....

He stumbles again, falling down the last flight. He hears the snap before he feels the burn in his wrist, and he can’t stop the cry of pain. Tim picks himself up off the floor and hobbles to the door, but before he can open it, a heavy boot kicks him in the back. The bo staff clatters to the ground, and Tim crumples again. He rolls onto his side to see Jason looming over him. 

Jason picks him up by the collar and drags him out of the stairwell, heading for the training room. Tim tries to lash out at him, but with one good arm against enforced body armor, he’s fighting a losing battle. Jason drops him at the mats and digs his heel into the wound on Tim’s leg, laughing again when Tim has to visibly bite back a shout. 

“Don’t worry Replacement,” Jason coos. “I won’t kill you.” 

The next moment, he draws a knife from his belt, and the terror returns. He’s not going to kill Tim, but Jason’s certainly not going to leave him alone until he’s bled enough. Jason leans down and cuts the R off of Tim’s uniform. He holds the scrap of fabric in his hand for a long moment before shaking his head and tossing it to the floor. The knife descends again, carving not into the tunic but rather Tim’s skin, tracing the outline of Robin’s insignia, right over Tim’s heart.

He doesn’t scream, but it’s a near thing. He blinks up at the impassive red helmet, shuddering, and Jason pauses for a moment. Tim doesn’t bother hoping he’s decided to stop, and he’s proven right when Jason merely reaches up and removes the helmet, tossing it to the floor with a loud clatter. He removes his domino mask, too, just so Tim can see just how much he’s enjoying this. Then, he kneels down and tears off Tim’s mask, for good measure. 

Jason traces the knife around Tim’s eyes, outlining the mask. He drags it down, over his cheek and jaw, to press against his throat. Jason smiles at the sight of the scar he’d left the last time he slit Tim’s throat. He applies just enough pressure to draw blood, and Tim fights back a wince. He draws the knife away from Tim’s skin, smiling still, and then, he stabs him in the shoulder, twisting the blade. Tim does scream, this time, blinking back hot tears at the blinding pain. 

Jason leans back on his heels and laughs.

He pulls the knife out and wipes the blood off on Tim’s tunic before he places it back in his belt. Moments later, he has two other knives, serrated and wicked-looking, and he pins down Tim’s right arm with an iron grip, clutching the broken wrist so tightly he can feel the bones grind together. He only has a moment to wonder what Jason’s going to do next before one of the blades stabs through his hand, pinning it to the floor. He repeats the same process with Tim’s left hand, leaving Tim feeling like a butterfly encased in glass. 

His breathing is shallow and too fast, and Jason’s leering at him with sick glee in his eyes. Jason hums, studying his handiwork, and after a moment, he reaches for another weapon. This time, it’s Tim’s own bo staff. A tear slides down Tim’s cheek, and Jason rests his free hand on Tim’s face, gently thumbing it away. Tim hates himself for leaning into the touch. Jason’s hand drifts to his hair, pushing the dark, sweaty locks out of his eyes and combing his fingers through the strands. Tim’s eyes flutter shut, a confusing mix of comfort and horror swirling in his stomach. 

The bo staff cracks down against his collarbone, and Tim screams. The next swing hits his fingers, then his left knee, the fingers on his other hand, his right ankle. Tim sobs hard, trying to keep his crying as quiet as he can. He doesn’t want to give Jason the satisfaction of breaking him, but everything hurts, and he just wants it to stop. His ribs crack, and the scream is cut off by a harsh wheeze.

He must lose time, because the next moment he’s aware of, the knife is back. Tim turns his face away and catches sight of his staff on the ground, bloodied, a dark crimson. He whimpers as the tip of the knife digs into his broken collarbone. Jason cuts a path down Tim’s arm, a swirling pattern which could’ve been beautiful on any other canvas. Tim’s broken sobs have petered out into soft whines and hitched breaths. 

Jason uses his fists, next.

His torso will be a patchwork of bruises, yellows and greens and dark purples, if Tim does actually survive this ordeal. He has his doubts, at this point. Those hands wrap around his throat, constricting his airway until he sees black spots at the edges of his vision. Jason lets him go right when Tim is on the brink of passing out. Tim coughs, throat feeling like it’s been scrubbed with sandpaper after the screaming and strangling.

“Please,” he manages to croak. It’s a pathetic sound, but it’s all he can muster. “Jason, please stop. Please I-I can’t. It hurts.” He dissolves into tears, sobs painful against his broken ribs and raw throat. “I’ll do anything, Jason, please. Just stop hurting me.” He blinks up at the former Robin, tears falling freely.

“Begging?” Jason murmurs. “I’d expected better from you, Replacement.” 

“J-just kill me. Make it stop.” Tim lets out a wounded noise as he shifts, aggravating the injuries he has all over his body. “Please make it stop hurting.”

That seems to catch Jason’s attention. His eyes flare a darker green, and Tim flinches instinctively. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” Jason snarls. “No more dead birds. Got it?” Tim lifts his head, crying still but feeling a spark of defiance flicker to life. He lets it grow into a roaring flame before he opens his mouth.

“Does that make you feel better about yourself? It’s the only difference between you and your namesake, Red Hood.” Jason stumbles back, eyes wide. He opens his mouth, expression twisting into something Tim can’t place. He doesn’t have enough time to puzzle it out before everything goes dark.

Tim wakes up—and isn’t that a surprise?—in the medbay. Everything hurts, but he’s able to crack open an eye without further injuring himself, so that’s a win. He hears a soft gasp to his left, and he manages to tilt his head to the side. His vision is a little blurry still, but he recognizes his brother sitting at his bedside.

Dick’s eyes are red, with dark shadows pooling underneath them and a haunted look trapped in his irises. Tim offers him a weak smile, and the one he gets in return is watery. 

“Hi there Timmy,” Dick says softly. He cards a hand through Tim’s hair. “How’re you feeling?”

“Decidedly not great,” Tim rasps, sounding like he’s gargled with sharp rocks. He cringes at the sound of his own voice. “Where’s Jason?”

“Here,” a familiar voice says. Tim blinks and turns his head to look across from him. Jason sits in a chair directly opposite the bed, head in his hands. He’s wearing new clothes, Tim notes. His old outfit had definitely been much bloodier. “I...wanted to make sure you woke up.”

“I thought you would’ve left me there,” Tim mutters. Jason looks up, stricken.

“I was planning on it, but...shit Tim, I’m no better than him. I don’t want to be like that. You—-you’re just a kid.”

“You knew that the whole time,” Tim says coolly. “When did it start to matter?”

“When you said it,” Jason replies, voice dropping to a near whisper. “It made it real. I saw myself, crawling across that warehouse floor, but I knew at least I had hope someone would come for me. You were begging me to kill you, and the look in your eyes, I—” He shakes his head, like he’s shaking off the bad memories. “It snapped me out of it.”

“So he called me,” Dick says, gently breaking off Jason’s train of thought. “He’d already gotten you patched up by the time I got here, but he wanted to make sure you had someone you’d feel safe with when you woke up.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. “I...I’m glad I’ll at least have seen you one last time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Robin.” His voice is a pained croak, and it’s not entirely because of the bruises wrapping around his throat. “Robin belongs to Jason, and besides, I’ve failed, right?”

“Tim, no.” Dick hushes him gently. He strokes Tim’s hair again, smiling so sadly at him it must hurt. “You won’t ever have Robin taken away from you. Not until you choose to move on, okay?” 

“I can’t take it back, anyways,” Jason says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Not with the blood on my hands. Not with your blood on my hands. I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make any of this better, but it’s true.”

“Do you want to make things better?” Tim asks. He feels the heavy pull of unconsciousness clawing at the back of his mind, but he pushes it back. This isn’t something he can afford to pass out before he says. Jason nods, expression solemn and so very hurt. His eyes seem less green. 

“I don’t think I can, Tim.”

“You can,” Tim argues stubbornly. Dick’s hand in his hair is making him drowsy, but he pushes through. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to make things better?”

“More than anything.”

“Then come home.”

