#something something an expression of your love and desire to help becoming corrupted

[supernovatx]

Obviously “America is Great Again” is a fantastic critique of capitalism and American propaganda, which would be enough to make it an incredible scene on its own. It’s a great song and a great demonstration of the show’s themes, and it’s really well done.

But there’s a tragic layer to that song that really elevates it for me, and that’s because it’s specifically MacNamara singing it.

MacNamara first is introduced to seem like a stereotypical patriotic army guy in the scene where he knocks Paul out. However, he then subverts that in the next scene where we learn his true morals, namely that he believes in love and humanity as his higher purpose and he will put that above the orders of his country if they conflict. He chooses to let Paul live because of that, and when Paul asks if he can save Emma, MacNamara gives him his gun and tells him to go. We learn, as does Paul, that despite his appearance and general vibes, he is a genuinely good person who wants to help and is willing to put his moral code above his patriotism.

But when he gets apotheosized, he becomes the complete opposite. Suddenly his loyalty is to his country only, and his own moral code is erased in service of that, which causes contradictions between the lyrics of AIGA and his thoughts in the scene with Paul. “You can’t run because our borders are closed” when he was helping Paul escape in a helicopter as a human; “Americans should fit a mold” when he didn’t at all fit the “douchey army patriot” mold he was presented with; “There’s only room for right and wrong” when he clearly is able to choose between his own morality and his orders, indicating a more complex outlook instead of a binary. He becomes the stereotype he was subverting, and in doing so he becomes someone that the real MacNamara would have hated. That’s the tragedy of that song, and of the whole show really, is that the people who become part of the hive mind lose their true selves and are only able to act in their stereotypical roles, even if that’s nothing like how they actually were as humans.

There’s also something to be said here about how the us war machine and capitalism corrupts people and makes them into something they would never have been otherwise through a forced loss of personhood but I can’t figure out how to phrase that so

[gay-dorito-dust]

Geta’s kisses were strong, possessive as though he was intentionally making himself envious of the idea that your lips had been touched by another before him.

His hand could be found at your neck more often than not, squeezing it now and then as though to remind you of who was the more dominate one out of the two of you, his thumb would even caress the pulse on your neck to see whether he was doing things that made your heart work a little harder.

His kisses were hot and soft at the same time. yet firm and had a way of leaving you a little breathless afterwards. He’s a man that has everything and yet he still heavily influenced by human greed and desire for even more, so much more despite controlling an already dominating empire.

So to say his kisses weren’t also demanding for more and more of you was an understatement as he would always find the need to deepen the kiss, invade your mouth with his tongue after demanding entrance before taking complete control. His kisses didn’t allow you to be in control anytime at all, for Geta always needs to be in content power no matter what for he doesn’t like the feeling of being weak or easily overthrown in anything.

Yet let’s say after an almost successful assassination attempt on either of your lives, Geta’s kisses become more of a celebration of living, a reminder that you were both still alive despite what the gods chose to throw at you and how you both continue to thrive regardless. His kisses were also ones of relief that his reign got to continue but also that you weren’t taken from him unceremoniously, not that he would ever admit it to you but he wasn’t quiet ready to give you up just yet, not when he was heavily indulging on the taste of your lips and how nicely you slot against him.

Caracalla’s kisses were bruising and felt rough, rushed as though he was running out of time and he wanted to taste every last part of you before so, even if meant suffering through his harsh bites to your bottom lip and causing it to bleed somewhat before slipping his tongue in.

His kisses left your lips aching and had a lingering tingling feeling of pain, it made you wonder if the man smiling before you was capable of a softer and less intense way to express his innermost passion and love. He was, it was just extraordinary rare that you were led to believe you married a man whose only emotions was sadistic and lustful.

Yet on the rare one off occasion where he’d be feeling soft and affectionate his kisses became soft, almost featherlight, and tender as he scattered them across your jaw, neck and collar bone as though he was eagerly chasing after something as you ran your fingers through his fiery hair in content. His kisses were almost desperate to keep you with him, to remind you that he was the one you married and dedicated yourself to despite his inherent chaos.

He tries to prolong the kisses as much as possible as they varied from moment to moment depending on his emotions and where his minds was in during the kisses. So with Caracalla you were subjected to more lustful, ravenous, carnivorous as though he was trying to devour you or make you into one being through deepened kisses and painful looking love-bites that left you wincing upon grazing them.

His kisses were like fire but you couldn’t help but grow addicted to it and the sting that came from his teeth digging into your bottom lip, he wasn’t good for you and yet you couldn’t help but become more and more convinced through every kiss that you could help him, become his solace and safe space; yet you knew deep down that would never be the case but yet his kisses made you all the more ignorant to his more dangerous capabilities in other aspects as though he was slowly corrupting you with each and every kiss.

[versadies]

MY LOVE, MINE, ALL MINE (various x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. my love, mine, all mine

ADDRESSED. neuvillette, alhaitham, capitano, diluc, itto, tartaglia, kaveh, kaeya (x gn!reader)

STAMPS. what body part they kiss the most (sfw)

CONTENT. ooc (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (not sorry), possible grammar errors, mentions of battle, mentions of blood (capitano, childe)

POST-SCRIPT. all these characters are nothing but pokemons to me, i see one, i'll collect one in game. part two will come soon (with zhongli, wriothesley, ayato, thoma, pierro, and pantalone!)

LINKS. masterlist / taglist / part two

HANDS – Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Capitano, Diluc

NEUVILLETTE kisses your knuckles the most. To him, he believes that kissing you on the lips is far too intimate to be seen in public, preferring to do it in closed doors where it’s just the two of you alone, and so he often kisses your knuckles whenever he can. 

Whenever he does, one of his glove-covered hands would reach towards yours before lifting it to his lips, kissing each knuckle with care as though your hand is a delicate treasure, as if every kiss is a promise that he’ll hold your heart with care and unwavering devotion. 

It doesn’t help that you often find your cheeks warming up when his intense violet-shaded eyes look at yours, and no words were enough for you to explain the connection that you both have from just a simple stare. 

By the time he pulls away from your hand, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Oh, do you have a fever, my dear?” He asks worriedly, removing one of his gloves to check on the temperature of your forehead after kissing your knuckles out of nowhere while the two of you were lounging on the couch in his office. “Fret not, I can make something that can ease your fever away.” He adds, before standing up and rushes away to make a drink that will help you ease yourself, unaware that he’s the reason for your flustered state.

Ah, the things you’d do for this sweet man of yours. 

The same goes for ALHAITHAM when it comes to kissing you in public. He believes that the two of you kissing on each other’s lips should be private with no one to ruin it or spoil the intimacy, and so you often find him kissing you in other parts instead – specifically, your hands or cheeks. 

It’s rare for him to kiss you in public since he’s not much of a PDA man, but when he does, it happens at a quiet or secluded moment when the world seems to be muted around you two. When Alhaitham finds himself staring at you for too long, he couldn’t help but smoothly put his hand on top of yours, and raises your hand towards his lips to kiss it. 

His turquoise-shaded eyes stay on yours when you look at him, never looking away as you feel his lips on your skin, bringing chills to your spine from the feeling. The way he stares at you is as if he knows your deepest secrets and desires, and knows what sets you off to make your knees become jelly-like.  

It doesn’t help that he’d casually act as if nothing happened after, as if it’s just a casual thing to do (it is, to him), leaving you staring at him with your mouth agape. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks, hiding a small smirk as he glances at you. 

He definitely knows what he’s doing. 

CAPITANO is a strong man with a physique that could make anyone intimidated – both vision-holders and non-vision holders alike. It’s no doubt that such a powerful man like him would most likely be found in numerous battlefields, bringing the Tsaritsa many victories that she deserves. 

So it’s a strange sight to see said strong man on one knee, holding your hand as he gives it an affectionate kiss. He does it in a way that’s as though you’re a deity worth worshiping. He’s a captain by others, but to you, he’s your knight in shining armor (that’s corrupted by bloodshed and death, but we don’t talk about that here). 

You cannot see the expression he makes, but the way he kisses your hand is enough for you to know how much this man, who had killed so many and left no mercy to his opponents, is soft and caring for you. He kisses with care, as if afraid that you’ll shatter if he doesn’t control his strength. 

It became a custom for him to be on one knee and kiss your hand whenever he comes home to you from another mission – which is perhaps more often than you both like to admit. Despite your insistence that he doesn’t have to do such things, he does it anyway. In a way, it’s his way of apologizing to you for the lost time, and will do anything to make it up to you.

And he always did, with gifts, comfort, and of course, love. 

“I’m home, my love.” He spoke, with a hint of affection in his gruff voice that usually holds so much authority, kissing your hand tenderly.

DILUC is a gentleman by heart, and although he’s seen as the epitome of perfection around Mondstadt, he is seen indoors as a vulnerable man who you dearly care for. For so long, the two of you have found comfort and love within one another in the dimly lit room that you both share in the manor. He’s your warmth, and you’re his pillar. 

In private, where no one could see underneath the aloof and courteous man but you, he’d tiredly wrap his arms around you as he sighed in contentment. It’s normal for a man such as him to be so tired from work, so tired from his duties, and so tired from everything outside of his manor, but he is never tired of you, his beloved spouse who he treasures. He’s a zealous soul who cares not for wealth and materialism, but for the people of Mondstadt and the ones he loves.  

Your hand is often intertwined with his, and he’d bring up your hand up to his lips in the quiet moments of your shared intimacy. To him, your hand is a canvas that he paints with his deep affection and adoration. 

You couldn’t help but soften up as a result, feeling cherished and loved by your beloved man who never fails to make you swoon. 

For Diluc, kissing your hand is more than some simple intimate gesture, but rather a way to honor your pure essence – to show you how grateful he is to have you who has captured his soul in a tight grip that he never wants to leave from. And so, he continues to kiss your hand more, each a testament with a silent vow to love you throughout your lives together. 

“A-Ah.. My bad,” He clears his throat, his ears turning almost as red as his hair, “It seems I almost got carried away.” 

LIPS – Itto, Tartaglia, Kaveh, Kaeya

ITTO is a kind soul at heart, with a fiery passion when it comes to his loved ones – specifically, and with no certain favoritism, you. The oni is not one to shy away from showing you how much he loves you with all of his huge heart, so expect lots of kisses from him! 

The most prominent part that he kisses is of course, your lips. 

For Itto, there is no greater joy than the taste of your lips, each kiss contains joy and love on his end. With his endless energy and passionate spirit, he approached each kiss and affection  with an infectious enthusiasm, eager to lose himself in the overwhelming warmth of your presence and affection. 

In the sweetness of your kiss, he finds it much better than the feeling of sweet victory from a beetle battle, and he couldn’t find himself to remove the pleased grin on his face whenever he gets a kiss from you. 

It’s as if your lips is a magnetic force to his, as he never hesitates to kiss you whenever he could – be it whenever he greets you, whenever he wins a battle, basically every moment with him (a bit of an exaggeration really, but you get what I mean!). 

“My boo boo bear!” He cheers when he sees you in his vision, running up towards you as he instantly gives you a bone-crushing hug, lifting you up with his immense strength regardless of your weight. “I missed you! How was your day?” He asks excitedly, giving you a big smooch! on your lips.

CHILDE is just as fun as Itto – if you excuse his battlelust, of course. Besides his need for an activity or someone to fight with, the prowess fighter is not shy when it comes to giving you what he believes you deserve, which is giving you his undying affection.

He’s an infectious man, who leeches off to your kisses and hugs. He’s a fighter by spirit, but a lover by heart. He’s attentive to your needs, very willing to give you tons of kisses if you ask for it. Of course, even if you didn’t, he’d snatch a kiss or two from you without you expecting it. 

His love is like an unforgiving ocean, often wild and untamed, yet it comes with a fierce and unrelenting passion. In moments between the two of you, he seeks to plant his lips on yours, as though your kiss is a battlefield conquered by him, a well-done victory even. 

With each kiss on your lips is a vow, a vow that he’ll see to it that he gets to see the light of day after every battle, to see you by the end of the tunnel and show you that you won’t lose him that easily. For in your presence, he found his salvation, the arm that reaches out to him to pull him out of the abyss he’s in, guiding him out of the unforgiving ocean that seems to drown him whole. 

And so, he’ll never stop kissing you, regardless of where you are and the circumstances. 

“Were you watching me?” He asks eagerly, running up to you before planting a kiss on your lips, his hands that are scarred from the numerous weapons he held and the battles he fought in find themselves cupping your cheeks. 

When he pulls away, he looks at your eyes with a cheeky grin. “I did great, didn’t I?”

