#But neither of those things are generating content from nothing

[technecat-scratchings]

Adding onto this. They're really pushing for educators in every field to use genAI to do the "tedious" tasks of the profession like writing lesson plans or formulating questions based on content. And I am always dumbstruck at this, because that's...the most interesting part of the job, to me. I don't particularly like classroom management or grading, but I love lesson planning.

I love writing out detailed plans and instructions. And it really helps me when I am able to piece together each part of a lesson and then break it down into teeny tiny pieces for students. I am learning how to teach what I am planning to teach by, well, planning it. And doing it. I have never given my students a project that I haven't completed on my own first.

So, no, I don't want to ask an algorithm to come up with a project plan for me, I want to create it myself so that I understand every aspect of it down to the tiniest details. And no, I don't find that tedious in the least. I find it extremely fulfilling and, dare I say, fun?

And as an addendum: I do not want a genAI to do any of the parts of my job that I do find tedious either. I don't want something else to do any part of my job for me; I like my job.

As gen-AI becomes more normalized (Chappell Roan encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use gen-AI because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by tech companies. I draw not because I want a drawing but because I love the process of drawing. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

[edenspoem]

carpenter!ellie 😩😩

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒. ♱

content: ignoring the fact that this request is a tad old, let me indulge in you some headcanons for her! smut, mdni, reader has a child, dork!ellie content, loser!ellie content, general storyline outline, fingering(r!receiving), oral(r!recerving), dom!ellie, rough-handling, mama petname, hint of breeding kink, fluff intertwined. this took a hot minute, sorry for the wait. (2.4k wc)

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆:

She was a shiny object of secular occupation. Glinted skin, tinted lips, pools of sweat in plaid, and hair like mahogany. It was eye-catching the first time. Stepping through the wide workshop door, the screeches of saws drowned everything out: the thoughts, the plans, the mental image of those kitchen cabinets you wanted done, but she drew everything back in.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the one that pulled you aside to chat about your renovation project. It took a rustic couple of days of contracting and working out blueprints before she was introduced first and foremost. Woodcraft of Wyoming makes customer-supplier relationships their top priority—and Joel made sure to put in nothing but good words.

“Hey.” She had specks of sawdust dusted across her cheeks, and a voice fit for an angel. Even held out her hand to you. “New girl on Goldpine?” Fallen straight to your knees, you were. Gorgeous girls in labor-intense jobs are the fucking sweethearts, and sweet-looking. Your opening thought was to chuckle—for no reason; there was a nervous weight on your chest. “Yeah..” It was airy and soft in the pit of your throat. “That would be me.”

And neither one of you knew how to continue threading the seam after; secluding hands in pockets, avoiding eye contact. Back then, you were simple strangers, so you had no clue that she was a virgin to regular conversations—with girls like you, at least. She communed with older folk, more often. Girls within her dating range are so damn confusing!

Not to mention, the unmentionables: Are you single? Are you gay too? Do you even like girls like her, big heart and small tits? Round eyes and long tears? Forest eyes, or ocean ones? Greyhounds, or tabbies? Do you hate coffee? Do you like video games? If you could bring one thing to a stranded, desolate island in the sea, what would it be—and why? Have you ever skipped town? Would you, if shit went south? This shit is the standard procedure for a girl heartbroken twice-over!

But you—you are the least confusing, and most wanting.

God, and she smells only of wood.

Woodlands, and processed bodies of wood. Something you expect from a girl of her plaid-wearing, converse-pairing type.

Oh, and has about every off-hand item linked to a sage carabiner in her belt loops. Rejects the idea of a purse or a backpack; pockets and loops are the way to go, apparently.

When she discarded her gloves in front of you for the first time, it was a pleasant discovery. They covered her tattoos: graceful, rebellious little things you are sure procured a lecture from her dad, Joel, who owns the place.

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄:

So, it came. Day utero, a week later: the day she had to go against the odds in her gut. So, let's say you're the cute girl on the block she wants to buy you a drink in the potential, rather near future? Forget it. You barely know each other and she was there on the clock, not to flirt with the client in her own damn house! She was the one responsible for getting your renovation project off the ground—well, deeper in it. That comes first. She had to accommodate every little need you spoke into the autumn air, every little direction.

Her heart did swing, however. She was in your world, and your voice was there too. She escaped into it, and ended up hours further in eveningtide with multiple cuts on her fingertips from lacking focus; your beauty the edge of a sharp saw. There would be a “Fuck!” or an even stronger “Motherfucker!” from her that pierced through the halls.

Again, and again, and again. The first-aid kit sees her face more than anyone else.

Soft memories of you seeped under the band-aids. Memories you think nobody will remember.

It was tedious work. It wore her and everyone involved thin, so that is exactly where you popped in. Pretty outfits and impossibly prettier artisinal platters in your hands, turning heads over the sounds of sawdust. Sunlight seemed to rain in even harder once you sauntered inside.

On her breaks, a camera would be taken out for recreation. Beyond the surrounding green belt of silence stands the backwoods; a cacophonic mural of birdsongs. Birdwatching opportunites. From the sink window, you could spot her. Each chirp that sounded, she took a polaroid camera to a perfect line of sight and snapped a photo, crinkling up her flecked nostrils. Then, you knew she understood the unspoken language of the woods.

She also never engaged much during them, reading the lips of everyone in the room—lingering on one pair the most. Yeah, yours. All the carpenters aiding you had at least something to start a conversation about: whether it be the area, who lives with you, what job you work. Humdrum things that come without thought or genuine intrigue.

But she watched. When it wasn't birds, it was you. She never meant to lurk on the sides. Sure as hell, she longed to say something—anything, but in the same chorus, not just anything.

She wanted to be the special one out of the bunch.

So, she studied you. Studied herself, next to your existence. Turns out you have more in common—and more chemistry, than a glorified hour of rubbing elbows and licking lips in a bar would provoke or reveal. Thank goodness she chose the route less traveled by.

“You go to museums quite often?” she spoke as she slid up the counter edge, sacrum leaning on the ridge. Convinced your ears were crafting speech from quiet air, you did not notice her. Whatever words she etched into the walls of her throat, practiced in the mirror a ritualistic amount of times, came out too soft. She repeated herself with a nudge, and a satin ribbon on the ends of her last words. Something you notice. “With 'ur son?” It lightened your eyes. “Oh, yeah.” It also lightened the numbed spots in your brain; she is a breath of fresh air. You wore unworn smiles for her. “He loves dinosaurs with his whole damn heart. Well, as he would say—with his whole butt, or whichever weird denominator he uses.” You get her to such an egregious level of delusion, she begins to consider marriage. With anybody, to be clear! Totally isn't limiting her options to you only. She coughs up a laugh. “Tch—he's just got an imaginative word bank. Don't knock'em, mama.” Defending the honor of your capricious son—whose humor is made up entirely of fart jokes—but she slipped in that sly nickname. You assumed she meant no lust, and no love by dropping it, an anxious pause breathing between it, but it sent a shiver right down your spine, and settled in the small of your back. Fucking romanticist.

You already thought she was perfect then.

But somehow, there was a whole lot more packaged perfection sat alone, and unwanted, inside this strange girl with doe eyes. If there was a mountain of boxes to carry in, she wouldn't even let your hands grace the edge of one.

She has an innate sensualism to her. When she did work, and when you did an admissable nothing, she enveloped the eye of your mind. Those little, lustful pit stains drooping from her shirt everytime she lifted her arms, were attractive. The swipes from the backs of her hands across her forehead, or even the covert decisions to unclothe her skin of those sweat-dried graphic shirts and fashioning them into facecloths and raveling back inside them before anyone could glimpse, made you lustful; sweating from the sight. Sunlight was upon her like a heliograph, yet you were the true bitch in heat.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓:

You only ever got together in the late autumn wrap-up of your project. Every prosaic interaction boiled to a point, and for both reaching, yearning hearts, it became too hot to handle. One had bent under the pressure and paltered for courage you couldn't even pry from stone: Ellie, baby-blue plaid and ripped-jeaned on your doorstep—with a bouquet.

Getting you to come to her place was the be-all and end-all to this relationship, and you are fucking glad it is. Learning more about the girl who already ticked all the boxes on being the perfect hitch to your perfect trailer, is exhilarating. Turns out, the endless commodities of nature fit into the palms of her callused hands, are weld into more than only houses. While a handful of you—including some co-workers who freeload on an average—had your fills of old, Texan-style dishes, Joel brought up punctual beats about his daughter, which she cringed at. Wrinkled faces passed around the room.

“C'mon, Ellie. Why don't you run up there and grab yer' guitar you made? Entertain your guest with a song?” Ellie sneered, silverware in her pinch clattering. “Uh—first off Joel, she's not a guest. She's my—” Though complaining, she could barely writhe her words out. The craven, cringing look on her face suggested this was her first time hosting a special guest ever. The words ghost the press of her lips, and only make it out in quiet mumbles. “Date. She is.. my date.”

All the sentient sound in the room died after. Sure made it easier for Ellie to decide that a family gathering was not her style, regardless if you knew everyone, essentially. She was none the wiser, and wiped her plate clean in record time just to gallop her autumn valentine up to her room with sweet and silken things alike crawling in her mind.

Her whispers are lithe on skin. “Think you're like the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me.” She had you kneeling into her love; sat in-between her barely-crossed legs, on the bed, close in a huddle and breathing into your neck. Telling you soft devotionals as if you're a bird born in shrouds that she gets to hold; her fingers trying to tangle with yours so that you may never leave. Capturing the memory like she captures a photograph. You spoke even softer. “Yeah?” The confirmation making her smile stupid in your neck. She replaces her teeth with a single, pulse-point kiss, smushing her nose. Everything is a no-brainer now that she has you to herself, for herself.

Of all trees in the forest: you are her one to carve. Ellie—the buried lover, the Ellie she kept swallowing inside, has crawled out at loathing last. This one is all-loving, eating the empty spaces that cling to your body: under the warming ears, in the pearl-shaped dip of your throat, each word that comes out. She creates little shavings of your body with the blades of her tongue, and is humming at the taste. Cleaning you, wetting your untouched skin, creating excuses for your clothes to come off.

Soon, her body is sweating upon yours; two lovers melting into each other. She drags you roughly into her mouth, arousing the bud of your nipple to stand to her lips. It hits her tongue, again and again, and is left with a wet shine. God, that fucking sight alone makes you cross your legs, and hope she does something about the uncomfortable nectar dripping down there.

She palms you about it.

“Fuck.”

In the most heavenless regions is where she shines. Literally, and figuratively. Shoving her face into the drenched secret of your spread thighs gets her soaked more than you predicted, or pictured. So when she opens her legs and pushes against you, it presses a premature moan out.

