#cons: my poor assignments

[a-concert-just-for-me]

I am most definitely starting to crash now tho which is a blessing and a curse lmao

[rainrot4me]

Do You Think About Her?

Summary: Jeff liked to tease Toby about his lack of experience with women. So when coming home from a mission with the two, you decide to tell Jeff off, spurring him into a jealous fit to see how far he can push you both.

Characters: Jeff the Killer & Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Teasing, Toby is inexperienced, Jeff’s an asshole, fingering, cunnilingus, embarrassment, dub-con, blowjob, fucking in/on a truck, voyeurism, double penetration, vaginal, slight power struggle

Words: 5.0k

Jeff was known to make Toby the brunt of his jokes.

Whenever the twitching boy would stutter too much or laugh a little too hard, Jeff was always quick to jump on his ass and say something. Whether Toby took the remarks seriously or not, the pale killer never let up.

So whenever Toby accidentally let it slip that the farthest he had ever gotten with a girl was a blowjob, the whole mansion groaned with the frequency Jeff brought it up. Whenever he got a chance to embarrass the brunette you best believe he was going to, despite your belief that Toby could easily lay his ass out but just chose not to.

You had been sleeping around with Jeff for a while, the horny killer always willing to show you a good time whenever you asked for it. But that also meant dealing with his obnoxious mouth, and whatever bullshit insults he had conjured that day. So when you got wind of Jeff’s hounding on the boy, your heart ached. You and Toby were about the same age, and your backstories for how you ended up under Slender’s care were more or less the same. Bad home life turned murderous. There was a sense of familiarity in him, so you couldn’t just let your obnoxious fuck buddy run his mouth without you saying something.

“Listen, Jeff.” You groaned, curling your legs under you in the passenger seat of his old truck, heading back to the mansion after a particularly aggravating mission. Jeff eyed you, head propped on his fist as he leaned against the open window, the cool night air wafting in as he drove down the familiar back roads. Toby sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window as his brown curls swayed in the wind. Slender had assigned the three of you together, apparently unaware of the high tensions between the two boys. It just made completing the mission that much more difficult. “You’ve gotta lay off Toby. The poor kids gonna cut your head off if you don’t quit talking about his dick.” You mumbled, staring at the dense trees flying by. Jeff groaned, sitting back against his seat as he turned a sharp curve, cringing at you. A slow rock song mumbled through the radio, the atmosphere nice besides the sour mood in the truck.

“Ain’t my fault the stutter’s practically a virgin.” He laughed dryly, looking into the rearview mirror and catching Toby’s nasty look at him, neck jerking. You were assigned some bullshit job to take out a couple of guys who vandalized the mansion, how they ever got that close and lived you had no idea. But with Toby bickering with Jeff’s snarky attitude, it was nearly impossible for them to focus. Two hours longer than it should have taken, you were finally headed back to the mansion, praying to get away from the two. 

“Don’t be acting like you weren’t a virgin before I came along.” You huffed, turning to catch Toby snickering lowly, looking back out the window quickly before Jeff could see. Jeff grits his teeth, rolling his eyes as he leans forward, staring daggers at you. “Oh, come on now. You’re talking real big for someone that begs for me to fuck them once a week.” He snarled, reaching his arm across the console and gripping your thigh tightly, glancing between you and the road. Toby was still laughing quietly, amused by the bickering not focused on him for once. But this time Jeff heard him, whipping his wide eyes around quickly to laugh at the boy. “No fucking way the virgin’s laughing!” He hollered, throwing his head back as he laughed annoyingly, just loud enough to prove a point. You slapped his arm, pushing his hand off your thigh as you hissed.

“Jeff.”

He rolled his eyes, glancing between you and the rearview mirror, snarling at Toby. The brunette just stared awkwardly between you two, back pressed flush against the seat as you turned to look back at him, nodding your apology. Toby smiled at you, his cheek twitching at the movement. But as you turned back forward, Jeff’s pale face sat shocked and angry as he glanced between the two of you. You glared at him, but that felt all too much as he faced forward quickly, shoving the wheel to the left and throwing the truck off the road, pulling next to the thick treeline and slamming on the brakes. You yelped, bracing your hands on the dash as he threw the truck in park and shut the engine off, the low rock song still beating through the old speakers. Toby cursed, groaning as he pushed himself off of Jeff’s seat and shook his head.

Before you could berate the pale killer, he was already throwing open his door, jumping out and quickly shoving the back door open as well. You watched as Toby struggled frantically against him, punching his shoulders as Jeff hauled him from the truck and onto the grass below. You yelled, throwing open your door and dodging to the opposite side of the truck. Jeff was already on top of the boy, loud grunts and curses ringing as they pushed against each other, fists flying and grappling the other. Toby was holding him off, but with Jeff holding his knee on his stomach, there was little Toby could do to fight him off. They were throwing their palms into each other’s faces, pushing their necks and nearly hurting themselves. So you yelled, instincts thrown as you gripped Jeff by his messy hair, tugging him back by the head until he was hissing. 

As you pulled him off of the smaller boy, you beat his chest with your fist, furious. “What the fuck are you doing?!” You snarled, pushing his chest back against the side of the truck with a loud thud. Thankfully this road was practically abandoned, nobody having any reason to travel back this far unless it was a hunting season, so no one just saw the throwdown that you just broke up. Toby panted behind you, your body standing between the two so Jeff had no choice but to focus on your angry face. “Fu- fuckin’ psycho…” Toby grits, spitting onto the ground as he sits up on his elbows. You still stared at Jeff, your questioning expression enough to make him groan. 

When Toby began to cough, you turned, reaching an arm out to help him stand. You gave him a once over, making sure Jeff hadn’t done any serious damage as you hauled him up. He was slightly taller than you, his goofy smile thankful as he pulled his mask down under his chin, wiping the dirt from his cheek. You sighed, turning back to Jeff and glaring, but getting caught off guard by his disgusted expression. Jeff towered over the both of you, his nasty scowl making you worried. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you two were fuckin’.” Jeff growled, pushing off the truck and shouldering the two of you apart, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and staring into the woods. Toby and you awkwardly glanced at each other, the brunette stepping out of the way as you shuffled to Jeff’s side. “Jeff. You’re being unreasonable.” You grit, shoving his shoulder as he glanced at you, groaning. But he turned back to Toby, glaring daggers at the boy until he glanced back at you, a small smirk appearing on his sullen face. The pale killer shuffled to Toby’s side, throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders, making him flinch away. Jeff held his head tight against his side, making the boy stare through his messy hair at you as you nervously watched. “Tell me, twitch. You ever thought about my girl before? While you’re jerkin’ it, maybe?”

There was a nasty grin on Jeff’s face as you blushed, crossing your arms as the brunette stared at the ground. Jeff didn't appreciate the silence so he hauled Toby’s head up, gripping him by the back of the hair and making his eyes face you. “Jeff-”

“Ah, ah. I’m asking him.” Jeff cut you off, nudging Toby by his side until his shoulders twitched under the pressure. “Whaddya say, Toby?” You glanced nervously between the two, both of their eyes on you as you waited for either an answer or for Jeff to shove off. Music still thumped from the truck, the cool night air blowing your hair gently until there were goosebumps on your skin.  Toby’s eyes frantically glanced between you and the ground, his freckled cheeks a dark tint as he searched for an answer. You had no idea what had gotten into Jeff, but you were growing tired and more embarrassed by the second. Toby closed his eyes, shaking his head as Jeff scoffed, shoving him back to the ground

“I guess we’ll just find out then, huh?” Jeff smiled wildly, stepping over Toby to move to you, your body subconsciously taking a step back before pale hands wrapped around your waist, pushing you in front of him. Jeff stood flush behind you, hands on your hips as he looked down at Toby, the brunette perched against the rear tire of the truck. You pushed against Jeff's hands, protesting lightly as he hugged around your waist, nudging his face into the crook of your neck and kissing lightly, keeping his eyes on Toby the whole time. You groaned, trying to squirm away from his grasp as he nibbled on your neck, kissing small pecks up your jaw and to your ear. Your cheeks grew hot, anxiously glancing between Jeff and Toby, the brunette’s eyes having a hard time looking away from you as Jeff ravaged the side of your face. 

You stifled a groan when Jeff’s cool hands slid under your shirt, pressing light touches against your skin. You gasped, tugging your shirt down as his arms pushed the fabric up, panicking against him. “Jeff- Stop-” You huffed, tugging at his arms, but the pale killer only laughed, nibbling behind your ear as he watched Toby carefully become flustered. You glanced at the brunette, his cheeks dark and knees pressed close to his chest, unable to do anything but watch you fidget under pale arms. Jeff was making a spectacle out of you, teasing the poor boy at your expense. But there was little you could do as he tugged your shirt up, despite your protests.

When he got your shirt over your head, you could literally see the panic in Toby’s eyes. You screwed your eyes shut, whining as Jeff reached behind to unclip your bra and tug it off your shoulders. The brunette was quick to look down, finding your feet inches away from him far more interesting. Jeff didn’t appreciate that, taking your tits in his hands and kneading roughly. “Oh, don’t get shy now, twitch. You gotta own up to how much of a pervert you are.” The killer smiled, pinching your nipples until he heard you hiss, your cheeks hot and breath heavy. 

“The o- only pervert here is yo- you, Jeff…” Toby grunted, eyes glancing up quickly to your tits but back down nervously as he caught the fingers on them. You desperately tugged on Jeff’s hoodie sleeves, teeth gritted as he finally let go and ran his hands down your waist. His cool hands were quick to unbutton your jeans, pushing his hand past your waistline and down into your panties. You yelped, grabbing at his arm and begging the perverted hand out, Jeff only groaning. “Oh, stop acting like you don’t fuckin’ love this, babe.” He hissed in your ear, gripping your wrists and tugging them behind your back, his left hand securing them between his body as his right reentering your panties. You whined, hips bucking frantically as his thick fingers slid between your folds, pushing your wetness onto the digits. Jeff chuckled lowly, pressing his right knee between your legs and forcing your thighs open as his fingers prodded against your clit. 

Toby couldn’t look away now, his flushed cheeks dark as his eyes widened. He was twitching frantically, his neck jerking against the mental override he was experiencing. You stared at him through heavy eyes, embarrassment tugging at your stomach as you begged the boy to look away. Jeff was always one for proving a point no matter the expense, so as he pushed his fingers into your entrance, stretching you wide, he was quick to snap at the brunette. 

“Well look at that, twitch. You ever fingered a girl before? Ever made her squirm this much?” Jeff teased, Toby’s head shaking slowly as his lips fell open, his eyes refusing to look anywhere else. Your arms protested against Jeff, but his strong grip held both of them easily, keeping your chest out and ass pressed back against him. His bulge was already evidently, his psychotic personality getting him excited at your struggle. His thick fingers curled inside of you, pushing little whines and hisses from your lips until you were hunched over, gasping as pleasure racked your cunt. Jeff was chuckling against your neck, nibbling on the skin and leaving little red marks wherever his teeth grazed. It made you whine, your eyes growing heavy and your face hot as you were forced to face Toby, hunched over so your face was right above his. A cool palm nudged against your clit, making your hips grind down and relish in the friction. Toby was so lost in the scene, his knees rubbing together nervously as he glanced quickly between your flushed face and Jeff’s hands shoved into your pants. His bulge was evident against his jeans, his hands gripping the grass below him as he nudged his thighs together, desperately trying to grasp at some sort of friction. 

Jeff ground his hips into your clothed ass, his bulge rubbing against you as he huffed against your neck. “Come on, tell the boy how good you feel.” He grunted, slotting his thick fingers in and out of your cunt quickly, your hips bucking against his palm. He was pulling gasps from you, every curl of his fingers making you mewl your pleasure. Your embarrassment had faded, excitement coursing through you as Toby began to palm himself through his jeans, his hitched groans making you whine as you locked eyes. “Ah… Jeff…” You groaned through gritted teeth when his thick fingers pressed deep against your walls, gushing your arousal around his cool fingers. The killer chuckled, letting your wrists go to snap onto your hip, pulling your hips back so he could grind into your ass easier. You felt your stomach knotting, your hips stuttering against his fingers as you began to whine, biting your cheek. “Toby…” Toby gasped under you, eyes wide as he ground into his hand, mesmerized by you. Eyes locked, you could feel yourself close to that familiar edge, chasing Jeff’s fingers as they curled deep. 

But as if he could sense it, Jeff tugged his fingers out of your warm walls, sliding them out of your pants and chucking wickedly as you whined. You were shocked, hips still bucking as he held your hips, refusing to let you move. You were teetering on that lovely edge, so close to getting off but so quickly stripped of that feeling that you could’ve cried. 

Jef tugged your pants down, pulling your damp panties with them until you kicked them off your ankles. You were completely exposed to the cool air, goosebumps riddling your skin as Jeff bent down, hooking his hands under your knees and tugging you up quickly. Your back was pressed flush against his chest, laying all your weight as your held your knees apart, your throbbing cunt face first with Toby’s face. You whined loudly, hands reaching back to grip Jeff’s messy hair as your cheeks grew dark, eyes pleading as you stared at the boy under you. “Go on. Make her cum.” Jeff commanded, holding you up easily as he watched Toby, beckoning the nervous boy. 

The brunette sat up unsurely, climbing onto his knees as he watched your dark face. He stripped his jacket, letting it fall to the ground behind him as he pressed closer, heavy breath brushing against your sensitive folds. You whined, hips trying to buck to his face but Jeff’s hands holding you still, tsking. “Go on, twitch.” Toby nodded nervously, sliding his fingers up to press your folds apart, eyes flinching to your face worriedly when you gasped. His freckled face looked so cute under you, his goggles pushing his bangs off his forehead and letting you see the flushed skin as he pushed closer. His tongue pressed first, licking a thick stripe between your folds before his soft lips pressed in, sucking on your sensitive clit. Jeff growled, pushing your hips closer to the brunette as you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, God-” You hummed, eyes slamming shut as Toby flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud. 

Your back arched against Jeff, fingers gripping his hair tight as you rutted against the warm tongue lapping at your arousal. Toby spread your lips with his fingers, flattening his tongue against your entrance as humming against you. He pushed further, slipping his tongue into your warmth and making you groan, your hand instantly shooting down to rub your clit and push you close. Toby’s eyes stayed hooded, watching eagerly as your fingers brushed against his nose, his tongue shoved into your cunt. “Le- Let me…” He grunted, sliding his hand up to shove yours away and take its place, slowly circling your clit with the pads of his fingers. You could barely breathe through all the gasps and whines that spilt from your lips, Jeff’s fingernails gripping your leg as he watched the scene unfold. He was smiling and huffing his arousal, teeth nibbling against your ear as he pushed your hips against Toby’s tongue, pulling your knees back further to give the brunette more access. “Does his tongue feel good, babe? You gonna cum on his face?” Jeff cooed, rutting his hips up against your bare ass as Toby lapped at your cunt, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to push deeper.

Nodding frantically, you could already feel yourself clamping down, Jeff’s lewd words making your core twitch as fingers rubbed against your clit. “Toby-” You whined, bucking your hips up as you felt your orgasm crash into you. Toby was quick to hold your hips, burying his face deeper into your cunt as he soaked up your arousal on his tongue, groaning at the taste. Jeff growled, teeth digging into your shoulder as Toby’s fingers rubbed your orgasm out, your thighs trying to twitch shut. When you finally breathed deep, Toby slipped his tongue out, hooded eyes gazing at your hot face, your cheeks flushed and sweaty. He smiled goofily, fingers spreading your soaked lips as he admired your still throbbing cunt, palming himself. Jeff slowly let your legs down, hooking his arm around your waist when your knees buckled from your sensitivity. 

“Damn, Toby…” He groaned, unzipping his jeans and freeing his heavy cock, the tip already smeared with pre. The pale killer gripped you to his side, staring down at the brunette still on his knees as he began to fist his length lazily. Toby sat back on his calves, eyes flicking nervously as he watched Jeff tug you towards the truck, pressing his back against the door and holding you in front of him. Toby stood awkwardly, fidgeting his hands as he watched Jeff push you back, gripping his hands around your head and bringing your mouth to his cock. You didn’t even think, mouth opening almost on instinct as you bent at the waist, bracing your hands against his thighs and taking the twitching length in your mouth like you had done it a thousand times before. Jeff sighed, gripping your hair into a ponytail and bobbing you slowly as he began to talk. 

“You wanna fuck her?” He grinned, grunting as you moaned your approval around his girth. Toby gasped quietly, eyes focused on watching you take Jeff so easily as his cock throbbed against his jeans. Jeff spread his legs wider, pressing his shoulders back against the glass of the door and cupping your cheek, forcing you to bury your face onto his cock, gagging against him. The pale killer groaned, eyeing Toby expectantly as the brunette nodded, his nervousness fading as he watched you submit to Jeff so easily. He wanted that. He wanted you to want him that way. 

Toby had always thought you were cute, his aggravation with Jeff spreading when the killer claimed you for his use. Toby thought the guy was ungrateful for such a pretty girl as you, wishing it was him who was dragging you upstairs to his room after a bad day. The bad thing about all living in the same hallway was the lack of noise privacy, so every time Toby heard your little whines echoing against his wall, there was little he could do against his straining arousal. 

But now, with your hips in the air and your cunt so beautifully waiting, Toby would show you. Despite his lack of experience, the brunette had watched enough porn to know what he wanted, to know exactly how he needed to treat you. The boy nodded, unzipping his jeans and sliding behind you, awkwardly gripping your hips. Your back muscles twitched and pulsed as you strained to bob at the pace Jeff was wanting you to go, the killer’s dark eyes grinning as he watched Toby nervously slip out his cock. The tip was red and leaking, twitching desperately as the brunette bent his knees, angling his head to press between your soft folds and find your entrance. You gasped, immediately pressing back against him but Jeff’s hands held your head, giving you little room to move as you slobbered on his length. 

The killer was being possessive, inspecting the brunette's every move as he pushed into you slowly, watching your expressions for any sign that you weren’t enjoying it. You moaned around his cock, tongue flattening against the underside and flicking against the gaudy veins that ran up it. Jeff huffed, relishing in the way your slobber pooled at the sides of your mouth as you screwed your eyes shut, focusing on not choking on his girth. But he wanted you to. He wanted to put on a good show for the kid. 

Placing his hands on either side of your head, he thrust quickly into the heat of your mouth, head knocking against the back of your throat and making you gag. He smiled, pulling back to the head before slamming back in, trying his best to pull any noises he could from your constricted throat. 

Toby watched carefully, mouth hanging lazily as he bottomed out inside of you. You were so warm, the heat swallowing him impossibly tight as he struggled not to move. His cock wasn’t as long as Jeff’s, but fuck did it still stretch you so good. You ground your hips back, moaning at the way the boy’s nails dug into your hips desperately. You had already ruined porn for him, your cunt gripping him the way his fist never could. He was already hooked. “God… O- Oh my god…” Toby gasped, shallowly thrusting into your cunt and drooling at the way your entrance tugged against him every time he pulled out. You were so pretty, your flushed skin warm under his scarred fingers, he couldn’t help but knead your ass apart as he ground into you.

In your opinion, the two boys were so impossibly different. Jeff was an ego trip, dick thinking before his brain did and making him a cocky little bitch who loved to show off. But Toby, on the other hand, was an awkward kid whose brain ran faster than the rest of him. It made him sensitive, but so dangerously impulsive at the same time. But right now, with their cocks buried on either side of you, their differences were even more prominent. Jeff was rough and loud, even on his best days caring only if you ended up babbling his name out of overstimulation. But Toby was nervous, inexperienced and trying his best to fulfill those urges he so desperately had. It was dizzying how differently they treated you.

You ground back against Toby, arching your back against his small thrusts and begging him to dare faster. He panted behind you, neck twitching and face contorting with every stretch he could feel inside of you. “Faster, twitch,” Jeff grunted, angling his cock in your mouth so he could fuck your throat, smiling at the way you gurgled on your spit. Toby hesitated for a minute, looking at the killer unsurely. 

“She wants you to go, ah, faster.” He hissed, snapping his hips as you gripped his jeans, begging for air. After so much time sleeping around, Jeff could read your body language like a book. It was beyond annoying, especially when he could tell you were aroused despite your bickering that you weren’t. But in this case, you thanked him by pressing your head down further, pushing your nose into his pubes. 

Toby nodded frantically, spreading his feet wider so he could angle himself up, slowly snapping his hips faster. He gripped your hips, his fingerless gloves nipping against your skin until you were whining loudly, gut-clenching in pleasure as his cock nudged against your g-spot. You arched your back, letting the brunette groan and hiss his pleasure behind you as you thrust your hips back, matching his pace. It wasn’t long before he was ramming into you, skin snapping loudly as he gave in and abandoned his nervousness. Jeff was eager too, nearly matching the brunette’s pace as he forced his cock down your throat, only pulling back every so often so you could suck on the head and catch your breath. “So- So warm…”

Jeff grits his teeth, challenging the twitching boy opposite of him as he stares daggers through his hooded eyes. “You gonna cum, twitch? Gonna spill in her?” Jeff was teasing him, the killer’s own orgasm quick on his heels as he slipped out of your mouth, slapping the wet length against your cheek. You were gasping, whines mixing as Toby snapped his hips, hissing. “I- I, ah, can’t-” He whined, your walls clamping against his aching cock, milking him quickly. Jeff grinned, popping his cock back in your mouth and letting you suck on the head while he talked. “Sure you can. Had her on the pill for a while now. Get to fill her cunt full whenever I want.” 

It was true. Jeff was so insanely horny that he had opted for stealing birth control pills from the pharmacy off the highway nearby just so he didn’t have to pull out. But you couldn’t complain, cumming around a cock was heavenly. 