Known for his works and talent, KAVEH is no doubt a respectable man around the land of wisdom and scholars. Many would sing praises to his masterpieces and his original ideas that bring potential to Sumeru. As what a certain scribe would describe him, he is the light of Kshahrewar and a master builder and craftsman. 

However, such a bright reputation hides a man whose heart is tender and emotionally fragile, with too much on his plate. Which is why he is ever so grateful to have you by his side through it all.

For every affection the two of you share, Kaveh feels like the luckiest man in all of Sumeru – no, in Teyvat even. He doesn’t feel like he deserves you, a person who loves him for all that he is. With you, he feels cherished and appreciated even, and you balance his emotional fragility with your presence that seems so encouraging and comforting.

He seeks refuge in your affection, often cupping your cheeks and giving you a kiss. His kisses are frequent, and his lips often find themselves on yours. Each of his kiss is full of love, and there’s no doubt that there seems a desperation laced in it, as if he’s scared that this kiss is his last, and you might be gone before he knew it – just like his loved ones. 

Yet, in the softness of your lips, he found reassurance. He’s reminded that amidst the struggles of his life, your relationship remains timeless and true. Just like how he does with his work, he pours his heart and soul into your relationship together, cherishing the bond that you both have towards one another with  tenderness.

“Thank you.” He said, kissing you on your lips with a look that threatens to crumble. “I know I’ve said it too many times, but I can’t help myself. I really am grateful.” 

When you ask for what he’s thanking you for, he could only give you a smile, a sight that shines far brighter than the sun itself.

“Thank you for staying.”

You’d be lying if you said you’ve always thought you’d end up dating the notorious Cavalry Captain, who is more than often a flirtatious man whenever you’re around. KAEYA is not one who shies away from something, and if it means reminding you every now and then that he’s into you, then so be it!

Every waking moment with Kaeya is a thrilling challenge, and you two often find yourselves in a dance of wits and flirts, with a few glasses of wine and other drinks that the tavern sells. The two of you know how to push the other’s buttons, often playing banters and all. Even when you two are now dating, things are still the same – besides the fact that the two of you are free to kiss one another and often crash at each other’s places. 

Yet underneath such playful flirting and bantering, there’s a deep and abiding connection between the two of you that remains unspoken but welcomed.

Unsurprisingly, Kaeya finds home in your lips. To him, it just felt right. Sure, he likes to kiss your hands and cheeks, but it’s a different story when it comes to your lips. For him, stealing a kiss on your lips is not just an ordinary gesture of affection, but rather a declaration of his unwavering love for you. 

And so, more often than not, he prefers kissing you more on your lips.

With a teasing look and smirk on his face, he’d pull you close towards him without warning, his lips finding yours with an urgency that left you both breathless. There’s often laughter and desire lingering around the privacy of your bedroom, and it was a safe sanctuary that Kaeya finds comfort in. 

His laughter would fade into a whisper of “I love you”’s as he traces his cold fingertips on your face that he loves to see at every waking moment. He cherished these kinds of moments, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t spend each one as if it’s his last. And so, he continues to give you more kisses to drown your sweet laughter, for in your warmth and embrace, he could only find his great happiness and peace. 

“Come on, give me another one.” He chuckles, urging you to let him give you one more kiss before the two of you can sleep in each other’s arms. “Just one more kiss, I promise.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

[samwinchestersno1fan]

Angel (00:47)- Dean Winchester X Fem!Angel!Reader

cw: fem!angel!reader, fluff, implied smut, guilt, not proof read, also posted on ao3

a/n: sorry i haven't posted in ages, i've been caught up with college. anyway, merry christmas!! and happy holidays to those who don't celebrate christmas. my glasses broke while writing this :(

word count: 582

---

You stared up at the ceiling with only thin bed sheets covering your body. The room was dimly lit, the only lightsource being a lamp next to the bed. Dean lay beside you, on his side, staring at you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist. You felt a little ashamed, guilty, and dirty. You felt like you’d betrayed everything you knew, everything that you believed in. You felt like a sinner, it all felt so human. 

But it felt so good. 

No one had ever made you feel like that before. It was a completely new experience and you loved every moment of it. You didn’t feel shame or guilt when it was happening, you only felt pure bliss. No one had made you feel that good before. No one had taken care of you like that before. No one had made you feel that special before. 

No one had made you feel that special before.

But you let a human touch you like that. Taint you. Corrupt you. You really shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have given in. But you did. You gave in because he made you feel things that you had never felt. You didn’t know exactly what you were feeling but you knew that it felt good. Dean made you feel special and cared for and you wanted more of it. 

You felt his arm around your waist, he pulled you closer. You were both warm, your face felt hot. There was a thin layer of sweat covering both of you. You never felt tired, but when you looked at him, you could tell that he was. 

Your eyes wandered over his face, admiring him. You couldn’t help it, you had always done it. You could see that his face was flushed, his eyes looked tired but he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to look at you, admire you. 

You could only think about the way he praised you last night, telling you how well you were doing and how good you were for him. Thinking about the way he kissed you and marked your neck only made you even more flustered. You moved closer to him, burying your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment. Dean held you tighter, not too tight though. 

He didn’t say anything, neither did you, you didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was too perfect. You just let him hold you. You could hear his heartbeat, you could feel how hot he was. 

What you did wasn’t lustful, there were feelings, feelings that you hadn’t understood before. They were new and weird, you didn’t know how to express them. You never understood why your heart rate would speed up when he was around or why you always wanted to be around him and why you would overthink every little interaction with him. You never thought you’d give into any human desires, you never thought you’d feel like a human. You didn’t even really like them at first but it didn’t take long for you to become fascinated with them. Especially Dean. There was something about him that drew you in. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stay away from him. 

It was annoying, really, how he took over your thoughts at the beginning. But now you didn’t seem to mind. You loved knowing that he felt the same way about you. But deep, deep down it still felt like you were doing something wrong.

[thirteenheavens]

Thoughts on bestie seokmin corrupting his pretty, innocent bff😵‍💫

I love me some dk my bias hehe

Seokmin had always been the one who was sweet, kind, and innocent. He was the one who would lend you his jacket when you were cold, or who would listen to your problems without judgment.

But behind closed doors, he had a completely different side to him. One that was dark, dominant, and insatiable.

He was determined to corrupt you, to show you just how filthy he could make you feel.

You and Seokmin were sprawled out on the couch, watching a movie together. It was a typical night in - popcorn, soda, and snacks scattered across the coffee table.

But there was something different about the way Seokmin was acting tonight. He was being more touchy than usual, his hand constantly finding its way to your thigh or your hip.

You couldn't help but feel a little uneasy as Seokmin continued to touch you. It was just so unlike him, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

He seemed so casual about it, as if it was normal for him to be touching you like this. But the way his hand would occasionally squeeze your thigh or slide up under your shirt was anything but platonic.

The movie continued to play, but you found it hard to focus on the screen with Seokmin's hand still roaming over your body.

His touch was becoming more insistent, his fingers tracing circles on your skin and occasionally dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.

You finally found the courage to speak up, turning to Seokmin with a confused expression on your face.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a little shaky.

Seokmin looked over at you with a smirk, his hand still resting on your thigh.

"What do you mean?" he replied innocently. "I'm just trying to get comfortable."

You rolled your eyes, not buying his excuse for a second.

"You're definitely not just trying to get comfortable," you said, shifting slightly to try and get away from his touch.

But Seokmin only pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you against his side.

You let out a little gasp as he pulled you into his lap, your back now pressed against his chest.

Seokmin's hands roamed over your body freely now, his touch possessive and firm.

"There," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Isn't this better?"

You couldn't deny that being in his lap felt good, but you were still confused and a little apprehensive about the sudden change in his behavior.

Seokmin's hands continued to explore your body, his fingers tracing patterns over your stomach and hips.

"You're so tense," he whispered, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. "Relax, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you."

You tried to protest, to remind Seokmin that this was wrong and that you were just friends.

"Seokmin, we can't do this," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "We're just friends."

But he only chuckled, his grip on you tightening as he nipped at your earlobe.

"Friends don't look at each other the way you look at me," he replied, his voice low and husky. "Friends don't make each other feel the way I make you feel."

You couldn't deny the way your body was reacting to his touch, the way your heart was racing and your skin was tingling with desire.

Seokmin seemed to sense your internal struggle, his hands continuing to roam over your body as he spoke in your ear.

"I can see it in your eyes, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips trailing down the curve of your neck. "You want this just as much as I do. You want me to touch you, to make you feel good."

Seokmin chuckled against your skin, his hands pausing their exploration for a moment.

"I know you're a virgin," he whispered, his voice filled with a hint of amusement. "That's why this is so fun. I get to be the one to take you, to show you everything you've been missing out on."

Seokmin's words sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins.

He knew that you were innocent, that you had never been with anyone before. And yet, he seemed determined to claim you as his own.

His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts.

"You're going to be so responsive for me," he murmured, his lips pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear. "So sensitive and eager to please."

Seokmin's hands continued to explore your body, his touch becoming more and more possessive as he spoke.

"I want to touch you everywhere," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "But there's one place I want to touch more than anything else."

His hand drifted lower, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts once again.

Seokmin's fingers slid between your legs, gently tracing the outline of your panties.

"I want to feel how wet you are for me," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to feel how much you're aching for me to touch you."

Seokmin slowly pushed his finger inside you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady.

"God, you're so tight," he groaned, his lips brushing against your shoulder. "I can't wait to feel you clenching around me."

He began to move his finger in and out of you, his pace slow and deliberate.

He could feel your body responding to his touch, the way you were trembling and clenching around him.

"You're so sensitive," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your clit. "I can tell you've never been touched like this before."

Seokmin smirked against your skin as he continued to work his finger inside you, relishing in the sounds of your whimpers and moans.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Let me hear how much you like it."

He added a second finger, his movements becoming more intense as he felt you start to fall apart in his lap.

"You're so close already," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so responsive to my touch, so desperate for me."

Your moans grew louder as Seokmin continued to finger you, his fingers curling and rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you.

He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you lose control and come undone for him.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, his own arousal growing with each sound that escaped your lips. "Let it all out. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

Seokmin's fingers moved faster now, his thumb rubbing against your clit in time with his thrusts.

He could feel your body tightening around him, your muscles tensing as you neared your peak.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he whispered in your ear, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come undone around my fingers."

With a few more thrusts of his fingers, you came apart in his lap, your body shuddering and clenching around him as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Seokmin held you close, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as he worked you through your orgasm.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "Good girl. You did so well for me."

As you slowly came down from your high, Seokmin gently removed his fingers from inside you, bringing them up to his lips and tasting your essence.

"You taste so good," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "I can't wait to taste more of you."

[thoughtsforsoob]

most to least likely ateez members to become loser pervy bf of yours 😆

- 🐰

a/n: hi 🐰 anon! im sorry i havent been able tio finish any of your other requests. ive been getting writers block but....this request?? irl, im into nerdy guys (which are almost always pervy losers in my experience) so i would say im an expert at this point. thank you for the request! i will get to everything in my inbox soon before uni starts back up again next month! also, would anyone be interested in pics from the show this weekend? lemme know so i can take some and share!

nsfw under the cut!

the first person to come to my mind while writing this is mingi...i may be bised but thig dude is 10% cool idol and 90% nerdy loser who watches way too much h*ntai (idc if people think it's gross...some of us actually like it). i feel like outside of idol duties, he is such a loser around girls. he doesn't know how to talk to them and his flirting style is very awkward. it's so charming though. you just wanna love on him corrupt him. anyways, as a bf, he is the type to do all the cliche stuff like steal your panties, hump your pillow when you're away, etc.. He is the perfect example of pevy bf ;P

next...hongjoong? hear me out! he's stuck in that damn studio all day long so he is definately a little bit of a loser. he spends all his time around other guys so when he finally meets you and hangs out with you, you classify him a loser. his pervy bf starts to show when he starts to express his desire to take naughty pictures of you. for his eyes only! from there, it turns into public displays like him smacking your ass in front of friends or when helping you out of the car or something. it's a lot of little things that no one would notice unless they're trying really hard to notice.

lastly...yunho! he's your perfect tall, loser, pervert of a boyfriend! he doesn't have all that many friends so his loser self spends a ton of time with you. that causes him to have more time to think about all of the nasty things he wants to do to you. it give him more time to do those things too. he obviously reads a lot of manga so he get's tons of ideas from hi little secret stash of 18+ mangas ;) you know for a fact he's tying you up and shit every chance he gets.