But it would not be alone. When her fingers snag and puncture in your hips, and her cunt—thick with an auburn bush—is smushing against yours, litanies of sounds spill out.

“Goddamn babe,” she huffs into a grunt, pouring all the attention solely on you. Her pussy is just lathering yours—pornographic, visual filth and more; the sounds are all you hear. “This is just what you needed, huh?” She hunches over your handled sillhouette, panting and wiping the thin hairs stuck to her lips. Her rosy face is afflcited by warmth, and shine, stare sleepy and soft. “Fuck—you look so pretty right now.” She said that, and it sounded like a revelation. With her lips curling, teeth showing, hips stilling and fingers trailing on you like you are a treasure, above and below the sea. You end up sharing the toothy smile with her. Then, her breath cuddles in closer. “Don't wanna hurt you,” She kisses your sensitive neck with a promise, unfolding the love letters in her heart. Quietly devouring your neck with wet mouthings and hot words that vibrate into your pounding one. She sucks in a sibilant breath before she continues. “But it's fucking hard not to go insane when you're so fuckin—” She stifles, and her lips pinch your skin; her intentions to mark you so obvious. She could finish you with this alone. “Mhh, so pretty babe.” How she handles you makes you feel pretty.

Customer relationships being the priority makes your pleasure her priority—in a determined tussle. When she manhandled you into some debased position; face down, ass up, you never expected her subsequent decision to put herself at a low level, too. She sits behind you, and the hand once so delicate in practice upon your face is pushing your thigh to make room for herself.

You could say she was the one being debased on her own accord. Her tongue took long, starving strokes of you, licking your pussy from behind. It drips off her tongue, down her chin, gets inside her nostrils. She whispers how much she loves it after doing it, chanting it.

Spanking is also a no-brainer. Something about the impulse gets her going. She whacks her palm across and immediately sinks her fingers in until it soothes, laughing like a fucked-out, pussydrunk maniac when your muscles shiver—her favorite part.

Will finger you if it means showing off those spire tattoos; she knows how bad you keel for them.

“God, she's just swallowin' em up.” The heads of her fingers push in, ease in and ease out. She slides out, and paints your entrance with the arousal coating her intricate digits in circles, intending to be as unapologetic as possible with it, and the sounds. She proudly chuckles when you whine. “Yeah, hear that?” “Mhm.” She made you infatuated with them, if anything.

She would give you another child, and compose all the needed furniture from scratch—if she could.

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 14

TITLE: Some things are better left unknown

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x Felix x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: a threesome with Chanlix where you’re yet to discover a very sobering truth about the pair of them.

TAGS: explicit language, threesome, oral sex (f!reader receiving), porn with plot, use of the name 'baby girl' and 'angel', swearing, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex but protected anal sex, double penetration, big dick!Chan agenda, praise, slight body worship if you squint, kissing/making out.

A/N: Aussie line fucks hard, bye. (If there are mistakes, I will fix them. Currently running on v low sleep)

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @luneskies @queenmea604 @kibs-and-bits @kbitties @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung

-

Milk, nori, rice, raw tuna, coffee, yoghurt, bread, and eggs. 

This was all Chan sent you to the supermarket for. All of which could have been easily picked up from the convenience store down the road. Maybe minus the raw tuna which has to be high grade since Chan wanted to make an attempt at onigiri for the first time. However, you would’ve saved an entire trip to the busy supermarket.

Not to mention, grocery shopping sucks in general. At least that is when you’re on your own. In your apartment that you share with your good friends Chan and Felix, two people are responsible for the shopping per week which rotates each time. 

If you’re with Felix, sometimes you both tend to muck around. Not to mention forgetting almost a quarter of things on the shopping list which ends in a stern lecture from Chan. On that matter, if you’re with Chan, it’s an in-and-out task at the store in less than ten minutes. 

Efficient and practically timeless.

Even though it’s no trivial matter, you manage to get through the pointless shopping before heading home to the apartment. These could’ve been picked up at the convenience store, you think to yourself again. A sigh leaves your lips as you unlock the door, bumping it open further with your hip as you slide your shoes off. 

“I’m back. Remind me to buy an umbrella next time-”

Your body freezes on the spot. The bag of items falls from your possession, collapsing onto the floor. Something inside it broke but it’s nowhere near enough a distraction for what is in front of your eyes. 

Maybe you need your vision checked because if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then you wouldn’t have just seen Chan and a topless Felix who are both making out. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed, still lip-locked until they caught onto your presence.  

For the few seconds you stood there, rooted to the ground, felt the absolute longest.

Neither of them was as internally panicked as you when they noticed you standing there. Nor did they have hundreds of questions zapping around their brains in the span of a few seconds. It was like your entire vocabulary had turned to dust and were blown away because there were no words to describe what the hell was happening. 

Maybe it was a dream. 

“T-That was quick,” Chan stammers with an awkward chuckle, breaking away from Felix, almost pretending like nothing just happened. 

Felix looked like a complete mess. Dark brown hair mangled - clearly from Chan either running his fingers through it or tugging it - the air gets stuck in your throat with those two theories in mind, painting very interesting visuals and an odd sensation in your stomach. 

Chan looked equally dishevelled. There’s a dark red splotch peeking above his collarbone that you had no trouble guessing how it got there. On top of that, his pants were already half undone, and his lips were bitten red and wet, and they both looked so…so…

“What…the fuck…” you manage to speak once your mind has cleared the only one per cent of its capacity to grasp the circumstances.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Felix quickly says as he stands up from Chan’s lap and walks over to you.

It was useless for him to try to take advantage of your shell-shocked state because once your surprise had completely thawed out, your words started coming back to you. 

“Oh my god, what am I even doing?” You ask, clamping your hands over your eyes, ready to head right back out of the apartment. “I’m heading out.”

“Wait!” Chan calls out, arm outstretched towards your direction. “You don’t…you don’t have to go. If you want, you can maybe join us. If…if you like.”

Join them? Blindsided by those words, there was no trouble for the difficulty you had in trying to figure out if you heard right or just imagined what Chan said. Why would he ask you that question? But more importantly, why were they hooking up in the first place? It was evident that there had been something going on between Felix and Chan - unless this was just a new one-time thing. 

However, even if it wasn’t, you had been left out of the secret. Nonetheless, you quickly came to your senses. Whether they hook up or not is none of your business. 

“J-Join you?” You stammer. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chan emphasises. “It’d be rude to not let you in on the fun.” 

You definitely weren’t hearing things, and this wasn’t a dream. 

At first, you can’t understand why you’re even considering their request, but there is one piece of information that sprung to mind and that’s your sex life. It hasn’t been entirely sex-filled as you’d like it to be, not to mention your slight lack of experience with threesomes wasn’t vast - but it also wasn’t limited either, especially after that encounter you once had with two of their friends Changbin and Hyunjin on a separate occasion. Although, they didn’t need to know that at all. 

That being said, this takes the cake. You can’t even comprehend what Chan or Felix are like in bed but, the opportunity seemed too ridiculously hot to pass up. 

“You...you want me to-“

“Like Channie said, if you want,” Lix assures you, interrupting your babbling. 

You aren’t somewhat surprised that Felix would ever want a threesome. He’s had sexual partners here and there in the past, multiple ones at a time. However, Chan never struck you as the type to have sex with more than one person. Even after a year of living with him and getting to know him, he’s still pretty private and exclusive. 

With the matter at hand and the more you think about the prospect in front of you, you aren’t opposed to the idea. So with your brain taking full control of your body, you hesitantly step over the discarded groceries lying on the ground. This is happening. Felix picks up on the right cue and extends his hand out to you as you take it gently. 

He guides you over to the edge of the bed where Chan is still sitting, but as you’re led over, he rises to his feet. There were a few seconds where you’re a little bit bewildered by what’s going on, but when you look into Chan’s dark eyes and as he takes your free hand, you become more centred.

Before you know it, he leans down to kiss you and kisses you good. You’ve never felt anything like it and as Felix releases your hand and sneaks behind your body, your mind starts turning into jelly. He gently swipes your hair to the other side of your shoulder while his other hand freely roams around your waist, underneath your shirt to feel the heat of your skin. His mouth places chaste kisses from your shoulder up to your neck. 

It feels so heavenly to be sandwiched between them; Felix kissing, biting softly over your skin while Chan continues to explore your mouth. It was impossible to think that just a few minutes ago, you were at the grocery store and now a complete world shift just seems to be occurring within that time frame. 

Chan breaks away from you for a second, kissing you tenderly one last time before sitting back down on the bed and moving up to the headboard. God this is really happening. You’re too deep in it now to not follow him like a lost, yet obedient puppy. You can see that he’s hard and want to touch him so badly but-

“Sit between me and face towards Felix,” he instructs before you can even reach for him. 

Your cheeks burn. While you have no idea what’s entirely in store, your body is getting excited and very obviously, so is Felix. He crawls over to you once you’re snug in between Chan’s legs before he tugs your shirt up from the hem and tosses it aside. Then, he finds your lips and kisses you until you have to silently beg and chase him for it.

Squirming in place, you feel hot and subjugated by Chan sitting behind you - snaking and trailing his hands around your now half-bare body, and Felix in front of him, who’s now gone on to give his supposed man some attention too.

He’s up on his knees with his body so close to you that you can feel the heat from him. Chan tilts his head up from resting on your shoulder and lets Felix take what he wants. The slick wet sounds of them both kissing along with the tiny moans you can feel in your ear, makes you shiver all over. You’re only still comprehending this all, that this is still actually happening. 

“So needy,” Chan says as he breaks away from him, inches away from his face when Felix hears and feels you unbuckling his belt. He straightens back up and consumes how flustered you are, observing the way you blink up at him pleadingly, displaying how badly you want it now. 

Felix smirks, gently grabbing your face with one hand and lowering down just enough to kiss you senseless again. But he cannot stray away from his other plans so frees himself from your lips to help slide your pants off down and discards them to the side. 

Immediately, you can see where this is going. 

“Aw, look how bad you want it,” Felix comments, swiping his thumb over the damp spot of your underwear with enough pressure for you to muffle a whine by biting down on your lip. You do want it bad and already seem to be losing a fight to the pleasure Felix is barely giving you. 

“Don’t tease her too much,” Chan cautions. 

Felix doesn’t seem to hear the warning for him as he helps you shimmy your underwear down. From there, Chan takes over. He hooks both of his legs over yours and separates them to not just expose you for Felix but to hold you down for what’s about to unfold. 