Toby stared wide-eyed, a new fire igniting in him as he pressed his hands around your waist and began to slam his hips brutally. You yelped, eyes rolling as the boy thrust deeply into you, his teeth gritted and grunting. Jeff laughed wickedly, tugging your chin down with his thumb as he pushed his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, grunting as he matched Toby’s pace in your throat. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight when Toby gripped your hips and hauled you up, your feet leaving the ground. He hunched over you, breathing raggedly as he fucked up into your cunt, squelching and slapping loud in your ears. 

It was all too much, so many sensations and so full your body couldn’t resist itself anymore. You buried your around Jeff’s cock as you came, eyes rolling hard as your cunt clamped down against the unfamiliar girth. Your legs were spasming, feet kicking in the air as Toby moaned, digging his nails deep. 

They both buried in you at the same time, their ragged moans and loud breathing making your gut twist as you felt warm seed spilling into you. You tried to swallow quickly, choking on the salty liquid as Jeff hunched over you, gripping your head tight in his pale hands. Toby’s cock twitched inside of you, knees shaking as he let himself spill into your warmth. Jeff pulled out first, letting his leaking head rest against your swollen lips as tears spilt down your cheeks, your mind so hazy you couldn’t breathe straight. He chuckled, hooking his hands under your armpits and tugging you up against his chest, Toby slipping out of you with a groan. You panted against Jeff’s shoulder, eyes heavy and cunt throbbing as he picked you up and snapped at Toby to grab your clothes. 

So when Toby climbed into the passenger seat and Jeff sat you sideways on his lap, tugging you close to his chest, you breathed deep. Toby’s bangs were stuck against his forehead from the sweat, his red freckled cheeks watching you so closely as he ran his hand between your thighs, your head falling onto his shoulder as he fingered his cum inside of you. Jeff grinned as he started the truck, hauling it back onto the road and speeding towards the mansion, occasionally reaching over to press his thick fingers in with Toby’s and make you cry. The brunette pressed his chin against your head, rubbing your clit as Jeff’s fingers pressed Toby’s cum deep into your cunt, tugging yet another orgasm out of you as the same slow rock music pounded against the speakers. 

You could barely think as they dressed you, pulled up to the mansion and hauled you inside, Toby carrying you to your room and setting you between them as they cleaned you up. Jeff still bickered with Toby, rolling your eyes as you slipped into sleep below them. 

But as the weeks passed and Toby began showing up at your door with that pleading look in his eyes as frequently as Jeff, there was little you could do to resist. Even when the two showed up together, scheming some new position they wanted to try and arguing the whole time, your heart fluttered.

So when their sharp words turned to breathy groans, you realized that maybe the only way they could stand each other was if you were distracting them, giving them something better to focus on.

This is a birthday present for @carmoronic! Live it up!!!!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Six: coming clean

tw: non-con, violence, blood

“Good evening, ladies.” 

Disdain taints Aelin’s face in a dangerous way. Her brows narrow at Makarov, and she tilts her head to the side like a bird sizing up a prey she wishes to peck at. Her nose scrunches as if she’s smelt hot garbage—some noisome odor that makes her stomach curl in her abdomen. Mouth splitting open like delicate fruit, you want to tell her to stay quiet, but the fingers squeezing into your shoulders silences you. 

“Excuse me?” Aelin questions. Her eyes dart to Marco’s hands and her fingers visibly twitch as they rest on the table. “Not sure who you blokes think you are, but I’d appreciate it if you got your fucking hands off of my friend.”

The way Marco speaks your name has the sparse contents in your stomach curdling. He leans forward, body pushing against the back of your head so that you can feel the way his chuckle rips through his body. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re good friends. Tell her, babe.” 

Aelin’s eyes are on you now. Wide, and beautiful. The most recherché of sapphires. But they’re cracking, confusion spiraling throughout her irises, rooting into the flesh as you swallow down your shame. 

“Aelin,” you say, voice quivering. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Price,” Makarov interjects. He leans forward, elbow on the table, head bobbing with a sincere nod. “We don’t intend to take up too much of your time.” 

There it is—painful realization. It blossoms in Aelin’s eyes like the way mould consumes the tender flesh of bread. Burrowing deep, tunnelling far enough to feed. Her fingers curl as her gaze hardens into steel, piercing through everyone within sight. 

“Vladimir Makarov,” she spits. 

The man smiles, polite enough to be infuriating. “A pleasure.” 

As the weight of the situation settles over the table like thick brume, you find your attention wandering to your phone. It still sits screen up on the table, waiting for another one of Simon’s check-in texts. You yearn to see it light up. There’s no way you can reach for it—to text and ask for help—but leaving his messages unanswered would stir worry in him. It would get him to come. 

It would get him to save you; again. 

Makarov speaks your name, and like an obedient animal, your attention turns to him. “You look surprised to see us. I thought you would have learned better than to run by now. It didn’t work last time, now did it?” 

Your blood thickens into cruor. Veins and arteries blocked, leaving your eyes bulging in your skull and your ears ringing. He grins as the terrible realization of it all falls across your face—your phone. 

Even after all these years, you remember the accident that stole Sean Gilroy’s life from him. The call—the way Andrei tore something from the motherboard before leaving the useless, cracked device behind. Have you fallen victim to the same trap? 

Is your ignorance about to kill someone else all over again? 

“Marco tells me you were doing well. No late payments, always prompt. Your debt had not been an issue and now you’ve missed four due dates. This is very unlike you. What changed?”

Makarov scolds you like a school teacher concerned about missing assignments and poor test results. Each word he speaks is gentle, but the facade is cellophane thin. The last time you saw him he did not leave without spilling blood, and you are not naive enough to believe that you’ve finally grown lucky enough to earn a different fate this time around. 

“Debt?” Aelin repeats. She looks at you, hands flat on the table as she leans forward. “Chip, do you owe them money?” When you can’t bring yourself to answer, her gaze is back on Makarov—thick, and demanding. “How much.” 

“Mrs. Price, there’s no need to-”

“I said how much,” she seethes between gritted teeth. “A couple grand? A million? Easy, done. I’ll pay it off. Now can you get the fuck out of here and let us enjoy our dinner?” 

There’s bickering. Threats uttered in low tones and mandibles clenching so tight that you can nearly hear the creaking of molars—enamale waiting to crack and shatter. Aelin is fiery. Flames lick on the heel of every word she speaks, fingers tense as she points an accusatory finger at Makarov. You’re not sure how much John has told her about this man, but if she knows well enough to hate him, then she should know well enough to fear him. 

But she doesn’t. All sharp teeth, she reaches for her purse, claiming she’s going to call her husband to get this all sorted, but you see the way muscles tense beside her. Andrei, standing tall next to Makarov—his nose is straight but there’s a long scar that crosses the bridge. Old stitches that have just fully healed over. He looks different, but he is the same; hands shoved in the pockets of his jumper, icy eyes watching Aelin move.

It’s the same thing all over again. 

All your life ever does is repeat. 

“Aelin, don’t. Just- please just- just listen to them,” you beg.

Your words get her to freeze just in time for Andrei to snap her purse—and therefore her phone—far out of reach. Makarov hums, seemingly content as he leans back in his seat. 

“It seems you’ve finally managed to learn something,” he muses. 

A buzz echoes through the table, temporarily silencing the conversation. All eyes snap to your phone, where the screen illuminates with yet another text from Simon. 

Is everything still going okay, baby?

Marco’s chuckle is like sour milk. Long bad. Clotted like blood. He leans over you, fingers digging into your skin as he snatches your phone off of the table. Your heart leaps into your throat as he wraps himself around you, holding the screen up for your attention. 

“Unlock this for me, will you, babe?” he purs. Hot mint fans against your cheek, burning your eyes as you open the device with your thumb print. 

You are still in that kitchen. In that warehouse. Sitting on that chair. Back against the wall. Hand up your skirt. Wretched flesh against yours. 

Yeah. All good. 

Marco allows you to get one good look at his fabricated response before he kills the screen and places the phone back on the table face down. “Baby,” he mocks. 

“You don’t want to make the same mistake this time as you did with Chief Inspector Gilroy, is that it?” Makarov continues. 

At the mention of her father, Aelin’s head perks up. As ice builds in your body, she glances back and forth between you and Makarov, pale brows narrowing as she tries to put the pieces of this puzzle together. But she can’t. She’s fumbling. The edges are too sharp, something you know all too well—you’re surprised she hasn’t noticed the blood on your hands yet. 

“Chip?” Her voice is almost enough to lull you out of your panic, but your body still prepares for the asperity. “Chip, what is he talking about?”

Before you have the chance to spill your sins for everyone to see, the waiter returns with his hands occupied with two large plates. He’s all courteous smiles and polite conversation as he sets your meals down on the table, but even you’re sharp enough to catch the uncomfortable looks he throws at the men who have interrupted your girl’s night. When he asks if you need anything else for your meals, Makarov quickly dismisses him. 

“You’ve been cooperative so far, it’s a shame to see that you’ve fallen from that after all these years,” Makarov continues once the five of you are left alone again. “If you needed a grace period, all you had to do was ask and-” 

“No,” Aelin interrupts sternly. She’s nearly leaping across the table now, torso leaning so far forward that Andrei finds it necessary to put his hand on her shoulder and pull her back. Glaring up at him, she shrugs him off. “What the fuck do you mean? What mistake was made with my dad?” 

“His death, of course.” His answer is blunt. A wooden club straight to the skull, occipital fracturing, vision going fuzzy. 

Her face goes stiff. All her beauty hardens to stone as a shaky breath expels from her chest. “He died in an accident. A car accident that happened years ago,” she claims firmly. 

Their bickering continues to the music of clenching fists and suave smiles followed by poetic interjections that leaves Aelin floundering. And then, there’s you. Sitting in a chair, Marco’s hands wandering over you, tracing down your arms as if he’s comforting you—savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. He’s washing away everything good, and you’re not sure you can get it back. 

Not after this. 

“I got him killed.” Your claim silences the conversation at the table, and for the first time in your life, you feel your stomach churn at Aelin’s gaze. Bitter confusion settles on her face, and even though it’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen, you force yourself to look her in the eyes. “It’s my fault your dad’s dead.” 

“What?” she breathes. You’ve never heard her voice tremble like this before—a rabbit caught in a cage, skin quivering as the slaughter approaches. “N-No, Chip, I’ve told you a million times before, the accident wasn’t your fault, there was-”

“They told me not to go to the police, and I did, and he’s dead because of it,” you cut in. Glazed eyes stare at the center of the table as the steam from your forgotten meal begins to dwindle. Your muscles tense in every place that Marco touches you, and you’re certain you’ll be nothing but a statue of grief after this. “Your dad knew something was wrong. Demanded answers. I knew better, b-but I still told him anyway. He was going to take me down to the station, but his phone… they knew. They knew, and they caused the accident, but he was still alive. 

“He was stabbed to finish him off. They took the chip out of his phone a-and they… None of it would’ve happened if I just stayed quiet. He would still be alive a-and it’s all my fault and- fuck, Aelin, I-I’m so sorry.” 

You’re snivelling now. Uncontrollable tears and snot as the culmination of your sins rears its ugly head in your chest. Your nails are biting into the flesh of your palms, and Marco’s attempt at comforting you with a pat only makes you jump. Eyes squeezing shut, you try to pretend you’re anywhere else, but you’re painfully kept in the present. 

When you gather the courage to open your eyes again, you’re met with Aelin’s tear-stained face. A hand presses against her stomach, and you note the way her shoulders heave as if she can’t catch her breath. Her skin blanches. Eggshell white. No warmth like the radiant sun—no sparkle like the stars in the sky. 

You’ve killed her. You’ve killed her with your words alone. 

“Alright, enough of that, babe,” Marco coos. He’s reaching forward again, fingers pinching at one of the napkins on the table to wipe at your face. When you shy away from his touch, he only grips your chin with his free hand, keeping you still so he can polish you like a trophy. 

“You sick son of a bitch!” 

It happens faster than your brain can process it. Aelin’s shout. Skin on skin contact. Makarov’s head snaps to the side as Aelin’s chair topples over, and the violence is enough to stun you out of your pathetic pules. The man you’ve spent half of your life fearing clutches his cheek in shock as your best friend raises her hand for another blow. 

More obscenities spill from her mouth, garnering the attention of other people in the restaurant, but she does not get the chance to hit him again. Andrei steps forward, hand curling into her shoulder, yanking her back and spinning her around just in time to land a crisp slap to her face. Pulse quickening, you’re standing before you even realize it, fingers reaching for her, an instinct you can’t fight. 

You don’t make it a single step before Marco’s pulling you back, hand snaking around the front of your torso to your stomach to hold you in place. “Calm down, babe,” he warns. 

“Please stop,” you beg. “She’s not a part of this!” 

But Andrei refuses to hear your plea. 

His fist sinks into her stomach. Butter splitting on a knife. She crumbles. Cloth falling free from a line—fluttering on the wind, staining on the ground. 

Your body reacts, and you have no choice but to listen. Arms flailing, elbows flying—you feel the bony end of your humerus meet something soft, and then air escapes. It huffs, hot and moist. Then, there’s a hand on the back of your head, and pressure, then—

—impact. 

Wood bites the tip of your nose, smushing it to your upper lip until your neck pops, snapping to the side. Ichor flows from your nostrils nearly instantaneously, causing you to cough as your eyes water from the sting. You feel him against you—Marco. Hips against your rump, body curling over yours as he continues to press on you, keeping your body bent over the table, fingers curling into your nape as exhales against the shell of your ear. 

“You little cunt,” he growls. “Riley’s rubbing off on you in a piss poor way, isn’t he? What happened to my sweet little girl, huh? The one who behaved? What have I always told you? If you need help, you come to me. We make good on that fucking deal, that way shit like this doesn’t happen. Now look. Look at this fucking mess.” 

People are shouting now—voices you don’t recognize. Patrons and employees alike, men getting defensive over you and Aelin, women shouting to leave the two of you alone. Makarov orders something in Russian that doesn’t quite fall on your ears, but you feel the way it echoes through Marco’s body as he leans further, nearly crushing you, lips pressing to your cheek, unraveling you with another wretched kiss. 

“I’ll see you soon, babe.” 

You collapse to the floor as soon as he relinquishes his grip on you, but more hands replace his. Concerned citizens. Good samariatans. Patting your back. Helping you to your feet. Shoving napkins into your hand to stop the blood gushing from your nose. You assure them that you’re fine as you shrug them off, shaky knees nearly knocking together as you stumble towards Aelin on the other side of the table. 

She’s on her knees, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other clutching her stomach. Her chest heaves. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t suck in enough air, and the mascara staining her cheeks smudges just enough to make her look like a corpse. 

You reach for her, to hold her, to comfort her—but you hesitate. 

Vacillate. 

Your hands are bloody.

You’ll only ruin her further. 

“Aelin…” You’re sobbing, and her name comes out as nothing but a squeak. She doesn’t look at you. Her eyes stay closed as her face contorts, pain rippling through her body as she tries to stand. “Aelin, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. We should- Are you okay? He didn’t- didn’t hurt you, did he? Oh my god, I-I’m so fucking sorry, I-”

“I’m fine.” She chokes the words out firm and harsh, but the pain seeps into her tone anyway. Aelin stands on wobbling legs, gait awkward and stiff as she wraps her arms around herself. You wait for the blood. For the familiar redolence of offals. There is nothing—just the unmarred swell of her stomach. “I… I need to go.” 

Blood splatters on the front of your shirt, but you can’t bring yourself to care about the mess as you watch her turn away from you. “I-I’ll come with you.”

“No! Just… stay here, Chip,” she snaps. Her spine stays stiff and curled as she reaches for her purse and slings it over her shoulder, fingers quickly fumbling for a handful of cash from her wallet before she tosses it on the table. “Call Simon. Get to Terminus. I can’t stay here, I need to-”

A sob cuts her orders off, but she shrugs you away when you attempt to comfort her. There’s nothing you can do except watch her vanish from the establishment, legs tight and locked together as she waddles through the door. All you can bring yourself to do is stare at the gaping hole she’s left. Another gash. Another wound in your life. 

As patrons coddle you and convince you to take a seat, you can only wonder if Aelin hates you. She has to. You know she does. She’s never snapped like that before. Pushed you away. (There’s an icepack on your nose now, but you’re too numb to feel the cold, the bite, anything). You killed her father. She ought to push you away. It’s what you deserve. To be ostracized. To be othered. (There’s a woman patting your back, and for a moment she feels like your mother, but when she speaks it’s all wrong). You nearly got her killed. Everyone close to you always ends up hurt. (There’s so much blood). Dead. Killed. Slaughtered. Thrown in a box. (It won’t stop coming). Six feet underground. Gore on linoleum. Back against a wall. Stuck to a chair. Prisoner. Marco’s good girl. (Why won’t it stop?)

(Please stop). 

“Baby?”

Then—warmth. 

A faint apricitie diving beneath algid waves. There are hands cupping your face. Gentle. Loving. Your blood glues them to your face, attaching every cell until you’re one whole being. When your head is tilted up, and your eyes finally focus, you see it. Him. Your Simon Riley. 

“Oh, baby, what happened?” he asks. 

His question shatters you. Smashes you into a billion pieces until you’re nothing but fine sand and ichor, a sopping mess waiting for someone else to come around to pick you up, as always. You sob. Bloodied hands dropping your ice pack, you throw your arms around his neck and wail into his chest as you spill your sins. You tell him everything. Makarov. Andrei. Marco. Aelin. It all leaves you like rot from a festering wound. 

“Where is she?” Simon asks. He pulls away from you and begins to wipe at your face, smearing tears and blood across your skin. He doesn’t seem afraid of the mess.

“I dunno,” you hiccup. “She just left. Said she had to go, told me to call you a-and get to Terminus and… How… how did you know to come?” 

For a split moment, his face softens. Every hard line and puffy scar—even the steel in his eyes. It all turns pillowy the moment he leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. “You never use capital letters when you text.” 

Despite the protest of the restaurant workers begging you to stay to talk to police when they arrive, Simon escorts you out of the building where his car waits, engine still running. Your nose bleeds all over the upholstery, leather darkening to a vibrant crimson, but he tells you not to worry about it as he speeds off into traffic. 

Blood is overflowing where it shouldn’t. Down your sinuses, into the back of your throat, slimy clots slithering through you until you’re coughing them up into your sopping wet napkin. Iron coats your tongue, and it tastes an awful lot like your first kiss—just needs more menthol. 

“My phone.” The memory returns to you like a slap to the face. Your stomach drops as more blood gushes into your mouth, but you swallow it back. “They found us because of my phone.” 

Simon’s fingers are already white knuckling the steering wheel, but the color of his skin blanches further and travels to the tips of his ears until they’re bright pink. “They’re trackin’ you?” 

“Maybe. I dunno. They might have tapped my call with Aelin too, o-or something else, I have n-no idea I just- I just know that it was my phone,” you explain. 

“Give it here.” 

Without another thought, you dig through your pockets until the item is in your grasp. Placing it in Simon’s hand, he gives it a close once over before he’s ripping the case off of it, elbows attempting to keep the wheel straight as the car continues to speed through the streets. Once the device is properly naked, he looks at his blind spot before rolling the window down and tossing your phone through the gap. Slackjawed, you watch in the rearview mirror as it shatters on the road, glass screen exploding into a trillion prismatic pieces. The car behind you swerves to avoid it.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promises. 

But your mind is very far away—too far to worry about something as trivial as your phone. 

“I fucked up,” you choke. Each word you speak is stuffy, nostrils too clogged with blood to get your consonants out properly. “What am I gonna do, Si?”

“It’ll be okay,” he assures. 

“She knows. She knows about her dad. What I did. I told her all of it, they made me.” You’re spiraling. An animal caught in a trap. Rubbish caught in a riptide, being pulled too far out to sea to be saved.

“Easy, baby,” he hums. He takes your hand into his. He does not flinch at the blood. “We’ll figure it out.” 

Terminus comes into view with the same flashing neon signs that it always sports. Russet bricks, a decent line out the door—you find that you are not anxious about this place anymore. Not the crowd, nor the music that muddies your hearing and shakes every pane of glass in each window; there are worse things that lurk in the dark. 

Simon opens the door for you once he’s parked, and you make sure to keep your body tilted forward as you bleed onto the pavement of the carpark. With a hand on the small of your back, he guides you towards the entrance, letting you keep your head down to avoid the stares. There’s quiet murmuring and sly comments from the people you pass by, but all it takes is a single glance from Simon to silence them. 

You do not worry about them. All you can think about is Aelin. Her tears. Her anger. 

How she hates you. 

“Fucking hell.” 

John’s voice snaps you to attention. Eyes finding him, you realize that you haven’t seen him in quite some time. Not since you had dinner at their place back in January. He looks different. His beard is disheveled, a far cry from his usual groomed whiskers, and his face is flushed a bright pink. He’s hardly got his gaze on you and you already find your tears beginning to spill again, remorse draining from your body before he even knows of your transgression. 

“What happened?” he demands, eyes glancing back and forth between you and Simon. 

“I’m fine,” you attempt to assure, but it’s clumsy—unconvincing. 

“You and Aelin were supposed to go out for dinner, and I just got a call from her saying she’s at the hospital.” Face tensing, he glances at Simon. “The fuck is going on?” 

“She’s at the hospital?” you repeat, voice cracking. Everything twists—a million needles burrow into your skin, and still it does not feel enough to cleanse you.

“Yeah. Christ, looks like you ought to be there, too,” he grunts. “What the fuck happened? Who did this to you? To her? Give me a name and I’ll take care of it.” 

The world spins beneath your feet and the only thing that’s grounding you is Simon’s touch. Still, you spiral. Hospital. Aelin. She told you she was fine—but she’s not. There’s something missing. Something else that you can’t name, but it’s here waiting for you to split yourself open on it. 

“Baby, go inside,” Simon urges. “I can tell ‘im everything.” 