#batfam #dc #jason todd #tim drake #red robin #red hood #robin #batman #batbros #titans tower au #bad things happen bingo #prompt: cold blooded torture

[tastic-blog]

So, inspired by a recent first time viewing (how did i make it this long? No good answers) of The Holiday, I now present to you my Christmas gift to the internet 

A Comprehensive Ranking of Romcom Sweaters by Sadness

Join me in an exploration of the knitwear of these dreamy eyed seekers of love, hearts full and arms covered! Their faith: true. Their choices: frequently bad. Their necks: cold.

Two notes before I begin! First- a lot of my very serious research came from the When Romance Met Comedy series of essays by @carolinesiede This series is one of my favorite things on the internet and you should all check it out

Second- my love for this genre is deep and sincere, as is my love for sweaters. Those who dismiss either out of hand may see themselves out.

OK LET'S DO THIS

0/10 Clueless

 

None percent sadness. Your hair is thick and shining, your schemes are manifold and successful, Daddy's sucky Italian roast is doing exactly what you intended. Let your arms bask in the sun in your sweater vest of youthful triumph.

(Note- the presence of sweaters in teen romcoms are rare. Sweaters are for olds. A teen wearing a sweater is generally a nerd, a cynic, or a cynical nerd. Just another reason why Cher Horowitz is an icon.)

1/10 When Harry Met Sally...

Only a slight tinge of melancholy. Sure, Sally's been on some bad dates recently and she could probably stand to get laid. But it's autumn in New York and she's a fucking avatar of emotional well-adjustment. The sweater is perfectly fitted and perfectly tucked. God, she's in such great shape. 

+100 bonus points for Crystal serving proto Chris Evans in Knives Out realness

2/10 While You Were Sleeping

This ranking may appear controversially low, as Lucy Eleanor Moderatz is pretty fucking sad. She is alone at Christmas. Her beloved father is dead and she's fantasizing about an asshole she sees once a day from a public transit token booth. But you guys. This sweater. I've been searching for this sweater since 1995. It's enormous, yet beautifully shaped. It's the platonic ideal of coziness. SHE CAN LITERALLY HIDE PRESENTS IN HER SLEEVES. Sandy B is getting a break on the rent and peak Bill Pullman is about to lean over her, she's doing fine.

3/10 Bridget Jones Diary

Not great, but not precisely sad. Mark Darcy is at a shitty party wearing a dumb sweater and is about to thoughtlessly fuck up his romantic life. But his parents aren't the most embarrassing in the room, and he's got wine and gherkins. Things could be much worse. 

4/10 Practical Magic

 

The sadness of Sally Owens is legion, but she cried in her PJ's and she's got more pressing concerns now. She's got daughters to take care of and a thriving skincare business to run and an undead rapist to send to hell. This is a sweater that acknowledges that your sister is a glamorous fuck up with terrible taste in men, and then is ready to get down to business. It's lightly fitted, with the breathing room for serious magicks. 

(Maybe rethink the hair clips tho)

5/10 (500) Days Of Summer

 

This is where things start to take a turn for the more majorly sad. Tom is pretty pathetic. This is the saggy, washed out cardigan of a man who thinks that liking The Smiths is a meaningful character trait. It needs to be lain flat to dry, and so does Tom. But he still gets up in the morning, puts on a tiny tie, and goes to work. His depression is functional, and so is his sweater.

6/10 The Holiday- Cammy D edition

Amanda is sad in the way that only the thin, unhinged, and inexplicably wealthy can be. She has no friends. She doesn't know how to pronounce esophageal. The pristine whiteness of this cable knit is terrifying; the reckless abandon with which she waves a glass of pinot in front of it, even more so. You know that shit is dry clean only. Truly, a sadness touched with insanity.

7/ 10Love Actually, Colin Firth

The heaviest, darkest, most turtley-necked sweater to wear on a sadness vacation, sorry writer's retreat, in fucking France. What kind of whiny sack falls in love with someone with whom he cannot communicate at the most basic level? She's in her underwear, he's in an itchy monstrosity 3 sizes too big. This plot line can eat me like that collar is eating his chin.

8/10 Breakfast at Tiffany's

Who gave Holly Golightly the right to be so sad and look so good?? I spent my twenties sobbing on dozens of fire escapes and never came close. In a movie of iconic fashion, this sweatshirt is pre-American Apparel nonsense. Her soul is empty, but her hamper is apparently full because that's some laundry day shit. Her sad sweater is so sad, it trudged north and grew a depressive turban companion. 

9/10 High Fidelity and Love Actually 

 

Aka the asshole division. Above, a terrible boyfriend turned into a worse ex boyfriend in the worst fucking sweater I've ever seen. It's a Cosby sweater.  A COSBY SWEATER. And below, a creep who turned filming his best friend's wedding into an opportunity to stalk and who keeps that video WITH THE REST OF HIS REGULAR VIDEOS AND IS THAT A DETACHABLE COLLAR?? At least Rob exhibits some growth, Stalker McGee over there gets a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the ass from his movie. These guys are jerks and their sweaters are terrible.

10/10 The Holiday- Kate Winslet edition

 

The nadir of sartorial desperation. Like its wearer, Iris' sweater has given up. It has no color, no shape, and no options. It is a formless mass that won't even keep your neck warm, thereby necessitating The Stringy Scarf of Sadness. It is literally a sweater in which to contemplate suicide. Thank god Eli Wallach is waiting in the wings, because this is as bad as it gets.

Ok, I'm gonna go watch While You Were Sleeping. THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT

#romcom #the holiday #love actually #when harry met sally #clueless #500 days of summer #high fidelity #practical magic #while you were sleeping #sweaters #sweater weather #Youtube

[ruralurbanite]

Lost Cat | Tips Resources Prevention | The Flyer

Have You Lost Your Cat?

Things to Know & Things to DO NOW!!

Losing a pet is a harrowing experience. Losing your pet cat comes with a host of extra challenges, and must be met with a host of extra strategies and resources. Of the complete exhaustive account of the Lost Cat Response (which i plan to write later😉), today we are just going over:

The Flyer (on the streets and on social media).

What to do at home right away.

And a great list of resources to help ground you and get you started on your mission to find you baby

BEST WISHES FOR YOUR FELINE FAMILY ❤❤❤

LOST CAT—SHOUT IT OUT!!

Today we are looking at Pet Flyers, Social Media Posts, and Actions to Take When Your Cat Has First Gone Missing

The Flyer

The Terrestrial Flyer

The IRL Flyer. The flyer you make is hugely important. It does not have to be fancy with color photo (though that would be best) a marker on a piece of printer paper will do. It is a federal crime to open another person’s mailbox. Fold the flyer and wedge it into their mailbox flag, or place it on their front door.

Other Places to Put a Flyer:

stop signs. telephone poles. (GET GOOD STRONG TAPE)

try to strategically place them at traffic points in your neighborhood/area—entrances, exits, 4-way stops.

areas that are difficult to avoid & areas that are popular (telephone pole or road sign right by the entrance to the strip mall)

neighborhood & community boards

any nearby gas-station, grocery store, general store, pet store, and vet clinic that will allow a sign.

dont back down on the first no. most places WILL say no first. (times have changed)

take a flyer to your local shelter(s)

this is key. they will see the initiative, the effort, the care for your cat. you have made their job much easier.

and now they know to keep their eyes out for a cat like yours!

Things to Consider Putting On Your Paper Flyer and/or Your Social Media Posts

1) Key Basics

Photo if Possible

Name (plus nicknames the cat responds to)

Male/Female

are they spayed or neutered?

Average Weight/Size (pounds. or S/M/L)

Age

Fur Color, Coat Pattern & Length, Claw/Declaw

Are they Microchipped? (add chip number if possible)

Were they wearing a collar?

Date/Time/Location they were last seen

2) Medication—Do they need any medication? or are they soon due for their vaccine shots?

3) Unique Traits—Are there any attributes that are unique to your cat? Anything noticeable so that a stranger could identify them?

raspy meow. a black cat with white toes. etc.