Heat accelerates through your cheeks as you feel embarrassed. At this point, your brain hasn’t caught up with the fact that you never show this much skin, let alone any skin in front of either of them. But that was going to be an afterthought for you when Felix distracts your mind by gently prying your legs open from your bent knees.

Pathetic whimpers slip past your lips as Felix lies down on his stomach, his face inches away from your pussy while he pets and glides his two fingers in between your folds. 

Your head shoots back onto Chan’s shoulder, very narrowly missing his face, “f-fuck…oh my god.”

Without warning, you feel the tip of Felix’s tongue lap a few times over your clit. If it weren’t for Chan acting as a human restraint to hold you down, there would’ve been a solid chance of you lurching forward. His arms are still wrapped around your abdomen, preventing you from moving forward so that you can take what Felix is giving you. 

It’s cruel, but Chan thinks it’s necessary for you to feel everything. Which you do when your hands grip each of Chan’s thighs, nearly squashing him backwards between you and the wall. 

“How does it feel?” he asks you. 

“F-Felix, mmm-” you breathe out his name, unable to answer properly and feel some vibrations from Chan’s chest to suggest that he was chuckling. Mainly at the fact that you weren’t able to directly answer his question. 

But it’s not long until the room quickly fills with your whimpers and moans mingled with the beautiful wet sounds as Felix keeps eating out your pussy. Tingly sensations spread like wildfire throughout every cell in your body from his mouth. It’s gradually becoming impracticable to keep up with his tongue. Not that you’ve ever imagined it before, but he does give good oral, good enough to put your breathing pace out of whack when he sucks on your clit. 

He’s not afraid of enjoying himself either. You can hear and feel his moans reverberate throughout your lower half. It even adds to the sensation of bliss that’s forming a knot in the pit of your stomach. So even though you don’t know, this is as good for Felix as it is for you. To him, it’s like going to heaven. 

What you also didn’t seem to know was when Chan unclasped your bra from behind your back and placed it to the side. His hands went from just holding you to now groping and playing with your tits as your body continued to melt into Felix’s mouth. 

“You’re loud aren’t you?” Chan whispers in your ear, rolling both of your nipples in between his thumbs and fingers to make you mewl and squirm. The different methods of pleasure send interesting messages to your brain that only make that crest of ecstasy build higher. 

You can only mewl until coherent words appear in his brain and out through his mouth, “s-sorry.”

Felix’s head game is so ridiculously mind-blowing that it makes you forget what language you speak.

Chan chuckles, purring into your ear, “don’t be sorry. You just can’t help it can you?” 

His hand circles up to your jaw, tilting it towards his face. He confirms in his mind how much of a mess you are. Cheeks stained pink with a fucked up expression that reads ‘I need more’, to which Chan reaches down and kisses you, sloppy and lazy. 

The velvety feel of your mouth when you open up more is slick with warmth. It’s starting to become more obvious how close you are when you start moaning repeatedly into Chan’s mouth. 

“I’m going to fuck you after this,” he breaks away, just inches from his lips again. 

You never would’ve guessed that Chan was even capable of forming such a dirty sentence. Then again, you never would’ve guessed that you would ever be in the position that you’re in now - having a threesome with your two housemates. 

“I’m…you’re gonna make me cum,” you sob, turning your head towards Chan on his shoulder, almost as if you were trying to escape the expansion of euphoria. He couldn’t help but kiss your forehead, waiting for you to brace for that wave. 

“Yeah?” Chan rouses. “Want to cum for us baby girl?”

You nod, too helpless to form an answer when you’re on the cusp of a forceful orgasm. He underestimated the strength he needed to hold you down, especially when you’re about to cum. So just when he needed to add more force, your body stiffens. Your legs so desperately crave to clamp around Felix’s head to help triage the pleasure, but it’s no use when Chan has you completely locked in. 

Your eyelids flutter, head pressing back further into Chan’s shoulder, “yes! I’m cumming!” 

With ragged, heavy breathing, the all-consuming pleasure takes you by the throat as the pleasure surges without control. Even though you’re being held down, it doesn’t stop your body from quivering. It lasts for what feels like an entire minute – one of the best orgasms you think you’ve ever experienced. 

Felix’s tongue slows down to a snail's pace, licking a few final stripes before kissing his way up your body, from your clit, abdomen, and then up to the base of your throat. His chin glistens as he adorns a smug smile. 

“Fuck…” you sigh out defeatedly, the aftermath of experiencing a volume of pleasure was starting to take its toll. “Oh my god.”

Chan kisses the side of your head, “sound so beautiful when you cum. Lix, switch with me so I can fuck her, yeah?”

“Wait-“ you pause, trying to reorient yourself as you hold onto Chan’s forearm for support. “I wanna ride you.” 

Felix looks down at you, “you sure angel? Channie isn’t exactly small.” 

From that statement alone, it was obvious to you that Felix was speaking from experience, a strong indication that they had in fact mucked around at least once in the past if not multiple times. But it didn’t matter if Chan or Felix for that matter was packing twelve inches, you needed to have something inside you to tame that need of feeling full. 

“I want to ride you-“ you nod to Chan – “but I want you to fuck me at the same time-“ you indicate towards Felix.

Neither of them expected you to be into that. Then again, they didn’t necessarily expect you to join them in bed either so anything was a surprise to them at this point. Chan and Felix can’t deny how insanely hot it is to hear you not only ask for them to do something but specifically ask you to do that. 

“Are you sure baby?” Chan has to ask you for assurance. 

“I can…I can take both of you.”  

Still stunned at your answer, Felix ushers to Chan, “you heard her.” 

He cannot lie and say that he’s not excited, because he is – they both are. So while Felix goes into the bedside table for a condom and lube, you move yourself off of Chan, turn around and start unbuckling his belt and helping him take his jeans off, almost like you’re in a rush. The imprint of his hard dick is enough to make your mouth water, and as Felix said, Chan definitely isn’t small. 

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, reorienting himself on the bed so that his head is on the pillow.  

Felix returns with the items he needs to help prep you, taking it as a sign to straddle over Chan’s legs and slowly tug his black boxers down. His cock springs onto his abdomen, the dark pink tip reaching just under his belly button. He had to be at least eight inches. Maybe just under, just.

“Ready angel?” Felix asks, kneeling behind you as you straddle Chan. The position would allow you to not only ride Chan but to take Felix from behind too, a dream so delicious that you can’t help but wonder how it was still all possible. 

“Yes,” you mutter. 

“Okay then,” he replies. 

Chan then holds the base of his cock steady for you, watching you slowly take those eight inches. The tip of his dick gently slots into your pussy, taking your time with sinking down. The warm heat engulfs his length, already sending shockwaves throughout his lower half. 

“That’s it, baby,” Chan says encouragingly, his fingertips delicately massaging over the skin of your things. “Good girl.”

You bite down on your bottom lip at the extraordinary stretch. In the meantime, Felix squirts a dollop of the lube onto his fingers to warm it up a bit before applying it to your hole.

He thumbs over it, sending shivers up your spine. It’s vital to him to make sure that you’re prepped well for him to fuck your ass. So he starts small by slowly inserting the tip of his finger, before gradually using slow yet long strokes, enough to make your head loll back. 

Felix has to express in awe when he sees the result of your efforts to fully envelope Chan’s length, “look at that. You took all of him, angel.” 

You know very well that you have because you can feel him in places that other men in your past haven’t reached. The stretch still sings a bit but it could easily be confused with the gorgeous satisfaction of Chan filling you right out. 

“So…big,” you strain out, scratching your nails down Chan’s abdomen, almost like a cat, just not as painful. 

Meanwhile, as Felix has slowly been stretching your hole out with his fingers, he uses his teeth and his free hand to peel the foil back of the condom packet. He had already freed himself from his jeans when he went to reach for the lube beside the bed so was hard and ready to roll the condom down his cock.   

“M’ready Lix,” you say to him, unable to see the smile you brought to his face from how eager you are. 

“I know baby, just one second,” he replies before aligning his cock with your hole. 

Very carefully and slowly, he starts pushing his tip in. Your eyes flutter shut, steadying your breathing in the process in preparation to take all of him as well. Chan rubs up and down your arm, distracting you from the temporary sting. With the lube doing its job, Felix can continue to push in at a leisurely pace right until he has the majority of his cock wrapped up by you. 

“Doing so well Y/N,” Chan says reassuringly. “Just stay like this for a bit until you’re ready to move yeah?” 

You nod, allowing your body and muscles to relax and ease into the pleasure that’s starting to fade out the burn. It’s difficult to comprehend a fuller feeling than this; to have two cocks stuffed in you to the hilt, and after a few moments of getting used to it, you slowly start to move. 

“Mmm, yes fuck,” you sigh with satisfaction, using your hands on Chan’s abdomen to steady your body as you being to move your hips. “You both…feel so fucking good inside me.”

Your words were difficult for Felix to not listen to who was trying to ward off from thrusting for a little bit until you were comfortable with him starting to fuck you. It wasn’t until your movements became a bit quicker that he began to catch up to your pace. Very quickly did the room turn into a space brimming with moans, wet sounds, and the sound of skin slapping. It was plenty to add to the intense sensation you were hurtling towards.  

Chan’s eyes are fixated on watching your pussy swallow his cock with every long stroke you take on him, “oh my god.”

With his tank top still on, Chan lifts it by the hem and holds onto it with his teeth. It wasn’t just to make sure that your hands weren’t going to be slipping on him as you use his abdomen to support yourself when you rock down, but it was also to restrict a whole bunch of moans that were about to rip through his chest. But even that couldn’t put a lid on the groans and growls rumbling from him. 

“Taking us both so well angel,” Felix says exasperatedly in your ear. 

His deep yet velvety voice has you leaning back slightly so that half of your back is pressed against his chest. With the help of you turning your head towards his face, Felix’s mouth crashes onto yours, almost tasting the remnants of yourself from before. He kisses you passionately, moaning into your mouth like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. 

“Fucking perfect,” he growls, diverging from your mouth to dive into your neck to suck a few hickies in and groping your tits from behind. “Can’t get enough of you dammit.” 

You sob out as he pinches your nipples, but also when Chan reaches down to your pussy, finds your clit and begins to rub in perfect motions, “god – fuck, I can’t…s’too much!” 

Their cocks hit spots so phenomenally that each time they stroke over them, your holes involuntarily clench around them. Not to mention the total stimulation they were feeding you. 

Felix’s hips haven’t faltered since they started pumping forward into your ass. The upward curvature of his cock seemed to be scratching the part of your brain that is responsible for making your eyes roll back. Chan’s dick on the other hand had you shaking. The length and girth were sickeningly satisfying. 