“Vladimir Makarov.” The final nail in the coffin. The first handful of dirt on the casket. The final breath. 

John’s face contorts as anger and confusion mixes into a painful dance within him. He steps back, but his fists clench as if he’s ready to fight—he needs to put the anger down somewhere. 

“How the hell do you know him?” he asks. 

“I owe him money,” you stutter. “I’ve… I’ve owed him for a long time. But I haven’t been paying, a-and I thought that I was able to get away but I… God, John, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I got Aelin hurt and-” 

He silences you with a simple raise of his hand and your mouth slams shut. Your fingers yearn for thread, but not for your silly game of string. You wish for a needle. For sutures to keep your lips sealed so you won’t ever have to choke on this shame again. 

“How long have you known?” His question is directed at Simon now, sharp gaze puncturing through him, a finger pointing at him as if it’s a spear he wishes to plunge into his chest. 

“Price, we shouldn’t talk ‘bout this in front of her,” Simon attempts to rationalize. 

“I said how fucking long?” 

Incensed fingers curl into the collar of Simon’s shirt as John yanks him forward. For the first time in your life, you watch Simon obey. He follows the ruthless pulling of John’s grasp as he nearly goes limp, and you squeak, arms up in defense as if the violence might soon be directed at you. 

“This wasn’t his fault!” you wail. 

“The fuck it is,” John spits. “She didn’t know any better, but you do. How long did you think you could keep this from me? What the fuck made you think this shit was alright? How many fucking people have you put at risk, Simon! My fucking wife! My fucking child!” 

All air has been lost in the world. You stare, heart empty, blood filling your mouth, spilling out of you like all of the apologies you wish you could articulate but can’t. They fall flat at your feet. Drips and splatters among the grime. 

“What?” you breathe. 

John goes loose like a dead body. Hands slipping off of Simon’s collar, feet stumbling away from him, his palm slaps over his mouth where his fingers and thumb press and rub into his jaw. His inhale fills him only to deflate, and when he finishes his sigh, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him more empty. 

“Aelin’s pregnant.”

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[readychilledwine]

Hi!, here's a Tamlin x reader request. So reader is always so fun and smiley and happy but every night, when everyone is asleep, she goes to the garden and sits there alone crying because of her abusive past. One day, when Tamlin goes to open the window at night, he notices you crying while sitting in the garden. Then he realises you do it every day. So one day, when reader goes to the garden, she notices he's sitting there. He asks her why cries there every night and they have a lil chat, and then tamlin eventually cups her face, looks her in the eyes and tells her "you mean everything to me. There's no one that matters to me more than you" or something like that. And then he just comforts her 🥺. Just make it super fluffy ✨️.

Among The Lilies

Summary - There was always a pro and con to every situation, and being Lady Spring was no different.

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol, overstimulation, feelings of being out of place and not belonging

A/N - This has been sitting in my drafts for a while. I am so sorry to the anon who requested this. I'm still not sure I captured what I was hoping for with this, but fingers crossed.

🌹Tamlin Masterlist🌹Master Masterlist🌹

You sighed as you chugged your second glass of sweet floral wine, watching the fae of your court dance for another night of celebrations. You weren't used to this. You were a forest nymph, a low fae who the Cauldron seemed to think belonged with Tamlin, a High Lord. You were not used to loud parties filled with fae laughing and dancing the way Tamlin was. You were used to silence, to fireside celebrations, small groups among a large crowd. You made the best of his gathering, though. Becoming known for being the life of the party and dancing the night away.

Celebrations like this had started to become a norm. Every accomplishment was met with wine, music, and dancing as Tamlin brought your home back to its former glory. The fae of Spring had been so excited to celebrate the Equinox this year that they had asked you and Tamlin to take it from a night of debauchery and fun to a week of dancing, drinking, and revelry. It would be the first the court had celebrated in 6 years and with the new court voted taxation system, the new faith in their High Lord, and if rumors and whispers were true, the influence of you, it was hard for Tamlin to deny them anything.

So here you were. Wearing the smile that didn't reach your eyes, struggling to breathe in the corset dress you had a love-hate relationship with, and waiting to slip out unnoticed. You had been enjoying yourself, but you were slowly becoming over stimulalated from the countless males and females touching you, thanking you, trying to dance with you. You were exhausted from the late parties that quickly faded into morning duties and after assignments.

You finally saw your chance, sparing one last look to where your husband stood, Lucien by his side, laughing at something Tarquin said. You bolted then, running to the doors and through the halls before slowing to a walk at the private garden Tamlin had planted for you.

The garden had become your safe place. A place for you to cry, to use your magic to recenter yourself, and to find peace. You felt almost guilty, coming here again and bombarding the poor sprites as they danced and enjoyed their little fires and celebration. Such small, kind creatures, but yet some of Springs most important. "Forgive me," you inclined your head before heading to the fountain you knew they'd be nowhere near.

This had become a ritual for you the past few nights, hiding out here with your back and head against the cool marble, breathing in the scent of fresh blooming roses and lilies. You typically stayed here until you relaxed before heading back in, but a sprite had different plans this time.

Small hands touched your cheek, wiping the tears that were falling as you finally collected yourself. A female fluttered her gossamer like wings next to you, her light green skin contrasting her flower petal dress. "Why is my lady sad?"

You smiled, holding a hand out to her and allowing her to land. "Not sad, just tired."

"Lilies are the flowers of sadness. You come here when you're sad. You go to the roses when you're blushing. The daisies for joy." She stood and held your thumb as if to hug and hold you. "Please tell me what's wrong?" Your heart ached, burdening this innocent creature with your frustration. Yet, she only nodded, seeming to understand the feelings you were having. Soon, you two became so engrossed in conversations that you didn't notice green eyes watching from a window and a sharp mind wondering why his wife had closed off their bond.

The next night was more of the same. More fae dragging you to dance. More hands touching your exposed arms. More music. More everything. You were not sly as you escaped this time and all but ran to your beloved fountain. Faltering, you saw Tamlin, a single rose in his hand as he sat watching the sprites.

"I had thought to myself, perhaps my rose just needed fresh air the first night you ran out here," his voice washed over you like rain as you walked over, sitting next to him. "Then it happened again. And again. Then, for the fourth time. And again tonight. You're coming here to cry, and evidently do so frequently, your friends have told me that much," a sprite with a familiar smile disappeared from your view. "But she will not tell me the one thing I want to know." His eyes finally met yours, lingering and studying your expression. "Why," the question was simple, one you should have been able to answer.

You finally found it in your mind, looking at the root of the complicated problem. "I struggle to feel I belong among the high fae still." You took a spot beside him, pulled your knees up and hugged them. "I offer pretty smiles, I give them the positive words they expect, and I play the part of happy wife, but I still struggle."

He hummed, his calloused hand finding yours, "Are you a happy wife? Or do I need to provide more?" His tone had changed, realizing this was more than feeling overcrowded. This was his mate, opening that dark feeling he knew was festering.

You could only smile at him, a real one that did reach your eyes, "I am happy in all aspects of our marriage. I just want a sense of belonging when it comes to other courtly matters." That was where you struggled. You struggled with the weight that came from the jewels you wore, the circlet on your head.

"Oh, you belong," he murmured as he pulled you closer. "You are this court. The very soul that drives it. Being a nymph does nothing to change that." His thumb came up, wiping a tear you had not realized was falling. "There is more. I can feel an ache in your heart wanting to come forward."

Moments of silence passed, "Am I enough?" That question had him cupping your chin, forehead resting against yours as you continued. "I don't want to be High Lady. I don't have the drive and ambition Lady Summer, Lady Night, or Lady Day have. I enjoy my place at your side, but not-"

His free hand came up, holding both sides of your face as he shushed you, thumbs continuing to swipe your cheeks. "You are more than enough. You are everything to me." His forehead stayed touching yours, your noses brushing as he spoke, "I love you as you are, for who you are. It would break me to see you change your drive to match the desires of others instead of your own."

You nodded as you were listening to his words. You could feel the beat of your heart beginning to match his, your body relaxing to match his. "I just want to be everything you've ever asked for," you confessed.

"And you are more," his lips twitched, "Cauldron, you are so much more. You are perfect for me. Perfect for my court. You are-" Tamlin paused trying to find the words. "I could write all the poetry in the world, source from the greatest love stories of legend, yet nothing could compare to what you are to me."

Those tears changed at that, sadness replaced by warmth as he touched his lips to yours in a comforting kiss before pulling back. "You are my sun," he whispered. "You are not just my world. You are the center I orbit. You are the source of light and warmth. You are how I time my day." Your smile was growing as he continued to speak, hands finding his broad chest as your eyes closed to fully process and enjoy the timber of his voice.

"I love you. I just.. I love you." He ended it so easily. Three words that encompassed thousands of emotions he could describe. "Never change and never hide these feelings from me. Let me help shoulder your burdens."

You leaned up, kissing him as you opened the bond, "And I love you." Your arms wrapped around him, head resting on his chest. "We should go back before our guests worry."

"Let them worry," he kissed the top of your head. "Let's enjoy the garden and the sprites."

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[goodolreliablejake]

I think part of the reason that Evrart Claire is able to outmanuever everyone else is that he sees the world in strict, materialist terms. I previously argued that beneath his sleezy and corrupt exterior, Evrart is a true believer in Communism, so now I'd like to add on to that a bit about his methods. Basically, Evrart has very clearly defined, material goals and a plan to achieve them that prioritizes results over process, and this is in stark contrast to Harry's highly conceptual and abstract understanding of politics.

Let me make my point by first making a detour; why does Evrart employ Rene as his night watchman? It's charity, right? Rene isn't really that useful, but he wants to feel useful, and he needs a source of income to survive, and he needs it in a way that protects his pride. But isn't Rene Evrart's ideological enemy? He is, according to Harry's political schema, the avatar of fascism, and a vocal hater of communism.

Well, no, because to Evrart, class isn't a matter of what you believe in your heart, it's a matter of your material conditions. Rene is a poor and vulnerable man, a working class fellow abandoned by the people who once exploited him, even as he romanticizes that past exploitation. And in that way, he is (in Evrart's eyes at least) no different whatsoever from Dros the Deserter.

I think this materialism is also what allows Evrart to lie so easily. He'll gladly call Harry a comrade, because words are wind. Words don't change the fact that Harry is a cop and the violent agent of the state.

Under this framework, I think there are really only two political positions that people can meaningfully take; they are what Harry would call Communism or Moralism. As a citizen of Martinaise, you can either accept the status quo of those in power, or you can work towards independence from your corporate overlords. Fascism is a delusion: drinking yourself to death while griping about women and immigrants, never changing your political reality. Ultraliberalism is ALSO a delusion: fantasizing about net worth and becoming the boot, meanwhile your overlords will never allow you to escape the economic status you were assigned at birth.

Now, it might sound like I'm being overly complimentary to Claire, but this framework is also what enables his worst crimes. Evrart defrauds the union, skirting its democratic process to install himself (and his brother) as permanent dictator/mafioso. His focus on results turns him into something of a perverse reversal of his own ideals. He exploits the people of the fishing village, conning and stealing their land because he believes it will be worth it in the end. He profits off a drug trade that leeches off of the hopelessness of the very working class people he claims to be working to better the lives of.

Yet at the end of the day... Harry's "political vision quests" are stories he tells himself in his head. They change the UI that the player sees but nothing about how it works. His conception of Communism is most defined by its impossibility and failure. Meanwhile, Evrart ACTUALLY seizes the means of production.

[fae-renjun]

🗯✮₊˚⊹ THE ANATOMY OF A ROMANCE — l.jn [ TEASER ]

# pairing.ᐟ lee jeno x fem!reader — [1.1k], college!au, academic rivals to friends to lovers, teaser for the first instalment of how to fall in love (for dummies)

# synopsis.ᐟ  when yn finally got tickets for comic con this year, the last thing she expected was to accidentally coordinate outfits with lee jeno: the boy she had been tied with for the top of every class they had taken together since first year. or in which jeno begins to realise the girl he could never beat in academics has more in common with him than he thought. warnings.ᐟ just swearing for the teaser

# tia speaks.ᐟ est. final wc: 4.5k & est. publish date: 20/03 (the writing in this teaser might be a bit chopped, this is not the final edit)

i. you can’t turn the radio down (& you can’t think of anyone else)

Jeno’s first mistake had been trusting his friends with his hair. 

Looking up nervously as Mark handed him the mirror, Jeno was already braced for disaster after observing the reactions of Jisung (visibly distressed in the corner while biting back a smile) and Chenle (not holding back at all, literally rolling on the floor laughing). 

“This is not fucking green.” “It’s bluish-green?” said Mark hesitantly in response. “It’s mint, Mark,” said Renjun from his spot on the couch. “It could still work,” said Jisung, more as a question than a statement. “Yeah,” Jaemin answered, barely holding back a laugh, “Beast Boy can be minty.”

From the corner of his eye Jeno saw Haechan slowly pull his phone out of his pocket, which was then swiftly returned to its place with Jeno’s warning of putting him in a chokehold.

“I cannot go to comic-con like this.” “Sure you can,” Chenle responded between laughs. “Listen man,” said Renjun, “even if you wanted to fix it, there’s not enough time to do that. Just put on the outfit.” Jeno begrudgingly dragged his feet across the floor to his room, as the conversation continued muffled outside.

Mark shouted, “Yo but why do I actually look so good as spiderman?!” “My Iron Man is better,” retorted Chenle “Why’d you guys assign me the Hulk anyway?” asked Jaemin, as Jeno walked out of his room. Jisung said “Your muscles,” at the same time as Haechan who instead responded with, “So that you and Jeno can have matching green couple outfits.” Renjun, busy adjusting the bow for his Green Arrow costume, just let out a snort-laugh as Jaemin considered both responses for a second before nodding, “Valid.”

Soon Jeno and Renjun were ushering the 5 others out of the house and into the cars to make sure they wouldn’t be late for The Batman 2’s trailer screening.

Y/N opened up the camera app and held her phone close to her face as she made sure the small red plastic crystal she’d bought from the craft store and stuck onto her forehead with lash glue wasn’t crooked. Aeri stood adjacent, combing through her freshly-dyed pink hair with her fingers. 

As a notification popped up on her screen Y/N let out a groan, “Dr. Kwon just assigned us 30 pages of reading for my 8am on Monday!”

“Those Monday morning lecturers love being diabolical, I’m telling you,” said Aeri with a sigh.

In the process of throwing her head back in frustration, Y/N noticed a mint-coloured blob exiting a car out of the corner of her eye. As she turned to get a better look she said to Aeri, “He might have been going for Beast Boy but the poor guy’s hair did not-” Y/N fell silent on seeing the face behind the mint hair. Then she started laughing.

No, said Jeno to himself, this could not be a laugh he recognised, this could not be-

“Holy fucking shit.” “Please,” said Jeno as he made eye contact with the girl, “spare me.” “Absolutely not. That is not green.” “Blame Mark.”

“No, I will actually be thanking Mark. This is incredibly diabolical work,” responded Y/N as she held her phone back up to take a photo. “Oh my god, delete that,” said Jeno with a look of horror. Y/N shook her head, “Don't worry, I won’t post it. Just need it to laugh at.” she said as Jeno’s friends joined in on laughing at the boy’s embarrassment. “I did not consent to that photo Y/N, but I guess you just like looking at my face that much.” “Yeah, I like laughing at it.” “Whatever you say. Nice to know you’re obsessed with my face. What a shame it’s not reciprocated,” said the boy with an obviously mocking look of sympathy.

Before she could retort, Haechan cut through the banter, “Sorry to point out the obvious but has no one else noticed the costumes? You’re Beast Boy, and she’s Raven. They’re lovers in all the comics and shit, no?” Jeno’s mouth fell agape as Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. Both of you rushed to defend yourselves, “Lovers is a stretch-” “ Ok but she’s been with other people in the comics, even Starfire, I mean really Aeri is-” The duo's voices were drowned out by their friends falling into a fit of giggles once again.

Y/N lightly slapped Aeri’s arm to get her attention, dragging her inside the convention center and away from the boys, as the pink-haired-girl continued holding in her giggles.

After the two girls had browsed some of the merchandise at the convention, they finally got to The Batman 2’s panel. Y/N just happened to be so lucky that the only free seats (other than those at the opposite end of the hall) were right next to a group of 7 boys, one of whom’s hair stood out like a sore thumb. It was now her turn to groan as Aeri dragged her right into those very unfortunate seats. 

With a whole 15 minutes left until the panel started all Y/N could do to occupy herself was talking to Aeri and staring at the ground and tapping her feet in order to ignore the presence of a certain Lee next to her. As the girls’ conversation reached a lull, Jeno on her other side cleared his throat before asking, “So…do you like comics?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah…a lot.”

“Well then this is great!” exclaimed Jaemin, “Nono here is the resident comic book nerd in our friend group.”

Y/N’s face broke into a teasing smile, “Nono?”

Jeno closed his eyes in frustration then turned to Jaemin and gave him his best ‘threatening’ glare (but all his friend did was smile back).

“Favourite characters?” asked Y/N, once he had turned back around.

“Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Miles Morales, Cassandra Cain, John Constantine,” he gestured at his own outfit, “and Beast Boy. Yours?”

“Jason Todd, Kamala Khan, Gwenpool, Zatanna, Rogue, Kori and Raven.” Y/N responded, pointing to her own outfit as she finished.

There was a beat of silence, “Good list.”

“Yours too.”

The two nodded, each clearly having gained some additional level of respect for the other as the lights in the hall dimmed and the event began.

While pulling her hair out of the back of the brown jacket she had put on for the second day of ComicCon, a realization dawned on Y/N, causing her to practically fly across her room to her phone.

Y/N: just so that we don’t accidentally match again Y/N: because i’m sure neither of us wants that Y/N: what are you dressed as today?

Jeno (Anatomy 101): miles morales

Y/N: ok, cool. Y/N: clear.

Jeno (Anatomy 101): you?

Y/N: rogue

Jeno (Anatomy 101): ok Jeno (Anatomy 101): can you delete the picture now

Y/N: nope!

Seen at 11:57am

taglist (strikethrough = can’t tag): @bambisnc @nicholasluvbot @yewshi @lotties-readings @wachimingox @moryymor @andyyjw @ayukas @mystverse @meemememeem @hibernatinghamster @i-lovegood @keemburley @huffnpufffckk @zhapire @yutal0ver @miamoreeee @413ktz @imlonelydontsendhelp @vivisoni @jenocity23 @yangsliuist @dee-zennie @haoss @kstrucknet @k-films

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Korea Is Back, Baby

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2025 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 22 of 24 - Faifa is a natural flirt. He just flirts with everybody. I think it’s an essential part of his personality. I hope Wine is okay with that. I wish we got a little bit more about Wine’s past and history and why he is the way he is.

Ohm is our super hot P’Tor? Glorious! GREAT spot casting. Also a nice sweet character - direct and honest. I liked everything about this cameo.

All in all a nice ep. Lovely execution of the rooftop assignation trope. (It's an OLD one, was in Takumi-kun)

Top Form (Thurs WeTV) ep 2 of 10 - ep 2 and we are already on dub con and a stolen kisses? Charming. Frankly, I found this second installment a little dull. But I’m still enjoying the show.

My Golden Blood (Weds iQIYI) Ep 3 of 12 - is that the same house as Win’s family home in Between Us? 

Sweet Tooth Good Dentist (Fri iQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - no ep this week.

Lost in the Woods (Weds Gaga) ep 2 of 7 - Meh. I’m DN-effing this one. Effing indeed.

Flirt Milk (Sat YT) ep 10 end - I just want the photography club pres to get a boy. Could he have his own BL please? 

Summary

An insipid story of a boy who likes another boy at a university photography club. One of them is dim and the other is a jerk and that's it. Side couples are BL and GL, with the back-up gays the only good thing about this whole show and there isn't much of them. 4/10

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 12 END - finally it's over. I will say that the actress they got to play Mo’s sister does look like she really could be Mix’s sister.

Summary 

Was this punishment for how fantastic Cherry Magic Thailand was? WHY DID THIS HAPPEN?!! I never liked this IP. It's a terrible story based entirely on a love triangle, the viability of the whole show hinges on the boss character being likable, because the lead is an unsympathetic looser (and user of people), and the roommate/love interest has no personality. With better optics, better kisses, and better chemistry than the original this Thai version STILL managed to be worse with more workplace harassment. A true feat of, well, something that ended up the visual equivalent of smelling like feet. Save yourself from the pong. 4/10

Finally… where tf were my ladies? The female characters were the best thing about the original.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Heesu in Class 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 1-2 of 10 - Adaption of the comic by Lily, about a shy unpopular boy with a secret crush on best friend who somehow also ends up his school's relationship counselor. This was my most anticipated BL of it's original year (2022) and I am so glad it's living up to expectations (I worried about how long it was in dev hell).

It is both painfully cute and painfully awkward and I love it. Giving Light on Me vibes. Sex Ed but a KBL is basically made for me.  I love all the characters. I love the friendship group. I love the poor lonely super studious actual love interest. Everything. Thank you Korea.

Secret Relationships (Korea iQIYI) ep 5 of 8 - episode five, and I’m starting to just feel so sorry for poor Da-on. Aw linguistic negotiation my love! I still enjoy it but things are getting dark for our hero.

Exclusive Love (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - my love affair with our new blond boy continues. He is best boy.

Checkered Shirt (Korea YT) ep 7 of 8 - I’m enjoying this. In that cautious way I have with this particular production house, since they don’t always stick the landing.

Fight for You (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 1-2 of 12 - I liked premise of the show, but I’m not loving the execution. It’s the same company that does the robot stuff. And it’s got that same awkward tone and lackluster aura.  I absolutely hate the nosy grandmother character, and she may be a dealbreaker for me continuing to watch the show if she shows up regularly. This is the character (and personality type) I find the most intolerable in the world.