4) Personality—Describe your cat’s personality. What can people expect if they approached your cat? Also, think about what you would want someone to do if they did find your cat.

will she run away?

that will make reuniting her much harder. if so, insist that people not approach her, and contact you upon sight.

would someone be able to coax her with a can of wet cat food, or treats, & calling her name?

if so, is that something you’d like to ask people to do?

do you want to ask people to try to catch her if they see her? or to leave her be & call/text/message you immediately?

this relies a lot on the individual knowing how to read the situation and read cats.

5) A personal message of her family back home!

how much she is loved and missed

by the kids, by the dog, extra cute stuff!

how grateful you will be to have her back

THIS IS A MUST-DO. TRUST ME. FLYERS THAT SAY “LOST CAT PLEASE CALL” GET PROBABLY 10% THE ACTION OF WHAT PERSONABLE FLYERS DO

6) Personal Info—this is just that, personal. Give out the amount of personal info you’re comfortable with, but…

never give out your address

maybe start with less on the personal info. add more details if they seem needed (i.e. last initial on your flyer instead of last name. but this is totally up to you)

i eventually kept increasing what info i put out as time went on. i didn’t care, i needed random people to be able to find me. that said, i do not have kids.

remember, the street flyers have some info, Facebook has a different chunk of info (like your full name) and the lost pet sites (you’ll see these below) have another chunk. so keep tabs on what you’ve shared

7) Reward Offer—I have read legitimate source articles that say to never offer a reward. I have read legitimate source articles that say offering a reward will increase your chances of a re-union (while the anti-reward folks say it will encourage theft and ransom. maybe with a purebred registered canine, less probable with a housecat) AND HEY—ITS NOT LIKE YOU SPECIFY WHAT THE REWARD EVEN IS! (is it $20.00? is a giant bag of candy? a half used iTunes gift card? 🤣 you know it!)

my poster, which ill show them all later, says “REWARD + MY INFINITE GRATITUDE”

DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO DO WITH THE REWARD. WHEN IT COMES TO CATS, ITS A DIFFERENT STORY.

if you can think of any other helpful things to add to a flyer; please share in the comments at the bottom of the page! ❤

Sites to Make Flyers

—they also actively reunite pets and have tons of reading material, resources, advice, etc.—

PetLink

Canva

Pawboost

PetFBI

HomeAgain

Lost My Kitty

Things To Do On The Ground At Home

!! Buildings, Structures, and Vehicles around the neighborhood/area !!

NEIGHBORLY LOVE—ask people to keep an eye out for your cat & to look in their sheds, their garages, underneath their boats, their cars, even underneath their homes. Cats can hide for days and days.

In The Earliest Days After They’ve Gone Missing, You The Pet Owner, Are Strongly Advised To:

Put your cats litterbox outside, on the front porch, or the front of the house.

Leave a window cracked or open as much as you can, for her to find you.

Put dirty clothes and/or or her bed outside.

Leave a bowl of the cat’s food & water outside.

Call for her in the dead night hours (sorry neighbors)

truly, 12-4am is best cat-callin’ time.

Walk the neighborhood at night, bring a can of wet cat food, a flashlight, and a box or a pet carrier.

walk around with a flashlight to catch a cat’s retina (eyes) glowing at you!

you might spot her in a tree or in a bush, not coming when called bc she is injured or scared

if your cat is great friends with your dog, try bringing the dog along for some of those walk-outs, he very-well may be the one that finds her!

DONT GIVE UP HOPE!!

WE JUST RE-UNITED A WOMAN AND HER CAT AFTER FIVE YEARS APART! SHE HAD MOVED TO NYC BUT HAD NEVER GIVEN UP HOPE (PROOF IN HER FACEBOOK) ! 5 YEARS LATER HER ORANGE TABBY IN the LOWCOUNTRY, SC, WAS BEING SENT TO HER! IT WAS A NEWS STORY YOU CAN LOOK IT UP! CATS NAME WAS CHARLIE.

Insanely Helpful Resources

HomeAgain | Lost Cat Article

No Kill Network | Lost and Found Pets

PawBoost | Lost and Found Pets Network

Community Cat Coalition | Lost Cats

Pet FBI | Lost Cat Action Plan

Best Friends Save Them All | Resources | Lost Cat

i hope this little bit here begins to help. my heart breaks for everyone missing their furry family member. i am in this with you, stay strong! you must!

LOVE ASHLEY

#cats #lost pets #animal shelters #pet care #pet emergency #lost pet #found pet #lost pet flyer #lost cat #missing pets #kittens

[yahboobeh]

Miss Independent

Spring really was the perfect season, Tenten mused. The climate was ideal for training, and even the sweet scent of hydrangeas managed to poke through the odors of sweat, weapons polish, and upturned dirt. There were no hydrangeas in the fall. 

She would never admit to Lee and Guy just how much she loved a good spring day for fear she would never hear the end of it. 

Above her, the sky was clear and blue. The breeze rustled the leaves, and birds sang, darting across the horizon. 

Below her, the grass was lush and green, pockmarked with weapons spent from her arsenal. 

And on top of her prone form was Neji, claiming victory over their spar, a confident smirk splayed across his face. 

He said nothing before settling into his reward - their reward - for a successful training session. 

Neji kissed Tenten on her lips, her face, her jaw. She gasped and rolled her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. 

She both loved and hated this part of their relationship. 

Tenten hadn’t truly realized the extent of her feelings for Neji until she’d almost lost him on the battlefield. 

In everything he did, Neji was practical and diligent. Tenten was unsurprised that he approached love with the same careful dedication. Each part of her that Neji touched or kissed was with a purpose as if he’d deliberately planned out each caress beforehand. Even something as simple as holding hands seemed to be weighted with consideration. 

Tenten loved it.

Neji somehow managed to transform his practical nature into intense bouts of passion that left Tenten’s knees weak. He paid attention to what she liked, whether it was her favorite foods, training exercises, or places to kiss, Neji seemed to know it all. He studied her reactions, how she liked to be touched and where; quelling the parts of her that burned for his touch. 

She was wholly and utterly consumed by him, and that was the problem.

Tenten felt any remaining tendrils of control slowly slip away. He was slowly stripping her bare of the walls she had built. Tenten hated the woman she became whenever Neji turned his attention to her.

She tried to resist the urge to be consumed, staring at a kunai sunk partway into the ground. It jutted out, the cool grey steel harsh against the lush green grass as Neji’s hand started its journey under her skirt to cup her bottom. 

The sound that Tenten made was something between a moan of pleasure and a frustrated grunt. 

“Wait!” she gasped, surprising herself. 

Neji stopped, pulling away from her neck to look down at her, brows wrinkled with concern. 

“Is something wrong?”

Moments ago, Neji’s voice had been low and dripping with desire. Now, it was lighter, speckled with concern. Tenten looked up at his perfect face. His jawline was somehow both sharp and soft. The crinkle in his brow would smooth away with the slightest press of her fingers. And his eyes told her all of his secrets. His emotions passed freely across them, but somehow only Tenten could pluck them out and give them a name. 

Love. Worry. Desire. 

She saw them all. 

His hair tickled her cheek, and between the press of Neji’s body against her own, Tenten could confirm the speck of desire she’d seen. 

Everything about him was perfect. This moment was perfect. 

The problem wasn’t Neji; it never would be. 

“Tenten?”

Her name on his lips made her entire body buzz. Her heart pounded unevenly, and she felt light-headed. 

“I have a problem.”

Tenten tried to state this as delicately as possible while guiding Neji’s hand off of her bottom. 

She saw a flash of anxiety before Neji sat back on his knees, giving her space. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

Tenten’s body felt heavy, like moving was more effort than it was worth. She stayed on her back, her legs open to him. 

She managed to shake her head.

“No, you’re amazing. Perfect even. Jerk.”

A cocky smile flashed briefly across his face. 

“What’s bothering you?”

Tenten sighed, trying to find the right words to describe her struggle best. How could she continue on her own while feeling like she was obsessed?

“I’ve always thought one of the greatest weaknesses of my fellow kunoichi was their obsession with boys.”

Neji cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to elaborate. 

“I mean, how could Sakura, Ino, and Hinata achieve their potential when they were always so distracted? It’s annoying. Be more independent!”

“I’m not sure I understand where this is going, Tenten.”