“Not gonna last,” you whine, still keeping up the same pace when you rock down on Chan and feel Felix continue to thrust in and out. “So close…” 

The hem of Chan’s shirt is long gone from his mouth, already given up on trying to suppress whatever was going to come out, “gonna cum for us again, huh? Such a good girl, taking us both at the same time.” 

Chan couldn’t lie either, but he was close a long time ago, probably the second you decided that you wanted to ride him. Felix happened to be on the same page. He couldn’t get over this entire situation, finding it so fucking hot that even just a dream of it would be a blessing. 

Words start to slip away from your brain once more. Aside from your orgasm swimming towards an astronomical high, you try to cling to that amazing feeling before it eventually disappears. But all good things come to an end. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs while Felix has one arm barred just under your chest as the other hand doesn’t let up on your nipple. It throws your pace off balance and staggers your breathing when you start reaching that very pinnacle of euphoria. 

“Yes! Fuck, I’m cumming!” You scream out. 

Your thighs clamp around the frame of Chan’s lower half, shaking and shivering in place as the pleasure reaches its apex. Felix didn’t let up on his pace, fucking you all through your orgasm as Chan replaces your motions by fucking upwards and into you. Both of your holes spasm and contract around their dicks, enough to actually make them cum by the time you’ve reached the height of your orgasm. 

“I’m gonna cum, holy fuck, s’too good,” Felix’s head rests on your back, watching his cock disappear in and out of you before he starts to bust inside of the condom. His fingernails brutally dig into your hips when he cums. 

Your moans easily fill up the room once more now that you have no choice but to succumb to the euphoria when your orgasm hits its hardest. Chan’s head tips back further into the pillow, eyes screwed tight shut as he’s hit with a tsunami of pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaims loudly, his chest heaving up and down as he spills inside of you. He’s lucky that he did because as the pleasure reached a point where it was too much for you to bear, you slowly lean forward towards Chan, their cocks sliding out of you in the process. 

On each exhale your body shudders, like the surges of aftershocks while the pleasure slowly plateaus. From this angle, Felix can still see you contracting, watching Chan’s cum leak from your pussy. If he wasn’t so fucked out, he would’ve had the energy to eat you out again. 

In saying that, he is the first to recover and come to his senses a bit faster than either you or Chan. He takes the condom off, ties it, and discards it in the rubbish bin in the corner of the room before putting his boxers back on. Meanwhile, you’re still panting trying to catch your breath, resting on top of Chan’s body, you feel his hand run soothingly up and down your spine. 

“Such a good girl for us,” he says caringly. “Felt so good.”

Felix sits beside you both at the top of the bed. He cards a gentle hand through your hair, observing your distant expression, “you there baby?” 

You blink up at him and nod, your brain still trying to process that sort of orgasm. 

“When you’re ready, we’ll get you cleaned up yeah?” He smiles softly down at you. 

As the minutes ticked by, Felix lent you a helping hand to stand up when you were ready. Even though you were wobbly on your feet, he still guided you to the bathroom and ran a nice hot shower. Both Felix and Chan joined you in a bid to make sure you knew that they were there, dousing you with as much praise as an individual could get – and they meant every word. 

When you were ready to hop out, Chan fetched you one of his warm jerseys and placed it straight over your body before telling you to hop in his bed while he went to gather up the towels and clothes from the bathroom. Just as he was picking up the last items, Felix caught him right as he was about to walk out. 

“She okay?” Chan asks him. 

Felix nods reassuringly, “out like a light.”

“Alright then,” he sighs contently. “She’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, staring at a space just to the side of Chan who picks up on the subtle behaviour. 

“Is there something wrong?” Chan asks as a slight concern balloons in his chest. 

“When are you going to tell her?” Felix asks. 

Chan stares at him, trying to figure out what he means, “tell her what?” 

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, “that you like her, idiot. That we like her.” 

That had been a distant thought for Chan for some time. The possibility of that ever working out between the three of you seemed like a long shot. You only all slept together. There was no depth to it other than that even though deep down, Chan would’ve liked it to be for the sole purpose that he likes you. But it’s not just him.

It’s also the one standing at the doorframe, staring right back at Chan; Felix. 

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Hey TB! Sorry if you've posted this elsewhere (I wouldn't be surprised if you mentioned it somewhere, but heck if I could find it.); are you planning to do an analysis video on Season 2 Act 3 of Arcane? Or would it be genuinely too frustrating?

Long time LoL fan, game writer, and former animation student myself (long story lol) who recently started watching your content for the FANTASTIC Heartsteel music vid breakdown (I'd be unfathomably hyped for you to ramble about the discord calls, bloopers and other Heartsteel extras btw), and just got done with the Season 2 Acts 1 and 2 vids, and WHOA boy. Talk about a lot to unpack, what with the way Act 3 leaves (and fumbles, in many ways) things. Still, I was looking forward to hearing you dissect it, and put words to some of the more baffling choices it made (+ conversation about how/why season 2 seemed to be done with so much less care towards the story compared to the unexpectedly amazing experience of season 1).

I know you've said you generally finish any given video series once its started/its mostly a matter of having the time, but given how... exhausting Riot and the LoL universe can be (don't we all know it =/), I certainly wouldn't blame you for just writing that vid off to save yourself the frustration.

I have a lot of rather complicated feelings about the end of Arcane, and how Riot has handled the characters of the story, and some very bitter feelings about what Riot is willing to let Arcane mean.

There's a lot of bad feelings and exhaustion mixed in with it brought about by my decade-and-a-half toxic situationship with Riot Games Inc., whose continuous squandering of their employees' amazing efforts are a particularly pestilent wound in my heart. I also must cop to some sore-loser foolishness, in that I projected expectations onto the show that it was neither able nor willing to deliver on.

I did not want to release any videos immediately following Arcane's conclusion, because I thought the negative emotions would take over and color my review and reaction far too much - more than what I would be able to actually stand by in the long term. And once you release something on YouTube, people will hold it against you for fucking ever, which is exhausting and not worth it for a hot take you're going to cool down from anyway.

Craig Ferguson has a bit in one of his comedy specials where he goes "before you say anything, ask yourself three questions:

Does this need to be said?

Does this need to be said by me?

Does this need to be said by me now?

and if the answer to all three of those questions isn't "yes" then don't fucking say it."

I've found that this is... if not universally true, then true often enough that it's good to keep in mind, and while I think there are things that need to be said about Arcane, and they might need to be said by me... they don't need to be said by me now.

I want my own feelings to have settled, and I want to re-watch the show at least a couple of times, and I want the feelings of the Arcane fandom to settle down, before I gather my thoughts and say whatever I think needs to be said.

It might, eventually, turn out that I feel that nothing needs to be said at all. We'll see.

[jesterwriting]

reacting to you getting kidnapped and being grievously injured. both recovery and death routes

pairing: trafalgar law x reader, crocodile x reader, doflamingo x reader (separate)

contents: kidnapping, blood, death, grief, general angst, and a little but of toxicity from doffy because let's be real here.

word count: 1.9k words

The stench of iron clouded your senses. Despite the heat, you shook uncontrollably, barely able to curl in on yourself. Numbness spread from your chest outward until the pain you had once been so intimately acquainted with felt like nothing more than a distant memory. You could barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears. There were voices above you, but they were far too muffled for you to make out anything aside from sharp, jeering laughter. A kick to your ribs made pain bloom from your abdomen before it tapered off into nothingness. It was supposed to hurt. Why weren’t you hurting anymore?

It had been a long time since you had been so afraid. She was an old friend, one you hadn’t been visited by ever since you met your partner. You were a weak little thing, especially in comparison to them. It had never been more obvious than now, left more of a pile of meat and bone rather than a person on the rickety floor of the old shack you’d been dragged into.

All it took was a distraction. Today was your birthday, and you were so focused on thinking about your special day, that you were taken by surprise. A sob rattled from your chest as your terror faded away, slipping from your grasp, just as your blood spilled from the wound on your belly. As if to catch the fleeing emotion, you clenched your fist tight enough for your fingertips to bury themselves into the meat of your palm. All you felt was a dull pressure.

I think I’m dying.

Whether you wanted to or not didn’t matter anymore. Another weak sob shook your body. Looking down, you acknowledged that you could reach out and touch your insides. All it would take was an exploratory hand and an insatiable curiosity, neither of which you thought you were capable of at the moment. It wasn’t until you looked up did you realize one of your eyes was swollen shut. Or missing, you thought tiredly. It wasn’t like it would matter anymore. There was no surviving this.

Acceptance did not come easy. You wanted to fight, you wanted to scream, beg, cry, anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. As one last act of defiance, you flexed your toes in your boots. Even that minute task felt monumental, like you were at the last stretch of a marathon.

“I don’… Wanna-” You didn’t want to die.

There was someone waiting for you. Someone strong, someone who protected you, who loved you. Someone whose notoriety got you in this position in the first place. If you were a lesser person, you would blame them for what happened to you.

Where were they when you needed them most? You did nothing to deserve this. It wasn’t fair. You inhaled a sharp breath as tears poured down your face, mixing with your blood to create a pinkish puddle on the floor. The fact of the matter was: it wasn’t their fault, and as easy as it was to blame yourself, you knew it wasn’t yours either. Those who were at fault were above you, drinking and laughing over your battered body like they weren’t soon to follow. Your lips twitched upward at the thought. At least you would be avenged. It was a small mercy, but one you indulged greedily.

You didn’t hear the door open, nor did you see who entered, but judging by the horrified faces of your assailants, you could wager a guess. Your body moved as if on autopilot, unbroken arm sliding across the floor towards your lover, smearing gore across the wood as you reached for them. It was a shame that this was it. You only hoped they would move on without you.

If only you got to say goodbye. If only you were able to tell them not to hide from your bones, but build something new with them. As if they could bury your spine in the ground and you would sprout anew, whole and intact again.

As your vision faded to black, you caught your lover's expression. It was…

Trafalgar Law

Fear. It was only there for a second before blue light filled the enclosed space and the men who surrounded you were diced into tiny little pieces. Law would not allow his emotions get the better of him, not when you were in critical condition. Your heart was still beating. That meant he had time, he wasn’t too late. Steady hands — but, oh, how they shook when he was done with you — stitched you back together, piece by agonizing piece. Even when he was done, Law wouldn’t rest. He would spend his days watching you, counting your breaths with the rise and fall of your chest.