It's airing but......

Sashes and Hearts (Pinoy YT) 13 eps - Philippines is doing Drop Dead Gorgeous only all gay boys queening their asses off. Doesn't interest me, not sure if it's BL.

Last Meal Universe (Thai ????) 8 eps - An alien who has come to destroy earth instead falls in love with Thai food and then the Thai boy who cooks it - realistic, actually. I got a link to watch but it still wouldn't work for me, so I guess I'm waiting to see what happens.

In case you missed it (I did)

I never caught Marahuyo Project when it was airing but I recently binged it and it is charming. Not BL really (no trope et al), more a kind of 90's style Big Eden or Shelter early queer cinema thing. Made me very nostalgic for those bad old days. Definitely worth a watch if you like that kind of QL, it's 8 eps on ANIMA Studios YT channel.

Next Week Looks Like This:

COMING IN APRIL

4/3 Business as Usual AKA Eul's Love (Korea Thurs Viki/Gaga) 7 eps - trailer on Twitter Kim Min Jun, a 30-year-old office worker, is stuck in the repetitive cycle of his 9-to-5 job and can’t shake the feeling that something is missing from his life. Things take an unexpected turn when his ex-boyfriend Jin Hwan, whom he hasn’t seen in 8 years, suddenly reappears at his office as a new colleague.

4/25 My Sweetheart Jom (Thai Fri YouTube) - trailer Saint is back in a BL? Who knew that would ever happen? When he gets tangled up with a mafia boss's son's girlfriend and ends up in a scuffle, young Yothin needs to find a safe place. Instead of sending him overseas, his father decides to send him to the countryside. There, he stays in Bang Pho under the care of subdistrict headman, a close friend of his father. He's also under the watchful eye of the village headman who happens to be the subdistrict headman's grandson and is overseeing his probation. As Yothin spends more time with Jomkhwan, his perception of the village headman begins gradually to change.

4/26 The Bangkokboy AKA Bangkok Boys (Thai Sat ????) trailer - messy gays

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Everyone loved the rooftop kiss but I adored that cuddle.

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[ilygetou]

heyy love ! can I request a villain izuku ! x female reader ! I would like to see reader being a spoiled “ daddy’s gurl “ n’ izuku is sent on a mission to kidnapp her n’ make her dad pay off the debt to him 👙 the drabble is nsfw of course ! also kinks can be : degrading, dumfriction, pet play n’ a bit of body worship ! ( you can write this request only if you’re comfortable with it / have motivation for it ! )

DEBT COLLECTOR, IZUKU MIDORIYA.

Oh no! your father forgot to pay back some debt! :( & that resulted in having an infamous villain; izuku midoriya more known as “deku” to come and kidnap you and force you to stay at his hideout until your father pays back his debt. But! your father seems to be hiding somewhere to avoid paying back his debt, oh well! izuku has no choice but to send your father a little video tape that may convince him to come out and pay back his missing debt! <3

CW. dubcon, kidnapping, pet play, usage of pet names, orgasm denial, edging, kinda bimbo! reader, degrading (he’s v mean), overstimulation, face fucking (sorta?), non con recording, blackmailing, size kink, finger sucking, cum swallowing, facial, doggystyle, choking, hair pulling, pussy slapping (1), dacryphilia, dumbification, spitting, & creampie.

note. this took way too long i’m so sorry😭 i put my whole pussy into this, it’s like 4,500 words</3

Getting sent into a mission to kidnap an innocent girl because of her father forgetting to pay back some debt? the villain could almost feel bad, poor you getting dragged into this huge mess just because of your careless father.

but izuku isn’t the type of person who would turn down a huge sum of money. At first, he didn’t want to do this mission but the person who assigned him the mission promised him a huge amount of money if he did the job correctly. And now that money was involved, he couldn’t say no, he could never say no to money.

izuku is pretty confident about his strength & skills so kidnapping you should be a piece of cake. His plan went on like this; 1. kidnap you 2. threaten your father by using you as a hostage 3. your father paying up the money he forgot to pay back 4. releasing you. 5. getting his paycheck.

pretty nice, easy plan if you ask izuku.

you were currently out, on your way back home. Izuku was hiding inside his van behind a huge sign covering his vehicle, you had a grin plastered on your face, lips plum n’ glossy as you were chewing a bubble gum, your shirt too tight and small — your breasts particularly spilling out the skimpy top, your skirt was short if you just try to bend over izuku is pretty sure anyone behind you would get a perfect view of your ass.

well this should be interesting for izuku. He thought he’d be dealing with a decent looking girl, not too pretty and not ugly either but probably wouldn’t pique the villains interest. but by the looks of it he will be dealing with a slutty one, a very gorgeous one if he may add.

izuku hopped off his van, watching from a distance how you made your way into a quieter area that was not so full with people, this would make the job easier for izuku.

izuku approached you, hands in his pockets with a fake-smile on his face. “hello, y/n if i may assume?” the green haired villain uttered in a sweet, soft voice. you immediately looked up at him with a small smile, “yes? do i know you?” izuku chuckled as he removed a hair strand from your face, “i’m one of your fathers good friends, been friends with your old man for a long time” izuku came with a half assed lie that you immediately believed.

you snorted out a laugh, “my father? you know him? but you look young to be friends with my father” izuku patted your head before bending down and whispering something in your ear, “let’s go talk in a more private area, yeah?” you squint your eyes in suspicion before nodding your head, the freckles covering the guy's face and his sweet smile along with his soft voice made you trust him so easily.

izuku smirked as you continued following behind him, the dumb smile you had on your face as you hummed a song not knowing what was about to happen to you as you kept following izuku to where he had his vehicle parked.

izuku stopped in his tracks, you raised a brow in confusion before eyeing the big white van in front of you — “is this your..what should I call it? erm.. car?” you snorted, a small laugh escaping you. You were obviously making fun of him, mocking him even. Izuku clicked his tongue, do you really think an infamous villain like him would be driving an old vehicle like this? Izuku let out a sigh before his fake smile returned back, “yes, it’s kinda in a bad shape though, got into so many accidents.”

you didn’t respond to midoriya and gave him your back as you started inspecting the vehicle, it was white & dirty, it also looked old. It’s definitely not something you’d never step your foot in. While you were taking your sweet time, midoriya took out a piece of cloth and without making any noises — he slowly creeped up from behind and placed it on your mouth.

Your eyes widened in shock, you tried to struggle but izuku was much bigger and stronger than you. You kept trying to get out of his grasp before you slowly began losing consciousness. “well, that wasn’t so hard,” midoriya chuckled to himself.

You started regaining consciousness, your vision was a bit blurry, you saw a muscular figure approaching you and your eyes immediately widened. You immediately got reminded of everything that happened a few hours ago, you tried moving but found yourself unable to, your hands were chained against the wall but your legs were free, you tried speaking up only for your voice to be muffled from the duct tape covering your mouth.

“oh? you’re already up? took you long enough” the figure in front of you spoke and you immediately recognized it as the sweet man from earlier. Who also claimed to be one of “your father’s good friends.” You had a semi-confused look on your face, making midoriya look you up and down before slowly bending down to reach your face, “listen here sweetheart, your father forgot to pay back some debit that he was supposed to pay a long time ago but because of someone (you) your father had some hard timing paying it all back” izuku paused for a moment, scanning the look on your face.

“And, until your father pays all the money back, you’ll be held back here, don’t worry nothing will happen to you at least i haven’t been assigned to do anything to you, yet” your eyes were filled with terror, you had so much stuff to say but that stupid tape wasn’t giving you a chance to do so.

For the past two hours, you’ve been trying to break free from the chains — izuku was watching you from a distance do so, your breasts bouncing everytime you moved which made this worthwhile of midoriya’s time.

“careful there, if you move again you may accidentally flash me your tits” you felt your face heat up in embarrassment, your eyes slightly twitching in annoyance. Izuku’s attention went from you to his buzzing phone, he took out his phone and answered the call without looking at the caller id.

“yeah she’s here” “no, she won’t be going anywhere i chained her up” “mhm, i’ll see what i can do” “yeah, i’ll give you updates” “oh? anything? alright then.” you seemed to be confused by the villain’s nonchalantly responses, he then soon ended the call and his attention was all fixed on you.

“that was my ‘boss’, he called for updates on the situation... nevermind that though, he said i can do anything i want with you since your father seems to be hiding somewhere to escape paying back his debt, too bad for you.” your eyes widened in shock, your father was not in debt. you were sure of that.

your father was a nice, sweet, gentleman that everyone liked and trusted. He never loaned money from anyone, at least that’s what you thought. Your father spoiled you with expensive stuff all the time, bags, make-up, clothes, and a new car every year.

It was so obvious that your father loved you so, so much. So, why is he not telling the cops about this? Is he not concerned about you or your safety? You’ve been gone for almost half of the day.

Izuku has snapped you out of your thoughts when he suddenly removed the duct tape from your mouth, you started panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

Once you did, you looked at izuku with narrowed eyes, “my father is not in debt! you’re lying!” izuku simply let out a scoff and rolled his eyes, “you don’t have to believe me, but we have to make a small video for your father, could you help me with that?” the villain took out a camera and shaked it around, you cocked your head in confusion.

“what kind of video?” and the villain smirked, “oh, you’ll see soon enough, just have to take those chains off, and don’t try running away, boss said i could hurt you if you misbehaved and you don’t want that, right?”

your brows furrowed before you hesitantly nodded your head, once midoriya took off your chains – you let out a sigh of relief, your arms were sore from being in the same position for so long. “What are we going – oh yeah! sir, you haven’t told me your name?” The green haired villain found it unusual that you’re talking to him with such a calm tone, as if you aren’t being held captive right now.

“My name isn’t that important” he replied, you frowned at his nonchalant reply, “but what am i supposed to call you? mr.green hair?” you whined, izuku bit his lips hard, trying to hold himself not to cuss at you right now. “It’s izuku” he finally said, “izuku? Oh! Are you that bad guy who goes by the name deku?” midoriya has no time to answer your questions, he ignores you – he has more important things to do, for example recording that stupid video for your father.

As izuku was setting up the camera and the stuff he needed to record the video you were bombarding him with questions, he couldn't believe that despite the situation you’re in you still remained calm — not only that but you also knew who he was. Usually once someone hears his name they would tremble in fear, some might even fall on their knees as they shake in fear.

You probably didn’t know about his heinous crimes, he wasn’t surprised – you don’t look like someone who would be interested in what’s happening around the world.

Once midoriya got everything done, he clicked his tongue, he turned to you only to find you already inspecting the stuff on the table he let out an annoyed sigh “i need you to sit on that chair” he pointed towards a metal chair that looked uncomfortable to sit on. The villain’s gaze was serious & you were pretty sure he was getting tired of you & your questions. Which was true, izuku wanted this to end quickly.

Once you were seated on the chair, izuku came up from behind you & held both of your wrists together & then tied them behind the chair. You slowly started to panic when he brought out a blindfold & placed it on your eyes — “what’re you doing..?” izuku could hear a hint of fear in your voice which made him smirk.

“don’t worry, i won’t hurt you,” he raised your chin to make you look at him even though you can’t actually see him because of the blindfold but you can sense him standing in front of you.

You heard the sound of the camera turning on, “it’s recording” the guy standing in front of you muttered, your breath hitched – nervous about what type of video you two were about to record.

“open up” you hesitantly opened your mouth, your figure shaking a bit for what’s awaiting you. Izuku places two of his long, slender fingers on your tongue. “Now suck on ’em” & you obey by wrapping your lips around his fingers, sucking on them like you’re sucking on lollipops.

This goes on for a quite a while—until the villain finally decides to take out his fingers which were now drenched with your saliva. He smeared your saliva on his clothes, in an attempt to remove the essence from his fingers. Without any further warning or instructions from the green-haired man, you were suddenly pulled into a kiss, a messy one.

You were taken aback from his sudden actions, his tongue was in your mouth, he was exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue until salvia started dripping down from both of your chins. That’s when he decided to pull out of the kiss. You were trying to catch your breath when you suddenly heard the sound of a belt being undone and getting thrown onto the floor—creating a loud thud that startled you.

Izuku had his cock out, it was slightly curving upwards with veins running along the underside, his slit dripping with pre-cum from you sucking on his fingers earlier, he held it with one hand—his other hand going to grab a pair of...cat ears? “here, ’m gonna have you wear those,” he places the cat ears on top of your head, positioning it to fit your head perfectly.

Izuku starts slowly stroking his dick, rubbing the tip with his big thumbs before going to grab another thing from on top of the table. A collar and a leash.

He tied the leash to the collar before he wrapped the collar around your neck, you were confused. You couldn’t see anything because of the blindfold blocking your vision so you didn’t know what izuku was up to.

Once the villain saw you with the leash & cat ears on, he immediately smirked & turned towards the camera “Now Mr. L/n, how do you like your daughter being treated like a damn animal?” you were even more confused, animal? huh? You were suddenly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt yourself being pulled—izuku pulled you by the leash & forced your face down to get closer to his throbbing cock.

Izuku has a massive grin on his face as he places the tip of his dick on your lips and starts smearing his pre-cum all over your lips before telling you to open up again. At first you were scared to listen until izuku repeated himself once more but this time, his voice came out raspy and aggressive making you obey him immediately.

Izuku shoved his cock into your mouth as soon as you gave him access to it, you felt the air getting knocked out of you. He was big & thick, your mouth was so full with his dick, midoriya suddenly thrust his hips, “suck” he orders & you start by sucking on his mushroom tip, giving his tip the attention it deserves.

You weren’t aware that the camera was now zoomed on you capturing how the infamous villain’s cock was fully stuffed in your mouth, izuku held the camera with both hands, zooming on your face—the blindfold covering your beautiful eyes, but your tears stains were visible on the black blindfold—he zoomed on your mouth, leaving some space to show how his cock was all the way in your little mouth, your lip gloss smudged all over your face as you struggled to take izuku’s cock fully.

You stretched your tongue to caress the underside of izuku’s dick, another futile attempt to try and take him full, you began hollowing your cheeks & bobbing your head up & down his cock. Salvia kept dripping from the side of your chin as you tried to satisfy the villain. Izuku groaned, a heavy sigh leaving him from his sensitive tip being engulfed by your warm throat.

Izuku holds the camera with one hand, his other hand now resting on his hair as he bites his lips so hard to hold back any sound from slipping—he only lets out a curse before cumming down your throat.

“Ah, what a slut, now why don’t you swallow & show the camera?” he focuses the camera on your face, waiting for you to swallow his warm fluids. You nervously gulped down his semen. “Open wide,” and you obliged, your mouth was wide open with your tongue slightly out to show deku that you listened & swallowed all his cum.

Izuku placed the camera back on the table, he went back behind you and untied the ropes that held your wrists together—the blindfold still on though. “get on all fours” he orders, you really didn’t comprehend what deku said, you were still trying to catch your breath. Izuku kissed his teeth, showing hints of annoyance. “I don’t like repeating myself,” izuku rolled his eyes before pulling you by the leash again, making you let out a yelp—he was pulling so hard you were basically choking.

You coughed a few times before doing as you were told, you got on all fours, slightly arching your back in a way that had your ass all out, your skirt rose up to your back—flashing the villain your white panties that hugged your pussy lips so well. Izuku smirked, bringing the camera and moving it closer to your ass, he brought two fingers, the same ones you sucked on—and started massaging your cunt from above your panties, moving his fingers at a slow, teasing pace.

As izuku continued doing so, he noticed a wet patch forming on your underwear. He pulled down the fabric, your glistening pussy all exposed for him now. You shivered once you felt his fingers running through your folds, “d-don’t” izuku scoffed, why were you giving izuku orders? Do you know who you’re speaking to right now? Without any reply or further movements from izuku you thought he listened & decided to stop. Only for you to suddenly gasp and wince in pain once you felt a harsh slap land on your pussy, causing your body to wobble and for you to let out a sob.

“don’t ever try telling me what to & what not to do, nor try defying my orders, do you even understand who’s standing in front of you right now?” you quickly nodded your head, low sobs leaving as you continually nodded your head—izuku let out a frustrated sigh, if only you weren’t this arrogant & just stayed quietly and did as izuku told you. That would’ve made the job way easier for the villain.

Izuku slowly started stroking his dick, his other free hands roaming and touching your ass, his fingers getting in between your folds n’ spreading them, revealing your tight hole to him. He fastened his movements, he quickly gripped your hair—forcing you to face him, your face so close to his twitching cock before ropes of his thick cum completely covered your face. You tensed up at the new feeling, his cum so hot it slightly burns your face, the blindfold also getting stained.

Izuku made sure to capture that on video, a wide grin spread across his face. “you look better like this” izuku pushed you down, pressing your upper body to the floor while your ass was high up in the air, two of his fingers were teasing your little cunt—you whined in frustration.

Having the blindfold blocking your view, a collar around your neck that was kinda small you felt like it was slowly choking you, and having izuku tease you in any way he wanted was all too frustrating, you couldn’t take it.

Izuku pushed two fingers, your walls immediately clamping and fluttering around his fingers, izuku chuckled—were you enjoying this? “c’mon kitten, are you serious?” he said in a teasing tone that had you filled up with embarrassment, “i’m not! What are y-you sa—!” izuku started thrusting his fingers in n’ out of your gooey cunt, cutting you off.

He moved the camera to the view of his skilled fingers going in n’ out of your pussy, capturing how slick kept dripping and coating his fingers and the way his fingers kept thrusting at a rapid speed that had your body start to slightly shake.

You tried your hardest to hold in your moans, to prove that you’re not enjoying this, that you didn’t like it at all. But your body failed you, coherent moans falling from your mouth with every thrust of his fingers, making izuku snicker.

Your moans turned into whimpers when izuku withdrew his fingers from your pussy, you were so close to your release—you let out a sob and a whimper of the villain’s name.

Not giving you any mind, izuku rubbed the tip against your clit, he kept repeating the same motion until your clit became all swollen n’ puffy—izuku slowly aligned his cock with your entrance, with a rough thrust of his hips, he was already fully inside you.

“n-no..can’t take it! please pull out!” you plead, izuku was stretching you wide open with his sheer size, tears started forming on the corner of your eyes, your mouth hang ajar, “big…i can’t” you kept babbling and all could izuku do was smirk, your pleadings and babbling only boosted his ego—giving you an experimental thrust just for you to let out a sob.

After a while of slow, sloppy thrusts you slightly got used to his size. Low, muffled whimpers leaving you with every thrust.

His dick was massaging your insides, with every slam of izuku’s hips, lewd sounds fell from your mouth, izuku picked up his pace, placing one of his hands on your hips to pull you closer—his other hand busy holding the camera.

He pounded into you from behind low grunts & moans leaving him, his dick hitting your sweet spot with every rough thrust of his hips—your walls clamping & fluttering around his cock. “Ah—shit, knew you liked that—fucking slut” he grunts, his pace remaining steady and rough.

“what’d you think your father will do once he watches this video?” his hands traveling to play with your clit, your breath hitched, your tongue lolled out—unable to answer the villain’s question. “Well, it’s not like i care about what he’ll do—it’s not my problem.”

Your blindfold got loose completely falling off, you were met with the wall in front of you. Your vision getting blurry from the tears that were about to form. You couldn’t see what kind of face or expression izuku has as he was fucking you from behind. You could only hear his low groans and moans.

Izuku pulled your hair, you threw your head backwards as you met izuku’s gaze, he placed his hands on your chin and forced open your mouth. Staring from above you was a mischievous looking izuku, you were lost in thought, your eyes glued to the green haired man’s eyes while your mind was all fuzzy from the feeling of izuku’s cock messing your insides.

Suddenly, you felt a glob of warm spit surfing on your tongue. And that’s when it hit you, izuku spat on your tongue, your eyes widened—as if you were just brought back to reality. “Come on, swallow” he grunts, impatient. And the way he stared at you with daunting eyes sent a shiver down your spine, his grip on you was strong, his eyes settled on your face and you hesitantly swallowed down his spit, your face scrunched up in disgust. Izuku grinned before resuming to his brutal pace, knocking the air out of you.

His tip kept hitting your cervix, earning filthy, lewd sounds from you. Your face was all messed up, your makeup melted, your cheeks were stained with tears from earlier, and your mouth hung open—drool dripping with every thrust of his hips. You couldn’t take it—you really couldn’t, his cock kept hitting your deepest spots which made you lose your mind, your body went limp, as you felt your orgasm getting closer and closer.

Izuku was getting closer too, the way his cock twitched inside you every time your walls hugged his dick was getting him closer and closer. Izuku pulled your lesh, a choked moan left you—whining as he kept pulling it until you could barely breathe. His cock pulsates by the warmth of your little cunt. “Ah fuck, i know i said i wanted this to end quickly but holy shit kitten, didn’t know you would feel this good.”

Your cat ears that were placed on your head slightly falling off with every jolt of the villain’s hips. He threw his head back, his dick spasmed before filling up your pussy with white globs of cum. Izuku paused for a moment to catch his breath, Afterwards izuku turned off the camera and placed it anywhere besides him. He then pulled your head backwards to inspect your expression.

You had the same fucked out expression as earlier, the only difference was that you were trying to catch your breath as well—small puffs leaving you, your face was hot but, you still didn’t reach orgasm. Which left you unsatisfied.

Your body was already overstimulated and you knew that you couldn’t take any more but the aching feeling between your legs and the knot in your stomach made you crave for more. “i-izuku…i need more, please! still didn’t cum yet..” you whisper, hoping the villain heard you.

Izuku laughed, instead of getting a “alright” you received a laugh fit from the villain. “Did i fuck you too dumb that you forgot who you’re talking to?” izuku pulled you off his cock, his cum leaking from your small hole and staining the floor beneath you, “did you forget that you’re kidnapped? And is used as a hostage? I’m doing this for the money, I have no obligations to fulfill your needs.” he threw at you, and you felt your eyes swell up with tears.