“Towards an existential crisis!” she said with a frustrated huff. “I mean, how can I call myself independent or a feminist when all I can think about is your stupid, perfect face?”

Neji laughed at her, earning a sharp glare. 

“I’m serious, Neji! I feel like all I think about is you! ‘What’s Neji doing right now? Does he really like me? When can we have sex again?’ It’s driving me insane!”

Neji curled back over Tenten, kissing her softly before looking into her eyes. He pushed a stray bang back into place while he picked his next words. 

“Do you think that our relationship takes away some of your own agency?”

“I don’t know… Sometimes I do. I don’t feel like an adult in a relationship. I feel like a hormone-fueled teenager with an unhealthy obsession.”

Neji considered her statement for a moment before speaking. 

“I feel similar.”

Tenten’s brows shot up.

“You do?”

“Do I come across as the type of person who would have sex in an open field in the middle of the day?”

Tenten laughed.

“No, not at all.”

“And yet, here we are.”

“But you still go home and do your own thing. You’re still your own person.”

She felt her eyes burn and resisted the urge to cry. She felt Neji’s thumb swipe across her cheek, a soothing gesture of affection he reserved just for her.

“So are you, Tenten.”

Tenten scoffed. 

“I think that it’s normal for people to experience so much infatuation at first.”

“I don’t know, Neji. Maybe, but it feels like so much more. When I thought you were… I-I couldn’t do anything.” One tear, two tears, and then the stream. She wept freely under him. “I was so pathetic, a shell of a person. My existence stopped when I thought yours did.”

Neji kissed her forehead and diligently wiped away her tears. He let her cry uninterrupted until she had calmed down enough to listen.

“Tenten, that’s not an obsessive crush, that’s grief. They’re different.”

“I felt like I couldn’t live without you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But grieving doesn’t make you weak or less independent.”

Tenten looked away, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. 

“Listen to me, Tenten. Feeling like your whole world has been turned upsidedown... like you’ll never be happy again, that’s normal. It’s part of the process.” 

Neji wiped away another tear.

“You know everything,” she teased.

“I wish this was something I didn’t know. You feel helpless at first. It’s normal. I promise.” 

Neji kissed her briefly on the lips.

“As for our current situation, tell me; if you were asked to go on a mission without me, would you?”

Tenten nodded. 

“Of course.”

“Do you still go home and work on your scrolls? Do you research new weapons and techniques?” 

Another nod.

“And even though you claim to think about me all day, are you still doing your normal routine?”

“Yes.”

“And do you still know your goals? Your dreams?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t think being infatuated with someone makes you any less independent. And you’re definitely the strongest, fiercest, most independent woman I know.”

Tenten’s heart fluttered. She touched his cheek and smiled.

“Thanks, Neji.” She smiled up at him. “But you better not just be saying that to get me out of my dress.” 

He frowned. 

“It was genuine, besides,” he pressed a series of kisses to her neck, and she giggled, “I don’t need to go out of my way with compliments for you to take your clothes off.”

“Neji!” 

Her laughs melted into gasps. She struggled to hold onto any sense of reality. 

“You arrogant-”

He cut her off with a deep and needy kiss. 

“Stop talking,” he whispered between kisses.

Tenten pushed him off of her. Neji rolled over and onto his back, and she quickly climbed on top of him, swelling with triumph and pride over her small victory. 

She leaned forward and kissed him, pressing her hips back to extract a well earned gasp from her partner. 

“Fine, I’ll stop talking,” she said between kisses, “but not because you want me to.”

Neji grinned up at her, hands reaching for her waist, pulling her in closer.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 FFN | AO3

#nejiten #neji hyuga #tenten #fanfic #booh writes

[aenwoedbeannaa]

Like Ink on Paper | Geralt x Reader

Like Ink On Paper

Note: This is a follow-up to Pretty Words, which you can read here if you haven’t read it yet. I got a request to write a part 2, and I couldn’t resist. Also, it’s holiday themed, which is appropriate. Hope you enjoy, and have a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate. Thank you all so much for reading.

Summary: It is Yule, and you finally have someone to celebrate with—the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, who has been wintering with you. You think, maybe, you’ve somehow slipped into the pages of one of your favorite books. You’ve spent days worrying, knowing that with each day, the page turns—and you are scared that your story may be coming to an end. Is it?

Warnings: The usual smut

You wake up to watery winter sunlight filtering through the window of your bedroom and snuggle into Geralt’s warm embrace. The bookshop is closed today for Yuletide celebrations, and you have no intention of getting out of bed until you absolutely had to, despite the fact that your body still woke itself at dawn.

You are nearly asleep again when you feel Geralt press his lips to the top of your head; the soft kiss you had grown used to waking to over the last few weeks.

“Hm?” you mumble, snuggling even closer, drawing in the familiar scent—wood smoke, aftershave, and the faint smell of earth and wind.

“Nothing,” he says softly. You can hear the grin in his voice. “Go back to sleep, little bookworm. You were only awake half of the night.”

You smile against his chest. Your life was starting to feel more and more like the life of a heroine in one of your books, yet somehow you still couldn’t stop reading them. It was in your blood the way that slaying monsters was in his.

His amber eyes, he told you, were made to see things no one else can see—like the millions of pretty words floating around in your beautiful eyes.

“I had to know what happened!” you protest, still curled against his chest.

“The night fell in love with the princess?” He guesses, his words laced with meaning. Your heartbeat picked up as you turned them over and over in your head.

Fell in love.

You had been aching to utter that word—so simple, yet so complex. No matter how badly you wanted to say it, you hadn’t had the courage. He was a Witcher, staying for the winter. You hadn’t let your thoughts travel much beyond that.

But perhaps…

“He did?” You meant it to come out at a statement of fact, as if you were simply commenting on the plot of the book, but your voice betrayed you. It came out like a choked little question, almost desperate.

“He did,” the Witch confirmed, his amber eyes fixed on you.

You blinked a few times, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Your heart thudded even harder in your chest. You’d always lived between the pages of your favorite books, where things like this happen. But you have never thought it could happen for you—You are no princess, you are a commoner who works in a book shop. And yet, here you were.

A flood of emotion rushes through your veins, and you crash your lips against the Witcher’s.

My White Wolf. My Knight.

He pulls you close as he deepens the kiss, strong arms wrapped tightly around you as you melt into him. You had thought, until recently, that you only wanted to melt into the pages of your treasured books, but this was much better.

Your hands slide over his bare chest, mapping every muscle, every scar. When he breaks the kiss, you take advantage of the moment to bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply. The smell of him is more comforting than the smell of well-worn book pages and leather.

You press your lips to his neck, tasting the musky salt and sweat. You love how his head tilts back when you nip at the skin there, the pleased rumble of a ‘hmm’ escaping his lips.

His hands are exploring your body restlessly. He knows how you like when they graze over your back, when he gently sweeps you hair from one side to the other to press his warm lips to your collarbone.

You have each other memorized, like a passage from a book.

Your eyes flutter closed as the Witcher presses kisses along your collarbone and you gasp softly when you feel the gentle caress of his tongue. Taking this as an invitation, he turns to flip you over so that he is on top of you.

You peer up at him, and he looks down at you through wisps of white hair. You love the way his hair looks in the morning, tousled from sleep and falling from its usual tie. He places one arm on each side of your head and pauses there for a moment, amber gaze fixed on you.

“What are you looking at, Witcher?” you ask, biting your lip.

“Just you, little Bookworm,” he says, lips curving into a smirk before leaning down to press his lips against yours again.

You stay like that for several long moments, neither of you in a rush. It is a holiday, after all. You’ve nowhere to be—nowhere else you’d want to be. There is no one and nothing else that matters to you in this moment than the white-haired Witcher.

Slowly, still in no hurry, Geralt slips his hand up under your shift, calloused fingers tracing over your skin and raising goosebumps in their wake. His touch was gentle but firm, teasing you and making you arch your back up into him, wanting to feel them all over you.

“Hmm.” He studies you for a moment, pressing his lips to the bare spot on your chest where the strings tying your shift together have loosened, hands still moving lazily over your skin.

“Geralt,” you huff, one hand tangling in his long hair.