Recovery would be slow, made even slower by his insistence to treat you as if you were made of glass. He would be more irritable than usual, especially if you went against his orders as your doctor. If he had to strap you down to keep you from moving and reopening your wounds, so be it. As long as you were alive by the end of it to scold him for it, he didn’t care. Law could not fathom how close he was to losing you, and it will take a while to process. He might come off as wishy-washy, some nights holding you as tight as your injuries would allow, breathing in your scent as if it was the last time he would see you. Other’s, Law would throw himself into his work, so as not to allow himself to think, avoiding you when he wasn’t treating you.

If Law lost you, he would close himself off entirely. Whatever walls you had managed to tear down would return stronger than ever. He wouldn’t allow himself to mourn properly, rather, he would throw himself back into his plans full force. Barely eating, barely sleeping, barely living. The crew can tell he’s not handling your loss well, though whoever attempts to bring it up is subjected to a brutal verbal lashing from their captain. It isn’t until night comes and Law finds himself in a cold, empty bed would he allow himself to cry.

Sir Crocodile

Disbelief. Whatever Crocodile expected, it was not this. While he certainly did not expect you to single handedly beat your attackers into submission, he certainly didn’t expect to find anyone stupid enough to so brutally harm someone that belonged to him. Crocodile did not trust easily. Many said that he did not trust at all. The fact that the one person that he allowed in was inches from death was enough to make his stomach churn. He would waste no time with the fools who attacked you, dispatching them swiftly before he contacted the best doctors at his disposal to treat you. As much as he would love to whisk you away into his arms, Crocodile knew moving you while you were so injured was not a good idea. Instead, he would crouch next to you and keep you awake until the doctors arrived. As if you would break, he would hold your smaller hand in his, gently brushing your blood-smeared hair from your forehead with his hook.

Recovery would be spent in the lap of luxury, showered with not only gifts, but more of your lover’s attention than ever before. That wasn’t to say Crocodile usually neglected you, it was the fact that he was a very busy man. Normally, he would be in meeting after meeting. Now, with you laid upon silk sheets and covered in bandages, Crocodile was by your side twenty-four/seven. He would spend his days relaxed in a plush chair by your side, either reading the newspaper or filling out paperwork. The doctors who treat you would never be alone with you, always under Crocodile’s threatening stare, as if daring them to slip up in some way.

If Crocodile lost you, he would be numb. He would attempt to go back to his life before you. While he knew it wouldn’t be easy, he didn’t realize how your ghost would haunt him. Your pillow still carried the scent of your shampoo, the sweets you kept hidden in his desk would crop up from time to time, and the indent on the cushion of your favorite chair would not fade no matter how many times he flipped the cushion. On busy days, Crocodile found himself looking for you in his office, always ready with a silly quip or observation he would huff at, only to be met with hollow disappointment when he found nobody there. He goes full scorched earth, ridding himself of all your possessions, attempting to cut you from his life entirely. Even then, he still dreams of you.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Rage. You were his. The threat of his wrath should be enough to guarantee your safety. But it didn’t, and here you were, barely breathing at the feet of scum that were worth less than the mud on his shoes. Doflamingo kills them swiftly — it was a shame he couldn’t take his time punishing them, you, however, took precedence — before he finds himself by your side. He prods you, as gentle as he is capable of, with the tip of his shoe. When you squirm, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A good partner was hard to come across, and while Doflamingo was not picky with his flings, he did prefer someone with a little more substance to rule beside him. You would be hard to replace. Doflamingo calls for the best doctors in Dressrosa to attend to you. While he waits, he allows you to dirty his pink jacket with your blood, draping it on top of you so he doesn't have to look at your battered form for longer than he has to. While he would never admit it, not to himself and never aloud, seeing you so broken left a pit in his stomach.

Recovery would be tedious. Without you around to terrorize tease, Doflamingo finds himself bored with his daily comings and goings. More often than not, he’s beside your bed, frowning down at your sleeping form, waiting to get your reaction to some ridiculous, teasing notion he had in store. He hates seeing you so unresponsive. Doflamingo is used to your laughter, your stuttered words, your shy expressions, not whatever this is. It isn’t until now that he realizes just how attached to you he has gotten. For the hundredth time since Doflamingo found you, he regrets not torturing the scum who hurt you more. Once you awake, you will be confined to the palace until further notice. You will only be safe if you are within his grasp, and he knows now more than ever, that he will never let you go.

If Doflamingo loses you, he will be furious. The doctors who were supposed to save you are unceremoniously killed in his rage. And so is anyone unlucky enough to cross his path for the next few days. It isn’t long before Doflamingo is looking for your replacement. The palace is empty without your presence, and there is a you-shaped hole he intends to fill before he can think too hard as to why he misses you so much. No one is good enough for him. No matter how many applicants he gets, no matter how many new playthings color his life, none of them will ever be you. Doflamingo finds himself discarding people from his life quicker than usual, especially if they did something you would never do.

[sinnabarmoth]

Double the Love (1/4)

Pairing: Xavier & Lumiere x Fem|Reader

Prompt: It had been decided long before you were born that you would marry the next king of Philos and be his queen. Only problem is that the next king turned out to be twins, Xavier and Lumiere. Instead of promising you to one you were married to both. Now you face the monumental and physically exhausting task of creating heirs. With double the husbands that means double the loving.

Content Warnings: Adult language. P in V. Cunnilingus. Breeding kink. Desk sex.

Word Count: 3300

Chapters: (2) (3) (4)

Read on AO3

It was agreed long ago that you would be queen. Deals made among nobility and the well-to-do decades before you were ever born. The day your family had a daughter she would be wed to the next king of Philos. After many long years of generations only having boys your parents gave birth to you. From the moment you were born you were no longer their daughter but the future queen of Philos.

Around the same time the next king of Philos was born…actually, two were born.

The two princes of Philos, Xavier and Lumiere. No one is sure who was born first. A ribbon had been tied around the ankle of the first out of the womb to be made the crown prince but then one neglectful servant had removed it before any way to differentiate the brothers had been made.

The royals feared some holy retribution if they were to put the wrong son on the throne so a compromise was made. Both princes would have an equal say in ruling the kingdom, neither would be above the other or hold more power. Decisions about the kingdom had to be made in full agreement with one another. It had worked, the brothers got along well and as the new kings they rarely disagreed on anything.

The only problem though was what to do with you. If your parents had another daughter then there would be no problem but alas, you were the only one. It became a hot topic of debate over who should you marry.

Some said you should marry Lumiere because he was the more compassionate one and would make a good husband to you. Others said it should be Xavier because he was the better fighter and he was more likely to sire strong heirs. Nevermind they were twins so genetics didn’t really mean much in the grand scheme of things.

For a while the option had been put into your hands. You were to be courted by the brothers and choose which one you wanted to marry. The only problem with that was that you had grown up with these boys. Had been around them since infancy and loved them both dearly. You had always known you were meant to be the wife of one of them but how were you meant to choose? You didn’t want to upset one by choosing the other. As well, you didn’t want to choose. You loved and desired them both.

Finally, a decision was made. You were technically wife to neither, rather a concubine. You would be made queen and officially married to whichever brother got you pregnant first and that child would be the first in line for the throne. You worried for a moment that officially marrying one of them meant you’d have to stop seeing the other but they had assured you early on that if you so desired they’d both still be your husbands and succession for the throne would go from oldest to youngest without any preference to official husband or unofficial husband.

As such your relations with either brother were kept recorded so to best assert who was the father when you finally fell pregnant. To make sure they knew for certain you were basically only allowed to fuck one of them each month, at least vaginally. You were still allowed to do other stuff so long as it didn’t result in the wrong brother coming inside you.

So far the results of your labors had proven unfruitful. Which was amazing to you considering how much those two ran you ragged. It felt like you hardly got a day to yourself because at any moment one of them would show up to fuck you until you were nothing but a pile of useless sweaty limbs.

Which led you to today. You had been informed by the palace doctor that you were in your courses where you were going to being ovulating. Which meant you were your most fertile. This month it was Lumiere’s turn to try and get you pregnant which you knew was going to make Xavier jealous which meant you were getting no rest from either of them.

You were hiding in the gardens, trying to get some rest before the brothers realized what time of the month it was and locked you away for the week. Your friend Jeremiah worked nearby tending to the garden and you followed him around, helping to plant new flowers and pull weeds.

“The princess shouldn’t be doing manual labor you know.” Jeremiah said as you knelt in the grass next to him.

“Tell that to my husbands. I think out of everyone in this castle I end up doing the most manual labor out of anyone.” you sighed.

“Too much information.” Jeremiah muttered.

You hit him with a gardening glove. “Don’t be such a prude. You’ve known us about as long as we’ve known each other, this really shouldn’t shock you.”

“No. Nothing shocks me much anymore. I just wish you could convince your lovers to keep your “manual labor” inside. I’d really rather not walk in on you going at it with one of them in the gardens again.”

Your face heated, remembering that unfortunate little encounter in the gazebo. “That was Xavier’s fault. I tried telling him we couldn’t do it outside but he was being insistent and it’s hard to say no when he looks at me with those pouty little kitten eyes.”

“Blame him all you want, I’m still never going to recover from it.” Jeremiah shivered, “That is more of either of you than I ever wanted to see.”

“Well, you may want to take a vacation this week then.”

“Oh right, it’s planting time again, isn’t it?”

“Gross! Don’t call it that!” you threw a handful of dirt at him. “But yes, it is that time again, which is why I am hiding out here.”

“You know being outside isn’t going to stop them.”

“I know. But being in front of a witness will.” you scooted closer to him. “You’re basically a human shield at this point, sorry.”

“Again, witnesses won’t stop them either.” Jeremiah rolled his eyes, shrugging you off.

“I can’t help that Xavier’s such a little exhibitionist! At least Lumiere keeps things behind closed doors.”

“You say that like you aren’t also an exhibitionist.” Jeremiah gave you a dubious look. “You could be insistent but you like it too. You can’t put this all on him when you are also part of the problem.”

Your face was roiling hot now. “I’m leaving!”

“You leave then you’re going to get fucked.” Jeremiah warned. “Are you prepared for that?”

You stared at the castle and sighed. “I have to get it out of the way sometime.” You turned back to Jeremiah. “Wish me luck in there.”

He gave you a little salute. “You are Philos’s strongest soldier, princess.”

“Thanks.” You rolled your eyes and walked back into the castle. Now the question was did you wait for one of them to come to you or did you seek them out? Waiting would give you more time to relax but seeking them out would get it done with quicker. And it would be on your terms rather than theirs. Yes, you were going to find one of them first.

You knew their schedules pretty well. They were fairly in sync with one another but there were times throughout the day that they did their own things. And at this time you knew that Lumiere would be alone in his study while Xavier was training with the knights. Probably for the best since it was Lumiere’s turn this month.