You were not used to this kind of treatment. No, you were used to getting everything you want and need, no one has ever said the word “no” to you, so hearing it—no, hearing it in a rather aggressive manner made you cry, your cheeks already stained with tears.

Izuku clicked his tongue, he tried to ignore your cries and tug his cock into his pants but your crying and whining made his cock twitch back into life. A loud annoyed sigh left him, “if you want to cum this badly, then you could suck me off while also playing with your little pussy, how does that sound?”

You went quiet for a moment, it still doesn’t sound so fulfilling, since you’re still going to work for your orgasm yourself. But maybe having the villain’s cock in your mouth would make you finish faster?

While you took your sweet time thinking, izuku was going through your sex tape with him. And suddenly, his phone buzzed, a text message notification from his ‘boss’—the guy who assigned him this mission. Izuku read it and his eyes twitched, his expression falling into a not so pleasant one.

Before you could give izuku your answer he spoke up; “seems like your father has already paid up, so this thing–” he waved the camera that had a view of your back getting blowed by him before speaking up again; “this things is useless now, really wanted to sent it to your dad though” he grumbles, in disappointment.

“At least my mission is now done, you could go back to being ‘daddy’s spoiled brat’” you pouted, eyebrows knitted together, “But what about—” izuku caught you off, “Yeah I know, you think i’m about to get blue balled as well?” he shrugs before pulling down his pants.

[ultravioletrayz]

So my idea for degradation fic involving Miguel would be something like this- (also please keep an open mind this idea is kinda out there)

So lets say Miguel is your mentor and you are so eager to please and do good work. You have always been kinda good at everything so people complementing you and telling you how great you are is nothing new. But Miguel is different, he's hard to please. So when you do something right he's not complementing you and that is odd for you, and when you mess something up well...he's quick to criticize you. this stirs something within you.

So you keep trying to please him and he's not into it he just keeps bringing you down and reader is starting to like it, sometimes wanting messing up. So lets say reader makes a big mistake on a mission and Miguel is ready to yell and degradant them but reader is getting turned on by it and Miguel noted it so he starts to degradant them more and it starts getting into NSFW territory. while he's getting into it he's just saying filth to you. "your so such a needy slut" "look at you getting turned on while I bully you, pathetic" "you want to be a good girl? you want me to praise you? too bad...now open..." *spits in readers mouth*

then if you can end it off where reader in passed out and thats when he's sweet in the aftercare when she dosn't know. he will open up to her one day just not yet.

Not even gonna lie, if Miguel was a meanie towards me i wouldn’t know whether to cry or cum.

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!spiderperson!reader

Warnings: 18+, degrading kink, rough sex, fingering, orgasm denial/mild edging, getting bent over miguel’s desk, marking, clit slapping (like, once), pull-out method, absolutely terrible and rushed ending, miguel being mean, horny, and ultimately just socially-awkward

Summary: you strive for perfection in all areas… until the opportunity arises where doing the opposite will give you access to the perfection inside your mean boss’s boxers.

A/N: before anyone tries to come for me for making miguel seem like an asshole in this fic, ik that this isn’t entirely true to miguel’s character. however, i’m horny and dgaf. enjoy!!

Word Count: 3K (unedited)

For as long as you could remember, people would refer to you as ‘gifted’. It was as though everything you attempted to achieve was accomplished with ease. In your world, on the days when the Society was a distant memory and you were given the opportunity to act as a true Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Person, you practically lived in a bubble of praise. Surprisingly, the media worshipped you, recognising you as the hero you are. Locals chanted your name, asked for autographs, and even demanded you accept gifts and tokens of appreciation every time you were spotted in your costume on the streets. 

Although you forced yourself to stay humble within the public eye, you would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that the compliments and special treatment didn’t make you feel good, didn’t push you to be a better superhero for the sake of the citizens who practically worship the ground you walk on.

Which is the primary reason why having to tend to work and assignments at the Spider Society caused you so much misery. When you were first recruited, a few other Spider-People had mentioned how short-tempered and cold the boss is, but you had expected to win him over with your natural, over-achieving flare. That goal was quickly crushed when you met Miguel O’Hara for the first time. He had immediately lectured you on certain habits he had observed from footage of you fighting crime at home, giving you strict instructions on how to be better at your job. From then on, you’ve tried your best to view his constant criticism as a positive and value his (poor) attempts at mentoring you. 

It didn’t take long for you to realise that he wasn’t really trying to help you, and he was just a grumpy asshole as everyone had warned and wanted you to follow orders rather than going out and trying to prove yourself constantly. Lately, you’ve been slipping up, making mistakes. You had come to terms with the fact that Miguel wasn’t interested in showing you any appreciation or praise for your hard work, and it had begun to affect your performance on missions, bringing you to this point. 

“What the hell was that?” Miguel snarls at you, his platform lowering as he slams his fist on his desk and glares at you, his sharp red eyes burning holes in your pretty, sad little face. You had almost let an anomaly get away, blinded by your insecurities and Miguel’s lack of interest in your skills, you would have destroyed an entire universe if it weren’t for the backup Miguel had sent you.

“Miguel, let me explain-” You start, being cut off by an angry huff from Miguel.

“I’m sick of the excuses. I don’t care about how you handle shit in your own dimension. When you come here and are trusted to keep the multiverse stable, I expect you to do as you’re told. Unless the small task of containing the minor anomalies I assign you is too much to handle?” Miguel scoffs, shaking his head as he looks you up and down.

The look of disappointment on his tan, chiselled face would usually have you on the verge of tears, but as you’ve grown accustomed to his harsh beratement, it’s begun to have a very different effect on you. You can just imagine him, brushed back curls dishevelled and clinging messily to his face as he pounds into your needy pussy, whispering absolute filth into your ear as he uses you to get off. The thought has you practically soaking through your Spider-Suit, causing you to instinctively squeeze your thighs together as you force yourself to keep your gaze from dropping to Miguel’s broad, muscular physique. As his glare intensifies and he rolls his eyes at your subtle movements, you know he’s got you figured out.

Miguel’s heightened senses pick up on your current state of arousal, the scent of your slick making him dizzy as it clouds his mind. He had always beaten himself up about how harsh he could be towards you, reflecting on his cruelty to such a pretty girl with shame and regret. But finding out that you liked being treated so poorly by him, it has him going fucking crazy.

“Por el amor de Dios,” (for fuck’s sake) Miguel hisses, taking a step towards you, looming over your smaller form with a judgemental scowl plastered on his face. “You’re pathetic. Risking everything we work for here, just so that you can imagine me yelling at you while you finger-fuck yourself at night?”

Your eyes widen, his words reigning true as they hang in the air of the room. Yet, you make a miserable attempt at denying the accusation by shaking your head softly and taking a step back. Miguel only moves closer to you, intimidating you with his mere presence as his scowl curls into a cruel smirk.

“No me mientas, hermosa,” (don’t lie to me, beautiful) He whispers, one of his large, calloused hands grabbing your face and pulling you back towards him, fingers squeezing your cheeks as his breath hits your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine. “You’re usually so eager to please me. Did you think I was stupid enough not to notice when you started messing things up?”

“Miguel-” You whine, voice muffled due to the way he squishes your cheeks together, making your pretty lips jut out in a sad little pout.

“It always annoyed me how bubbly and determined you are,” He admits bluntly, sharp red eyes scanning your face, before trailing down to watch the way your thighs rub together in a pitiful attempt to alleviate the arousal coursing through you due to his relentless disparagement. “But I didn’t think you’d resort to acting like a dirty whore just because I’m not impressed by the ‘Friendly Neighbourhood’ act.”

His free hand trails down your body, fingers gliding between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, and stopping just above the crotch of your Spider-Suit. He chuckles lowly as he watches the way you squirm in his grasp, hips attempting to roll against his hand for any kind of friction. 

If we had to be completely honest, he actually enjoyed watching you work. You really are gifted, always applying yourself to missions. When he heard you would be handling an anomaly for him, he would feel relieved, even proud. But he knew that any compliments he gave you would just be lost in the sea of praise you already received. So, in order to set himself apart, he decided he was going to be a complete dickhead to you. He figured bullying you would motivate you to seek him out in a crowd, make you strive to impress him and show off to him, and ultimately bring the two of you closer. It was shameful, how awful he is at making first impressions, that he’d rather hurt a beautiful young girl’s feelings as opposed to being a reliable boss and potential friend. But now knowing that he hadn’t completely ruined his chances at getting closer to you, he was certainly going to take full advantage of this new development.

“Now look at you, you don’t wanna be a good girl for me anymore, nena?” Miguel teases, grinning as he sees the need and innocence in your eyes as he releases your face with a harsh push. “You wanna be a dumb little slut for your fucking boss, instead?”

You want to say no, want to deny his harsh words and hopefully gain back some of the dignity he was stripping away from you, but your body yearns for Miguel’s touch, his degradation fueling your most carnal desires, and you nod your head frantically. Miguel sighs at your eagerness, tapping your cheek firmly as he wraps a hand around your throat, not applying any pressure but allowing his thumb to lazily stroke the side of your neck.

He leans in to bite your bottom lip hard, causing you to cry out in pain and open your mouth. He takes the opportunity and slams his plump lips against yours, tongue intertwining around yours inside your warm mouth as he groans into the sloppy, demanding kiss. His hand drops from your throat as his bulging arms tuck themselves underneath the fat of your ass and he lifts you up, carrying you over to his platform and dumping you on top of his desk, lips never leaving yours. Miguel’s razor-sharp claws protrude from his fingertips, slicing through the material of your Spider-Suit and prompting a startled yelp from you as he rips your clothes right off your body. 

The matching set you have on underneath has his dick thrumming in his suit, and he almost loses sight of his initial plan in a desperate temptation to worship your gorgeous body and shower you with the praise that he knows you deserve. But he wants to be different, wants to hold a special place in your heart, and this was the only way to do it. 

“You wore these for me, didn’t you?” He hisses flippantly against your lips, throwing the rags of your once cute little Spider-Suit across his office, before tearing your bra open from the middle with just the strength of his grip, claws retracting back into the pads of his fingers. “Puta de mierda.” (fucking whore)

Miguel flips your body over on his desk with ease, your face now pressed against the cold, hard material as Miguel leaves a trail of deep bite marks and hickeys across the exposed skin of your back, making his way down to your clothed pussy at an agonising pace, your ass wiggling enticingly to try and convince Miguel to give you what you want, what you need from him. Miguel peels your soaked panties off of you, tossing them onto his desk chair for later, as his fingers run up and down your already dripping folds, causing him to chuckle to himself.

“I never would’ve pegged you for a girl who gets off on this kind of thing,” Miguel whispers as his fingers explore your wetness, his tone much softer as his sharp, red eyes admire the way your body looks bent over his desk. He snaps himself out of his trance, opting to tap on your clit harshly with his fingers to bring himself back to a place of lust and callousness, and to tease you further.

Miguel dips his two fingers into your cunt, making you moan and cry out, your hands gripping the edge of Miguel’s desk as you push your hips back to fuck yourself on his thick fingers. He pumps his digits in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling them to hit that sweet, gummy spot inside of you each time they delve deeper into your pussy. Miguel groans at the way you clench around his fingers as he thrusts them into you, his knuckles drenched in your arousal as he watches the way you grind against his hand when his thumb rubs your pulsing clit to stimulate you further. 

You’re completely falling apart at his touch, the way his fingers deliciously stretch your hole making you see stars as you approach your climax. Just as you’re about to cum, Miguel pulls his fingers out of your cunt and gives your clit a harsh slap, making you whine as your entrance twitches at the sudden loss.

“Sluts don’t get to cum ‘til I say so, muñeca.” Miguel taunts, disabling his nano-tech suit, the holographic material dissolving and revealing his tall, tan, muscular, the mere feeling of him towering over you from behind making you moan against his desk. He holds his fat, stiff cock in one hand, dragging it between your folds and gathering the slick trickling down your thighs as he scoffs at the way you tremble and spasm at his touch. “Especially sluts like you.”

Miguel plunges his dick into your pussy aggressively, bottoming out in one harsh slam of his hips against your ass and causing you to scream, his hand coming down to cover your mouth and muffle your echoing moans as he delivers fast, disciplining thrusts into the depths of your core, tip kissing your cervix with each frenzied movement. His cock rams into you mercilessly as he digs one hand into the plush of your waist while the other holds your head up, the two fingers he was using to play with your pussy forcefully entering your mouth. On instinct, you wrap your lips around them and suck the remnants of your essence off of his skin, moaning and choking on his thick digits as Miguel’s length stretches you to the brink of what is possible for your tight little pussy to handle and his balls slap against your puffy clit.

“Pussy was fucking made for me,” He grunts, delivering a smack to your juicy ass, the sting making you whine against his fingers, saliva dribbling down your chin and saturating the desk below your face. “Squeezing me so tight. It’s a shame that this pretty cunt can’t make up for how shit you are at your job. Maybe I won’t bother assigning you missions anymore? I’ll just call you in when I need a hole to fuck.” 

Wow. He really did think of you as useless. You had always considered yourself to be good at what you do. At home, you were a hero. Here, bent over your boss’s desk and being fucked so mercilessly, you felt like nothing but a whore. You cry, tears rolling down your cheeks as you moan and squeal with each thrust of Miguel’s thick cock into your hungry pussy. Despite your underlying feelings of shame for your recent failures as an employee, being fucked like a slut by the very man you’ve been fantasising about since the first time you had the displeasure of meeting was able to snap you out of your sadness and overwhelm you with passion.

Hearing you sob around his fingers fills Miguel with a sharp pang of guilt, but he brushes it off and pounds into you harder to remind himself of his end goal, breaking you down until he can make you his. If you really were as into his cruelty as you seemed, he was going to give you exactly what you so desperately needed.

“Mig-Miguel, I’m- fuck! I’m so close.” You whine, his fingers in your mouth making your voice come out as a spluttering cry. 

Miguel pulls his soaked fingers out of your mouth and holds your waist with both hands, fucking his cock impossibly deeper inside of you as the sound of skin slapping against skin and both of your desperate, breathy sounds of pleasure fill the dark office.

“Beg for it, amor.” He whispers against your ear, his chest pressed flush against your back as he nibbles at the smooth skin of your neck as his dick moves in and out of you at a brutal pace, the veins of his thick length caressing the warm walls of your pussy as he smushes his tip against your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Please, Miguel! I promise I’ll do better. I won’t make another mistake again, I’m gonna be so good, I swear! Better than I’ve ever been!” Your breathless pleas make Miguel feel a conflicting surge of both guilt and power. He watches the way your back arches and your thighs shake as you try so so hard not to cum, to be a good girl for him and follow his orders. At the end of the day, you just wanted him to like you, to see how good of a hero you are, and he knew that. Which is why he’s finding it so fun to toy with you like this.

“Shh, I know. I’ll let you cum, sweetheart.” Miguel coos, tugging on your hair so that he can reach your face and plant a kiss on your tear-stained cheek, his soft, long-awaited act of reassurance contrasting the lewd sounds of squelching as he fucks you with mind-numbing intensity. 

He reflects on his words as he listens to the way his unexpected words make you cry and whimper, and part of him regrets the way he approached your relationship, wishing he had just been honest with you and praised your efforts from the start, rather than being cruel and bending you over his desk to fuck you so harshly. But the way you tighten and pulse around his sensitive dick brings him back to the present, and he gives your waist an encouraging squeeze.

The tiny action of consolation has you spiralling, your vision going spotty as you squirt around Miguel’s fat cock, squeals and moans leaving your glistening lips as your whole body twitches with the all-consuming sensation of your release. Watching as you come undone, Miguel feels himself rapidly approaching his own release. He curses and pulls out of your sopping cunt, watching the way his leaky tip shines with your juices. It sends Miguel over the edge. He lets out a sharp whimper as he cums all over your round ass and your spine, thick globs of his climax staining your sweaty skin and making you exhale shakily. 

The sex and your crying make you pass out on the desk, and Miguel quickly covers you up and carries you to his quarters, laying you down in his bed and tucking you in. He whispers a quick apology to you, letting his cruel persona disappear and showing you how much he actually values you as a colleague and person when he thinks you’re asleep, but you hear everything. 

Maybe you didn’t really need to be praised by Miguel to know that you were good enough. And maybe he didn’t need to be so afraid of showing you that appreciation. For now, though, the angry sex would be a pleasant memory for both of you, in an odd way.

“Get some rest, cariño. You deserve it, for being such a good girl.”

I FINALLY FINISHED IT OMG. Thank you all for being so patient 💜💜

[spectral-devotee]

Wicked Game

Summary: You picked the wrong time and place to board the subway

Warnings: DARKFIC! Sound the alarms weeeuuu weeuuu, MDNI +18 ONLY, chikan, heavy non-con and coercion, female reader for pronouns and anatomy, very public sex, slight agoraphobia, very depressed reader with extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms, exhibitionism, choking/asphyxiation, a little bit of piss kink if you squint, stockholm syndrome at the end maybe(?)

Disclaimer: Written after @undyingdecay mentioned the Yelena tag needed some love.

Not my usual cup of tea but who’s writing amirite. This is meant to be Pre-Thunderbolts Yelena, but like, very close to the start of the movie. Please bear in mind this is a darkfic, so obvs some OOC-ness is in order. I have not seen Hawkeye nor any other media involving Yelena aside from Thunderbolts, so this (hopefully) adds to the inaccuracy of the character.

I kinda have a sequel in mind(?) Who knows, depends on my inconsistent writing teehee. If you have any ideas I’d be open to hearing them. The song referenced by Yelena is Last words of a shooting star by Mitski in case you’re wondering.

As always, sorry for any mistakes. It’s my first time writing for Yelena, English is not my first language and my editing is piss poor. All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. 

Hope you enjoy! U w U

Word count: 4.9k

…

There was a heaviness to the air. There had been for a while. 

Not the humid kind, when you knew rain would fall sooner rather than later, or the one you’d find in forests, carrying the fragrant stench of trees, moss, and wet soil; it wasn’t even the one that came with the polluted air of big cities. No, that’d be far too simple for what Yelena would describe the all-encompassing heaviness that surrounded her. The one that haunted her mind, filled her nostrils and left her empty all day, everyday.

Another ‘errand’ for Valentina meant another miserable assignment where she knew she’d made the world a little bit worse of a place to exist in. The kind of job normal people would be disposed of if they had seen what she had done. The kind of job that would make her toss and turn in her bed as soon as she’d try to sleep off the day’s stress only to be faced with the recollection of what her hands did. 

Yelena re-adjusted her white hoodie –her only mundane comfort– over her head as she kept walking towards the subway entry, barely visible under the metal scaffolding to the side of the building. 

She knew what the heaviness was, of course she did, she was just too afraid to admit it to herself. She felt lonely, completely and utterly alone in the world. But what could she do about it? It was far easier to ignore it, push it aside, shove it deep into her unconscious until another bottle of cheap alcohol made its way to her hands. 

The same hands that had committed various atrocities for a good day’s pay.

What’s worse is that it’s not even about the money –well, not completely. Yes, she needed to finance her civilian lifestyle, there was no one else she could depend on. She could not afford a year off to try and find herself in Cabo, neither would her cheap vodka magically appear in her –admittedly small, and empty– apartment. She still had to pay for utilities like water, electricity and gas she wasn’t even using with all of her ‘work trips’.

She had her own savings, a few secret accounts under other identities that could keep her afloat if needed be, but Yelena didn’t like relying solely on them. Not when her ‘job’ gave her something akin to a purpose in life. As disheartening as it was, running Valentina’s errands was still enough motivation to get up from bed, clean her seets, comb her hair, and dust off her home before locking the door behind her every other day. 

A memory sprung; there was a song at the back of her head, it was almost gone. She tried remembering to no avail, the lyrics hitting almost too close to home to hum properly.

“And I am relieved that I'd left my room tidy. 

They’ll think of me kindly when they come for my things”

Blue skies turned gray as the stomping of her boots against the concrete soon got drowned by the heavy rain. First one, then two, then thousands more droplets started falling over the tall buildings that plagued New York like vultures stalking over their next prey. Maybe the rain would have been the culprit behind the heaviness, if not for the fact that it had followed her for many days now –weeks, months, maybe. Yelena rushed her step, swiftly making her way through the crowds of people cramming the stairs. 

The air got hotter and hotter still as she made her way down to the platforms. The sea of people making it almost impossible to see which train was her’s. Indistinguishable murmurs echoed all around her, words she recognized and those she wasn’t even sure existed mixing together in a cacophony that did little other than remind of a very pressing matter: how long had it been since she had last talked to someone?

It kept pestering her, even if it shouldn’t. She was the one who chose complete solitude, to keep to herself. To distance herself was to protect what little remained of her sanity after losing so much in her life already.

The heavy sliding doors opened in front of her. Yelena entered the wagon, the structure rocking under the weight of many passengers stepping inside at the same time. She made a beeline for the back of the train, resting her body against the metal frame that kept swinging even as the sound blared from the speakers. Yelena lost herself to her thoughts.

Valentina was the obvious answer; she was the one who called her whenever a new job was available, but it had been a while since Yelena opted for messages. They were quieter –she’d concluded– it was only in case she was on a mission and silence was necessary. She couldn’t afford not being silent while working, it was her only advantage, everything else was pure arduous labor. That and she had started to find Valentina’s voice increasingly obnoxious as time went on. Her fake, honeyed voice reminded her too much of her own tactics when she pretended to be someone else to gain people’s trust.

Mel may have been the one other person she last spoke to , if only by mistake. She had accidentally called Yelena in the deep hours of the night –something about a change in plans, the target had changed locations– missing the last memo Valentina had given her. The call was nice, if only because Yelena had gone a while without uttering a word to anyone –cute, that record had been long surpassed by her actual one– and quite enjoyed a little bit of banter with the young assistant.