“So impatient,” the Witcher says with a click of his tongue, a smile playing on his maddeningly beautiful face.

Still, he leans on one arm so he can finish unlacing your shift, albeit with unhurried movements. Once it is unlaced, he pulls the thin fabric over your head and brings his lips to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving red marks that he soothes with his tongue, making you moan and arch up into him.  

Your hand tangles in his hair, the other resting on his strong shoulder, and your mind clears of all thoughts that are not him.  

He takes his time, slowly tracing his lips along your collar bone, and then lower.  You gasp and your hand falls uselessly at your side, gripping the crumpled sheets beside you.  He laps at your breast with his tongue, and his eyes meet yours, holding you in his gaze as he continues lavishing you with attention.  

One hand comes up to your other breast, brushing your nipple with the slightest of pressure, making you groan and arch up, trying to increase the pressure. The White Wolf was taking his time, though, clearly enjoying watching you writhe beneath him.

“Why the rush, my little Bookworm?” he asks, flashing a grin as he moves so his face is directly above yours as she continues to tease you.

Between his teasing fingers and the use of the word my, you can’t seem to find words.  You just stare up at him for a moment before finally managing to mutter a soft, “I need you.”

His eyes dilate, filled with hunger, once you say those words. You can tell from that small, unconscious reaction, that he truly wants you, too.  

He presses his forehead against yours, hand roaming down your body, toying with the waistband of the thin material covering your most intimate place. “Then you know how it feels… How much I need you.”

You’d come to realize, over the last few weeks, how the Witcher always chose is words carefully.  This tendency could lead to long silences and breaks in conversation, but it also left no doubt that whatever he said to you, he meant it.  

You are breathing heavily now, a sharp contrast to Geralt’s steady, even breathing. The contrast had been strange at first, though you’d read plenty about Witchers, especially after the day that the mysterious white-haired stranger had entered the bookshop. You knew, of course, that Witchers’ mutations and intense training allowed them to breathe slowly and deeply, could keep the rate of their heart slow and steady, making them efficient killing machines. None of those stories mentioned anything about the other uses of these mutations—namely, that he had endless stamina.

This time, when your lips crash together, you both cling to one another. His hand yanks at the thin material, baring you beneath him. The Witcher seems to have abandoned his deliberate teasing and efforts to control himself. Now, his lips are all over—your neck, your shoulder, your chest, below your belly button, then your hipbone.

He breathes deeply, resting his head on your thigh, using his free hand to knead your other thigh, pushing it outward, leaving you completely open to him. “You have no idea how intoxicating you are,” he says, voice deep and gravely.

“Intoxicating.” He repeats the words, and your eyes roll back in your head as he finally moves so his head is between your spread legs and his tongue is on your clit. After so much teasing, you are aching with need, and his tongue gliding from your opening to your clit, toying with it, drives you insane. It was the most exquisite torture.

After an indeterminate amount of time, in which you moan incoherently, hands gripping at his hair or the sheets, whatever is closer, he snakes his tongue into you opening, swirling it around and brushing all of the sensitive spots it can reach.  

‘Mmm.’ He hums appreciatively, not removing his tongue. Gods he makes you feel so desirable.

He leans forward, ensuring your legs are draped over his shoulders. There is something so intimate about this position—the way your legs are locked in place, separated by his strong shoulders, the way his tongue moves, the way that he meets your eyes as he does it.

With one hand, she brushes his fingers over your clit, rolling the sensitive bud and making you tilt your head back, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Yes, Princess,” he finally says, his fingers working you over, “Cum for me, good girl.”

He smirks down at you as you finish, back arching and legs clamping around his head.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he wraps his strong arms around you, turning you over so that you are laying on your stomach. You turn your head, attempting to look at him, questioning.

He must have caught the glance, because the first thing he does after he settles between your legs is run both hands down your back, “Relax, Y/N,” he says, “Trust me, you’ll enjoy this.”

You can’t say that he’s ever steered you wrong in these situations, so you does as he said and relax against the bed. He wastes no time, running is hands over your shoulders and back, massaging any tension away. Soon, his hands are replaced with his tongue. You feel yourself drawing in a sharp breath at the unfamiliar sensation. You swear he manages not to miss a single inch as he kisses, nips, and runs his tongue over each mark left behind.

He works his way down your back, and suddenly, you feel his tongue snaking between your cheeks. None of your former lovers had done anything like this, and at first you are filled with anxiety—worried that you might somehow disgust him. Then again, he clearly does not seem disgusted as he kneads your ass with both hands.

Once you are moaning and arching into him, he lets out a soft chuckle and gently pulls them apart, bringing his tongue between them, gently swirling and licking. You yelp at the unfamiliar sensation, but immediately relax into it, giving in to the pleasure.

“Geralt!” You exclaim, surprised that the feeling of his tongue over such an intimate place. You can already feel a familiar tightening in your belly. His tongue flicking and licking over the sensitive flesh has your mind completely muddled, lost in unfamiliar sensation.

His skillful fingers snake underneath you to expertly work your clit. After only a few moments of his undivided attention you explode with pleasure, writhing beneath him as he slowly brings you down from your orgasm. He makes no move to turn you over, instead gently caressing your back and brushing through your hair.

Once your breath has returned to some semblance of normal, you trust yourself to speak. “No one has ever… Done that,” you say.

He chuckles again, a low rumble in his chest, as he eases you onto your back once more. “I am honored to be your first,” he said with a smirk.

Even after the back-to-back intense orgasms, looking up at him fills you with need once more. There was just something about the Witcher that made you want him – need him. So, when he gets up and off the bed to pull off his boxers and does not immediately rejoin you, you let out a huff of disappointment.

“Again with the impatience,” he says with another smirk.

Instead of getting back into bed, he grabs your hand and tugs at you, urging you up and off the bed. Now, the two of you had used nearly every piece of furniture for similar purposes, so you are not confused in the least – rather, you are filled with excitement. There was nothing ordinary about the Witcher, and that was part of the allure.

As soon as you are standing, you make a move to get on your knees, wanting to take him in your mouth, but he keeps a grip on your arm, making doing that impossible.

“I want to fuck you,” he says gruffly, pulling you towards him and bending to lift you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. You add this to your running lists of the non-monster-hunting uses for his Witcher powers.

He does not take his lips from yours as he steers you toward one of the bookshelf-lined walls. With your back against the spines of the full shelf, he positions himself, pressing against your entrance. There is the brief moment of resistance, and then the euphoric feeling of him entering you, making you both suck in a breath.

He wastes no time, setting a rhythm that has you moaning and burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. He has no problem increasing his pace, slamming into you harder and harder, making you scream. By now, you are both sweating. You should be worried about the old books you are pushed up against, but they are yours after all, and there is something, well, sexy about the whole thing – like ink on a page.

You are seeing stars as he hits your g-spot relentlessly, incapable of doing anything mut muttering his name and a few other choice expletives. But then, you hear the Witcher’s voice, almost a growl.

“Fuck.” His eyes are fixed on you, drinking you in. “I love you, Y/N.”

Your body responds before you even have time to process what he has just said, and you finish with screaming his name, long and drawn out. A moment later, you can feel him emptying into you, and you slump forward, your whole body going limp after so much activity.

For a moment, he just holds you there, one hand bracing himself against the bookshelf as even the famous Witcher has some trouble catching his breath.

Your head rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath, drinking in the smell that is distinctly him. It is now that you finally have a moment to process the words he’d said, and you find yourself smiling against his chest, one hand detangling itself from around his neck so that you can toy with strands of his white hair between your fingers.

“I love you, Witcher.”

#the witcher #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #my fic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #the witcher fanfic

[retrocontinuity]

rev, rev, fight the power: thoughts on the first half of chainsaw man

Spoilers through the end of the Bomb Girl Arc.

Devil Hunting in the Age of Fascism

As one of the cohosts of a podcast on Gundam Wing in 2020/2021, I've been thinking a lot about how authoritarian regimes and the concept of societal control is treated in anime. Which is to say: usually in a very limited sense, and based on the actions of a few bad actors, as demonstrated with its effects on a few unfortunate protagonists. It's not that creators don't care about the issue, but rather a sign that the genre (and yes, I do consider manga/anime to be a genre more than just a medium, but that's for another time) and its conventions are not particularly well-suited to showing you those effects.