You walked in and found him where you expected, hunched over his desk with a pile of paperwork scattered around him. “Working hard?” you asked.

He looked up and smiled. “And in need of a break.” he said, standing to greet you. “What brings you by?”

“I thought I would come and visit with you.” you gave him a quick kiss and deposited yourself on the corner of his desk. “Since you’re so busy I’m guessing word hasn’t gotten to you yet today, has it?”

“I assume you are talking about how it is that time of the month again.” he said, toying with your hand in his. “You are at your most fertile and that means it is the best time to get you pregnant.”

“Yes it is.” you nodded. “And rather than be surprised later I decided to take matters into my own hands and find you now.”

“It is my month after all.” he beamed.

You shrugged. “So…what are we going to do?”

“The rest of my day is fairly busy, but I am free now.” he caressed your leg through your dress, “And like I said, I am in desperate need of a break.”

“I see. So the question is do you want to do it here or go back to the bedroom?” you asked.

Lumiere looked down at the desk flooded with papers and a grin that matched the impish one you often saw on Xavier brightened his face. With a single sweeping motion he knocked everything on the desk onto the floor and slid you to the center.

“You know that’s going to take forever to reorganize.” you said through a laugh as Lumiere caged you against the desk.

“This is more important.” he cupped your face and kissed you gently. “Can I take this dress off you?”

“As long as you show it a little more respect than you did those papers.” you chuckled.

“Of course, my starlight.” he carefully undid the laces on your dress and slipped it off your body. He draped it over one of the chairs and went back to staring at you, naked and perched on his desk.

“Most beautiful woman in the world,” he kissed you again. “Maybe this time we’ll finally make a baby.”

“Hopefully.” you sighed into the kiss, urging the jacket off of him. He complied, tossing the jacket aside and helping you in undoing the buttons of his shirt. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close so you could feel his bare chest against yours.

His hands caressed your body slowly, savoring. Goosebumps erupted along your skin that made you shiver with anticipation.

“So beautiful.” he got down on one knee and spread your legs apart. He pressed fervent and reverent kisses along your thigh. You could feel his breath ghosting so close to your sex and a whine built up in your throat hoping he would touch you already.

“Patience, starlight.” he said, resting his cheek against your thigh.

You scoffed. “I’m married to the two most impatiently horny men I’ve ever met in my life and you have the gall to tell me to be patient?”

He smirked. “Yes. You know I’ll take good care of you, sit back and enjoy it.”

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Hard to when I’m dying for you to--ah!” he cut you off mid-sentence by licking a stripe up your cunt. You looked back down at him and could see the mischievous pride in his eyes as he watched your shocked reaction.

“Cheeky.” you muttered, threading a hand through his hair as he began eating you out. He was paying close attention to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue and sucking on it while his hand pushed a finger into your cunt.

“You always taste so sweet.” he murmured. “I wish I could do this all day instead of working. Just have you come apart on my tongue again and again and again.”

He pushed another finger inside, stretching you out more. “I hardly get anything done between the two of you locking me away for hours every other day. If I really became little more than a concubine the kingdom would fall into disrepair.”

“But isn’t this so much better than meetings and trade agreements?” he kept his eyes locked with yours as he played with your clit.

“Yes. Much better.” you moaned, your cunt gripping his fingers.

“I want you to come just like this.” he muttered between licks, “Come on my face and all over my desk. Please starlight, I need to feel you come.”

“Oh gods! Lumiere!” you tightened your hold on his hair. Your hips bucked off the table to meet his tongue. “So close!”

He sucked your clit harshly, giving a slight nip to it as his hand scissored your pussy. All the while his clear blue eyes never left yours. “Coming! Fuck! Lumiere! Lumiere!” you cried out as you came.

He greedily lapped up the arousal dripping from your cunt. You took in deep breaths, your body pleasantly warm as you basked in the afterglow. You hardly even noticed when Lumiere started shucking off his pants and tossing them aside.

“Not done yet, starlight.” he gently slid you off the desk and turned you around, bending you over it. “We still need to make a baby.”

He nudged your legs further apart and slid his cock across your folds, coating himself in your arousal. He slid in after the third pass and you gripped other end of the desk as he began gently thrusting his hips against you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, the feeling of his cock stretching you out was exactly what you wanted. “You feel so good.”

“You feel even better.” he groaned. He bent over to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “Love you so much, starlight. Can’t wait to get you pregnant.”

Maybe this would finally be the time it happened. You really wanted to have kids. You wanted to give Lumiere and Xavier both children but so far the fates had been against you. Nothing was wrong with you biologically so statistically speaking having children shouldn’t be hard. Yet here you were again.

Lumiere kept thrusting just slow enough to drive you mad with want. You turned your head to look at him and saw the naked desire in his eyes. “Lu,” you said, “Can you speed up please? You’re killing me with this pace.”

“You want me to speed up?” he smoothed your hair away from your face. “Like this?”

He started going faster and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Oh fuck! Yeah! Just like that!”

“You’re so sexy like this,” he moaned, pinning your hips to the desk as he continued to drive into you. “Bent over my desk without a strip of clothes on. Your wet and needy pussy taking me so well. Can’t believe I get to call you my wife! My wife is perfect! Love you so much!”

“Lumiere!” you moaned as he hit a spot deep inside you. “Oh gods! Right there! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ah!”

“I’m about ready to come.” he huffed, his face pinching with concentration. “I’m gonna put a baby in you, starlight. Gonna make you a mama! So keep taking my cock like that! Yeah! Oh fuck yeah! Gonna pump you full!”

“Lu--” you broke off with another moan, your nails biting into the wood of the desk. “Want it! Want it so bad! Give it to me! Put a baby in me! Please! Oh fuck please! Want your baby!”

“Come with me! Come with me when I get you pregnant!” he reached a hand across and swiped at your clit. “Come with me! Come with me! Come with--Ah! Ah fuck! Yes! You’re squeezing me so tight! Gonna--aaaah!”

“Lumiere!” you moaned loud enough you were sure anyone within a hundred feet of the room would have heard you. Your legs were shaking as you came and felt Lumiere empty his seed inside you, filling you to the brim with the warm sticky liquid.

When he pulled out you could feel it starting to slip out of your pussy but he gathered it on his fingers and scooped it back in. “That’s it. Can’t let any of this go to waste.” he pushed the rest back in then pushed your legs closed again.

“I don’t think I can move.” you said, still trying to catch your breath.

“You don’t have to. I’ll do it for you.” He scooped you off your feet and carried you over to the chaise, lying down with you. “Better?”

You snuggled into his chest. “Much.”

His fingers traced patterns across your back before settling on your stomach. “We may have made a baby today, my starlight.”

“Maybe. We can only hope.” you sighed, resting your hand over his.

He looked up at you with a sadness in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking.” he kept rubbing his hand over your stomach as if willing it to start swelling with life. “But I guess I was wondering about something.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any kind of preference about who you want to have a kid with?” he asked.

You fought back a sigh. For as much as the brothers loved you and understood that you were wife to both and thus you were to be shared they couldn’t help but have moments of jealousy here and there. Out of the two of them Xavier was always the more possessive so it was rare that Lumiere mentioned something like this to you.

“You know I don’t. I will be perfectly happy having children with both you and Xavier.” you gave him a gentle kiss. “But I can tell that there are some days that you wish that I would have chosen only one of you.”

Lumiere took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t mind sharing with Xavier, really. I understand that you love him and he loves you and I’d never do anything to separate you two just like how I know he wouldn’t try taking you for himself when he knows how much we love each other too. I guess I can’t help liking the idea of having you all to myself though. You’re mine to make love to and breed every other month but I feel guilty. I feel guilty about wishing that I was an only child some days or wishing that the nurse hadn’t mixed Xavier and I up so we knew which was the older twin if only to know for sure who you were supposed to be with.”

“Oh Lu,” you ran a hand through his hair. “I get it. I do. Growing up knowing I was supposed to marry one of you I sorta wished for the same thing. I wished that I had a twin too so we each had one brother each. Some days I wished that the choice of who I would marry had been made for me because I couldn’t fathom the idea of choosing between you two.

“It is alright to feel jealous sometimes. It doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting me to yourself. But I thank the gods every day that I get to have both of you as my husbands. You are the loves of my life and I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.”

“Out of the three of us you were always the most mature.” Lumiere smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “I love you so much. And I’m going to be so happy when you get pregnant, whether it’s by me or Xavier cause I know it’s what is going to make you happy.”

You stayed lazing on the chaise until the sun started to dip in the sky. Lumiere had started to nod off and you smiled at his sleeping face. Time would only tell if today had been fruitful or not. Even if it hadn’t, it had been wonderful.

[fatescaprice]

saving u from mr capitalist with (kind of) gut wrenching ideas from my insane brain but. can you imagine if you get into a heated argument with argenti or jingyuan and they accidentally break one of your gifts for them, it could be a complete accident like maybe accidentally hitting it off the table but how do you think they'll immediately react to it and what would they try to do to remedy the situation?

argenti and jing yuan after an argument

content warnings: none

note: thank u for the brief respite between mr capitalist asks!!! after this i am jumping back into the fray . with the leaks that came out this week i guess i shouldn't have been surprised but i learn something new every day i guess

thank u for this request . i made myself upset . also this is myfirst time writing jy so if he's a little ooc ummmm don't tell me directly im sensitive (JOKE)!!!! anyways. i hope u enjoy :]

The flash of regret in ARGENTI's eyes is both intense and immediate: a stinging shock, like the thorn of a rose piercing his skin. He says time and time again that he would do nothing to forsake you, and yet… Ah, had he grown so blind in his search for Idrila that he forgot the beauty he holds in his arms each night?

He reaches out for you first, as he always does — his gaze searching almost desperately to meet yours, his hand reaching to brush your cheek. Love, please, look at him, he’ll do anything you wish, as long as you just say the word. Believe him when he says he's already long forgotten what you had been arguing about to begin with — Argenti had lost the second he saw the pang of hurt cross your face.

Good words and deeds are normally his strong suit, but seeing the hurt look on your face made him falter, hesitant. He wants to prove himself deserving of you again, he'll say, taking your hands delicately, like glass — so please, tell him what he must do. Shall he fell a great beast? Bring you a pearl from the deepest seas of Thalassa? Now and always, he’s your loyal knight, forever at your beck and call. No task would be too great, no distance too wide — all Argenti wants is to be worthy to wipe away the tears from your cheeks again.

JING YUAN’s regret flows inwards, towards himself — was this behaviour fitting of a general? Was this behaviour worthy of you? He seems almost resigned, contemplative, though in the heat of the moment it comes off more like indifference.