[chuele]

Saezuru: Why You Need to Read it Twice (7) The Police Uniform Cosplay

Why did Yashiro make Doumeki cosplay in a police uniform? Could it be that Yashiro was thinking that if Doumeki wore his police uniform again, it might rekindle his desire to return to the force?

I have thought about this question many times, and today I want to explore it from a different perspective. I found that exploring it with the help of AI provided valuable insights, leading me to a deeper level of understanding. Let's unpack these insights step by step.

1. The Surface Context:

Yashiro, teasingly and with a slightly aggressive tone, has Doumeki dress up as a police officer during a sexual interaction. Doumeki, formerly a police officer, was dismissed due to a past incident and his erectile dysfunction. Yashiro knows this well.

2. Underlying Interpretations:

A. Manipulative Suggestion – "Go back to your old life"

“If you wear the uniform, maybe you’ll feel like going back to being a cop again?”

On the surface, it sounds like a taunt or flirtation.

But deeper down, Yashiro might be:

Testing Doumeki’s loyalty, almost daring him to recall a cleaner life and leave Yashiro behind.

Subliminally preparing for rejection — a form of self-sabotage: “Let me destroy this before it can hurt me.”

So while it’s wrapped in playfulness, it’s actually laced with Yashiro’s deep fear of being abandoned.

B. Reclaiming Control – Over Doumeki’s “Goodness”

Yashiro often views himself as “filthy” and unworthy of love.

Doumeki represents someone "pure" — former cop, loyal, kind.

By making him wear the uniform:

Yashiro is trying to reassert the division between them.

Or perhaps, he wants to see if Doumeki will stay even when reminded of the life he left behind.

It’s a cruel experiment: “If he remembers who he was, will he still want to be with someone like me?”

C. Police = Symbol of Order, Law, and Cleanliness

In the yakuza world, the police uniform symbolizes everything opposite: order, morality, justice.

Yashiro turning it into a sexual prop is:

A form of rebellion and desecration

A way to collapse boundaries between “clean” and “dirty”

If Doumeki still desires him while in uniform, Yashiro confirms that Doumeki has fully crossed over into his corrupt world.

D. Sex as Emotional Avoidance

Yashiro rarely expresses true feelings. Instead, he uses sex as a defense mechanism — to control, deflect, and bury vulnerability.

Rather than saying “I’m afraid you’ll leave” he says: “Try wearing the uniform again — maybe you’ll get it up.”

It's the language of defense — turning pain into playfulness, into sex.

Yashiro doesn't know (or dares not) to say love, so he turns everything into a dangerous game.

This is classic emotional evasion. The scene is less about seduction and more about fear, pain, and emotional survival.

3. And How Does Doumeki Respond?

He complies — calmly, without resistance.

But he doesn’t become the cop again. He’s still Doumeki, steady and loyal.

This is a silent vow: “Even if I wear the uniform, I’m not going anywhere.”

Beneath the surface, Doumeki is saying:

“No matter how you test me, I won’t leave you.”

It’s not spoken aloud, but felt — the kind of quiet, unwavering devotion that doesn’t need words.

It’s a deeply reassuring, wordless act that reinforces his commitment to Yashiro, regardless of appearance or status. By quietly accepting the uniform — a symbol of a life he once had — and still choosing to stay, Doumeki offers something stronger than words.

In a world where Yashiro expects abandonment, this unspoken promise becomes the strongest answer of all.

Conclusion: This Scene Isn’t Just “Kink” — It’s a Psychological Minefield

The scene where Doumeki wears a police uniform is far more than a roleplay or a moment of erotic fantasy. Beneath the surface of a desire-tinged game lies a psychological labyrinth — a space where Yashiro tests the boundaries of loyalty, punishes himself, and probes whether the other man would still choose to stay when confronted with the “clean” past he once had.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

On the matter of the Miraculous as not just a magic tool but a jewel where “a magic being fuses with you and you become one”, what is your take on the powers the Miraculous give and how it plays into the whole abstract concept idea the kwamis personify? I’m a bit curious.

I know this may seem like an odd question, but really looking into the idea of “a human being is chosen by a mystic secret society because THEY in particular are the one who best embodies and upholds this concept at the forefront of their lives” as the basis of your magic system, it becomes apparent that Miraculous has a really barebones and literal approach to the idea.

One concept, one power (if you ignore the main heroine and villain lol) and it’s the most literal expression of the idea possible. Well, it is until it isn’t. I’m looking at you, ROOSTER. Dragon, you’re on thin ice because you’re technically able to spin the idea of your power being a play on the phrase “perfect storm” but I know that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

I understand why they chose to do it the way they did for their target audience (aka children). But I also find that using ABSTRACT concepts in the most literal and straight forward way possible is also a MASSIVE wasted opportunity from both a lore perspective and a storytelling one.

What about more symbolic or metaphorical means of showing those concepts and how they can play and be used in our everyday, mundane lives? What about using those concepts to help showcase their “moral lesson of the week” and letting it act as the lesson kids takes away from the episode because the show was made for kids?

Like for example, Marinette sees two friends get into an argument and are no longer on speaking terms. After hearing both of their stories however, she comes to learn that the argument stemmed from good but mishandled and misunderstood intention. From her desire to help those friends make up and reveal that good intention, she can use the power of Creation to create a magic bond between the two friends and connect their hearts to help them communicate more honestly and freely. Despite being a superpower, it acts as a lesson to show the need for mediation skills and promotes honest communication in friendships.

Another could be Adrien finding someone that is plagued with doubt and fear over wanting to do something they truly want to do but are too afraid to go through with it. Paralyzed by this fear, they choose to turn away from something they truly want to do and make themselves miserable due to it. Chat Noir then could use the power of Destruction to quash that fear holding them back and empower them, but also act as a lesson in the importance of encouraging others and the need for strong support networks in your life.

I absolutely love the idea of using those abstract concepts the kwamis embody to help guide the choices the Miraculous holders make and not only be used to showcase and promote growth in themselves but in others and the world itself. I think by leaning heavily into this idea, it could tremendously expand on the importance and gravity of the power of the kwami, the bond a Miraculous holder shares with their kwami, and just what wielding that Miraculous entails.

I know you’ve talked about how you feel as if the Black Cat should have the ability to purify and not the Ladybug because purification is the act of destroying or removing taint or corruption, so this ask is very much built off of this idea and I want to know how far you would willingly push this idea of what it means to wield the power of Creation, Destruction, Illusion, Transmission, and so forth.

Sorry for kinda the long ask, but I wanted to try and explain my question in the most easy to understand way possible lol.

I think I get what you're asking and it's an interesting idea. The first show I thought of after reading this was Winx club because that franchise does a lot of things with abstract concepts like belief and harmony leading to magic powers, but the concept is far from unique to Winx. A lot of magical girl shows lean into more abstract ways of granting magical powers because magical girl shows tend to lean hard on the whole Power of Friendship thing and friendship is an abstract concept, so it makes sense to pair it with other abstract things.

I personally wouldn't go this abstract route for Miraculous simply because it's such a massive deviation from canon and - when I'm coming up with ideas on here or writing fanfic - I do try to be as canon loyal as I can so that my stuff feels like an adaptation of canon and not a whole new show. Adaptation is an art, not a science, so there are no hard rules here, but my general approach is to try to make a bunch of little tweaks instead of big, massive shifts like you proposed. Those tweaks add up to massive shifts, but it's more of a gradual over time thing than a glaring, right from the start change. Or, at least, that's what I hope I'm doing!

That doesn't make your idea bad! Far from it. It would be a way to fix the wonky lore around the Kwamis because you are absolutely right to say that the powers they grant are often far too rigid for how abstract some of the associated concepts are. Perfection being a play on a perfect storm is one of the worst offenders in my book because sure it's fun and all, but when you try to match it with the very clear powers granted from concepts like Destruction it's feels weird and off. It's almost as if the writers are mixing a soft magic system with a hard magic system.

In case you don't know those terms, here's a real quick primer:

Soft magic systems are systems where the magic isn't clearly defined. They work best in stories where the specifics of how and why the magic works don't matter. Think Cinderella, where it doesn't really matter why the fairy godmother can do what she does because the magic is just an excuse to get Cinderella to the ball.

Hard magic systems are systems where the magic is clearly defined and basically works like a science. These types of systems work best in stories where the main characters are actively wielding magic and the way they wield that magic matters because it's how the writers establish narrative stakes. This is what Miraculous is theoretically doing with things like its five minute timers and single use powers. The problem is that the writers often ignore their established rules for the sake of plot and that's a terrible way to tell a story. It leads to all kinds of nonsense like the aforementioned mismatch between the kwamis and their associated Forces.

The way that I'd fix the Kwami issue is to just change what Force each Kwami is tied to. Abstract concepts are out, hard concepts are in and really always were because Creation and Destruction may have a broad range, but they work as hard concepts. I'd then do some relatively minor tweaks to the powers that each kwami grants in order to make everything align. (My peacock and dragon are arguably pretty different from canon, but generally speaking, my tweaks are more along the lines of the purification example you brought up in your ask).

But that's all about trying to fix canon and canon is a broken mess, so I don't blame you if you say, "Nah, I'd rather explore this fun idea I had to drastically overhaul the magic system and the way akuma fights work." And yes, this magic system change would also require making some pretty big changes to how fights work since akumas aren't well suited to the idea in their current form. You'd want to move away from the breaking the item path that canon favors and make it so that every akuma fight ended in a person rejecting their akuma. Which canon does do, but it's weird and I don't like it. When we first saw it, it was a big deal special event, but since then they've cheapened it by having way too many people be able to do it, so having it be the standard path instead of this overused deviation would be a good way to fix that. It would also allow for an easier lesson of the day if that's your kind of thing.

There's one other thing this could fix: the character bloat. You may have actually brought up one of the only ways to make a team of 18 heroes work. If we have each hero be chosen for their unique tie to an abstract force, then you can get some really niche problems that only they can solve. I'm not sure how well the abstract forces chosen by canon work for that idea, but the general concept is the core of plenty of successful properties.

I already mentioned Winx, but the 2010 version of My Little Pony also played with this idea by having each of the six main heroes be tied to an abstract concept (generosity, honesty, laughter, kindness, loyalty, magic). If you did something like that where the core team had broadly applicable powers while the side heroes had really niche ones, then I think the temp heroes could have actually been something great! Right now, most of their powers are too broadly applicable to the point where it's weird that they're not called on more and it would be nice to see that fixed. (Luka should be at every fight and you cannot change my mind on this. It's ridiculous that Marinette somehow magically knows which fights will have them fail and is able to always call him in at the right time, but that's a rant for another day.)

In summary, I like this idea and would watch a show with it/read a fic with it, but I think it's too deviant from canon to fall into the "fix-it" category. Feel free to (kindly) chime in if you disagree!

[kallie-den]

True Renaming

A lesbian witch makes a mistake and accidentally summons an incubus instead of a succubus... but decides that she can fix "him" with just a few tweaks to the demon's true name

This force-feminization story was written for my patrons, based on the results of one of the polls I regularly run on Patreon!

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!   For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get   immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps  me keep writing and is greatly appreciated   <3

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Ardat, incubus, took a moment to stretch as the brimstone smoke cleared, savoring every little sensation that came with being incarnated in a physical body - the cool air, the sound of his own heartbeat, the little strains of exertion as he experimentally lifted his arms. It had been too long. Far too long. Ardat had existed for eons, but summonings were becoming rarer and rarer. Now, finally, he was free to roam and corrupt the Earth once more.

Well, not free. Not yet. He had been summoned into a magic circle; a ring of symbols and salt that kept him bound to the spot. But that was merely a minor inconvenience. All Ardat needed to do was convince his summoner to lower their guard a little, and he had plenty of experience with that.

He was, after all, a sex demon.

Now that the smoke had almost cleared, he could just about see them. Ardat stroked his goatee, attended to his short, tufted, black hair, and plastered a winning, charismatic smile on his perfectly formed face. He struggled to keep it there when he noticed the expression his summoner was wearing.

Overwhelming frustration and disappointment.

That was a surprise. Ardat had been greeted in many ways - with awe, lust, shock, self-righteous contempt. But who would be disappointed with a sex demon they’d bound to their will and summoned from the bowels of hell itself?

A woman, for one. A goth, for another. The look of utter, icy disdain on her face looked like it was fixed there permanently, accentuated by her jet-black lipstick and thick, immaculate eyeliner. She had long, silky, black hair - plainly dyed - with layers of deep blue visible underneath, and her clothing was all fishnets, lace, and asymmetrical, flowing folds of black cloth. Her look was - in Ardat’s opinion - a little tacky, but she undeniably carried it off well, and her figure was on the softer, rounded, better-endowed side. Aradat certainly liked that. More for him to enjoy.