Sadly, that call was cut short as soon as Mel saw the all-caps, bolded, and underlined instruction of “NO CALLS, ONLY MESSAGES” Yelena’s last conversation with Valentina ended up with. “Oh, my– Sorry, I didn’t see the last memo Val left, I’ll be sure to send you the details to your next targ –Job. Your next job– over mail. Good luck!”

Metallic screeching came from under the train as it stopped. It had arrived at the next station. 

The assassin turned to look at the flickering light on top of her, the dirty socket only a reminder of how many stations were left before her stop. The wagon opened its metal doors again after a few seconds of hesitation, letting a few people out before others squeezed in. By now even the people standing up were cramming against each other, no longer protected by the unspoken social contract of personal space.

A common scene, no nuance to it. She was used to days like these, dull. That was until you got on the wagon at the next stop.

You looked like you had just gotten out of class, carrying your uni’s bookbag in one arm. Your clothes didn’t match the weather outside, as if you were prepared for a nice summer’s day at the park that was cut all too short by the rain suddenly deciding to personally ruin your plans basking in the sun. Your feet carried you in front of her while you squeezed water off your red sweater. While not scrapped, your knees had seen better days not basked in mud.

The past few minutes of your life ran through Yelena’s mind like a movie: you’d gotten out of class early so you decided to go for a walk. Maybe you flunked your exams, maybe you were celebrating your astounding notes. It was hard to tell with you looking at the floor. You walked for a while –your shoes were very worn– before you found the perfect spot to read when the raindrops started falling. You walked back out, then you ran as if your life depended on it, only for your umbrella to break one of its stretchers, forcing you to run even faster ‘till you made it to the station.

It was your heavy panting that brought her attention back to you. She could almost see the puff of hot air coming out of your mouth with every exhale. Your cheeks had a modest red-ish tint to them, framed by the drops of water –or sweat?– cascading down your temples. A million questions ran through her mind. What do you sound like? Is your voice deep or pitchy? Are you from around here? Where do you live? Would you like to grab a coffee with her? 

As if on cue, you turned to look at her. Yelena froze, seemingly having forgotten what human connection felt like.

Only you were not quite looking at her, but the wagon’s yellowing wall behind. It made sense; you had no way of reaching the metal supports with all the people pushing and squeezing in your way as the rush hour had finally set in. You were frantically looking for a place to lean on, trying not to fall down while you dried yourself.

Then came a sudden stop, the brackets howling like banshees in the dark tunnel. Your face unceremoniously plopped on her shoulder, basking you with her faint minty scent, courtesy of the 3-in-1 shampoo, soap, conditioner she brought with her for light travel. 

None of you dared say a word in those few seconds; you found her quite intimidating. There was something off that didn’t quite fit the mental image you had rendered of her in only a few seconds.

Maybe it was just your usual anxiousness, the same that made you check three times if you had locked your door before going out, the same that made you get up at 4am to get ready for your 9am lecture because you didn’t want to be late, or maybe it was the same that had landed you in the doctor’s office far too many times because your hands kept trembling out of control. Or maybe you just needed to listen to what your friends told you and learn how to chill the fuck out. 

There was certainly something wrong with her. You just didn’t want to find out what exactly.

The wagon regained speed as her hands found themselves on your forearms, holding you firm. “You ah… you look bad. You can lay back here– uhm, take my spot” Yelena’s raspy voice surprised her. She was not usually one to take pity on poor passengers with bad luck, but you were a nice exception. A gorgeous exception, if she had to admit.

You were half-expecting the woman not even noticing you, but of course you just had to stumble and force her to see you. “Haha, I know. I had a bit of a long day. I– Uhm. Thank you so much, you’re too kind!” You rushed to take the place she had left for you behind. It was still warm where she had leaned on, though not much. 

Silence lingered as you shuffled your way behind her, away from all the other passengers. 

The blonde woman –who had very graciously given you her spot at the rear end of the wagon– looked unbothered in front of you, holding on to the metal tube closest to her. Her clothes looked worn the same way one might say a book was worn out after having been read, and re-read over and over again. They were torn in places that were either a result of comfort or fear of change, like those middle pages you read, and re-read like you haven’t read them at least 15 times.

Her gaze seemed distant, like she too had a long day putting on a nice enough outfit, combing the endless matts off of her hair, cleaning a week’s worth of accumulated trash from her apartment so as to not freak out her friends who have been looking looking all over college for her because none of them have seen a trace of her in more than fourteen –almost fifteen– days. Only to go on a picnic with said friends who, by the way, cancelled at the last minute, leaving her to fend for herself under the heavy rain. Perhaps you were just projecting, which was the most likely reason why you were still staring at her.

Stalking was not your strong suit, she had to have noticed you looking at her. 

Welp, no better time than the present to fix your wet clothes. You ducked down, slightly raising your leg, trying to attach the plastic strap that had fallen off your shoe while running down the stairs. You made a mental note to get rid of that pair. It was ruined, why bother?

The slight shuffling in front of you caught your attention again, like you needed any more excuses to turn your unrelenting gaze to her. The woman’s sweater had risen up only a few inches, leaving her midriff perfectly exposed for you to take a peek. 

Scars painted themselves in faint, seemingly random, patterns across her stomach. A few ran back upwards, extending along her left side like traces of –hopefully– paper cuts. Another looked like it had been made many years ago, a wide scar spreading near her ribs. 

Then you noticed the bruises, those were new compared to the scars. One blooming red for you to see peeking from under her waistband.

You would have minded your own business –kept your findings to yourself, as you usually did– had you not noticed one more crucial detail: right there, under her waistband too, stood a gun. 

Another halt in the train’s movement made you lose your equilibrium. Too astonished to utter a scream –or even a gasp– your hands grabbed onto her waist by reflex, effectively stopping your imminent fall. Your head now lay pressed to her abdomen, her eyes glued to you.

The lights flickered, letting you know the water was fastly deteriorating the subway system. You could only hope to make it back to your apartment before nightfall.

“I’m going to start thinking you’re doing this on purpose if you fall all over me again” Her icy tone hit you like a bucket of cold water. Your hands quickly retracted from her waistband, fingers bending through the belt loops. You could see why her tone came so stern, you must have looked like a creep waiting for a chance to touch her. It was no wonder why she carried a gun on her, she must be used to getting this sort of attention everywhere she goes.

“N- no! I swear it was an accident. I didn't mean–I’m so sorry. I’ll uh… keep to myself, my stop is not too far away. Sorry” You stumbled through apologies and promises. Another mistake to add to today’s eventul list of them.

Certainly, the day could not get worse.

Or maybe it could, because the doors to your stop had just closed.

The sign with the name of your stop written in big white letters –mocking you behind the foggy, dirty sliding doors– disappeared in the distance. The crowd in front of you seemed obscene now. Aside from the russian woman you had just pissed off, there were various other individuals. People who looked just about far too done to deal with your bullshit shoving them aside in a hurry while trying to make your way towards the door in the coming stop.

You could skip a stop, yeah. Two would be a little worse, but still not bad. You could take the next sub back, no worries. The only thing stopping you from that was the woman. Still, painfully in front of you even after all the bullshit you had pulled in the last 20-ish minutes.

“Hey, uhm. Do you think I could–” Your words stopped at your throat, refusing to keep coming out of your mouth. Her glare intensified, like she was taking a peek into your soul. “Sorry, I just need to uhh. I mean– I get off in the next station” Your hands awkwardly making gestures, compensating for your lack of talking skills.

A breathy “Alright” came from her, letting you sigh in relief. She moved aside, making quite a lot of space in front of her for you considering the cramped wagon.

You only needed to not bother her, take a few steps under her arm –still firmly set on the metal tube– move past the crowd of salarymen and frat boys, and finally get off at the next station. Your feet led you in front of her, ready to pass her and make your way to the sliding doors. Easy, impossible to screw up. 

That was until an abrupt turn to the right shoved you into her body once more fucking time. It wasn’t even that brute of a push, if anything it was only a slight butt of friction that brought your back and her chest together.

“Ah, so you are like that,” Her voice evoked confidence, like she was expecting your ass to end up rubbing against her clothed mound and your legs to part just enough for her baggy jeans to catch on your panties. As soon as the shock of your sudden fall left you she moved her leg upwards, feeling out your underside “you could’ve just said so”

“W– wait. I’m not–” One of her hands wrapped itself over your wrist, twisting your arms until you were facing the back of the wagon, leaving behind the red –now purple– indent of her fingers on you while her other hand made its way to your neck. There her thumb traced lines just below your jaw, a movement that would’ve otherwise been a sensual gesture shared by lovers now lay you playing along to save your life. “Please stop I–”

The wagon grew indefinitely bigger, dark and desolate. Your every breath felt like needles were puncturing your lungs. The people were still there, just distant. The lights were too bright, the air too stale, you felt too much at that moment, like the world would collapse all over itself and take you with it.

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” She whispered directly into your ear, so only you could hear the filth spewing from her mouth “you are alone here, nobody will help you” Her hand turned your face to the side, making you face an indistinguishable mass of people laughing and talking, as if purposely trying to ignore the two of you.

“I– I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I promise I won’t tell” That only made her grip go tighter. Possessive. It made you feel safe in a twisted manner, like no one could touch you but her.

“I know you wouldn’t, солнышко. You fear me. You’re afraid about what I want to do with you, what I will do to you” Her tongue licked at your earlobe “I was thinking of letting you go after you saw the gun. Really, I did, but then you rubbed your filthy pussy against me…”

“N-no, I didn’t– ” Her thumb started pressing harder, reminding you she was in control of your breathing. “S-stop, please. We’re in public– ”

“ –and you just love that, don’t you?” You could hear a smile etched in her face by her tone alone. She pushed her body to yours, her knee parting your legs from behind. 

“I’ll scream” Would you? Or better yet, could you with the way she kept holding on to your throat?

She hummed in response. “Sure, you can try, but that would only end up with one of my bullets going through that thick skull of yours in less than a second” One of her fingers hit your temple, mimicking her words “If you’d prefer, I could give you a demonstration” She moved, as if reaching for the back of her jeans.

“N- no. I believe you” A nervous laugh escaped you as her thigh became nestled between yours, gnawing away at your defenses with every stroke to your core. “C– can you at least take me somewhere private? I don’t want–”

The woman kissed at your neck, slowly savoring you inch by inch like the prey you were “You wouldn’t like me like that.” A small bite to your neck “All alone, me and you? солнышко, you don’t know what nonsense you keep saying. Here you actually stand a chance”

Your eyes strained trying to look for help. A saviour, a hero in shining armor hidden among the crowd ready to jump to your rescue. Where were those American symbols of justice in spandex? 

Alas. Where they–? They were watching you. The salarymen leered at the way she assaulted your body while others simply turned away. The men closer in age to you were worse, way worse. They were laughing, making crude signs at you. Not one of them seemed disturbed about the scene unfolding in front of them. 

“No heroes to rescue you, see?” She was right. No one would save you. 

You knew as much because you’re sure you wouldn’t intervene if you were just another passenger. You’re too much of a coward. That’s how you usually stir away from situations like this.

“Eyes on me” Her voice. Has it always been this magnetic? “This is how we’re going to do this,” Her hand left your pulsating wrist, the indent of her fingers fresh on it. “You’re going to take what I give you so long as I please, exactly how I please” You choked on a gasp, ready for the worst possible outcome. “If you manage to do that, I will let you go” Her hand ghosted your leg, a cruel mimicry of asking for consent.

“Really!?” You raised your ass, giving her further access under your skirt. Sick. That’s what you were. No sane person could be getting worked up from being groped in public.

“Yes” Callused fingers found your panties fast. Two fingers dipped between your legs, rubbing long stripes over the cotton cloth “What do we have here? –Ah, there you are. You’re going to tell me this,” Her fingers ducked under the flimsy fabric, scissoring at your folds until her fingers were coated with your slick “is not what you wanted?”

And you were not that scared, were you? There was something to her, that’s what you kept thinking over and over again. A heaviness that, like her aggression, came from something deeper within her. A loneliness that ravaged everything she touched in its fury for existing. That you understood, for you too felt it everyday.

Maybe it was just that you were despery to feel the touch of another human being after being cooped up inside your apartment for too long. Or maybe it was that today was the first day in a long while since you’ve mustered up the courage to go out. That was all you came up with to justify your following actions.

Such is your luck.

Your hand reached behind you, looking for her warmth.

“My glock is too far back, you’re not going to make it” She continued assaulting your pussy with her experienced hand while her hips rubbed against your barely covered ass. You tried telling yourself it was her who kept frotting you against her mound, that the way your skirt raised against the front of her baggy jeans was just a coincidence, even though you knew it wasn’t.

“I’m not reaching for the gun” You angled your hand lower, aiming for her waist; effectively pulling her closer to you. It was her turn to be startled, or so you guessed by the way her fingers stopped. 

So you did the only other logical thing. Your hand slithered over to her zipper, slowly dragging it lower. The metallic vibrations were a nice respite from the noise around you. Then you found it, what you had been looking for in the past agonizing seconds since you had made up your mind: her briefs. You slipped your hand below, following the happy trail extending down her lower abdomen, but not before she stopped you.

“Now what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She pushed her entire weight against you, constricting your lungs. All air escaped you in a second, like she had squeezed the oxygen out of your every cell. 

But you persisted. Even when your legs threatened to give out from pleasure alone, your hand kept reaching for her. If she wasn't going to let you touch her, then you'd help her touch you. 

Your fingers tangled with hers as she massaged your wet folds. You moved her fingers to your clit, the poor bundle of nerves all too puffy. 

A hot, burning sensation filled you. You hoped it was a panic response to her asphyxiation and not arousal.

Her other hand was soon making itself known under your red sweater, tentatively exploring your every curve. An endearing gesture, if not for the context. She traced every stretch mark, dimple, and birthmark she could feel out. “You… ah– you’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

She took her sweet time with you, like rain about to fall down. First the heaviness in the air –humid, cold– then little by little making itself known before, all of a sudden, an unapologetic torrential water stream destroyed everything in its path. She did just that by shoving two of her fingers deep into your cunt, leaving your clit alone to swell and ache without her touch.

You found your lungs were taking air in again only when a gasp tried to escape you, its sound muffled as you bit into the neck of your sweater. Your walls clenched over her fingers as she flexed them inside you. She had found it, that tender spot that made you see stars.

“Wh– what even is your –ghnn– ah– name?” You asked between sobs. She seemed taken aback, but her ministrations didn’t stop. Instead, she planted a kiss on your neck. Too genuine to mistake for malice, yet harsh enough not to let you melt into it.

“Yelena” You were putty in her hands as soon as she gave you her name to moan out. 

Feeling your lack of resistance, Yelena inserted another finger into your snatch. Her every attention was on you, on the way your eyes didn’t leave hers for a second.

Each thrust of her digits to your G-spot brought you closer to your climax.

She read your every shiver and acted accordingly. Every time you heaved, she was there to trap your mouth with hers, flexing your neck at awkward angles that made you question whether you’d be able to move your head at all tomorrow. You were sure your tits would be visibly bruised under your bra after spending all this time under her desperate ravaging of you.

It was over before you even had a chance to fight it. 

You came with a whimper, all your force gone in an instant. Your knees buckled under the intensity of it, you felt yourself slump over her chest. You hadn’t yet fully registered your peak when she was already holding your limb body as you fell down. You were left at her mercy.

But you would soon discover that Yelena was cruel. 

Through your haze you could make out the disapproving mumbles of the passengers standing nearby. They talked about you like they had tried to help you, blaming you as if you had been looking for it. No one mentioned the word ‘abuse’, or ‘victim’. You were just a sexual deviant in their eyes.

And maybe you could have beared it all –the glances, the murmurs, the way they kept looking at you like you were s show for them to muse at– if not for the way Yelena's palm moved back to your unattended clit.

“S– stop. I've- I've already–” She shushed you with another hard shove to the wall. Your sight became slightly blurry after that.

“I told you to take what I give you” You tried closing your legs in vain “This is what I give you” 

More of your warm juices came out, soiling your panties and the floor beneath you in a small transparent puddle of your desire. You didn’t dare look down at the way she admired her fingers, fascinated by whatever divine revelation she found in her dirtied hand. Right then you felt very tempted to drop to your knees, alas her hold on you remained firm. 

You felt sated. Warm inside, like insects crawling on the warm soil after the storm. All you could think about was how much you wanted to curl back inside your bed and cry, tossing and turning either thinking about what she had done to you or how much you had liked it. 

A blaring announcement cut the silence between you like a knife. This was the last stop in the line, all passengers were asked to get off of the wagon. You looked at the masses walking by. None looked back.

“Ah, this is my stop” Yelena fixed your panties and skirt back in place, her hands lingering on your soft skin for a second. 

You expect her to leave you there, like your friends had, alone. Instead she entwined her hand with yours, pulling you with her. 

“Where are we going?” You tilted your head, facing her. Genuine curiosity stricken across your face, not quite understanding the severity of the situation yet.

“Back to my place, or yours, I don’t mind. I’ll take you there, get you cleaned up,” She shrugged, as if this was the most mundane thing in the world. “Mainly because you can’t stand straight to save your life”

A chuckle escaped you as you limped by her side “My hero”

[thought--bubble]

Prized Possession

Dark Aemond X (Maid Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,775

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Cheating, Smut, Dub-con, Slight choking, a little bit of roughness.

It is a sad day at storms end. Your lady, the lady you serve, the sweet, caring, and gentle lady Floris Baratheon was to be wed in a few weeks' time.

This would normally be a cause for celebration, yet the sad look forever etched onto the face of your sweet lady made it clear that this is not the case.

She is to marry Prince Aemond Targaryen. A betrothal that brings her house closer to the crown. Yet Aemond is known for his cruelty, Lady Floris being the sweet and gentle lady she is, has been regretful for weeks wishing beyond all hope that somehow, she would be freed from his harshness, his cruelty, and the emotionless expression that sits upon his face every time he has visited storms end since the betrothal.

Lady Floris constantly wracked with fear clings closely to you, her personal chamber maid. You are but 2 years older than your lady. Assigned to work with her since childhood, the same way your elder sister was assigned to work with Lady Cassandra.

This was for the comfort of the Baratheon ladies, of course. Having a chamber maid that would grow up with them, to give them a source of comfort, someone to trust.

So, when Lady Floris requested that you accompany her to Kings Landing, you were not surprised. Ever since the announcement of the betrothal, you knew you would end up in kings landing, helping your Lady care for the little princes and princesses she would no doubt bear for her husband.

So, when the time came to leave, you packed your few belongings and hugged your sister tight and followed Lady Floris into her carriage with a heavy heart. Although you served Lady Floris, you also cared for her deeply. You knew her fears, her desires, and her dreams.

The trip was somber, but you did your best to keep her spirits up. Playing little games with strings tied around your fingers that you have played since you were girls.

When you arrived at Kings Landing, poor Lady Floris was a ball of nerves. She wanted nothing more than to run. You stood close by her as she requested her feeling safer with you by her side.

As she is once again introduced to her betrothed and the dowager Queen, you do a quick curtsy and stand behind her head down as is your place.

While they talk and exchange their pleasantries you feel as if someone is watching you. Staring into you, so harshly the hair stands up on the back of your neck. You know this isn't possible. Who would be watching you?

The rest of the night goes just as it should. You accompany Lady Floris as she walks about the grounds until it is time to return to her chambers to get her ready for her evening meal with the royal family. You assist her with her hair and dress, softly cooing to her all the while attempting to make her feel at ease.

You see her off as she takes her father's hand so he can escort her. You close the door to her chambers and continue to unpack her things. You have worked with her for so long you know exactly how she likes her things and want to make this new space as comforting to her as possible.

She has only been gone mere moments before there is a knock on the door. You chuckle to yourself thinking your Lady forgot something. When you open the door, you come face to face with her betrothed. Prince Aemond Targaryen stands before you his regality seeps from his every pore. head held high; chin pushed forward he looks down at you.

You quickly fall into a curtsy. "I-I'm sorry my prince. Your betrothed has already left, Lord Baratheon has already escorted her."

"Of that I am aware" He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. "I have actually come to see you."

"Me?" you hardly squeak out the word. Why in all of Westeros would he be there to see you?

"That scar" he gestures toward your left eye.

The thing you hate most about yourself is that horrid scar, running around with your sister and the Ladies you both serve falling, nearly gouging your own eye out, the aftermath leaving you with a jagged scar from your eyebrow to just underneath your eye. It is your most unpleasant memory.

"Childhood injury" You attempt to angle your face, so the scar is less visible.

"No need to hide it from me" He steps up close to you taking your chin in his hand and turning your head, inspecting the scar. He runs a cold course finger down the raised flesh. You cringe at the sensation.

He lowers his head to your eyebrow and places a soft kiss on the mark there, then, without a word, backs away from you and quickly exits the room.

The next few days you stay glued to Lady Floris' side. She and Aemond take walks daily trying to get to know each other. Since they are betrothed, they are not to be left alone. Thus, you are forced to accompany them on these forays around the castle.

The worst part being Prince Aemonds's ever lingering eye. He feigns interest while he allows Lady Floris to babble incessantly while almost always keeping that one cold, violent eye locked on you, and each day as Lady Floris becomes more and more besotted with the prince, you fall deeper and deeper into despair.

A week before the wedding you are walking behind Aemond and Lady Floris as Floris chatters on about her love for music when you are suddenly interrupted by a guard who was sent to collect Lady Floris and bring her to her Lord father.

When you go to follow her, the guard stops you. "He wishes to speak with her privately"

Floris turns to you and asks you to wait for her in her chambers, to which you quickly agree. You are left standing with Aemond as you watch her walk away.