That doesn’t mean he is indifferent, though — the implication that he doesn’t care about you hurts him more than any conceivable mortal words or blades. No, he just thinks it’s better that you both have some space, so neither of you can say anything you might regret. He has far too many of those already, and he doesn’t want you to be another entry on that list.

He’ll little gifts for you, quite like a cat leaving things at your door — an apology, a peace offering, a sign of his devotion. A box of your favourite food from that place you frequent in the Exalting Sanctum, or a piece of jewellery you had mentioned wanting to buy. Jing Yuan knows he can’t win you over with gifts — neither of you are so shallow — but he hopes that when he comes to your door with more than just an apology on his lips, you’ll come to forgive him.

[leviscolwill]

good old fashioned lover boy

pairing: trent alexandrer arnold x reader

summary: trent loves that you and jude get along, but he wants to make sure he still holds the #1 spot in your heart [wc: 1k]

req: request for a fluffy trent fic: jude is always over at trent & reader’s house, eating their food, bringing his friends over, begging to join them on outings etc. and generally acting like their kid. so ofc reader & jude are close, he goes to her advice, they tease trent togeth etc. and trent is jealous that jude gets long w his girl so we’ll but not actually jealous, more in a pouty whiny way, cos he knows jude is like a little bro to her

contents: established relationship, food mention, jealous trent (but it's cute)

note: i tried suppressing my lowercase addiction for this, tell me if you prefer it this way 🫶

now playing: good old fashioned lover boy by queen...

The warmth of your home protected you from October's cold. Trent had planned to spend the day snuggled in bed watching spooky movies and baking Halloween cookies with you.

Well, that was the plan until Jude passed your door. Trent wouldn't be able to say one bad thing about Jude even if he tried, he'd been there for him during tough times. No matter how hard you tried to empathize with Trent, Jude was probably the one friend who could understand his struggles surrounding football the most. Very quickly the pair grew close, almost family-like, and Jude would come over yours, often. You didn't mind, how could you? Jude was nothing short of lovely, he was a funny guy to be around and probably your boyfriend's favourite friend.

But you didn't expect him to crash one of the rare free days you got to spend with Trent. And neither did Trent, from the way his eyes widened when he opened the door to a smiley Jude. Your favourite Disney soundtracks were still blasting in the kitchen while you were mixing your cookie batter.

“Oh, are you cooking these for me?” Jude's voice made you turn around to see him standing in your kitchen with a big smile, your boyfriend trailing behind him.

“Depends, do you have good news to give me?” Trent's face contorted in confusion but Jude totally understood what you meant by the giggle he let out.

“I'll tell you all about it if those cookies are worth it.”

He recently came up to you for advice on how he should ask the girl he liked out. The fact Jude trusted you enough to share this with you made you happy, talking to him was like talking to a younger brother.

Trent knew about the girl his friend fancied of course, but he was absolutely clueless about him asking you for advice. Hearing you two talk so casually, made him feel left out. He knew how stupid this sounded, you were his girlfriend and Jude one of his best mates, but he couldn't help but feel his stomach churn from your closeness.

Trent wasn't jealous. He trusted you and Jude with his life. But he couldn't help feeling his friend was stealing the precious time he could have spend with his girlfriend, and he felt awful about this.

You were your own person, and he was very much aware of that, but he couldn't help spiralling. What if Jude was better company than him? What if he made you laugh in ways he couldn't?

His thoughts came to a halt when you pressed a quick kiss near his lips, “These should be done in 30 minutes, are you alright T? You look a bit off.” The concerned look in your eyes made him forget everything, his hand found yours to press a kiss on it.

“I'm fine baby, don't worry about it.” No matter how much Trent tried to reassure you, you knew something was off with him and made a mental note to ask him about it when you would be alone.

After many Fifa games between Jude and your boyfriend and six chapters of your books read, the cookies were ready. The three of you sat down and you intently watched their reactions to your baking, knowing damn well neither of them would be able to hide their real thoughts.

“These are very good love.” Your boyfriend complimented with his mouth half full while Jude stuck out his thumb up.

“So... Are you gonna tell me what happened with Mia?” A frown appeared on Trent's face again at your words.

“What's even all that about?” He tried his best to hide any animosity in his voice but it didn't work from the way Jude and you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I asked your girl for advice to ask Mia on a date, nothing more mate.” You could tell Jude was being cautious with his words, fearing his friend would get the wrong idea.

Trent ran his hand on his face, “I know. This is stupid, sorry.”

You stayed silent and went to the kitchen telling the boys you had to clean it up to cover the fact you wanted to flee this weird atmosphere.

You stayed a while looking at your phone, and when you looked up you saw Jude and Trent in front of your front door talking together, your boyfriend's hand laying on Jude's shoulder before pulling him in a hug.

The younger boy noticed you staring, and winked at you with both his eyes before whispering something to Trent's ear, something that made him turn around to look at you with a smile. You quickly turned around pretending to be interested in something else to hide the fact you were caught red-handed pretty much spying on them.

When the door finally closed, Trent's hands found your waist and spun you around. You started speaking before he could try to himself. “I'm sorry for not telling you I was speaking with Jude, but I swea-”, Trent's lips on yours cut you off, you felt your shoulders relax from this action.

“No, I am sorry. This was stupid, I just really wanted to spend the day with you, only you, I mean. I actually love the fact that you get along with Jude, but I just don't want you to like his company better than mine y’know.” His words relieved you, your pointer finger booped his nose as he let a giggle escape his lips.

“Trent, don't be silly. I love hanging out with Jude but if I could, I would spend every single minute of my life with you. Now... should we start watching The Prisoner of Azkaban?”

Trent led you to your shared bedroom, fingers intertwined to snuggle under the sheets. The both of you perfectly content and satisfied with each other's company.

taglist: @ceofmercedes <3 @zowanew <3

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 (𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈)

╰┈➤ ❝ CHAPTER ONE | kieran x mc!afab!reader

tags : general, no smut. canon references to first meeting. slight mentions of canon-typical violence. ~4.3k wc.

an : omg.. so... i did want to post this only once i had chapter 2 written a fair amount so that the time between the first two postings wouldn't be super far apart...... BUUUUTT........ :> happy valentine's hehe :> i just missed him lots so im dropping this before i head to sleep <3333333

← prelude | ko-fi / series masterlist / ao3 | next →

this is a series that contains sexual content, and is only for those 18+. if you are a minor, please do not interact. I BLOCK MINORS AND BLOGS WITHOUT ANY AGE INDICATOR.

There were many things that one could do when faced with a figure, unconscious, laying at their feet.

Or beside them.

Or in front of them.

Or… one that they weren't quite aware of how they were seeing it in their general vicinity, but it was there nonetheless.

The vulnerability remained palpable. There were many, many possibilities… Ones that Kieran found himself facing, quite literally, every other hour that he peeked into the room… and every passing moment he stayed.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

He looked up to see Luke absentmindedly throwing and catching an orange in the airs, feet up against the table. And despite the fact that he was playing around with that orange, he had his head tilted back, eyes to the ceiling.

Bored.

Kieran knew that tone well.

"Just… Wait it out," he shrugged, slumping down on the seat beside him.

And it wasn't as if he wasn't bored either… Again his thoughts traveled, and his brows furrowed as he looked at the sleeping figure of you still on the bed.

There were many things that one could do when faced with a figure, unconscious—laying right there.

But that was not what they had been ordered.

"Wait it out, you say, but it's already been a day and nothing!"

Luke huffed.

Kieran watched as he caught the orange and set it down on the table rather harshly, a sure sign of frustration. He got up from his chair and began to pace the room, footsteps heavy rather than light, a click of his tongue heard resounding within the walls.

"It's just! There's gotta be a lot more fun happening out in the streets, right?! And we've been stuck here all day yesterday, and I dunno if I can do that again for another—"

"But Boss told us to take care of her."

"And we are taking care of her!!!!!!!"

With an exasperated air, he threw his hands up and gestured wildly towards the blanket covering your figure. A blanket they'd put on you themselves.

And again, Kieran's eyes flitted towards you.

Sitting much closer to the bed, he could see you pretty clearly—He noted the rise and fall of your chest; the shape of your eyes, the curl of your lashes… The way, despite what you'd gone through, you looked so… peaceful.

Sound asleep.

He sighed.

People were so vulnerable when they were sleeping.

He didn't know what happened in that room; neither he nor Luke had bothered much to press Sylus himself on what exactly had happened to you. Yet, he was almost sure it wouldn't have been rainbows and sunshine, definitely not in the N109 zone… And especially not if it was anything like what he and Luke had to go through to get Sylus' attention at all.

He wondered of the luxury you had to be able to sleep this way. Were you just—naive? Confident? Not everyone could drift off to such a peaceful rest, after all. In the end, he had no means of assessing of your strength, and yet… You were the girl who'd easily drank from the black glass.

Sylus' girl.

And Sylus didn't talk much about you to them, but it was plain for anyone to see that he'd taken interest. He would think—Perhaps, a girl with little to show for herself wouldn't have caught the boss's attention like that.

"Eh, well."

Kieran stood up and stretched, ignoring the way Luke's eyes seemed to bore holes into his skull out of disappointment. "Boss's orders will stay Boss's orders. Something happens to her? You and I both know we could be in for it."

Luke scoffed.

"You're not even doing this for her."

"And why would I?"

The two looked at each other. Luke's arms crossed his chest; an action that Kieran mirrored.

Until finally, Luke looked away.

Kieran watched his gaze turn to you just as his own had done mere moments ago, and yet, this time, Luke was the one to approach your sleeping figure.

Gingerly, hesitantly, he placed the back of his hand over your forehead.

"…"

"…"

"What in the hell are you even doing."

"…. I. I dunno!!!! Don't people do this when they need to check something?! Like, come on, it can't be natural that she's been out cold this whole time!!! What'd boss even do to her?!"

"That's not our place to know!"

"But if we're supposed to take care of her—"

"Why're you so worried about her, anyway?!"

"Wh— Well! Like I said! We're taking care of her, so I might as well be concerned if— Ugh, see, Kieran, you're only doing this 'cause of what Boss ordered!"

"Well, duh?!"

Your figure stirred.

Both heads whipped around only to see that you'd turned your head to the side—

Your eyes were still closed.

Kieran couldn't tell if you were simply just that deep in your sleep that even their bickering didn't seem to bother you, or if you didn't care enough.

Still…

He stood up to sit closer next to you, his own figure peering over to look.

"She'll be fine," he mumbled. "She's a Hunter. Plus, Boss likes her. So it means something."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a little smile tugging up at Luke's lips.