“Master,” Ardat said, his voice a low purr. He offered a low, theatrical bow. “Might I have the pleasure of your name? All the better to serve you, of course. Although I must confess a slight, ulterior motive. I desire to confirm my suspicion that your name is just as lovely as you are.”

It was a good line, and one that had made many would-be witches blush throughout history. So, Ardat had been hoping for a better response than an angry, disgusted: “Tch.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Lenora,” she said, with an air of clear reluctance. “I guess.”

“Have… I done something to offend you, master?” Ardat asked cautiously.

Lenora groaned and made a gesture like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re an incubus.”

“Of course.” Ardat took a moment to refresh his grin. “I am Ardat of the Second Circle. I am accomplished in pleasures far beyond the average mortal ken - and I am at your disposal, body and soul.”

Lenora simply rolled her eyes. “You don’t get it. I’m a lesbian.”

Ardat’s smile immediately faltered. “Then… if I may ask… why did you-“

“Because you were meant to be a succubus!” the witch exploded. “I wanted to get my mind blown, and I found an old grimoire talking about this ancient sex demon. ‘Ardat of Ur’. A succubus! And now I get… you.”

“Ah,” Ardat said awkwardly. “Well, gender and grammar in ancient proto-Sumerian can be a little tricky.”

Lenora glared daggers at him. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

“Master, I’m sure you know that labels are just words,” Ardat attempted, making his voice a thrilling, husky growl and arching his back to present his bare, sculpted chest to the witch. “Whatever you may consider yourself, why not try allowing me to please you? I’m sure I could find a way to change your feelings. Everyone’s a little flexible, under the right circumstances. Maybe you just haven’t found the right man.”

From the look on her face, he immediately knew he’d chosen the wrong tactic. “Gross,” Lenora spat, even more disgustedly. “Try that again, and I’ll banish you before you can blink.”

“Wait!” Ardat said hurriedly. “Don’t send me back! Not when I… when I have so much to offer you, that is.” He tried to sound simpering and pleasing; maybe she’d like that more. “I could easily help you to summon a demon a little more fitting for your tastes. Now, if you’ll just let me out of this magic circle, I’ll-“

Lenora snorted a laugh. “Nice try. But no. Part of the reason I’m so pissed is that, as you well know, I can’t attempt this ritual again until the next lunar-venusian conjunction. Which is also the reason I can’t afford to send you back to Hell.”

Hearing that gave Ardat the twinge of hope he needed. “Then, surely there must be some service I can perform for you, master,” he purred. “Simply name your heart’s desire, and I will happily provide - for the right price, of course.”

“I don’t think-“ Lenora abruptly broke off, and then started thoughtfully at Ardat. Hope swelled in his demonic chest. “Actually,” she began thoughtfully, “maybe there is something I can do with you.”

“Yes?” Ardat asked, cautiously optimistic.

“I do have you here, even if you’re not quite right,” Lenora mused, pacing across the room. “And I do still have an itch I could do with scratching.”

Ardat let out a filthy laugh. “I’d be more than happy to assist, master,” he purred. “I knew you would prove to be open-minded.”

Lenora threw him a dangerous look, but it faded from her face almost immediately, replaced by a wicked, satisfied smirk. Somehow, that worried Ardat much, much more than her anger.

“Open-minded? No,” Lenora said. “I’m just going to fix you.”

“F-fix?” Ardat’s worry was growing.

“Fix,” Lenora confirmed, grinning. “Succubus, incubus, how different can they really be? Anyway, that whole thing is way too binary to be real. I’m sure it can’t be so hard to turn one into the other.”

“Turn into-“ Ardat let out a nervous, incredulous laugh. “Very funny, master.”

“Oh, I’m not joking.” Lenora’s grin was steadily taking on a crooked, malevolent quality. “I’m a witch. A damn good one. You wouldn’t believe what I can turn people into.”

“That’s not the problem,” Ardat explained, sighing. “Demons aren’t like people. Who we are - our bodies, our personalities, our genders - aren’t, for want of a better word, malleable. They are unchanging; ontologically fixed to specific lingua-symbolic entities - better known by your kind as our ‘true names’.”

It was a little surprising that a witch capable of summoning a demon didn’t know that much, but Ardat wanted to make sure to nip this absurd notion in the bud. He needed to guide Lenora towards something he could truly tempt her with.

“Your true names, huh?” Lenora laughed and reached for an old, leather-bound book resting on a nearby table. “Like, for example… this?”

She flipped it open to a bookmarked page and held it up for Ardat to see. It sent a cold shiver down his spine. His true name was written in the pages.

Most people wouldn’t have recognized it as such, or as a name at all. It wasn’t in words - English words least of all. Instead, it was a complex, intricately-interwoven symbol, expanding to fill an entire page of a huge grimoire with headache-inducing artistic and geometric figures. And yet, it was his name. ‘Ardat’ was the corresponding vocalization, although, from a demon’s perspective, it was crude to the point of ugliness in how little information it truly conveyed. The symbol on the page in Lenora’s book told and defined everything about the incubus, from beginning to end.

Which was very, very bad.

Knowledge was power, both figuratively and literally. It didn’t mean Lenora could pull off the kind of insane transformation she seemed to be set on, but knowing Ardat’s true name meant there was plenty she was capable of. He was going to have to tread extremely carefully.

“Where did you get that?” Ardat hissed.

“It’s from ancient Sumeria,” Lenora answered, throwing him a smug, nasty look. “You see, my ancient proto-Sumerian is actually fucking great. I just misinterpreted one little part of your true name. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I had to pay a pretty penny for this grimoire, though. Time to see if it’ll all be worth it.”

“That…” Ardat sighed, exasperated. “You still can’t turn me into… well, into anything! That isn’t how this works. True names might be written in ink, but I can assure you, they’re metaphorically set in stone. There are only a handful of artifacts in existence with the power to change them.”

“C’mon.” Lenora started giggling. “You can’t just set me up like that twice in a row.”

Ardat’s heart sank. “S-surely you don’t-“

This time, she reached for a small, wood-carved box and opened it. Inside was a candle that looked ordinary at first, but when Lenora lit it with a well-used lighter, the wax started to glow with an unnatural, purple phosphorescence.

“An ur-candle,” Ardat whispered reverently.

Fuck.

“Let’s take it for a spin, shall we?” Lenora said. She set the grimoire bearing Ardat’s true name down on the table and lifted the ur-candle menacingly towards it.

“Wait!” Ardat called out in alarm. He’d only heard whispers about what was about to happen, but those alone were enough to terrify him. But he fell silent once Lenora tipped the candle, and allowed a little of its wax to drip onto his true name.

Ardat froze. He could feel something; an unnameable sensation that held him in its grip and made his head feel like it was going to split open. It was as if something was touching his very soul, especially when Lenora picked up an iron stylus and used it like a pen to move the molten wax around on the page. Disconcertingly, the ink underneath it, dried for thousands of years, started to bubble up and move with it. And just like that, his reality was rewritten.

It only took hold slowly, with the first changes beginning after the wax on the grimoire’s pages had already set, but its pace quickened rapidly after Lenora held up the book for Ardat to inspect. His true name, the sigil that was the incubus’s very being, was different now. The changes were slight and subtle, and to most people they would have meant nothing. But to Ardat, it was everything.

Only, that was no longer his name. The sigil now sounded out as something different. It would be-

“Aridat,” Lenora pronounced, in a strong, clear, commanding voice. “Your name is Aridat.”

Aridat’s head sheared, and they shook their head in futile denial. “N-no.”

“Your name is Aridat,” Lenora insisted.

“My name,” Aridat grunted through gritted teeth, straining to hold on to at least this, to at least the word, “is Ard… Ar… Ari…”

“Your name,” Lenora repeated patiently, “is Aridat.”

“My name is Ari… dat,” Aridat found themself agreeing, a pained look on their face. “No, it’s… my name is Aridat… Ard… Aridat.”

The new sound was such a small thing, like a breath, and that made it so poisonously easy for it to slip in between the consonants, making its presence felt only in how much softer their name suddenly sounded as it left the incubus’s lips.

“Aridat,” Lenora nodded. The grin on her face was now one of lurid, sadistic fascination. “Good.”

“My name is… Aridat?” Aridat was losing their conviction. It was hard to remain defiant when reality itself had turned against them. They could feel an immense pull toward acceptance like a lead weight on their shoulders.

“Aridat,” Lenora repeated again. The witch tilted her head, amused. “You’re even starting to look like an Aridat.”

Her comment drew attention to something Aridat had been trying to convince themself wasn’t real: the way their body suddenly seemed just as molten and pliable as the wax of the ur-candle, ready to be changed, reshaped, remolded. The sensation was almost imperciptible, though. So subtle it was almost like nothing was changing at all. Aridat had to force themself to truly notice what was happening to them. Their face was softening and rounding out, and their goatee fell from their face in wisps as it disintegrated into nothing. Aridat’s hair had grown inches in seconds, and their body lost its overbearingly masculine silhouette as their shoulders narrowed and their hips widened. They even became shorter.

Ardat had been manly. Strong. A straight woman’s fantasy brought to life. Aridat, it turned out, was androgynous. Even elfin.

It just went with the name, somehow.

“My name… is Aridat,” they said slowly. This time, Aridat’s voice was heavy with acceptance. It felt good to embrace it, just like it felt good to breathe after forcing yourself to stay underwater.

Their name was Aridat. It just was. And they were a them, apparently.

“Fuck,” Lenora breathed. “That was so hot.”

Aridat, still recovering from having their identity rewritten on a spiritual level, was shaking with rage. Reality had changed but, crucially, history hadn’t. They still remembered what they’d lost. They’d been Ardat. They’d been manly and strong. Now, just looking down at their body was accompanied by a hot lick of bitter humiliation. And it was all because of this accursed witch. If not for the magic circle marked on the ground, Aridat would have had their hands around her throat.

“Aridat,” Lenora said, “how do you feel?”

The worst part, the very worst, was the way their new name being called felt. It made their ears prick up and instinctively caught their attention. Aridat was their name now, and like it or not, they answered to it.

“I… feel…” Aridat replied slowly. How did they feel? It was impossible to say. Their head was a swirling mass of contradictions. Memories that didn’t match reality. Old instincts that didn’t match their new personality, which seemed somehow more passive. More pliant. “I… don’t know.”

“That makes sense.” Lenora nodded thoughtfully. “It looked wild. I’m sure feeling it is even crazier, even though I was trying not to scramble you too badly. Although…” She looked Aridat up and down pointedly. “Maybe I wasn’t ambitious enough.”

Hearing that made Aridat’s blood run cold. “W-what?”

“Don’t get me wrong!” Lenora held up her hands in mock sincerity. “You look great, really. Normally I wouldn’t be so picky. I can roll with androgynous. But tonight I was really looking for something more on the ‘succubus’ end of the spectrum.”

“Fuck you,” Aridat hissed.

“I’m sorry!” Lenora’s grin was already breaking through her face. “This isn’t an exact science, you know. But now that I’ve tested it out, I think it’s safe to say that we can push this just a little bit further.”

“Wait!” Aridat begged as she lifted up the ur-candle again. They couldn’t let her change them any further. This was bad enough, but at least their old identity, their old name, was still within sight. “Stop, you can’t-“

Lenora ignored them, and tipped more enchanted wax onto their true name.

Aridat immediately felt it again; that terrifying sense of displacement as their true name began to flow like fresh ink. It was ice-cold and shockingly intimate, and made them uncomfortable aware of all the ways they were being changed. It made them feel thin; so thin that they’d fold like paper under their own weight.

The sensation doubled when Lenora took her pen to the molten wax. This time she was more daring and less careful, streaking the wax and ink across the page in huge strokes. Aridat felt each one in their soul, even as they felt that name, newly-given, already beginning to slip away.

Once she was done, Lenora looked up. She was clearly proud of her penmanship, and looked at the incubus thoughtfully.

“Your name,” she said, in that slow, deliberate way, “is Aridata.”

Aridata’s heart skipped a beat. “C-c’mon,” she whined. “It’s n-not.”

“Your name,” Lenora said again, more firmly, “is Aridata.”

As futile as it might have been, Aridata couldn’t help but try to fight it. “My name,” she struggled. “Is… Ar… Aridat.”

Even that, though, was surrender, and they both knew it. Aridata still remembered the name ‘Ardat’, but she couldn’t bring herself to claim it. Not anymore. It wouldn’t feel right. She wouldn’t sound sure enough. But hearing her insist she was ‘Aridat’ now brought a maddening smile to Lenora’s face and made the demon feel weak.