Silence falls between you until you curtsy and go to take your leave. You can feel him walking behind you, and you make your way through the castle. The light tapping of his feet echoing yours.

You wait to hear his feet trail off in a different direction the closer you get to your lady's chambers, but they don't. Aemond continues to quietly follow behind you even as you arrive at your destination.

You attempt to pretend he isn't there and enter the chambers swiftly, attempting to close the door behind you. He chuckles to himself and holds the door open with his hand entering behind you.

You act shocked, "my prince! umm, did you need my assistance with something?"

Aemond says nothing just stalks closer to you until his chest is pressed up against you. You attempt to back up, but he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you tightly against him. He leans down and nibbles at your neck, sending a wave of pleasure across your delicate skin. Your eyes flutter closed as you enjoy the feeling, his hand travels down your back, pushing you tighter to his body.

When he begins to pull up the skirts of your dress, your eyelids fly open, and you push him back.

"My price," you hesitate. "You are to marry Lady Floris. This is most inappropriate. I serve her and must remain loyal to her"

You turn your head away, just briefly, but it is enough to draw his ire.

"You may be her chamber maid. You may serve her, but make no mistake, she is to be my wife, and when that happens, everything that is hers becomes mine"

You hold your breath, with your eyes downcast. As he walks toward the door to exit the room, he stops beside you and places his hand on your shoulder.

"That includes you"

He exits the room swiftly, slamming the door behind him, leaving your head reeling. There is nothing left to wonder, he has made his intentions abundantly clear, and you are torn between the loyalty and love you have for Lady Floris and the physical reaction of your body to his touch.

You do your best to avoid him over the coming week. It isn't too difficult to do since Floris has been very busy preparing for the wedding, and you have been stuck to her side.

The wedding proceeds, and you stand in the crowd proudly. Your lady looks so beautiful, so poised. The ceremony is beautiful. The feast goes well. She goes off with her new husband. He hadn't spared a glance your way the entire day. Oddly, this left you with a mix of emotions. Relief that he may have come to his senses, as well as grief that he may have come to his senses.

As wrong as you knew, it was you longed to feel his callous fingertips graze your skin. His teeth pulling at your neck. You push these thoughts out of your mind. He is with his wife, Lady Floris, whom you love and respect.

The next morning, while brushing Lady Floris' hair you inwardly cringe as she describes the events of the night before. How her new husband was so gentle with her and so sweet. How he gave her space to recover and collect her thoughts afterward.

You found this difficult to reconcile. Gentle? Sweet? Caring about the needs of others? This is not characterization that populated in your head after your encounters with the prince.

The rest of this day is exhausting Floris flouncing about excitedly telling other ladies how her husband is so misunderstood and is truly charming and loving.

You had never been so excited for a day to end. After helping Floris out of her day clothing and into her night clothing, you wish her a good night and make your way back to your chambers close by that you share with two other maids.

You couldn't have been sitting more than a minute before you are summoned to the private chambers of Prince Aemond.

You sigh and rub your eyes in frustration. The entire walk to his chambers, your thoughts are spiraling. What does he want? He is a married man! A gentle caring one, apparently! Could he be apologizing? Swearing me to secrecy?

As you knock on his door, your stomach is doing somersaults. When you hear his voice beckoning you to enter, you quickly open the door and step inside, closing the door behind you.

You slowly make your way into the room to see him sitting by the hearth rubbing the tips of his fingers against the wooden armrest of the chair in which he is sitting.

"You summoned me, my prince?" You clasp your hands together in front of you delicately on your stomach while pacing your breathing. One -two breathe one-two breathe.

He stands from the chair without a word quickly makes his way to you and grabs the back of your neck before harshly pressing his lips down on yours. You melt into the kiss for a moment before your logic prevails.

" My prince! We can not!" You stagger back slightly but he immediately advances upon you.

"You are a servant are you not?" He barks

You nod

"You belong to my wife, and my wife belongs to me." he closes the gap between you, bringing his fingers up to the side of your cheek.

"Her things are now my things." he runs his thumb across your pouty bottom lip and brings his mouth right next to your ear,

"even her most prized possession"

He starts to unlace the strings on your dress as you stand there and watch, eyes opened wide with shock.

"That makes you my servant" he pulls the dress off pushing it harshly to the floor.

"Now serve"

He pushes you back gently. You follow his lead and continue to walk back until your calfs hit the hard wooden surface of his bed frame.

He grabs you by the thighs, lifting you up and tossing you onto the bed before he quickly climbs over you like a lion stalking its prey.

"I have to give her children, a title, and a gentle husband. Everything else I give to you."

You silently stare up at him as he leans back to pull the white linen shirt he is wearing off, exposing his pale firm chest.

He leans back down, biting your neck and pushing himself up against you.

"You get the real me." As he says this, he grabs your throat and holds it tight.

He looks at you with a devilish smile as he slowly squeezes tighter and tighter. You can feel your face growing hot as you find it harder and harder to breathe before he finally releases you.

He unlaces his breeches, pulling them off hastily, and you breathe in hard, trying to regain air in your lungs.

He pushes your shift up and tears your underclothes off before bringing his hand between your legs.

He chuckles as his fingers meet the wetness there.

"You like the animal in me, don't you, sweet girl?" You don't say anything but moan softly as he moves his hand in a circular motion.

He brings his other hand back up to your throat and holds it tight. He doesn't cut off your air this time but holds you in place as he dips his long, bony middle finger inside of you. You jump a little at the feeling and he pushes back against your neck.

"So warm, so soft." he growls, and his eye locks on his hand as he moves it in and out of your body with building quickness.

You can't help but arch your back as he finds a spot inside of you that forces your body to react.

"You serve so well. You will do fine, sweet girl" he continues to move his hand while rubbing at your clit with his thumb holding you in place by the throat the whole time.

The pleasure in your lower body builds and builds with you powerless to escape it until it takes over your entire being, sending shockwaves up and down the entire length of your body.

He quickly removes his hand and replaces it with the tip of his cock dragging it along your entrance just barely tapping your clit making you twitch.

He uses one hand to guide himself into you while the other one keeps to its rightful place around your throat.

He enters you quickly, it hurts, and he knows it, and when you look at his face, you know he enjoys that fact.

He pushes himself into you repeatedly, always keeping his eye on the spot where your bodies connect, watching himself slide in and out a look of satisfaction on his face.

You whimper quietly, your body, feeling a mix of pleasure, pain, and adrenaline.

"Do you feel that sweet girl?" He coos

You nod and whimper as he increases his pace.

"That's me.....tearing you apart." he brings his mouth to your cheek and licks the tear rolling down.

He rubs your pearl with his thumb and squeezes your neck tighter again cutting off your air supply.

"Fall apart for me" he grunts while slamming into you harder.

You gasp for air as that feeling of pleasure builds back up in your lower body.

"I need you to break." he slams into you even harder, biting his bottom lip and groaning loudly.

He rubs furiously at your pearl, and for a second time, you feel your entire body shatter as you continue to attempt to breath.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of you gripping around him, then quickly pulls out, pumping himself to completion onto your stomach.

He lays back on the bed, and neither of you move for a few minutes just trying to regain your thoughts. After a bit, you get up to find something to clean yourself with. You end up just using your underclothes too afraid to use something of his.

As you pick up your clothes and start to redress yourself he stops you.

"Where are you going?" He asks, not even sitting up on the bed to look at you.

"Back to my quarters" you start to slide your dress over your body.

He finally sits up and looks at you. He grips his cock in his hand starting to pump himself again.

"Not yet, I still have need for my servant"

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[pupwashing]

i ain't even gon hold anyone anymore i lowkey need swansea rape. like... he's not that type of guy AT ALL but i need some swansea pseudo-incest rape. he's my dilf crush so i need to assign him a sleazy pervy second side

-👧🏿nonnie who's so fucking gone

oh my god nonnie.

SWANSEA RAPE? SOUND THE ALARMS! A FIRE IDEA HAS HIT THE TOWER!!!!!!!!

umm I may have gotten carried away with this,,,, TW for noncon, unprotected sex, and a creampie :3

swansea really doesn't fucking like you, has never liked you, and always tries to keep you away from him, but you won't get off his back. you're more annoying than daisuke, and daisuke annoys the ever living hell out of him.

its clear you have some type of issue that just keeps you clinging to him, and there doesn't seem to be much he can do about it.

so when you can't beat 'em, you take advantage of your situation.

you're doe eyed and naive, the perfect target for any low level sleaze to have his way with you, which he plans on doing. you trust him enough to cling to him like a damned leech, so its not hard to get you alone in utility.

even easier for him to get his hand down your pants, and before you realize whats happening, his thick fingers are already scissoring your juicy cunt open.

jesus, you're already soaking wet. he tells himself its because of his old charm, not because of basic biology or whatever. you clearly want this, even if you're crying and struggling against him.

despite being up there in age, swansea's pretty strong. you don't stand a chance against him.

once his fingers are done opening you up, it's time for the main event: his dick.

it's been a while since he's been in this position. his wife doesn't care much for sex anymore, and neither did he, until you came along.

suddenly, his libido's back and better than ever.

one hand clamps down on your mouth in case you try to scream, while the other moves your dainty little panties to the side. your pussy is practically begging him to fuck it, and so he will.

you never thought you'd get raped by a man you considered as a fatherly figure, but life has a way of throwing wrenches into the happy ideals people love to have.

his dick isn't very big, but it is wide, so it feels like theres a battering ram stretching you wide open. it's girthy enough to make your insides feel like mush, to bring tears to your eyes, to make your legs feel like jelly.

every stroke breaks your little heart, piece by piece. you don't know why he decided to do this to you. maybe you should've stayed away when you had the chance.

you don't have time to dwell on your poor judgement, because your thoughts get jumbled with every snap of swansea's hips.

a con of being old is the loss of stamina, and swansea isn't exactly the stud he used to be. gone is the man who could last for hours keeping his partners satisfied, now a bitter old man who would rather work than use his dick.

it was over as quick as it started, ending with swansea painting your gummy walls white. his pull out game isn't like it used to be either.

you collapse as soon as its over. your legs can't handle your weight.

and of course, he simply zips his pants up and leaves. no one goes to utility, so no one would come to your aid.

as you lay on the cold ground, you think. about all the times swansea told you to get lost, or how he would always shoo you away.

but the cold hard truth is that swansea would've done it no matter what you chose to do. he was going to do this anyway. it was just a matter of time.

you were a ticking time bomb, and he was the detonator.

[gladiatorcunt]

- LIFE OF THE PARTY | IX.

take a breath, you’re the

cw: kinktober prompt (non con-ish, more of the aftermath), past non con threesome (between 18 year olds) w/ suguru, coercion, mentions of blood and virginity loss, past bully-ish satory, frat boy!satoru + nanami, toji (who’s the same age), sukuna, choso, & suguru, goth & tatted reader who has a vagina, non con voyeurism (?) and video sharing, implied the rest of the boys x reader (choso a little more implied), being attracted to the man who assaulted you and making poor decisions out of a need for survival, ooc!satoru, non linear moments, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

TWO YEARS AGO | ????’s Dorm Bathroom

“I’m the one that stuck around after I got my dick wet.”

He should’ve told you that he loved you, he should’ve shoved Suguru off of you when he had his turn and bashed his head into the tile. He should've cleaned you up and cuddled you in a bubble bath back at his apartment. What he did was wipe up the copious amounts cum and saliva up with your underwear and it wasn’t until he turned around so you could get dressed that he noticed the blood. On the floor, on your panties, dripping off his still hard cock. Satoru didn’t get to care about his heart falling out of his ass and straight into hell, because how absurd is it that this is the moment when he finally understands that his actions have consequences. Toy trains don’t run anymore when you play with them so roughly that their wheels fall off.

“I didn’t go in raw with her, ‘s not like you, I couldn't even stay hard until I looked at the pic of you I have by my bed. I brought it over.”

So why did he look at your limp body and still expect you to move? Didn’t you notice that you weren’t alone? Do you not care? His brain hadn’t caught up with his body when he ruined everything, and he wishes he had your first time in a bed, filled with only him. You weren’t paying attention to him anymore and he couldn’t understand why that made him so angry. He didn’t need you, Gojo Satoru doesn’t need anybody. He made no effort to stop the mean whispers about you from his friend group and he didn’t apologize for the way he “bullied” you in high school for having a stalker-y crush on him when you saw each other at orientation. But you looked so beautiful then, you still did when you were shaking on the cold floor in front of him. Staring all bug eyed up at the flickering artificial light, he wanted to scream when he hovered over you and your eyes didn’t focus on him.

In hindsight, that was a lot of words to use when he only needed three.

Satoru has to belong to everybody, but nothing ever has to belong to him. He has privileges that he earns by simply existing, but it can all be taken away from him with a single order. Is it so bad that he held you so tightly your bones broke and your guts spilled in between his fingers? That he wanted to stick your cells under a microscope so he could know you more intimately than anyone ever could? From the very moment he met you, he could tell that you truly understood him, and who would ever want to give that up?

If being irresponsible with money means splurging on a tattoo to make yourself feel better when you should really be buying groceries? Then you’ll put the shoe on and won’t whine when it fits. You’ve been in a god awful slump lately. Your assignments barely get turned in on time and you go weeks without brushing your teeth because you can’t be bothered to get off your ass for two minutes. So when Choso updated his tattoo shops instagram saying that they’re available for bookings, you jumped on the opportunity.

It’s your favorite place anyway, and you wouldn’t feel as comfortable getting a tattoo from someone that wasn’t working there. Even Sukuna, who makes a big show of acting all tough but will let you get pieces done for free if they’re from him. He’ll drive you home on his bike when a session runs a little late and you’re worried about walking home alone.

You have a lot of fondness for the place and its people, except for a certain gage wearing individual, but you’re trying to repress all that. He definitely doesn’t make it easy for you, he’s somehow always able to know when you’re coming and gets himself in the receptionist’s chair so you have to talk to him. He stares you down with his empty black orbs the entire time during an appointment, and the veins in his arms bulge when you inhale as the needle pierces your skin. He makes “jokes” that he'd be so gentle with you if you let him, and you don’t have the heart to speak up over a stern “Suguru.” He raises his hands in surrender and backs off, because he knows there’s always next time.

You fumble through your bag as you prepare to leave your dorm, making sure you’ve got everything. Sunscreen to re apply over your makeup later? Check. Your phone (with several texts from an unknown number flashing on the screen)? Check. Your wallet stuffed to the brim with old receipts and cards that you probably keep at home? Check.

You get almost five steps out the door before you crash into a solid chest. Your ‘oof’ is muffled by the stranger’s shirt, and when you take a step back you recognize it as a compression shirt that's gotten popular with a lot of the guys on campus. That’s why the muscle you collided with felt particularly…. firm.

“Hi, cutie! Fancy seeing you here.” Satoru chuckles, like he isn’t literally outside your dorm.

And just like that, all the good vibes and hopes you had for your day shrivel up and die.

It’s a shame that Satoru does look good in the shirt, the black sleeves cut off at the perfect point on his arms and he’s been good at knowing which trends will suit him better than the millions of other people buying into them. His eyes stand out in the dark fabric, as blue as you remember them and as terrifying. You gape at him for what must be a solid minute before your features twist up into a scowl and you’re darting around him to walk away.

“I live here, now fuck off or kill yourself, I don’t care.” You shout over your shoulder, praying that he doesn’t take off after you.

“Aw, that’s mean, babe! But I know you’d miss me too much, so I won’t do either of those. Have a good day!” You don’t hear him leave as he responds, but you’re past the point of obsessively cataloging Satoru Gojo’s every movement.

Your roommate let him in, in more ways than one.

“Alright, there we go. You’re all set, i’ll meet you at the counter and we’ll get you out of here.” Choso touch is light as a feather as he does the cleaning on your freshly tattooed skin.

A skeletal pattern over your hand, knuckles and all.

The sound of him snapping his black glove against his wrist makes you jump but he smiles, doing it again with a tender look in his eyes. He wipes down your finished tattoo and you grab your bag, heading to the counter to pay.

“You took it really well, I should've known you would when you told me you came in for a tattoo on one of the most painful areas of your body on purpose.” Choso teases, punching in your card details at the front.

They run a small parlor and are usually short staffed since most of the employees are also in the biggest frat at school and end up doing most of their appointments in whatever room’s available at a party. The shop’s not the most legal operation in general, but Choso and the others all did their apprenticeships right at 18 so they could have a place of their own as soon as possible. And so they could do their own ink and jewelry for free. Sukuna, Toji, Suguru, all of them got their piercing licenses too. Nanami’s their accountant. Satoru’s really the only one who isn't directly involved with the place.

It’s bad enough that one of your attackers always has a chance of being here, but it’s cheap and you feel a sense of comfort with Choso. That familiarity might be why you end up paying a lot less than you should, but it gives you butterflies to consider that as a possibility.

“Yeah, is it bad that I just thought it was cool? I don’t have any symbolic connection to it or anything.” You joke, thinking about how your mom would always say she’d prefer a tiny one, a flower on your shoulder or something like that for your first tattoo.

You’re a free pieces deep, each one nothing like she would have picked for yourself. You started getting them after the… incident, and it’s incredible how freeing it can be to explore your style and have everything on your body be 100% your decision.

Sukuna, the one with the closest workstation to the counter snorts, “Choso did some nice work on you, kitty.”

You roll your eyes, Choso’s younger brother never fails to hit on you whenever you find your way back into their shop.

Toji, done with his tongue piercing appointment, steadies a hand on his woozy client’s shoulder and looks over to you. “Sure did, must be why Suguru can’t keep his beady orbs off of ya. Not that I blame him.”

You stiffen, feeling said man’s eyes slither up and down your body, leaving a trail of tar and molasses that keeps you from immediately bolting. A fly preserved in amber, encrusted in gnarled old tree bark.

You don’t look back over your shoulder at him but you hear him chuckle and swat Toji upside the head, “Nah, just got a lot on my mind is all. I’m double booked. Your tat’s cool though, wish i could’ve done it in my style.”

The ‘It probably would’ve looked better’ is left unsaid.

Choso raises an eyebrow and reaches out to grab your wrist as he hands back your card, he strokes a line down your pulse point

“I think I did just fine, I'm the one you keep coming back to anyway, no matter how painful it gets.”

He ducks his head down when your heart skips a beat, wrestling with his smug grin.

A stormy look comes over Suguru’s expression but it’s gone in a flash of purple lightning when his client walks in through the door.

It’s when you say a reluctant goodbye to Choso and leave the parlor to head towards the nearest grocery store that your phone goes off.

It’s from an unknown number but you know exactly who it is, you’ve blocked Satoru multiple times and he keeps coming back with a different number.

The message is a single video without an accompanying taunt, and you really shouldn’t, but your morbid curiosity wins out.

You notice your roommate's ankle bracelet slung over his shoulder very quickly, you also see more of her stretched out pussy than you ever wanted to.

Satoru chuckles behind the camera, zooming in on where their bodies are joined, he’s fucking her raw and her folds look startlingly red. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t bullshit through any bad dirty talk or narration for the audience (of one). A blessing, all things considered, he loved to yap your ears off when he took you. Satoru Gojo is rarely ever silent, even when deep down he doesn’t feel much like talking.

But he’s gone quiet as a church mouse, the only sounds coming from your phone are sticky smacks of bare flesh against bare flesh and your roommate’s muffled moans. Anytime she tries to scream, Satoru tightens his grip on her mouth and slaps her tits, which becomes a vicious cycle.

The video shows his torso at an angle, fat pecs and chiseled abs glistening as they clench. He has a fucking smoking hot body, one that you wish you weren’t forced to know more intimately than the girl who in that moment is currently all up on it.

You watch when she cums around him, a car running into a tree, but you click out of the video when Satoru cums inside her, a cargo train crashing through the car AND the tree.

Your mind is as scattered as those bits of debri and human flesh, welded to the tracks but you can feel movement above and around you.

Nanami’s hand cups your shoulder when you’re distracted during your study session later that day, he’s tutoring you in french for free and you’ve taken absolute advantage of the opportunity. It’s just one of those fuzzy days for you, especially since you can’t stop thinking of the video.

“Everything okay?” He murmurs, leaning closer with worry flickering in his warm eyes.

You nod and shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, just a little tired. Been really stressed lately.”

He wishes you would let him help with that.

Sometimes Satoru plops down on his ten thousand dollar leather couch and imagines what it would be like to kill Suguru. It’s what he should’ve done, years ago back in that dingy bathroom with a singular lightbulb that you could never quite tell if it was going to stay lit. He could’ve charged into the other man’s body and smashed his skull into the mirror until clumps of his black hair fell on the floor and blended in with shoddy tile work. All he’d be able to hear is your pitiful hiccups, his blood would be rushing to and fro in his ears. He would’ve

Other times, Satoru imagines what it would be like to kill himself. In front of you of course, because even if he’s doing it as a sacrifice to your shrine, you’d never forget him. Trauma can do funny things to your brain, if he left you alone you might hide him under several layers of heavy fog. If you won’t love him, at least let him be remembered by the only person he thinks he’s ever cared about. You’d be happy if he stayed away, but you wouldn’t be safe with anyone else but him, so he’ll take all the screaming and throwing shit at him that’s to come.

As long as the tiffany blue box tucked away in his nightstand isn’t one of those things.

It’s why he calls his usual people and pays a good chunk of cash to throw your roommate off their shoulders like a sack of potatoes and kill her somewhere private. He has a chemistry class in fifteen minutes, and a fraternity meeting right after. Satoru’s annoyed at having to make that long trek between buildings, but it’d probably be a good way to work the energy off. What’s-her-face was really starting to piss him off, snoring as loud as a vacuum cleaner on the pillow next to him. She couldn’t even make him cum, but that’s to be expected, she’s just not you.