So, Chainsaw Man. On an individual character level, Fujimoto has some stuff to say about the choice between death and life, and I do want to talk about that and what it says about the characters and what life means in CSM. But it's hard to tell whether or not he meant to create a world with some really fucked up institutions too. 

For instance, the civilian, non-public sector Devil Hunters. These appear to be explicitly authorized by the Japanese government, to the point where it is a crime for the Public Safety division's hunters to kill a devil that a civilian is in the process of capturing. They don't have guns (this is Japan!) and I imagine they are only allowed to kill Devils, but just, like, think about this. What if you kill someone else in the process of trying to kill a Devil? What if you suspect someone is a Fiend but actually they're just acting weird? What if you kill someone, then claim later it's because you thought they were a Devil?

This is likely the American in me talking, but I can’t help thinking about how badly this would be abused and how horrible an idea that would be. And I can’t help but think about how the Devils allow the world of CSM to separate fears from human nature. By which I mean, in the world of CSM, evil is otherized in a very specific way; they’re represented by very individual, very distinct, and very monstrous representations. Here is the fear of scissors, the fear of sharks, the fear of the future, and so on. But in the real world, we know it isn’t just fear itself that is the problem; it’s people, well-meaning or otherwise, animated by those fears that create the most evil, or people harnessing those fears to gain power. This may be unfair—I don’t know what Fujimoto has planned for Makima, whose mythos and power seems very much wrapped up in the idea of using Devils to her own advantage. But there’s an assumption here that all actions taken towards eradication of the Devils, or maybe just one Gun Devil, is a de facto good. And in 2021, that’s a very unnerving position to take.

Death in Chainsaw Man is a sacrifice. In these early arcs of the series, death is a "contract," an expending of activation energy to achieve something else. So Pochita gives Denji life (which is really a contract repaid, for when Denji gave him life), so the Devil Hunters "trade" something in a contract with a Devil for power (like Aki giving away literal years of his life to his curse sword), so Denji dying to the Eternity Devil would have freed the rest of the team. But there are plenty of deaths in the series where nothing is traded, nothing is given. These tend to be nameless victims or, in one harrowing scene, convicted felons who die at the hands of Makima as she chases down Katana Devil. 

What did they gain? What was the contract formed by the deaths of these 雑魚?

Makima says at some point when she's attacking the gangs that are affiliated with the Katana Devil that "the truly necessary evils are always kept collared and controlled by the state." Which I think is at its face about the fiends and Devils kept “collared” by the Public Safety Bureau. But maybe it’s also about the idea of sacrifice, about giving yourself over to the state, in order to control a world thrown into chaos. The contracts formed by the deaths of those ordinary citizens is meant to bring about an eradication of fear. It gives birth to the Public Safety Devil Hunters, to Devil Hunters in general, to the use of whatever means necessary to achieve an end. But whatever those consequences are, we only see them in the fates of Denji, Chainsaw Man, and the impossible characters around him. 

A state under threat, a state that feels like it must collar evil in order to survive, will have ruinous consequences. I just hope we get to see what those are. 

Just A Teenage Dirtbag, (Bomb) Baby

I read some reviews about Denji being the anti-shounen shounen manga hero which I can presume were written by people whose only frame of reference is Bleach, Naruto, or One Piece. Sure, the Big Three were, in their most simplistic forms, feel-good series, and CSM's first half is basically a feel-bad series, but that hardly makes it unusual. It's really not dissimilar from other manga like Homunculus, Freesia, and Oyasumi Punpun. Of course, only old fogies like me, who still remember getting scanlations of these series off of IRC, and query, of course, whether or not those series are shounen at all, or more like seinen. If it were up to me to name the genre, and of course it is not, I would call it “simply another line of stories about fucked up things happen to fucked up people.”

Many fucked up things have happened to Denji. I’d call it traumatic, but I don’t think “trauma” covers what this poor man has been through. The effect, though, has been to make Denji less than human, even in his human form.

Denji and Power's nonchalance towards the fate of their human coworkers who die to Katana Devil and Sawatari is framed by the manga through Denji as a potential sign of callousness. Kishibe notes it as a sign that they are "insane," in other words, "not like other humans," and thus capable of bringing down something like the Gun Devil, which would otherwise drive "normal humans" insane. 

But like, huh? Denji and Power's reactions are, on the contrary, extremely human, because there’s no reason for them to extend feeling towards other humans. Simply put, they’ve never been human to the humans around them. They seem to be bonded most closely to each other, and in fact almost all the Fiends are, because the wider Public Safety employees treat them so poorly. Remember how the Infinity Devil Arc starts? Basically, they're told to be the advance guard, and threatened to be killed if they ever act out. Denji is kept on a short leash, and is so proud (in front of Reze) that he's allowed to go places on his own now.

Which, I'm not saying that that's wrong. Denji is incredibly dumb, holds monstrous power that could easily be tricked into using for horrible purposes, and appears to be the target of a number of Gun Devil's allies. Power is... well. I wouldn't let her out of sight either. But what Makima does that makes Denji feel so loyal, so utterly tied to her, is simply treating him as a human. She convinces him he has a heart, just like any other human. She tells him about all the love experiences he'll have in the future, because he's just a human teenager. And just like Makima, Reze is able to bond with Denji by treating him like an ordinary 16-year-old horny boy. Is it because as a Devil she knows what he wants the most? What he is craving, and never had? It doesn't matter that Denji had been just an ordinary human before fusing with Pochita or before he began his life as a Devil Hunter; as an orphan growing up on the street, unwanted and unloved, he was no more human than a Devil.  

The ending of the Bomb Girl Arc—with Denji asking Reze to run away with him, only to be stood up—reminded me so very much of Aku no Hana. There's the classroom scenes between Reze and Denji, of course, but mostly I think about how Denji—betrayed, injured, manipulated Denji—still asks Reze to run away with him. I'd written about Aku no Hana before, how one of the saddest things about Nakamura is that she cannot imagine a world beyond her current circumstance (and, in fact, the manga ends up dooming her to stagnation). Denji and Reze are Nakamura and Kasuga's perverse mirror. It is because Denji doesn't have the capacity to imagine a larger world beyond his immediate now, three meals a day and a job and this woman who taught him how to swim, that he asks her to do this impossible thing, to run away with him knowing that to do would mean both of them betraying their masters. It is because Reze knows that it is impossible that she does not meet Denji at the cafe. Reze is more human than Denji, because she is capable of dreams, and because she is capable of dreaming, she knows she cannot afford their luxury. She knows too much about the world and its cruelty. And, so, she walks straight into its open maw, and straight into her death.

I don't think we can take Reze at her word that she wanted to be a town mouse, or rather we should say instead that Reze proves that the division between the town mouse and the country mouse is immaterial. The issue is that both, in the end, are only mice, dreaming of a safety they can never achieve. Safety, in the world of CSM, is neither town mouse nor country mouse. It is to not be mice at all. It is to be the dog that digs them out from the cold winter dirt. 

It is, in fact, to be Makima, the person who orders the dogs to kill the mice.

Denji, aim for the top! Transcend the town mouse/country mouse divide! Or else you will constantly be hunted and used!

(Side note: CSM goes at a break-neck pace, and I think the speed through which Fujimoto rushes through these early storylines has made it very difficult for me to actually connect with the characters. Reze and Denji’s relationship is one of the victims to this pacing. Do I believe that Denji could fall for a girl and be willing to risk it all for her after about 3 chapters worth of interaction? Sure, he’s that kind of guy. But does it work for me? Not particularly. We’ve hardly had time to linger with Reze before she swears she’ll protect Denji forever, as long as he’ll run away with her. Though the reader at that point knows there’s something off about Reze, it’s still just not believable. Reze’s actions seem like someone trying to bulldoze her way into Denji’s affections, and though she herself is a bittersweet character, I just really feel like CSM could have spent less time with Bomb Devil vs Chainsaw Man and more time with Reze and Denji.)