And the way it came out of her mouth was just as bad. ‘Aridat’, but with a new openness at the end; a hint, a wisp, a breath of something yet to be sounded out.

“Your name is Aridata,” Lenora insisted simply.

Her words rippled over Aridata, making her shiver with their rhythm. “My name is Ari… Aridat… a… Ari…”

She was on the brink. Both of them knew it.

“Your name is Aridata.”

“My name… my name is… A-Aridata.”

As before, it was an incredible relief to say it. Aridata. That was her name. A-ri-da-ta. It sounded so different now. So light. That treasonous little ‘a’ appended to it, a whole syllable of femininity, opened up the entire name, making the harder consonants before it a mere prelude.

Aridata. It was a girl’s name.

Aridata knew what that must mean. She reached up and touched her face, and found it different. It was her face, and it wasn’t. It wasn’t changing; an old, defunct reality was simply washing away, revealing a newer reality that might always have been there. Aridata���s face was softer now. Less angular. She had wider eyes, petite brows, and a far less pronounced jawline. But that was absolutely nothing compared to what was happening to the rest of her body. Suddenly, Aridata had wide hips and curved thighs and, most distractingly of all, the distinct swell of breasts on her chest.

“Wow,” Lenora commented, wolf-whistling. “Now that’s more like it.”

“Fuck. You!” Aridata spat, and was shocked at how girlish her voice sounded. She couldn’t manage the same level of vitriol and spite as she had earlier.

“Maybe, soon.” Lenora giggled. “You know, that outfit suits you much better now.”

Aridata looked down at herself and almost choked. She was wearing the same clothing as before - black, tight-fitting, leather pants, and nothing else - but with her appearance it felt very different. She had gone from suave seducer to something much more butch, or perhaps tomboyish. Her hair, now mid-length, fit with that too. The whole thing felt like a pointed mockery, and that should have made Aridata violently angry.

Instead, it made her blush.

It was something about her chest. Having breasts, even small ones, made being topless feel very, very different. It made Aridata feel exposed; she was suddenly conscious of the air on her skin, and even more conscious of Lenora’s gaze on her body. Everything about it was undignified. Even succubi preferred tempting, alluring, suggestive clothes to simply going topless! Instinctively, Aridata moved to cover herself and started looking around for a stray item of clothing she could use. Only the look of mirth in Lenora’s eyes stopped her.

What was she doing? Aridata wasn’t some kind of blushing maiden. She was… a man? That didn’t sound right, even in her own head. But she knew she had to try and keep hold of that version of reality.

“What’s the matter?” Lenora teased. “You weren’t shy like this before. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Hey!” Aridata huffed. “That’s not-“

She broke off. She’d huffed. Since when did she huff? That wasn’t like her at all. Except it was now. Even her mannerisms were suspect. The things Lenora could do with her candle and Aridata’s true name went far beyond the superficial. Her mannerisms, her personality, her memories - all of them could be rewritten with no more than a stroke of a pen.

“Don’t worry,” Lenora said mockingly. “I enjoy you being more ladylike.”

“I’m. Not.” Aridata had to fight to keep her voice deep and even. “I-I’m a man.”

Lenora just looked at him pityingly. They both knew how false it sounded. Aridata’s voice was too high, too light, and the inner convictions of her nature were telling her otherwise, robbing her words of their conviction.

“Uh-huh,” Lenora replied, deadpan. “And who’s gonna believe that?”

“I…” Aridata spluttered. “I…”

“Then again,” Lenora added, making no attempt to hide her mockery. “Maybe you have a point. This look is good, but it’s not really what I was after. It’s more ‘female incubus’ than ‘succubus’, if that makes any sense.”

Aridata’s blood ran cold yet again as she realized what Lenora was hinting at. “N-no, wait!”

She wasn’t expecting Lenora to tilt her head and look thoughtfully at her. “OK. I’m waiting.”

“I…”

Aridata found herself speechless. She doubted anything she might say could dissuade Lenora, but there was too much at stake not to try. However, she wasn’t going to beg. She wasn’t. Aridata - Ardat, Ardat, she reminded herself - never begged. She tempted, she offered, she bargained, but she never begged. That just wasn’t how this was supposed to go. So… what could she offer? There was only one answer, however stomach-churning and humiliating.

The former incubus did her best to strike an alluring pose that showed off all her feminine assets. It came to her worryingly naturally, and she was effortlessly able to bend forward, back arched, chest pushed out, hips swaying, and put something approaching a suggestive half-smile on her face.

“I…” Aridata said falteringly. “I could… please you. Like this.”

She just had to hope that would be enough for her lesbian captor. Perhaps it almost was. Lenora had the look of someone flipping a mental coin. Once she made her mind, though, her eyes glinted wickedly, and Aridata knew she’d lost.

“Close,” Lenora conceded. “But I think we can do better.”

Before Aridata could argue, she once again tipped the ur-candle’s wax onto Aridata’s true name.

This time, Lenora didn’t even wait for the wax to settle and congeal before she started speaking. There was eagerness in her eyes, put there by unquestionable arousal.

“Your name,” Lenora announced, “is Aridatya.”

As she spoke she made it so, using her stylus to draw the wax across the grimoire’s page in big, thick strokes, obliterating the reality Aridatya had only just been growing accustomed to and replacing it with another.

“It is not!” Aridatya tried to insist. “My name is… is Ar… Ari… um… Arida…”

It was getting harder and harder to fight it. Her head was a swirling morass of different names, all of them so similar, all of which felt right and all of which felt wrong. But a new one had just appeared, echoing like a gong, sounding more and more right with each passing moment.

“Your name is Aridatya,” Lenora repeated. She sounded so firm, so sure, whilst Aridatya wasn’t sure about anything.

“My name is… Aridatya?” it came out like a question, and so Lenora nodded in agreement.

“Your name is Aridatya.”

Aridatya found herself nodding too. “My name is A-Aridatya.”

She just couldn’t bring herself to say anything else.

“That’s right.” Lenora’s stylus was still moving across the page, etching details in ink and wax, inscribing all the details of Aridatya’s soul.

“Aridatya…” Aridatya said it slowly, testing how the name felt on her tongue. Her name had become so long, so luxurious. That little ‘y’ made it sound even more feminine, and somehow fancy. Perhaps even exotic.

And… that was her, wasn’t it? It seemed to suit her perfectly, even though she would have struggled to say why. Did that mean she was exotic? Fancy? Feminine?

No. No, of course not. Ardat had never been those things, and that should have settled the question. But it didn’t. Ardat wasn’t real. Not anymore. There was just Aridatya.

Aridatya balled her hands into fists and scolded herself. She couldn’t let herself think that way. She was an incubus. A man, as remote as that now seemed. She had to remember that. She had to remember that none of this was right. She had to.

“It’s quite a name,” Lenora remarked, finishing her handiwork with a flourish. “Aridatya. I think Aridatya is very, very confident in her femininity. Don’t you? Aridatya sounds like a real girly girl to me. The kind of succubus who really revels in it.” Her smirk turned crooked once more. “At least, that’s how it looks in my handwriting.”

“W-what?” Aridatya was stunned as she felt changes washing over her. Nothing was more unsettling than feeling her reality alter. The changes themselves kept slipping beneath her notice; rather than experiencing the transformation directly, it was like she was always noticing the way reality had always been.

In this case, that meant noticing that her hair was longer, and that she was now wearing something different - a long, flowing nightgown, tailored to accentuate a body that was far, far more feminine than she remembered. Those were Aridatya clothes, apparently. It meant noticing that her face was slender and lips full, and her eyes adorned with smoky, sultry makeup. But more than that, it meant noticing how she felt.

It meant noticing that she liked it.

“No!” Aridatya cried out, desperate to give voice to her disgust before it fled. “That’s not right! I hate this.”

“You do?” Lenora feigned surprise, but couldn’t hide her amusement. “But you’re so pretty now.”

The heat, the warm glow of praise that Aridatya immediately felt, was dangerous. Preening was instinctive, as was posing pleasingly and shifting her weight from side to side to accentuate her hips. It took precious seconds for Aridatya to catch herself and plaster a scowl over the thin, devilish smile that had come naturally to her face.

“S-shut up,” Aridatya snarled, torn between forced resentment and reflexive pride.

“C’mon,” Lenora wheedled. “Aren’t you everything a succubus is supposed to be?”

That was a potent compliment, poisonous and sinister in how affirming it was. A succubus was supposed to be beautiful, feminine and seductive, and Aridatya felt like all of those things. So it was undeniable, wasn’t it? She was everything a succubus was supposed to be. The only thing telling her was the faint memory of deeply-buried false reality, fading by the moment.

“I’m an incubus,” Aridatya tried to insist. “Not a succubus. An incubus!”

“Aridatya,” Lenora said pityingly, “do you think anyone seeing you now, anyone at all, would believe that?”

The succubus’s cheeks turned crimson. She looked away and cast about for anything she could use as ammunition. There was precious little left, but Aridatya’s thoughts quickly turned to what was between her legs. It had always been the very pride of her manhood.

“Oh, I see.” Lenora giggled. “You’re thinking about that, are you?”

Now, Aridatya paled. Had it been that obvious?

“I was thinking of letting you keep it, you know,” Lenora remarked, lifting the ur-candle again. “But if you’re going to be difficult about it…”

Aridatya truly turned as white as a sheet as she watched one single drop of wax fall onto the page.

Compared to before, it was nothing. Lenora was careful and subtle with her stylus, too. All in all, the change she made didn’t even amount to a single letter. It was an accent at most; a simple change in pronunciation, barely audible. Aridatya was still Aridatya. But it was enough, and after several horrid moments of anticipation, the succubus felt a new reality wash over her.

And it brought with it a cunt between her legs.

Aridatya gasped and whimpered at the sudden, aching loss which drove home just how much dignity and power she’d lost. Her name, her face - those things were precious, yes, but losing a part of her body that was so symbolic and fundamental for an incubus was even more of a violation. With her hips and thighs still shifting to accommodate her new anatomy, Aridatya squeezed her legs together, hoping to feel something solid between them. Instead, she just felt a sharp, shock of pleasure race up her spine from the unfamiliar stimulation to her new, sensitive pussy.

It was humiliating, and worse, the demon couldn’t suppress a low whine of pleasure. Lenora, of course, just laughed at her plight.

“My, my,” the witch commented. “Enjoying yourself already?”

“Shut up!” Aridatya huffed. She was incandescent with shame and rage, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t hide. Couldn’t flee. Couldn’t stop what was happening to her.

“C’mon,” Lenora giggled mockingly. “Don’t you kind of like it?”

Aridatya had to look away because the truth was that, on some level, she did. Somehow, having a cunt instead of a cock just felt right. It made her feel more like herself, perversely; desirable and sexy in all the right ways for a succubus like her. Knowing that she’d been an incubus minutes ago and had a dick seconds ago didn’t help. It made her seethe with rage and burn with humiliation, yes, but it didn’t make having this body feel any less deliciously affirming.

So, instead, the contrasting emotions inside Aridatya - new and old - were forced to curdle and mix together as reality fought for a stable configuration. They became complimentary, mutually-reinforcing. Her humiliation became a pleasure all of its own, sinful and tempting, spiking her arousal even higher. Her anger, directed so singularly at Lenora, twisted and became a very different kind of craving, one that was predatory and carnal.

A succubus’s hunger.

It was a heady, dizzying cocktail of feelings to be struck with, and it made keeping Aridatya’s identity straight harder than ever. Instinct was taking over. It infested her body language, making her pose and preen and smile, directing all of her hellishly tempting appeal straight at Lenora. The witch was clearly amused and enticed in equal measure.

“Wow,” she remarked, cocking an eyebrow. “Maybe that was the magic ticket. Feeling a little more agreeable now?”

“Absolutely,” Aridatya replied, her voice a vicious purr. She was desperate. She couldn’t let this go any further. She needed Lenora to let down her guard.

“Fascinating,” Lenora breathed. For a moment, occult curiosity took over, although the color in her cheeks made it clear her interest was far more than just academic. “I suppose it is the lynchpin of the succubus/incubus distinction - in some schema, at least - so it makes sense it would have rather dramatic ripples.”

“Dramatic,” Aridatya echoed pleasingly. She bent forward, showing off her new assets. Her tits had become impressively large and pert, and it was dawning on her that she could use that. That she knew how to use that. “Hey, so how about that itch you needed scratching?”

“Yeah?” Lenora couldn’t help but stare, Aridatya noticed with pleasure. “You’re interested.”