He didn’t hit it raw though, that’s a privilege reserved solely for his (future) baby.

When he graduates, goes to dental school, and becomes a dentist, he thinks it’d be so romantic to be the one you went to. Cleaning your teeth, praising you for how well you’ve been brushing and flossing, leaning down for an upside down spider man kind of kiss when the appointment’s over. If you’re sporting a cute little rounded belly and an angelic glow during one of those appointments, well, don’t tell anybody what he needs to imagine to fall asleep with anything resembling a genuine smile.

Shit, he hopes Choso remembers to re-stock the orange juice and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Nanami’s been pissed ever since Satoru finished them without asking, now they have to share the Captain Crunch Berries. Hiroguma doesn’t mind the turn of events. All Satoru can do is wonder which one you’d like more if you stayed over at the house.

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright, cutie. Just a little longer, this pussy’s so tight I'm gonna cream it in no time, ‘kay?” He whispers into your hair, his dick pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt, hunting you down even as he’s currently inside you.

He tells you these things, because of course Satoru Gojo knows you and your own body better than you do. The only time he’s ever touched it and it’s like this, violating you for his own pleasure and accidentally discovering what fuels yours along the way.

You’re crying, because he’s learned that despite your prickly personality you like soft touches and sweet words, but don’t hold it against him. He’s a horny teenage boy, it’s all trial and error. It could be a lot worse for you, he couldn’t not eaten you out first and just plowed your ass like he was gonna die tomorrow.

You feel like you might, watching your blood drip down onto the dirty bathroom tile, you’re a leaky faucet now. Rusted and having so little left to give but you keep on giving (and taking) because there’s nothing else you can do.

Satoru spills into your guts with no warning, fucking down into you like you’re nothing but a pocket pussy. You’re just so pretty, sobbing and clawing at his shoulders. He’ll wear the red scratch marks with pride, maybe ask Suguru to lick them and tell him what they taste like, share it with him to get the little remnants of your bitten nails down his throat.

He climbs off of you and picks up his phone, his fingers sticky with your juices make the device slip and slide in his grip but he manages to not drop it. You may as well be dead on the floor but Satoru’s too busy texting the video of what you just did to Suguru. He smirks and his cock twitches, imagining the look on his best friend’s face, the envy.

He never tells you if the goal was to make Suguru want to join, you never want to know.

When you come back, black and red rose petals poke out under your door.

You snap, slamming your door open and gawking at the audacity of Satoru Gojo, nestled on the covers of your bed like he was waiting for his baby to get home from a stressful day out in this big scary city.

You don’t remember the questions you ask even as you’re asking them, all you’re retaining is the blush on his face and how pretty his blue eyes are when he’s about to get everything under the sun because it might as well have a ‘Paid for by the Gojo Family’ plague on it.

You’re so fucking tired, and you put up a fight but that’s all out of you now. There are multiple ways to make something go away, like absorbing into your body so at least you’re partially in control.

“I’ll forgive you if you’re good and keep your filthy hands to yourself until I tell you otherwise, okay?”

He obeys and sits perched on the edge of the bed, watching as you hover above a glass dildo purposefully smaller than he is. You bite your lip, lubing it up until your hand is slippery and you keep losing your grip.

Satoru imagines this it at a frat party instead, and the music is pouring from the open windows as people fuck around outside and inside the house, drinking from cheap plastic cups and novelty shot glasses. He’d take your hand and lace his fingers through yours, taking you upstairs to his room.

Your rum and coke would loosen you up, and you’d grind in his bed to the beat bumping through the floor. Satoru would bury his face in your neck and beg you to let him touch you like he really wants to. You’d sigh and he’d grin, skirting his long fingers under the edge of your lace panties and fingering you right there before picking you up and throwing you flat on your back.

He’d promise he’d pull out, he thought he had more condoms in his nightstand, you wouldn’t care and would beg to stay inside no matter what. You’d have a little Toru Jr. a couple semesters later.

But that universe doesn’t exist. You’re riding a small toy to an unsatisfying orgasm and Satoru just has to sit there and watch you, leaving your clit neglected and your mouth unoccupied by his eager kisses. You spit at him that you should just pull the dildo out of you and ram it up his ass without warning, but he’s so desperate to chain you up and tie you down that he’d probably like it. You only want to do something he wouldn’t like right now, a swan song for your dignity and self respect. It’s been a few years since those things were once part of you too.

Your breath hitches and your eyes get teary, Satoru can’t help but to shuffle over to where you’re kneeling on the bed. You moan as his fingertips come into contact with your swollen clit, and laugh deliriously when he perks up like his dad just surprised with a new car to have someone else drive for him.

“So fucking typical.” You whine, bouncing on the dildo and wordlessly begging him to keep playing with your bud. “Can’t ever do something you don’t wanna do, always to be someone else’s job.”

The blinking light in the corner of your bookshelf will come in handy when Satoru’s fast asleep in your bed and you’re sending a video of your own to Suguru.

You’ll both wake up to someone furiously pounding on your door, the world will spin round and round only to end up at the same place.

A frown flickers across his face at the pure death in your tone. He wants to know your favorite colors and what you love to eat and what makes every stressor in life fade away, but all he knows is what you look like when you cry yourself to smithereens while you cum.

“You’re the best at everything, honey.” He softly chuckles, water laps at his hairline, he’s almost drowning.

That isn’t quite true clearly, you’re not the best at stopping yourself from being assaulted, like that’s something you be and therapy’s something you can win.

“Thank you, Toru. so are you.”

That is true, for better or for worse as the saying goes.

[vixensdungeon]

Oh no, the dastardly No-Good Gang has ambushed crowd-favourite wrestler Joe Punchfist while he was promoting his upcoming charity match. He's outnumbered and getting pummeled in the middle of the ring while the officials look on helplessly. Will Joe be able to wrestle his match at next week's Renaissance Slayre pay-per-view, or will those poor orphans end up on the street? But wait! The crowd goes wild as a song starts playing and running out of the locker-room area comes…

Okay so before our valiant wrestler can run into the ring to save Joe's hide, we must create them. And we'll be using the WWF Basic Adventure Game for that!

The game assumes you'll be creating several wrestlers plus a couple managers and even a referee or announcer for each player, but we'll just be making one wrestler. This post is really long so click to see the rest of it!

First we pick a sex for our wrestler (this game was made in the early 90s so you'll excuse it if the terminology isn't up to 2025 standards). We'll be making a girl. For a name I just go to a random generator and get Weronika Sandström. She started wrestling out of high school so for random age we roll 1d10+17, getting an 18.

Then we determine our weight class. We could just pick, but that's not how we do it down in the Vixen's dungeon, so a random roll it is! A d% roll of 63 lands us in the lightweight division (sidebar: because this game is based on WWF in the early 90s, you can't actually make someone like Rey Mysterio in the game, because according to the designer's research there were no male wrestlers in the super lightweight category). Then we roll another d%. A 67 tells us that our weight is 225+1d6 pounds, 231 in our case. This gives us some game stats. Our maximum for the Aerial Tactics attribute is 90, and we get a +5 to whatever number we later generate for it. We have a -5 modifier for lift, meaning that our opponents need to roll 5 less than normal to lift us. Our maximum stamina is 90.

Next are our attributes. There's three ways to generate them: rolling random numbers and then assigning them as we see fit, using points to purchase them, or rolling them in order. And you know how we do it in the dungeon! For Brute Strength (STR) we roll a d6 on a chart and get a 6, which means a 50. Technical Ability (TEC) is 35, Brawling (BRA) is 45, Martial Arts (MAR) is 45, Aerial Tactics (AGI which is short for Agility rather than Aerial Tactics) is 30+5 for 35, Perception (PER) is 45, Stamina (STA) is 45, Business Skill (BUS) is 30, and Constitution (CON) is 45. Our lightweight girl is more of a powerhouse than you might expect!

Then we get to Advantages, which are miscellaneous qualities our wrestler might have, at the cost of lowering our basic attributes. And would you look at that, there's an option to roll them randomly! We get to roll twice and get 98 (Resistance to Attack) and 70 (Winning Appearence). We have to lower four attributes by 5 for the first one, and two of them for the second one. I choose to lower my TEC, BRA, AGI, and BUS, and then BRA and AGI again (I couldn't have lowered the same attribute twice to pay for the same advantage so I had to do them separately like that). This character is kinda starting to resemble the one I made in AEW Fight Forever, who is built entirely around kicking, although she is a heavyweight. For Winning Appearence I choose to be good-looking, and the neat thing about this advantage is that even if I had chosen to be ugly, the effect would be exactly the same and depend on whether the wrestler is good or bad. It says something about how our physical qualities are perceived depending on how our nature is perceived. For Ressitance to Attack I pick Martial Arts, which will halve the amount of stun those kinds of attacks deal against our wrestler. Your kung-fu is weak!

There's also disadvantages, so we get to roll some more, yippee! 50 and 45 would give us the same one so we re-roll one of them and get 39. We have Title Lust and Personal Vendetta. A second roll (69, nice~) means our lust is for the Intercontinental Title, meaning we can't wrestle for the World Title or the Tag Team Title. For Personal Vendetta I'll pick some bad character to feud with, probably someone from the No-Good Gang! We get to raise two and one attributes, respectively. I pick STR twice and STA once.

Now our attributes stand at STR 60 (the maximum for a starting character), TEC 35, BRA 35, MAR 45, AGI 25 (the minimum), PER 45, STA 50, BUS 25, and CON 45. We can now determine our secondary attributes. Our Power Bonus (PB) is the number of extra stun points we inflict, in our case 3/2/1/0 (I'll explain the slashes later). Our Stun Points (STN) are determined by cross-referencing some charts based on our STA and CON, which ends up giving us 200/140/92/46.

Next we determine our build. I want our girl to be of the Large variety (with some curves), so cross-reference a chart and find that at 231 lbs. our wrestler is 5' 8". Then we choose handedness. I try to roll for ambidexterity but fail, so I make her a righty like myself. As my finishing move I pick Bearhug, because isn't it nice to just cuddle your opponent into submission? Based on our AGI, our Movement (MOV) is 2/2/2/1. Based on CON, our Recovery (REC) is 4/4/3/3. Our Fan Support starts at 0, but our good looks will help in raising it! Finally we multiply our BUS by 5 for 125, giving us $125 because it's that kind of game. I'll buy a bandanna, some jeans (cut into jorts), a tank top, kneepads, and a sweat shirt, leaving us with $4. Hopefully we can make some money so we don't have to wrestle barefoot anymore!

So what's with the slashes? To illustrate, here's our final lineup of attributes.

STR 60/54/48/42 TEC 35/32/28/25 BRA 35/32/28/25 MAR 45/41/36/32 AGI 25/23/20/18 PER 45/41/36/32 STA 50/45/40/35 BUS 25/23/20/18 CON 45/41/36/32 PB 3/2/1/0 MOV 2/2/2/1 REC 4/4/3/3 STN 200/140/92/46 So you see how all our attributes actually have four values? As we start out at STN 200, they're all in that left-most value. But as our Stamina Points wear out, all our attributes start dropping!

Anyway, back to our exciting scene from earlier. "Sandstorm" by Darude starts playing as newcomer Weronika Sandström runs in to save the day!

As you can probably tell, this is a very silly game. And that's what makes it great.

[rox1000000]

I'm tired of stats in rules light games.

A game design ramble.

Stats are usually very boring. That doesn't necessarily mean they're bad. Not everything needs to be exciting or thought provoking and they're sometimes good to have. More complex games will have stats or adjacent, but have way more to define a character mechanically, or other things of interest stacked on top of them. They can be a good foundation in more complex games and my issue isn't with their use in that context.

My issue is when writers strip back everything but stats to make their game fit on a page or two. Many OSR games do this, but it is by no means unique to OSR.

In this post I'll go over what makes something a stat to me, why I dislike them being center stage in rules light games, and alternative ways to approach defining a character in minimal space. I'm trying to be brief here but it's a long post.

What is a stat?

I view stats as being generalized attributes or verbs that a character can do. The core things that I view as being indicative of "stats" at least how they're defined in this manifesto is that they're generalized, and that they're not abstract. In a game you'll usually find them called attributes, skills, ability scores, or the like. Not everything described as a skill in a game is a "stat" to me, and that distinction usually comes down to how specific it is. Something like "fight" I would describe as being a stat, whereas something like "hand to hand combat" I would describe as being a skill.

Famously D&D's STR, DEX, WIS, CON, INT, CHA are stats.

Why I Dislike Them

Lets suppose you have a game where you've stripped down basically everything except core stats about a character. Why is that a bad thing?

Lack of granularity - I think one of the issues here is that in stripping back other options, the stats become your main verbs in the game and characters get very easily pushed into confined boxes, or expand to slurp up a good deal of action. (Idk how to word this lmao) Lets take intelligence for example. Many games just have a brain stat, meaning a character is more knowledgeable, reasonable, logical than everyone else in every single situation always when they have more of this stat. In a game with more rules, there's ways to make that knowledge more specific or to differentiate mechanically, what under the umbrella of intelligence a character is good at, but in a stripped down game it's just "I am google." This also pushes out other characters from the relatively universal action of thinking. Same happens for strength or speed or any other large category. Why think when we have a thinky guy in the party that can think instead. Why try and do something precise when we have mrs. dexterity ready to do it at a greater success rate?

Lack of characterization - I think stats do a poor job of characterizing a character and making that characterization matter in the game. If I have a character with high strength, that doesn't actually say anything about the character. I believe that in an RPG it's important to know who a character is as a person and/or what role they have in the narrative. With so little to go off of, does it really matter that your character can punch people and pick up heavy objects about 10% better (or in many cases, more often) than the character of the player next to you? When cutting back a game's mechanics, a designer is making a statement about what matters, and I'm hearing many designers say "yeah it does matter to be able to quantify slight differences in physical characteristics between characters, this is definitely a good use of my extremely limited time and space!"

Things I think are better

I have already seen some solutions out in the wild:

Assign numerical weight to problem solving approaches - I see this often and it works well to drive action without restricting specifically what a character must do to get their bonus.

Assign numerical weight to vibes - This works for games that are lighter and fluffier and can serve to characterize a character well, but can be lacking in more grounded games.

Assign numerical weight to archetypes or jobs - A character having points in "crime lord" is a lot more evocative than them having points in charisma or sway and then using it to deceive people.

Be more specific - If you're designing a game with a very specific scenario in mind, it might be better to use something way more specific and tailored to your game. This entirely solve the issues on its own, but won't make me roll my eyes at the very least.

Don't use them at all - there's other ways to define a character than assigning numbers to generalized categories, and I've seen games that don't have stats and work fine.

I don't believe I've seen it pushed it far enough, frankly. I'm a sicko like that. You can assign a number to nearly anything and it can work. Nearly anything. So experiment more. Let players write their own stats, find a job resume and add numbers to it, staple numbers where you wouldn't think to, the world is your oyster so don't be boring with it.

Signed, a pretentious game designer

[in1-nutshell]

How would the tfp cons react to finding a pod fill with small and squishy sparklings (I headcannon sparkling looking like mashbellows blobs untold they grow giant size)

Love the concept of little bean sparklings!

Hope you enjoy the Cons reactions to the little beans.

TFP Cons reacting to finding a bunch of sparklings in a pod

For the sake of the story, the pod full of the beans conveniently landed on the Nemisis flight deck one night. A couple Vechicons had retrieved the pod at the orders of Megatron. He is fully expecting a magical relic of the past or some more Dark Energon… not a bunch of sparklings inside the pod.

Megatron

Oh, this is not what he is expecting… not at all.

“What in the Pit is this?!”--Megatron

“Those are sparklings my liege.”Starscream

“I know what they are!”—Megatron

His honest reaction would greatly depend whether or not he is on that space coke, I mean Dark Energon.

If he was on Dark Energon, the chances of all the sparklings surviving their first night would be slim to none. Not caring if they even survived. The only chance the sparklings would have of surviving is if the grace of one of the higher officials decided to keep them. Sadly, few would truly be up to the challenge.

If he isn’t on Dark energon, then he would be a bit concerned in why the sparklings are in the pod. But it is war after all and sadly this isn’t too out of the ordinary.

He would assign different Vehicon’s to different beans and have them all sent to Knockout and Breakdown for a checkup. He might think at first that this could be a waste of resources. But after a few days of seeing his troops with the sparklings, Megatron sees a boost in morality and a strange sense of hope in the ship. Hope that caused the movement in the first place. Hope that didn’t seem to come by so often on the ship.

He has ‘stolen’ a bean from time to time. Not even the Mighty Megatron can bend to the power of The Bean Eyes.

“Lord Megatron! I’ve been looking—what are you...?”--Starscream

Megatron mid cooing at a laughing bean.

“… You saw nothing Starscream.”--Megatron

“Understandable my liege. I will be taking my leave.”-- Starscream

Starscream

He is concerned about the sparklings, not that he shows it outwards though. Starscream had plans before the sparklings came along. He was on his way to try and overthrow Megatron and now he must do sparkling duties. The universe must be playing some cosmic joke on him.

“Pitiful thing. You probably don’t even know the first thing about being a Decepticon.”--Starscream

Giggling bean noises

“…Well, I suppose I could teach you. Yes, then you will pledge your loyalty to me!”--Starscream

“Starscream who are you talking to?”--Knockout

“None of your business Knockout!”—Starscream

As Second in Command he helps oversee the sparklings needs overall. As in the statis of their health, possible predictions for vehicle mode, who is their favorite Decepticon on aboard the Nemesis...

Like Megatron, Starscream has taken a habit of ‘stealing’ a Sparkling or two. Except when he has the beans, he tries to instill some sort of loyalty in preparation for his reign as Leader of the Decepticons. Which doesn’t seem to work well on Starscream’s part.

“Now repeat after me. Hail Lord Starscream.”--Starscream

Laughing Bean noises.

“Wow not even they take you seriously.”—Knockout

Soundwave

*Adoption papers processing*

While he also oversees the sparklings as Third in Command, Soundwave knows how to take care of others. He has been known for stealing the most sparklings out of the entire Nemesis.

“Soundwave do you have the reports taken—”--Megatron

Soundwave carrying five beans in his tentacles and two in each servo.

“…”--Soundwave

“… I’ll come back later then. Carry on.”—Megatron

He often plays funny little noises to make the beans laugh. Most likely the first on board to get attached to them. When he misses some of the beans, he will deploy Lazerbeak to go see if they are okay in their caregivers’ arms. Primus help the poor soul who decides to be mean or hurt the Sparkling. That is a one-way ticket to the moon.

“Soundwave! Respond! As Second in Command of the Decepticon army I order you—”

Recorded giggles plays

“… I give up.”--Starscream

Knockout and Breakdown

Oh… oh…

Why? Out of all the places on this planet, did that pod have to land on the Nemesis?! The ship isn’t exactly known for being a welcoming place, much less for sparklings. It’s not that the pair hate the sparklings, on the contrary.

The love seeing a bit of Cybertron untainted by the war. But now they have come into the war whether they liked to or not. Knock out while prides his finish, will put it aside while dealing with the multitude of messy sparklings.

“Hey no! Put that down! No! No! How did you even get up there!?”—Knockout

“Lighten up a bit Knockout. They’re just fine.”--Breakdown

“…There’s one about to fall off your servo.”--Knockout

“Ah!”--Breakdown

Breakdown has no problem getting dirty for the sparklings, hut is extremely anxious around them. He could accidentally crush them! He really doesn’t want that.

They don’t part take in the ‘stealing’ of sparklings, as they regularly come and go in the medbay. The pair both genuinely care for the sparklings and are a bit protective, especially if they come in hurt.

“Oh, Primus what happened to them?!”--Knockout

“I don’t know. I accidentally bumped into them—”--Starscream

“You bumped into them!”—Breakdown

Dreadwing

Oh, he loves these beans.

He is one of the few Decepticons with some kindness left and is not going to let bots like Starscream take advantage of them.

“I will be taking them today.”--Dreadwing

“It is my shift to look after—”--Starscream

“Consider this me taking your shift then Starscream.”—Dreadwing

He loves his time with the sparklings. He does a descent job in taking care of them. Makes sure all under his care are well and takes regular trips to the Medbay if something doesn’t seem right.

Besides Soundwave, probably the second in the ‘stealing’ sport. He tells stories to the little ones of life before the war and how the war would be over soon so they could all go home together.

“We are missing 5 of them.”--Breakdown

“Have you checked with Dreadwing.”--Knockout

“Not yet.”--Breakdown

“He probably has the rest.”—Knockout

Shockwave

He doesn’t do much with the beans.

Probably didn’t even know they were around until Soundwave came to the lab with some in his servos.

“…”--Soundwave

“… Explanation.”—Shockwave

Won’t interact with the sparklings much, not even if he has duty with them. Shockwave most likely built a crib to contain the little beans.

Does not partake in the ‘stealing’ of the sparklings.

It is illogical.

Predaking

What is this bean? Why is it so small?

He is confused at first seeing the sparklings, but once educated about the basics, he is ready. Does not matter if he is in his bi-pede mode or not, he is making sure all these beans are protected with his huge limbs.

Does not let them anywhere near Starscream.

“I order you to hand over the Sparklings beast!”--Starscream

“Did you hear something my tiny warrior? It sounded like a little pest.”--Predaking

“How. Dare—”--Starscream

Starscream is now shrieking trying to avoid the flames of Predaking.

He also plays and ‘steals’ them away. He is close ranking to Dreadwing on how often they get stolen.

“We are missing 7 of them!”--Dreadwing

“Where could they—”--Knockout

“Found them.”--Breakdown

Predaking napping in his dragon form cuddling a bunch of beans.

Soundwave snaps a picture that no one knows about.

Arachnid

Okay even if Megatron was on Dark energon, there is no way this Spider is going anywhere near the sparklings.

Point blank. She will not go anywhere near them.