No Ethical Women Under Capitalism

The Eternity Devil arc, for all its mini-boss game feel (it wouldn’t be out of place as one of the floors in Tower of God), struck a nerve with me, if only because it felt, however unintentionally, to be a story about working under modern capitalism. A floor you can never leave, that loops endless, where the only way to escape is to destroy it, literally, from the inside, by making it so painful, an eternal feedback loop of destroying ourselves and destroying it, before it opens its heart to us. The Capitalism Devil threatens us, tries to tear us apart. Asks us to sacrifice the strongest, the weakest, anybody among us, as if by climbing over the bodies of our friends and coworkers, we can come out ahead. It makes us suspicious of each other, ready to tear into any weakness for an advantage. 

No wonder this is the chapter where Kobeni lays bare her reasons for joining the Public Safety bureau. She needed to work, to make money. Her options were to be a sex worker or a Devil Hunter. Either way, she was selling her body to the system. Kobeni is a victim of capitalism, which forces her to do what she hates, for goal that are not hers, and then gaslights us into thinking that she’s wrong for being crazy, she’s wrong for losing her shit, for not being able to handle it.

But... that's an asspull for me, even if it's my ass and I'm the one pulling. I'm truly not sure how to feel about Kobeni. Like, what is her deal?! I’m not sure what to make of her appearance in Chapter 20 in her sister’s hand-me-down. Are we supposed to pity her? See ourselves in her? Even in what I think was intended to be a mic-drop-ish line (at least for her), telling Aki that she didn’t quit because she was waiting on her bonus, landed flat for me, too deadpan to be pathetic and not sharp enough to be actually funny. Part of it may be because she is a character very much shaped by her circumstances as opposed to her personality or any interaction/action she does onscreen, but we don’t actually see her family situation in these chapters. We’re left with a painfully shy and cowardly woman who can’t seem to form any human connections with any of the other characters, who in multiple scenes is shown caving to the slightest pressure or threat.

Do the rest of the women fare any better? I’m not sure. Kobeni is unique in that she does not use her gender/sex appeal to manipulate the men around her and/or Denji (even Power lets Denji cop a feel to get her cat back!). Himeno, Makima, and Reze all hide their intentions for Denji behind the veil of his attraction to them (weak or strong) and are either unable or unwilling to be forthright in their desires and ambitions (Himeno to care for Aki; Reze, to accomplish whatever mission Gun Devil had her set out to do; and Makima, for fuck do I know at this point, but she’s up to something!!). Meanwhile, the men are straightforward to a fault. Did Fujimoto intend this? Is this just a subconscious reveal of his own conceptions of gender and Bitches Be Weird? 

I’m not a person who needs to have a strong female narrative in a story, but when you start a story with a protagonist whose life ambition for many chapters was just to feel a boob, you better be careful, you know? CSM doesn’t lack for women; Makima and Power are both formidable characters in their own rights, self-assured and unbeholden to anyone but themselves. But so far almost every arc has featured a woman offering herself to Denji sexually in order to get him to do what they want. It’s getting real old real fast. 

#chainsaw man #reading too deeply into the text

[galaxywhump]

Silence Is Golden

Trope: Mouth Stitched Shut Fandom: Original Work

[Masterlist]

[blue for requested, red for completed]

Timeline: set after Scars + Collared

cw: stitching mouth shut (graphic, no anesthesia), needles, blood, slavery, creepy/intimate whumper, drugging, paralyzation, noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, briefly referenced noncon, brainwashing, hopelessness, swearing, referenced branding, whipping and broken bones/hand injury.