“Oh, I just can’t wait to sink my teeth into you,” Aridatya cooed. She giggled. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

The plan, of course, was to seduce her, and then, once she released Aridatya from the magical circle, subdue her and force her to undo all the changes she’d made. At least, that was what Aridatya was telling herself. In truth, it was rationalization as much as anything else. Beneath it all was a simple, heartbeat-drum of need and desire, driving her towards Lenora’s warmth.

"Wow,” Lenora breathed. She wasn’t so quick-witted now. Aridatya could tell she was succumbing to her own desires, now that her summoned demon was in a form far, far more agreeable to her tastes. “But… sink your teeth into me? That sounds a little…”

“C’mon.” Aridatya tried to affect a high-pitched, feminine voice. It came effortlessly, and she was as dismayed at that as she was pleased with her success. “You can trust me. I just want what you made me want.”

Lenora almost went for it. Almost. But in the end, she pulled back and shook her head. “I wish. This version of you is pretty great, if I do say so myself. But… I can tell this isn’t going to be a good idea.”

“N-no.” Aridatya’s smile faltered.

“Perhaps I’ve been going about this the wrong way,” Lenora mused. “It’s not enough to make you a succubus. Not anymore. You’ll still remember what I did, at least a little, and you’ll still want revenge. I need to address that.”

“My… memories?” Aridatya was aghast. How could she fight that?

But Lenora shook her head. “No. Something deeper: your past.” She lifted the ur-candle and toyed with it in her hand, an egomaniacal smile playing across her face. “A true name is such a potent thing. It contains everything about you. Even your very history. Change that, and there’s nothing to remember.”

“Wait!” Aridatya called out, as Lenora started to tip the candle, but she already knew that wouldn’t stop her. Her next word tasted like bitter tears. “P-please!”

She didn’t beg. For all that had changed, that remained true. But this was her limit. This was the end. And so, Aridatya begged.

It didn’t matter.

This time, the way Lenora altered her true name was anything but subtle, even if it was artful. Using her stylus, she worked wax and ink all over the grimoire’s page, inscribing a fresh pattern that seemed to make the entire sigil shift into a bold new configuration.

“And,” Lenora murmured as she worked. “Why not push a few other things a little further, too?”

The sight made the succubus’s head throb, especially when Lenora looked up at her and said:

“Your name is Arideniya.”

“My name is… is Arideniya.”

This time, Aridenya didn’t bother to fight it. She just let her new reality wash over her, and accepted whatever her new self turned out to be.

It felt good, as it turned out. Arideniya couldn’t even perceive the changes as they occurred. Each one etched itself into her memory and her past, as if things had always been that way. Aridenya was left completely, blissfully ignorant of the fact that once, maybe, for a different version of herself, things had been very, very different.

Her tits had always been this huge. Her cunt had always dripped enticing wetness down her thighs when she was turned on and hungry. She’d always been a succubus, a woman, an embodiment of female sexuality, ready to feast on any mortal who came within reach. And when they were around her, they wanted to be feasted on so very, very much.

Arideniya didn’t just feel feminine. She felt powerful, and she took to her power like it was second nature. She stood tall, practically filling the room from floor to ceiling. Her horns were a crown upon her head, and her clothing was royal robes, no less revealing and suggestive for their grandeur. As the wax dried, Arideniya looked down at Lenora like a queen looking down at someone presenting themselves as tribute.

“Master,” the succubus purred, her tone anything but submissive. “Allow me to show you true pleasure.”

Lenora started to sweat from sheer temptation. Her magic circle offered scant protection against the raw, mind-bending power of Arideniya’s presence. She was overwhelming in every sense. She was any mortal’s fantasy given form, and Lenora was far from immune.

“W-what,” the witch struggled to say. She was drooling, but her mouth sounded painfully dry. “This isn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, yes, you did,” Arideniya countered. “This is exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you summoned. I’m all your handiwork, Master. It’s time to enjoy me. Time to take down this silly little circle.”

Lenora twitched abruptly, like she was struggling not to obey. Temptation was overriding her reason. Arideniya’s wicked grin widened. She had no particular animosity towards this mortal - but she needed to feed, and she liked to drink deep.

“I don’t u-understand how…” Lenora stuttered, flustered. She took a single step towards Arideniya, taking her perilously close to the magical circle’s boundary, before something seemed to click in her head. “Oh. Oh! I know what I did wrong.”

She stepped back, and hefted the objects in her hand - a leather-bound grimoire and a strange-looking candle. Arideniya’s eyes flew wide as she noticed it. The object seemed to trigger a memory from another life.

“Is that a-“ was all she managed to say before Lenora once again tipped the candle wax all over the grimoire.

This time, Lenora wasn’t artful or sparing. She poured as much wax as she could, obliterating almost all of the succubus’s true name in a single gesture. The succubus was rooted to the spot as a strange, unearthly sensation swept through her, making her mind flash white and robbing her of all sense of self and purpose. The sensation only grew stronger when Lenora started writing with her stylus in wax and ink, replacing some of what had been blotted out and altering what remained.

“It was obvious, really,” Lenora murmured as she worked. “I was too focused on what I wanted to change. Lost sight of the big picture. I was adding, each and every time. More letters, more sounds, more changes stacked on top of changes. I made a name that was impressive. Magnificent. Powerful.” She grinned. “But I think this will do the job just fine instead.”

The succubus standing before her just stared, dumbfounded, struggling to comprehend the meaning of her words.

“Your name,” Lenora told her, slowly and deliberately, “is Aria.”

“My name…” Aria echoed, “is… Aria!”

She brightened as she said it. It felt so right, and the rightness of it made her giggle a pretty, air-headed giggle. Aria licked her lips and arched her back, and reached up to jiggle her own, massive tits experimentally. Doing that made her giggle even harder.

“Maaaaster,” she drawled, pouting. “Don’t you wanna, like, fuck me?”

Lenora laughed. “No need to worry about hidden agendas now, I think,” she said. “So - time to make a contract?”

“A contract?” Aria snorted. “That stuff is soooo boring. Um… let’s see… I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll, like, make me feel good?”

“Deal,” Lenora announced. She stepped forwards and used the tip of her shoe to erase the boundary of the magical circle on the ground. As soon as it was broken, Aria bounced on her, kissing and squeezing and groping with overeager lust.

Lenora laughed, and her laughter soon turned to moans. It was time to get that itch scratched.

---

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[the-concrete-sage]

The price of friendship

Warning: this is going to be completely one sided.

For me, personally, when I feel a sense of connection with others, I can’t help but become completely invested in the friendship. So much so that it’s usually to my own detriment.

I’m not entirely certain why this is, if it’s a neurospicy thing or simply a me thing. Could it be a trauma response? Maybe. Regardless, it’s almost as if I can’t help but be completely committed. It’s ironic that something I give so freely usually ends up so costly.

From the get go, I am an open book. There is very little I won’t share about myself, be it positive or negative. I think this is me trying to reflect the thing I desire in a connection, from the people I’m connecting with. Even though I completely understand that this quite often is way to much for people, a case of too much too soon, I still can’t seem to stop myself. It’s bitter sweet. I pride myself on trying to be as authentic and genuine as humanly possible yet at the same time kick myself for being, for knowing, I’m just too much for most people.

Another thing I also do or I’m willing to become is available for the people I connect with. Again this can be seen as a detriment as well. I will always be there to create a safe space for them where they can express themselves naturally without the need of masking. The issue with this is the space I create isn’t bounded meaning I rarely set up boundaries for my own protection. This can turn into myself feeling used and unappreciated. When they text or call I will always reply or answer when possible which is most of the time. This is also something that I wish to be reciprocated but often is not which can create a sense of anxiety and the worse thing about it is that I’m completely aware of what I’m doing yet still do it every time.

I also have a tendency towards giving the people I connect with everything I have in spite of where it leaves me be it spiritually, emotionally, financially, or mentally. This quite often leaves me drained in all the aforementioned categories. It’s as if I’d rather make sure that they are looked after even if it’s at my own personal detriment. And a large part of me doesn’t care as long as I believe they’re okay.

I really need to do some self analysis to find out where this stems from. I feel like a walking contradiction because I wouldn’t want anyone I cared for to be doing the same but I want something similar, just not as self harming as I am.

I’m a hopeless romantic. My love is pretty much unconditional. Once you’re in it will take something very toxic for me to cut you off. And even then I’ll always love the person you were before the rot began to show.

There is a flip side. A dark side. I have cut off connections due to people displaying toxic traits. When this happens I won’t display anger or aggression towards you. I won’t engage at all and I won’t pull you up either because at this point I feel I’ve seen enough to realise that words won’t change you because the toxicity is at your core and I simple won’t be able to deal with you anymore.

It won’t happen overnight (probably). I will try to subtly stir you in a better direction. I will try to find out where the toxicity stems from and, again, subtly try to educate by seeing things from another perspective but I will not fight you on it. I believe we all have a right to see the world through our own unique lens but I won’t support a perspective that goes against what I believe in down at my core. I will always love you even if I’m not allowing myself to connect with you anymore. I will always care about you and, if the need is great enough, be there for you but I won’t be a constant in your life anymore.

I love in extremes even if that means I can’t be around you. While there’s no sign of corruption, no sign of toxic tendencies, I’ll give you my all which is usually a detriment to my own wellbeing (something I’m working on). And even if I can no longer be around you, I’ll always be caring for you and there for you in times of real need.

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@bishop-percival

(Previous) Miriam tilted her head forward to hear Dr. Walters’ small voice. Hearing the word “magic,” she concluded his unfinished sentence in her head and let out a heavier sigh. “Don’t know why I asked. Always the same damn thing…” She also folded her hands in her lap and focused her gaze on Dr. Walters’ face. “Let me tell you something.” The priestess took in a deep breath. "Someone joins us. Once initiated they eagerly spend countless hours consuming whatever resources on magic we have that they can get their hands on. They feel the need to hide their desire for power, or whatever else it is they’re seeking. It’s always I’m just really devoted, I love studying this stuff, I’m just a quick reader…” “They come to realize that without actually being able to use magic, there’s only a limited number of practical applications they can do with the information they learned. Namely, rituals.” Her voice grew a bit urgent as her eye contact remained intense. “However, not one of them contains a shred of patience. They don’t start off with small devotion or enchantment rituals, no, they go straight for the top. With only their book knowledge and no help from anyone else, they attempt a summoning ritual. They either destroy themselves in the process, or the malevolent deity kills them for their ignorance. Or they are successful in pleasing the demon, but slip up in their wish. And the demon bestows upon the summoner magical energy. Magical energy that their body and mind can not process.” She rolled her wrist as she continued on. “Then, if they happen to come out of it alive, they’re too scared to come to me with whatever affliction they’ve sustained. They go to medical institutions that don’t know how to treat things like, say, flesh corruption or god rabies. And then they die. Horrifically.” Miriam took a brief pause to blink and catch her breath. “It’s a pattern that has repeated so many times over the years that the cases blend into each other. But, yours is different in that you’re still alive. Congratulations.“ Careful not to crease the robe in her lap, the priestess crossed her legs. “…So what will you do now?”

Each word of Reverend Miriam’s scathing lecture was a weight on Theodore's already battered shoulders. He numbly nodded along while wincing at particularly pointed or gruesome parts.

With each wince, his grimace gradually grew, and his body grew taunt as if stretched by a tensile tester. By the end he swore that he had reached his peak strength and was nearing his fracture point. Meanwhile, his grimace had become as wide as it would be on a far more expressive person.

“I...” Teddy pushed hard on his thighs to keep himself upright. Then he cleared his throat before projecting his voice to a normal volume.

“...Certainly learned patience. Which will be applied to...” He paused to force himself to consciously breathe.

Then Doctor Walters’ expression hardened as made direct eye contact. Once he restarted his tone was as cold as ice. Just like when he delivered an oral report on the CAPT Project’s most recent failure.

“I’ll stick to mundane potential solutions for developing necessary materials. No matter how many years it takes. Even if I shrivel up and die without succeeding.”

Finally, Doctor Walters slouched as he gave up on resisting the pressure Reverend Miriam exerted. He looked off to the side as he bitterly muttered,

“In hindsight: It would never exit the prototyping phase anyways...”

There was one point that he was tempted to argue on: Having no genuine interest in alchemy. But he wisely managed to restrain himself from saying how he perceived alchemy as a branch of materials science.

Also he really was a quick reader.

[devildomwriter]

Dirty Alphabet: Simeon

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He is the king of aftercare. He’s very gentle with you. He’s cute as well, with lots of blushing and gentle pecks, making sure you’re alright and aren’t hurt anywhere. Any accidental bruises caused by his natural strength he will immediately heal. He’ll run you a nice warm shower as he cleans up the bedroom and then he’ll clean himself up or join you in the shower and help you scrub clean.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Simeon isn’t a self-conscious person but he doesn’t focus much on his physique either. If he had to choose something he likes about himself he’d say his muscular abs or whatever part of himself you praise the most.

When it comes to you he really loves to play with your chest (no matter the size) he loves playing with your nipples and gently kissing and massaging your chest. It’s not that he’s most sexually attracted to it, he just simply loves it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Simeon genuinely and strictly believes that sex is for reproduction and to avoid getting into trouble for having sex he will always release inside you and as much as he can. He feels lewd for you to take his cum into your mouth but he won’t stop you if that’s what you want.

When it comes to your cum he likes to take it in his mouth as he kisses and licks you gently.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Despite being an angel he has a small corruption kink. It’s a part of himself he tries to hide for the sake of keeping his job but when you’re squirming beneath him he gets a sly grin and wants to hear you beg him for more. He may let this slip out on occasion but usually, he keeps this side to himself.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None previously. As an angel, it’s forbidden. The fact you are partially angel and not completely human is the reason he’s been granted permission to live with you and fulfill your human “needs”

Of course, he was worried at first but it was as if he’d done it a million times before. As a mostly all-knowing angel, he knows exactly how humans do things, what makes them happiest, their complete anatomy and physiology, etc. so it definitely does not appear like he has no experience.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Missionary. Considering that biblically this is the only one allowed, it’s his favorite. He does experiment with other positions but he loves the traditional aspect of the missionary position. Of course, he’s also willing to have this flipped on him and be the one beneath you, he becomes a blushing mess when you take control like this.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simeon is somewhat serious in the moment, he wants to make sure he’s doing things satisfactorily and is big on communicating your desires and his desires as well as what he’s about to do and wants to do. Once you have more of a rhythm he’ll make small light-hearted comments and jokes as you enjoy yourselves.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Angelically well-groomed if that makes sense. Not a hair out of place, not too long, not especially curly, etc.

If you have any preferences in this matter then be sure to let him know because he won’t mind switching things up to fit your tastes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s very romantic. He’s praising you, guiding you along, leaving kisses on every inch of your body that he adores with all his being. Sex with Simeon leaves no room for any insecurity, embarrassment, or shame of any sort. No matter how sexually intense it may get there is not a moment you will forget he is doing this to express his love.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t. He considers it shameful and a pointless temptation. Before you, he never had moments where he felt the need to pleasure himself and now should he get that feeling he turns to you or waits patiently until he can get to you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

As much as he tries to hide it he is a bit of a sadist. In no way would he hurt you but he derives pleasure from you begging for him, calling him your master, he wants you to always need him. When he gets jealous it will show in the bed, he will be a tiny bit rougher than usual, and you might hear a growl or snarl as he behaves more instinctually than consciously.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Simeon prefers the bed in the privacy of your room. He finds couches and desks and almost anywhere else to be very uncomfortable. He’d rather completely spread you out and hear the bed creaking as he grinds into you. He’d much prefer to see you entangled in the sheets, trying to hide your face in a pillow, scrambling for something to hold onto as he has his way.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You do, more than anything else. When you’re being extra sweet and attentive he feels a stronger urge to get as physically close as you can.

When you’re being a badass, showing off a new powerful spell, or keeping the brothers in line he gets a little horny. He likes seeing you act powerfully knowing how easily you’ll give him control in the bed.

Every once in a while seeing that power makes him want you to use it on him and act dominantly.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Anything that’ll hurt you or expose you he will absolutely not do. He also won’t play out fantasies involving unforgivable sins like r***. It goes without saying anything involving his father or mocking him in any way is also off the table.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He much prefers to give. He doesn’t see much of a point in receiving it as he feels it would be a waste of his seed. He does however love your warmth spilling into his mouth as he massages you with his fingers and tongue.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Simeon is slow and sensual for the most part. He likes to take his time to warm you up and whisper in your ear. When it comes to actually thrusting he isn’t too fast but he doesn’t draw it out unless he’s in the mood to tease you. The only time he’d be described as fast is when he is jealous and has a harder time reigning himself in as he claims you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not a fan of quickies as he finds it difficult to find a comfortable way to do so. If you opt for the bed then he’s likely to draw it out and take his time as you’re far too tempting to be over and done with in a few minutes or less.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s okay with some risks as long as his job isn’t at risk. He’s willing to experiment with positions and maybe change locations if he finds a suitable spot where you’re sure to be comfortable. As far as risks go he won’t even leave a window cracked or the door unlocked, not out of fear of himself being caught but because he absolutely won’t risk anyone else getting to see you the way that he gets to.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He is among the warriors of the celestial realm, the archangels. However, there hasn’t been much war lately so he isn’t building up stamina like he used to and mostly works in his chair writing. Regardless, his angelic healing (stamina included), and superior physique to humans means that compared to you his stamina can be overwhelming especially if he gets really into it.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

They don’t exist in the celestial realm, he certainly wasn’t buying one in the Devildom, and he’d immediately be spotted in the human world by a brother if he tried to purchase one, not that he even wanted to.

If you have any he may use one on you just to see how it works and if it helps build you up faster for him. But for the most part, he rejects the idea of toys and prefers to do things the natural way.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He does enjoy the slight teasing. While he’s most concerned with your satisfaction, he also enjoys seeing you squirming and blushing and enjoys overstimulating you or making you wait for his hands and especially his dick. He doesn’t do this often but he does have a playful side to him that brings his teasing out on occasion.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Simeon finds it embarrassing but he’s rather loud only because he’s not used to making such sounds and how to hold them back. He also notices how much you seem to enjoy it so he doesn’t try to hide his moans completely but they are still always louder than he thinks they will be.

Aside from moans, he may emit a soft whimper or low growl every once in a while depending on exactly what it is you’re doing.

W = Wild card (A random headcanon for the character)

His wings pop out when he gets really turned on, much to his embarrassment, not to mention the irony of a horny angel.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Simeon was once the highest-ranking angel he was extremely powerful and as an archangel, a race of warrior angels, he is still in good shape physically. He has a muscular chest that remains rather smooth and somewhat muscular arms. His ass isn’t firm but not overly plump and his dick is perfect. As a near-perfect being, he was made to appear his best for humans, even in reproductive terms so his dick is considered very large in the human world. As a being who can also shapeshift into a human from his natural angel form if he is too big for you, he can use magic to adjust himself accordingly.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Ever since he was allowed to be with you, it’s been fairly regular. He doesn’t see sex as something he absolutely needs but more as a way to spend time with you and make you happy (it pleases him as well) if he ever feels an urge and it’s a good time he will approach you but if it’s in the middle of school or an inconvenient time he can suppress his desires and meditate to lower his sex drive until he can have you in his arms.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Fairly quickly. While he may appear forever youthful he is on the older side and as an author is mostly sedentary in his work life. He uses most of all of his stamina for you so when he knows he can relax he will immediately fall asleep, even more quickly if he has you to cuddle close to him.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hai <333333333

I just wanna say i love ur writing style sm and you even inspired me to start!!!

I was wondering could you maybe do scenarios where the monster trio + law finds out that their s/o was a marine before they became a pirate?

Thanks so much :)

So I debated writing this, thinking it might be a little vague. However, I had a few ideas, plus, flattery will get you everywhere with me. I'm so glad you like my writing and that you'd started writing! I bet you'll be amazing!

Warnings: violence, Law being particularly mean, hurt/comfort, GN!Reader

Word Count: 1290

     You’d left a long time ago, or at least, it felt like a long time ago. At one point, you’d truly believed in them, believed that they were good people, but the corruption that seemed to permeate every level of their ranks, the destruction and concealment of knowledge, the blind eyes to the suffering of others, it sickened you. Perhaps it was unsurprising that you’d left, that you’d told them off as you threw your ‘justice’ jacket to the ground before storming out. A ‘dishonorable discharge’, like you cared. You’d heard of kind, helpful pirates, so you’d become one, hopping from crew to crew, trying to find your place. Some of them were great, some were okay, but you never quite clicked with the crew. Meeting up with your current crew, however, was a different story. There was just something about them. Maybe it was how sweet they were as a whole, maybe it was how they helped people, or maybe it was the man that you’d fallen for, whatever it was, you didn’t want to leave like you had in the past. Dating him only strengthened that feeling, only made you want to stay more. The closer you got to him, however, the more you feared him finding out about your past. You knew it was possible that he just wouldn’t care, that he’d shrug it off like he did with a lot of things, but you feared the worst, you feared him hating you for it, that for whatever reason, he’d see you differently, that he’d leave you. When you’d come face to face with your Vice Admiral commander, you’d frozen, this man knew you well, this man had been in charge of you, had trained you. Was the ringing in your ears from a bell or machine? Or was it from the words out of his mouth? The ones about your position as he laughed, mocking you.

Luffy

     He barely registered what the man had said and, quite frankly, didn’t care. All he saw was you freezing up, was your terrified expression and tears streaming down your cheeks at the man’s words. Suddenly, the vice admiral was on the floor, holding his nose as Luffy’s arm retracted, his face filled with anger. Nobody hurt the love of his life like that and got away with it! It didn’t take long for Luffy to defeat the group of marines, hurrying over to you as you sat on the deck of the Sunny on your knees. The young man quickly began wiping away your tears, smiling at you, his usual sunny smile.

     “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t pay attention to what he said.” Luffy said, drawing your attention, how was he okay with this?

     “Luffy, I… how are you okay with this?” you asked, more tears taking the place of the ones Luffy wiped away. Luffy just cocked his head to the side in confusion.

     “What the guy said? Who cares what he said. You’re you, so that’s all that matters. He made you cry so I beat him up.” Luffy said, pulling you into a hug. In truth, he still didn’t really register what the man had said, only that he’d probably insulted you, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if it was true, didn’t care what may or may not have happened to you, all he cared about was you.

Zoro

     Was he shocked? Not particularly, but then, few things truly shocked the green haired man. Besides, it explained a few things that he’d noticed about you. Your strict training regiment, your early wake up and sleep schedule, and your desire to keep your clothes in ‘proper form’. He wasn’t particularly bothered by it either, he’d been a pirate hunter before becoming a pirate, so he didn’t see it as being that different, you’d both actively put pirates away, what did he care about how? What he was bothered by, was the marine mocking you, your body trembling as you stood there. You could take care of yourself most of the time and he didn’t worry about you getting a few scrapes, but this wasn’t some physical scrape that could be healed, this man was messing with your head. The crew barely even saw him move, standing near you one second and then standing behind the vice admiral the next. He could only hope that the man would have a permanent scar, a reminder to never mess with you or the crew again, a reminder of what he’d done and the strength that Zoro had. Walking back over to you, he kneeled down in front of your sobbing form, curled into yourself on the ground. 

     “Marine, pirate, civilian, it doesn’t change who you are. I still love you.” he said softly, picking you up and heading inside, letting the others take care of things while he comforted you.

Sanji

     The blond was furious. How dare somebody hurt you! He barely let you come to harm in a regular fight, this? This was personal. They’d hurt you and now they’d feel his full wrath. He honestly didn’t care about the holes he kicked into their ship, nor did he care about the fire that began to spread, the lower ranking marines scrambling to put the flames out as he faced off with the marine who’d hurt you. Sanji was a sweet, caring, loving man, a chef who enjoyed the looks on people’s faces as they enjoyed his food, and your gentle lover. Even towards his enemies, he was never vicious or cruel, so much so that the crew wondered if this was even Sanji as he devastated not only the vice admiral, but the crew, and their ship, a dark look in his eyes. Almost as soon as the last man fell, Sanji was rushing towards you, worry filling his eyes as he picked you up and headed inside. You needed comfort, hugs, your favorite snack, maybe a relaxing bath. Whatever would make you feel better, he’d gladly do for you. So you were an ex-marine, that didn’t change his feelings about you.

Law

     Stunned. That was the only word to describe his initial feelings towards the information. He’d had an… interesting past with marines. First Flavence, then Cora-san, he really wasn’t sure how to feel about the marines. Even still, seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks, watching you stumble back in fear, he couldn’t let the vice admiral get away with this. Taking the ship of marines out was child’s play as he activated his room, while he wouldn’t destroy their ship just yet, he’d leave the marines to attempt to figure out how to put themselves back together as he turned them into a pile of limbs, torsos and heads. Almost like a doll shop of body parts, ready to be assembled. The vice admiral stood there, looking at the chaotic mess that was his crew before turning back towards Law, fear filling his eyes. Law had purposefully saved him for last, slowly walking towards the man. Had he been a little mean in the past? Yes, had he been outright cruel? Once or twice. But what he did to the vice admiral was dark even for him. Organs scattered about the deck, body chopped into pieces and hidden across the ship, left only with a pair of eyes sitting upon a barrel as Law walked back to the Polar Tang. He needed to have a talk with you. The vice admiral said ‘former marine’, meaning that you’d quit, so for better or worse, you were no longer a part of the scum that he’d just disassembled, but he was kinda mad that you’d hidden it from him. He thought you trusted him more than that.