taglist: @faewhump​ @inky-whump​ @garbagewhump​ @whole-and-apart-and-between​ @slaintetowhump​ @moose-teeth​ @whatwasmyprevioususername​ @procrastinatingsab​ @insanitywishes​ @special-spicy-chicken​ @redstainedsocks​ @luminouswhump​ @untilthepainstarts​ @lonesome--hunter​ @spookyboywhump​ @ohmywhump​ @renkocchi​ @whump-only​

~~~

The muzzle is broken - the clasp won’t stay closed, and Daniel’s tampering achieves nothing.

“Piece of shit”, he mutters, tossing it to the floor and turning on his communicator. “Hope someone can drop by with a new one soon.”

Wren shivers, his initial relief at the prospect of being free from the muzzle for some time now dimmed by that of Berkeley visiting again.

“Any color preferences, sweetheart?”, Daniel asks like it’s the most natural question in the world.

“You know what?”, Wren says, raising one eyebrow with a smirk. “I do. Hot pink. The most obnoxious hot pink in existence.”

Daniel laughs, shooting him a brief amused glance.

“I think I’ll stick to black.”

“Then why’d you ask me?”

“Because I knew you’d say something hilarious like that.”

Wren puhs indignantly. With a crook of a finger, not even looking at him, Daniel urges him to come closer, and he obeys, crawling across the couch until he’s sitting right next to him. He fixes his gaze on the floor as he rests his head on Daniel’s shoulder, doing his best to relax despite the tension that makes his body twitch. The tension only increases when Daniel turns his head to the side to press a brief kiss to Wren’s hair; he grits his teeth until his jaw hurts.

He used to be torn between acting obedient and lashing out; now the dilemma has moved to another dimension entirely, leaving him suspended between fighting back until he’s pinned to the wall, and actively participating in Daniel’s understanding of a relationship. Sometimes the latter seems better. Less exhausting.

Daniel knows he’s pretending, but doesn’t seem to mind; he doesn’t seem bothered by Wren’s disbelief for his theory of destiny.

We have all the time in the universe, sweetheart.

All the time in the universe to brainwash him until he starts to believe he’s in love with Daniel Rooney.

Fucking gross.

Fucking terrifying.

“Such a shame”, Daniel sighs, turning his communicator off and wrapping his arm around Wren. “I really felt like seeing you muzzled today.”

“Isn’t that a fucking tragedy”, Wren hisses, shifting in the embrace, Daniel’s touch like sandpaper against his skin.

“But it’s okay, you know I’m patient.”

Wren swallows and closes his eyes when Daniel’s warm breath curls against his hair; he lifts his head and tilts is to the side. Their lips meet and Wren doesn’t resist when he’s pulled in closer, guided gently until he’s sitting in Daniel’s lap, facing him.

Gross, gross, gross, fucking creep.

He deepens the kiss. He can do that, he can kiss, imagining he’s somewhere else, back on Earth, in the arms of someone as drunk as him, someone he can just forget the next day save for the closeness of their lips, their body, the pleasant touch.

Daniel’s fingers work their way into Wren’s hair, long again. Daniel likes it more that way, but that doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter what he likes; what matters is that Wren feels a bit better with his usual messy hairstyle.

It makes him feel more like himself, and he desperately holds on to this meager piece of what he used to be like.

“You’re so beautiful”, Daniel whispers, breaking the kiss and moving one hand to brush his knuckles over Wren’s face; he leans into the touch with a forced smile, not saying a word. He doesn’t have to. “I love you.”

No you don’t, asshole.

Daniel’s eyes narrow and he tilts his head to the side, gazing at Wren’s face, visibly lost in thought. Wren frowns, his heart skipping a bit as he recognizes the spark in Daniel’s eyes, the spark of a new idea, a new way to make his life hell.

“What?”, he mutters, and with a pang of disgust leans in closer again, hoping to distract Daniel from whatever it is he has thought of. He knows Daniel has already set his mind on his idea - the kiss is brief and he’s gently pushed away.

“I think I know how to replace the muzzle today”, he says, brushing Wren’s hair away from his face, his gestures and tone a jarring contrast to the implications that make Wren freeze in horror. Daniel takes his hand, pushing at his chest to get him to get up before guiding him to sit down on the couch again. “Wait here for a moment, sweetheart.”

“Wait, maybe- maybe it won’t be needed?”, Wren suggests with a nervous smile, reaching to grab Daniel’s hands, but he just chuckles and shakes his hand off, giving him one more quick kiss on the forehead before leaving the room, heading upstairs, leaving Wren alone with his racing thoughts.

He stays put on the couch, folding his hands together in his lap and cracking his knuckles anxiously, frozen in place. He has no choice but to wait, no choice but to face whatever Daniel has in mind for him this time.

Something to replace the muzzle - so a gag, most logically. Daniel keeps a couple different ones in a drawer upstairs - Wren shudders, remembering getting acquainted with each one of them - so he might have simply gone to retrieve one that hasn’t been used before.

But he wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of that, would he?

He hears cheerful whistling and creaking of the stairs; his head jerks up at the sound, and his heartbeat picks up the pace when Daniel enters the room.

Empty-handed.

Daniel approaches Wren and crouches down, resting his hands on Wren’s knees and looking up into his eyes with an overwhelmingly open expression.

“I have something for you, but you’ll have to promise you won’t panic.”

Already off to a terrifying start.

“I’m already panicking, asshole”, he croaks, shaking, and Daniel reaches for his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Just try not to panic. Can you do it for me?”

He glares, and Daniel sighs, reaching into his pocket.

“We’ll try something new today, but I’ll need you to cooperate.”

With that, he takes something out, and a wave of icy horror washes over Wren.

He has never considered a nightmare like that - but now that he sees the curved surgical needle and heavy black thread, somehow he knows exactly what they’re going to be used for.

“N-no”, he chokes out, scuttling to the edge of the couch, a sad excuse for escaping.

“Calm down for me, sweetheart, alright?”, Daniel says, his voice low and soothing as he stands in front of Wren again, firmly grabbing him by the shoulders.

“No, no”, Wren repeats, shaking his head, staring up at him with wide eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he throws a glance at the thread and needle again, phantom pain already prickling under his skin. “You’re insane, this is insane, you can’t- I- I’ll be quiet”, he changes the approach, anything to avoid being silenced like this. “I won’t say a word, or- or you can gag me, right?”

“Shh, sweetheart.”

He sobs, frantically looking around.

“Surely you have something to gag me with, right? I can find something myself, just please, please don’t do this-”

He tries to get up, but Daniel pushes down on his shoulder to keep him in place; he’s breathing hard, but the air doesn’t seem to enter his lungs, doesn’t even seem to be involved in the process, there’s just desperate wheezing, panic, dark spots before his eyes.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Wren, just calm down. I have something here that can help you, alright?” Daniel sounds worried, genuinely worried, as if Wren’s panic was irrational, as if it wasn’t caused by the nightmare he has come up with. He reaches to his pocket again and takes something out, a clear capsule.

“N-no, I won’t let you, you-”, Wren mumbles desperately, but there is nothing he can do to stop Daniel as he seizes his chin.

The capsule is forced between his lips and dissolves in an instant.

The drug does calm him down, his breathing slowing down, his vision clearing up again, the fear having no physical reflection anymore; but it’s not its only effect, as his entire body feels heavy and his movements as he tries to struggle become sluggish, slow. He sobs, shaking his head - a barely noticeable movement.

“That’s better”, Daniel whispers, taking hold of his hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be okay, It might hurt a bit, but I won’t put you through more pain than necessary, I promise.”

“Nuh-hm”, Wren whines and sobs harder when Daniel lets go of his hands to thread the needle.

“You just need to trust me, sweetheart. I promise I’ll remove the stitches in a few hours.”

He’s answered with more choked sobbing, and he flashes Wren a warm smile, smoothing out the thread in his fingers. He then pulls one of the chairs closer to sit down in front of Wren, and grabs his chin, lifting his head up a bit.

“Nuh-no-” He wants to beg, to bargain, but he can’t speak up, helpless as the needle is positioned above one corner of his mouth, ice-cold. He closes his eyes, readying himself for pain he knows he can never be truly ready for.

“I’ll start now, okay?”

It’s like electricity spreading through his body, erasing the memories of branding, of whipping, of having his fingers broken one by one; it all pales in comparison with the searing pain when the needle pierces his skin and flesh all the way through until there’s an unpleasant, chilling sensation of it emerging in his mouth, then being brought around and under his lower lip, Daniel’s hands steady as he works.

“See? Just like that. I know what I’m doing, don’t worry.”

The feeling of the thread slipping through his skin makes him sick to his stomach, and there’s more sharp pain which turns to burning with another stitch. Daniel strokes his chin with his thumb in a soothing motion, and doesn’t stop his work for a second - a small mercy in his eyes, getting over with the sewing as fast as possible while remaining cautious not to mess it up.

To him, it’s love.

“It’s a shame I won’t be able to kiss you for a while”, Daniel laughs softly. “But it will be worth it.”

He stops for just a moment when a violent sob makes Wren shake.

“Shh, shh. Stay still.”

There’s three stitches now, pulling at his skin and sending radiating pain to his entire face; he opens his eyes, a wave of dizziness washing over him as he sees the needle, slick with blood, in Daniel’s hand, the thread taut, leading to his face, his mouth, slowly turning him into a grotesque piece of embroidery.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart, it’ll be easier.”

Like he’s stitching a wound, like he’s a medic rather than torturer; his words make Wren’s stomach turn, but he follows his suggestion - order, it’s always an order - and looks into Daniel’s eyes, sober and focused. He can’t help but whine when the needle returns for another stitch, but he stays still.

Tears of pure pain trickle down his face, his vision clouded, and Daniel keeps going, humming to himself to break the suffocating silence which, along with the dimmed lights and the chilling absurdity of the situation, makes Wren feels like he’s in a horror movie.

Alone with his captor in a house straight from the past, listening to his soft humming as the needle pierces his skin again, and again, and again, until it reaches the other corner of his mouth and is plunged in for the final stitch.

“There we go.” Daniel secures the thread, making sure it’s not too loose and will stay in place just like he left it. “It might swell a little, but shouldn’t scar.”

Somehow, Wren manages to glare at him. Daniel sighs, his usual exasperated but amused sigh of having to put up with Wren’s minuscule acts of defiance, and leans in closer to kiss his tear-stained cheek.

“I knew you’d look beautiful like this”, he purrs. “And I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve done a pretty awesome job.” He grins, and Wren grits his teeth, only half focused on his words, fixated on the pulling of the stitches, the way his lips twitch in pain.

Daniel sits down next to him and Wren finds himself being pulled closer until he’s lying down with his head in Daniel’s lap, looking up at him, occasional tears rolling down his temples. He still tries to scowl, and Daniel chuckles softly, his fingers ghosting over Wren’s face, one fingernail hooking under the stitches and giving the lightest of pulls that makes Wren tense up and whimper at the sensation.

“I love you, you know?”, Daniel whispers with a soft smile, letting go; Wren shudders, a wave of nausea washing over him when the stitches shift again.

No, you don’t.

“You’re just…” Daniel traces his finger over Wren’s temple, cheekbone, jawline, his gaze warm, yet encasing Wren’s heart in ice. “You’re so perfect.”

He closes his eyes, more tears escaping from under his eyelids.

He doesn’t want to be perfect for Daniel, he doesn’t want to be loved by him, he doesn’t want to be his lover, he doesn’t want, he doesn’t want, he doesn’t.

“I love you.”

You don’t.

“I know you’re still trying to deny it, Wren, but I do.”

You don’t. You don’t.

Daniel leans in and kisses Wren on the forehead; it’s delicate, lingering, so different from the desperate, drunken kisses from strangers.

He used to dream of being kissed like this.

He used to dream of those three words.

“I love you.”

You don’t.

“And one day”, Daniel whispers in a dreamy manner of a lover planning a future together, “you will love me too. And then it will all be so much easier for you.”

Wren trembles with a choked sob, enough for the stitches to rekindle the embers of pain.

“Just give it time, sweetheart, and then we’ll be happy. You’ll be happy here, I promise. I love you.”

You don’t, Wren repeats his internal mantra just to silence the screaming awareness that one day, when he loses his desperate fight to hold on to himself, Daniel’s promise will be fulfilled.

Next

#bad things happen bingo #whump #slavery whump #captivity whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #intimate whump #defiant whumpee #mouth sewn shut #needles tw #drugging tw #brainwashing tw #noncon touching #noncon kissing #referenced noncon #stitches tw #slavery tw #wren rackham #daniel rooney #bthb #my writing #hi yes i don't think i've ever been this nervous about posting a drabble before #but there we go! my current favorite trope