[troius]

The Kids in the Room

The Fullbringer Arc is tighter and more coherent than anything in the manga so far, telling a very straightforward story about a young person’s alienation from the world he lives in. It has very specific things to say about the role of parents, mentors, and friends in the process of a kid becoming an adult and does a pretty decent job of looking at how different organizations (the state, gangs) can play into that young person’s life. And then, at the climax of the story, it very intentionally takes all that hard work, and for what I must assume were business reasons, tosses it all away.

The Arrancar Arc was a glorious, grandiose mess. It featured no fewer than three separate worlds, four distinct factions, and probably around twenty characters with active character arcs. Although it started off with the truly breathtaking ambition of weaving all of this together, by the end Kubo had cut a considerable amount of the subplots in favor of actually getting to the end of the story he was telling. And it still mostly worked! Ichigo’s character arc, at least, ended where I think it was always going to: sacrificing his nigh-unlimited power after understanding the price of that power.

But of course, giving up all of your powers isn’t really a long-term solution for Ichigo, just like it isn’t for any of us in life. Ruling over three worlds might tend to corrupt a person, but we all want—and need—to feel like we have some power over our own lives. Ichigo, in his final year of high school, living on the precipice of adulthood, feels this in more than one way. He had this power. He sacrificed it. And yet now, he’d do anything to get it back. Anything except ask for help.

You see, asking for help is hard, but especially in the context of “seeking power”, which in this story is an even less veiled metaphor for “growing up” than it usually is in shonen manga. Asking for help means admitting both weakness (you don’t have the power to get what you want right now) and discontentment (there is something you want that you don’t have). For Ichigo, whose primary method of coping with his mother’s death was asserting a premature independence, this would be difficult even if the thing he was seeking wasn’t something he had very publicly given up in front of his friends and family. Yes, there are times when he doesn’t want to involve them to protect them, but a big part of his self-imposed isolation is his own ego, his unwillingness to reveal to people who love him just how miserable he is, out of fear that it will reveal him to be somebody they won’t love anymore.

And that’s where the Fullbringers come in. Ginjo puts in a tremendous amount of work into getting close to Ichigo—lying to him, giving him little bits of information piecemeal without telling him the whole thing, and of course, offering him power that Ichigo desperately wants. But none of it would be possible if Ichigo didn’t have this preexisting desire to do it all himself, or at least to appear to his friends and family like he’s doing it himself. Ginjo does what nobody else in Ichigo’s life does—offers him assistance without making him ask for it. Hook, line, sinker.

The body of the arc covers this masterclass in manipulation from Ginjo, and it’s a huge change from what has, up until this point, been a very standard shonen battle manga in terms of content, where the fights happen on a more or less weekly basis. Here, it takes over half the arc for Ichigo to fight anybody! It’s all character development, even for the side characters like Orihime and Chad, who don’t get fights of their own but do get to express themselves and show initiative in ways they were largely denied in the previous arc. It’s all a long, slow burn to the climax, where Tsukishima suddenly strips away the support system that Ichigo had so undervalued, leaving him defenseless against Ginjo’s theft of his power.

And that’s my big frustration with the climax. It’s not that I like the Karakura kids more than I like the Soul Reapers, although I very well might. It’s that so much work has been put into drawing out and developing these relationships, so much effort put into showing how this is affecting all of them. And it’s not just metatextual effort either—yes, we spend a lot of pagetime with Chad and Orihime and Uryu, but Xcution also targets them all because of their importance to Ichigo! The very story itself recognizes that they’re the support system that Ichigo needs to be an emotionally healthy adult! Any logical resolution must therefore involve them!

But it doesn’t. Instead, it’s the Soul Reapers, who have not been physically or even narratively present at all for four volumes, who come in and repower Ichigo. They’re the ones who pair up for the fights against Xcution, fights that are very light on the sort of character work that is so characteristic of Bleach fights because there just isn’t the grounding for it! Even the fights that show character are mostly showing development that seemingly occurred off-panel, leaving you wondering when exactly Toshiro and Ikkaku achieved their newfound maturity. But the supporting characters from the bulk of the arc are written out, and even the personal feelings of Shigekuni Genryusai Yamamoto wind up being more important to the narrative.

This isn’t just unsatisfactory on the level of the supporting characters, it also fatally undercuts Ichigo’s own development. We expect the story to end with him overcoming the challenge set in front of him, which at the beginning is clearly his alienation from the people he loves. But he doesn’t really do that—instead, the Soul Reapers showing up is what solves his problems, which suggests that the actual problem in his life is just “they weren’t around”. I don’t think that’s actually what we’re meant to take away here, and the narrative doesn’t seem to think so either, which is why we end with the character development being passed on to Soul Society instead. They learn something in this arc, which is to trust Ichigo. But he doesn’t seem to have learned a damn thing.

And that’s what frustrates me so much about this arc: the lost potential, the fact that there was a very obvious story being told that was abruptly discarded, right at the moment it mattered most. There was probably no way Kubo could have fulfilled all the potential of the Arrancar Arc: there were just to many characters, too many storylines. But here, he condensed his writing, narrowed his scope, and still told a compelling story up until he suddenly threw it all away. Whatever the reason for it-- and I have no insight into the editing or business pressures that might have motivated a climax so different from that the story was obviously building to-- it’s disappointing.

[drxwsyni]

show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you. 

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons. 

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black. 

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

[magicsunwheel]

Why You're F#cking Amazing

Pick-a-Card

How to play: pick one of the photos below using your intuition. You can close your eyes and meditate for a bit or just take a few grounding breaths while thinking of the topic. Feeling drawn to more than one is fine! You might have messages in more than one pile

Pile 1 (x) Pile 2 (x) Pile 3 (x)

My pile numbers always go from left to right, then down to the text row (if applicable)

Pile 1

Cards: The High Priestess, Five of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, The Moon Rx, Five of Rods, Ace of Pentacles

You are so intuitive! You're either very in touch with your divine feminine or are working your way there right now. Something about you is severe in the most beautiful way. You can take things seriously when they need to and the way you command a room with just your presence is unmatched. Maybe you're also a tarot reader or involved in spirituality/divination in some way. Maybe you really like Pick-a-Cards.

Something beautiful about you is that you never give up on a fight, especially when you know the end is worth it. Your ambition is strong and you will fight for what you love and what you want. You are not weak-willed by any means.

This also makes you so unique! You work so hard and put so much labor into your love even if you know it will take a long time to come to fruition. The times that you feel discouraged by a lack of results are few and far between. If for some reason you do find yourself wistfully hoping for faster results or an easier path, you can easily remind yourself of why you started in the first place.

You might have moments where you think of yourself as sneaky or like you're hiding a part of yourself from others, like your true self would be too much for them. I'm here to tell you that your intensity is exactly what make you such a beautiful person! You thrive in competition and in adversity. It gives you a chance to show off your quick thinking and survival skills. Others look at you with envy of how you can make an opportunity out of seemingly nothing!

If you need help improving your self-love, Spirit says to stop comparing yourself to others! You are amazing and beautiful and unique all on your own! Throwing yourself into the fray to compete against others who are nothing like you will only fim your inner shine. And you really do shine! When I asked for a card about why you are beautiful, nearly half the damn deck flew out!

Sprit loves you and I love you so please take care of yourself and keep making those amazing opportunities to improve your physical surroundings. (I feel like you have a very clean room/home)

Pile 2

Cards: Nine of Rods, the World, King of Cups, Three of Rods, Ace of Rods, Two of Cups

Ahh the Loona pile!

Similar to Pile 1, but much more fiery! You are resilient! Taking time to collect yourself before pushing forward with a renewed sense of energy and purpose is such an amazing and useful trait. You maybe aren't as commanding of a presence but you have such an inner strength that no one can deny.

You got the World for the reason why you're beautiful! Maybe it's related to physically being very beautiful and possibly exotic-looking. You might have very specific features associated with a certain area of the world that stand out where you live. You also have such a wonderful understanding of the world and where it's currently at. Things can seem negative or like hope is lost but you still seek out the beauty and share it with others. You see opportunity where others do not and feel a sense of peace and connectedness with all of humanity. Wow!

Your uniqueness shines in your emotionality and compassion. You might be a natural born leader who makes sure to understand all under your rule. You lead with kindness and, most importantly, by example. You don't have any desire to use you position for ill-gotten gains. Power to you does not corrupt, it solely provides a tool for you to do good in the world and really make a difference in the lives of others, whether it's on a large or small scale. You are probably the kind of person who makes sure to give money to those who need it when you pass a begging mother and her children, or buying a homeless man a bottle of water on a hot day.

Your card for why you think you are not perfect actually came out quite positive. Maybe you don't have a very low self esteem, but I can see a few possible scenarios here. You might be constantly planning in your head, waiting and watching for the next move to take but never actually getting to the action part. Maybe you're planning for your future and have so much planned out that you're excited for, but haven't made the practical plans on how to actually get there. This could make you feel bad about yourself especially on days where you're reminded of others moving ahead in their lives while you're still planning. Visualisation is very important in manifesting your desired reality! If you are moving slower than others around you, remember that it is okay to not be where "everyone else" is. Life is not a race or a competition. Taking your time to get to where you need to be when you need to be there reminds me of the story of the tortoise and the hare. Quick does not necessarily mean better.

You can improve your self-love by creating! Using your creativity and passion to make something! Create art, whether it's physical/digital art, music, writing, inventing, anything that uses those creative muscles of yours. It doesn't have to be good! Just creating something will help burn up that excess energy you have that's trying to rush you somewhere. Self-expression this way can be a wonderful hobby even if you don't consider yourself as a creative person.

Your kindness really shines through. You care so deeply about the people around you and your spiritual team cares just as deeply about you. You are loved and watched over and protected by Spirit. Others around you also see your sparkle and appreciate and admire you, even if they don't show it. Know you are beautiful and amazing and bringing a light into this world that needs to be here.

Pile 3

Cards: Six of Rods, the Hierophant, Four of Rods, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords, the Hermit Rx

Damn, who are y'all!? You've got some mighty power and pull in this world. Maybe you're a public figure or have some kind of platform, like a social media with many followers. You could also be well-recognized within your field of study/work. Whoever you are, people see you and look up to you. They celebrate you and how amazing you are! Spirit loves this about you and you really shine in the spotlight. Your achievements deserve all this pomp and celebration!

You are naturally authoritative. People listen when you speak and take your words to heart. You might also be a religious person or someone who enjoys organization and the comfort of hierarchy. People will willingly follow you wherever you lead them because they trust you with all their hearts. "A merciful ruler" (lol) You hold your position with grace and dignity befitting a king or queen.

You are unique in ways the public recognizes, but we knew that already! You might be someone who likes to entertain and you throw the greatest parties and get-togethers. Maybe you've planned a wedding and everyone had such an amazing time! You know how to relax and have fun when the time for celebrating arrives. You can out down your guard and bit and let loose. Not many people with such responsibility can let go of the reigns like that, but you don't seem to hold on to control too tightly.

Your past might be a source of anxiety for you. Maybe you're worried that what you've done when you were younger will catch up to you and ruin what you've got going on now, but it's important to remember that the past is the past. It cannot be undone or wished away. Taking time to accept what happened and recognizing that you've moved on to bigger and better things is important here. Whatever happened, take time to heal your childhood wounds and forgive past actions.

Ending this cycle will bring much more self-love to your life. Old habits and patterns being out to rest is the way forward. It might be a painful ending and something you don't necessarily look forward to, but it is something that needs to happen to clear out old energy and welcome in everything new. You can't expect to move on if you're still repeating old actions or ways of thinking. It's time to set these things to rest and evolve. Leave behind what no longer serves you.

Your understanding of yourself knows no bounds. You've taken the time to inquisit yourself and learn all of the shadows that lie there. Self-reflection might be a favored pastime for you. Through this knowledge of yourself you are able to see truths that many struggle to see all their lives. Your light can cut through the fog if bullshit and see the true source of something. Use this knowledge of yourself to become the best version of yourself that you can be! I know you're already on your way there and it's amazing to see! Spirit is so proud of you and loves you so much!