"…Ah, no, you're right. He's so totally interested in her. Kept her with him for the longest time, didn't he? I thought it was just 'cause of the Aether Core and whatever gutsy thing she did back in the Nest, but… Doesn't it seem like something more to you?"

Interest.

Kieran knew this tone of his just as well as he did boredom. And it was Luke's turn to lean over and peer at your figure.

"Caught the word resonate back there," Kieran shrugged, "Think he's trying to get something out of her. But…"

The two smirked at each other.

"Ha! He likes her, huh?"

"Heh. Yeah."

They laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it, before Luke reached out to poke at your cheek. "Okay. But she won't be sleeping forever, right? Come on. She's been unconscious for one day. We need to wake her up."

A moment of silence.

The two continued to stare at you, contemplating, lost in thought—

Ah.

A tiny little smirk played at Kieran's lips.

We just need to make things a little fun.

"Easy," he mumbled. "Just open up the back of her head." A slight shift of his arm brought out the various darts he'd spent a majority of that day making, and there in his eyes was a gleam so painfully obvious; a display of excitement that had even Luke letting out a laugh. "Drill a hole into her neck, anddd…—"

The stir of your figure cut him off. This time, you hadn't just shifted your position a little bit, but your eyes had blinked open.

The reaction was immediate.

Traces of weapons were shoved back into their sleeves as they looked at you with wide eyes, but if Kieran was expecting anything from you, then it wasn't the glare you had etched into your gaze when you looked at them. Nor was it the little bit of exhaustion visible in the way you blinked yourself into focus.

You'd been sleeping this whole time. Was it not restful…?

Slowly, Kieran took a tentative step backwards, as if to offer you some space. He could see the way your eyes settled properly on the both of them, a vague sense of recognition washing over your features—from the time they'd rescued her, no doubt. And despite the grogginess still visible on you as sleep gradually gave way to alertness, he found the tiniest smile playing on his lips before he could really stop himself.

You did wake up.

Not bad, for a Hunter.

"You two—"

A frown was on your face as you began to speak, but Luke was quick to interrupt.

"You're seeing things!"

A familiar cue.

Barely a word out of your mouth before Luke was cutting you off, and Kieran himself could have scoffed.

"I'm the only one here. There is no… 'two'."

It was almost amusing the utter confusion gracing your features, because Kieran didn't think it was possible to look so lost while simultaneously fed up with everything. He watched your eyes slowly move across the room to take in your surroundings, and he almost felt pity for you.

Almost.

"Then who's that?" Your hand raised to point directly towards him, and, perhaps the boredom truly had gotten to them.

"My soul can leave… My body!"

It wasn't the first time Kieran had been strung along with his brother's antics. His arms moved outward, shaking, convulsing as if supporting Luke's dramatics—after spending an entire day and a half doing virtually nothing but watching over you, his own movements held a certain kind of looseness as if finally tasting some sense of freedom.

He almost wanted to laugh.

Finally, something new.

Yet as he stopped the little charade, the lack of reaction from you had him immediately crossing his arms. Despite the joy of finally having someone else to toy around with—figuratively speaking—it didn't quite seemas if you were up for it.

And, sure, it might not have been the best of times to pull a joke, but he frowned nonetheless. The moment was short-lived.

"Are you stunned? Shocked?" There was a little undertone of a scoff in his voice, and when you only so much as stared back at him, he let out a huff. "Booooooringgg."

That kind of attitude was not going to fly in this place—

Or, so he thought, and so he would have said, had he not received a nudge in the arm from his brother.

Luke cleared his throat, vaguely gesturing around. It almost seemed as if the silence on your part settled an air of awkwardness around all of you, and he had to speak in an attempt to clear it. "Ahem… Hi! Before you left Boss's parlor… Well, we already met. Four days ago, to be exact."

Oh, what gives. With a barely audible sigh, Kieran looked away for a moment. "We didn't just save you from that ungrateful traitor. We also brought you back to Onychinus's base." He still remained with his arms crossed, but he took small, tentative steps forward to lean against the bedpost. This time, he looked back at you. The mere mention of that day had him clicking his tongue, and he was aware that his words just likely came off sharper than intended….

He did nothing to fix it.

"…So you want me to thank you."

Another thick veil of ice settled over the three of you. If Luke's attempt at lightening the atmosphere had succeeded for even a moment, it clearly wasn't something that lasted.

The silence spoke volumes.

"It's not that! It's just, it's dangerous in the N109 Zone! You knoww… For a Linkon girl?"

Kieran had debated many things in his head over the past couple of hours when it came to you. One, being whether or not you were worth the obvious favor that Sylus had placed upon you. Two, being whether or not you could meet the expectations of earning a favor of that sort. Three, being whether or not a girl like you could ever fit into this little bubble that the people of the city had always blatantly outcast anyway.

In the end, you were interesting, he'd give you that. The coldness in your eyes could cut the air with a knife, even moreso given that you would argue with them. And, yet… It was not he who had come to a conclusion, but—his brother. And the verdict, he knew, was that Luke would rather show concern for you than leave you to take care of yourself.

He watched the way your lips pursed into a thin line, the way your gaze shifted from a glare at him to a glare at his brother.

"Excuse me?"

"No, yeah, I mean! You're from Linkon, right? This place's just not cut out for you at all, Miss Hunter! So I'm saying we totally did you a big favor, but also, rather than thanking us, I think you should really reconside— hey! Kieran!"

With a roll of his eyes, he reached out to lightly flick the side of Luke's head. "What? At least look at the way she's glaring at you."

"Wh- I swear, I'm only trying to look out for her! Hey. Miss Hunter, listen, I'm really not trying to—!" His had turned between Kieran and you simultaneously, before he clicked his tongue and shook his head, almost as if trying to take back all he'd said.

Once more, the silence on your part was deafening.

And, yet, Kieran could understand where he was coming from.

Another once-over at your figure, and he still couldn't quite place how exactly you'd survive out there. Being a Hunter was one thing—playing around with the Nest was one thing, too. But going out there was a different thing altogether. He wouldn't have expected someone of the law to find it easy, and that was likely the guise beneath his brother's rather tactless way of putting it out there.

"Look," Luke tried again, scratching the back of his head. "We know what you're thinking. But after being hunted down in the Nest, do you know how many people are out there looking for you?"

With a tilt of his head towards the door, Kieran shrugged. "And even if you escape, you'll only get lost in the chaos of this no-man's land."

"Yeah! Wanderers will eat you up! And they won't leave behind any crumbs, sooo…"

The twins looked at each other, and a silent, split-second understanding passed through them.

Sylus told them to take care of you.

They were following orders, right?

"Stay here with our Boss!"

They chimed in unison, and Kieran nodded to himself, assured in their decisions. "Throw away all morality and compassion, and this place will be a paradise!"

It was a phrase that meant much to them, for all that it was true. Linkon and the N109 zone were different worlds to them—and two worlds didn't mix. If they would rather avoid unnecessary business in the city, then the same should be said about you.

This was enough of a test.

Because if you couldn't do it, then this place just wasn't for you at all. Kieran firmly believed that.

Your gaze shifted to the side, almost ignoring their words entirely. He couldn't tell if you cared much about what they'd said, or if you'd even processed it, but—

"Kieran, right?"

Your voice came out as a sigh.

You were looking at him.

"And, the other one is…"

Your gaze shifted, and, as if taking your acknowledgment a sign of approval, Luke excitedly drew in a breath.

"Yeah! That's Kieran, and I'm Luke! We're basically theBoss's right hand men, so, if you needanything, then you can totally ask us!"

Kieran could have facepalmed. Often, he would wonder how it was that his own twin could be as gullible as he was a menace… And, yet, something about the excitement felt contagious.

A smile peeked at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, I guess that was a little unfair. Since we knew your name and all from the start."

Again your gaze shifted to him, and for a moment, neither of you said much else.

It was a silent truce—

Kieran would have liked to believe that.

Yet his eyes took note of the tenseness in your shoulders, the way your breaths were far too deep to be completely relaxed…

"By the way," you waved a hand in the air, a motion so casual yet practiced; a motion that Kieran would have missed if he hadn't been conditioned to notice the subtleties of the people around him. Despite the calm in your voice, he knew that you were planning something. "Who's older? You two are basically identical twins."

A fleeting thought in his head: Of course. She was only seeing the masks, after all.

"Take a guess!"

"Could you come closer so I can get a better look?"

Oh.

Kieran noticed it before Luke did.

You grabbed his arm and held him close, pointing what looked to be a laser right at his neck—"Hey…! What are you doing?!"

It didn't feel like anything.

Kieran was frowning, and he couldn't feel much of any harm from you directly, but he could very well see it. Your grip around Luke was tight enough that he couldn't quite slip out of your grasp, and the red glare from the laser felt ominous enough.

"Have you ever heard of the XT-7, the Hunters Association's latest weapon?" Your voice was smug. The calm it held was different from the one you'd used just earlier—you knew you had the upper hand now. "It's a high-powered laser that can penetrate your skin and vaporize your blood. The good news is that it's painless… The bad news is that you'll be losing a lot of blood from your neck. Are you squeamish?"

Kieran had a choice to make.

The little bit of doubt in his head that had him wondering if you had the guts to do anything to Luke didn't matter—Not like this.

And, yet…

He glanced away for a moment to compose himself, a satisfied smirk forming on his lips, before taking small, steady steps towards the door. Because despite the gravity of the situation, there was something like a sense of pride swelling somewhere in his chest. He wouldn't have known if this was your answer, nor if it was enough for it to really be an answer… But he thought it again.

Not bad, for a Hunter.

With a clear of his throat, he reached behind him and turned the doorknob, effectively pushing the door open.

The mask fell, and your arms relaxed—features schooled into raised eyebrows and a mouth falling slightly open; an unabashed look of surprise.

He almost laughed.

Almost.

"Why're you staring at me? Did I say you weren't allowed to leave?"

He watched you slowly make your way over to the door—Luke still in tow—and scan the hallway outside of it.

"How do I get out of here, then?"

"Straight down the hall."

"That's it?"

"That's it." He nodded towards the door on the far end of the hall, before looking back at you. "…Your hold loosened, you know," he mumbled. "You let your guard down. Don't do that around here."

You tightened your grip around Luke in response, and, rendered largely silent and still very much threatened at the neck, he gave Kieran a look.

"Let him go. You know where the exit is, anyway."

"How do I know you're not just leading me into another trap?"

"Well, your guess is as good as mine. But how much time do you think we had if all we've been doing is watching you sleep?"

"…"

Your hand reluctantly let go of his brother, who stumbled over to his side. Something about the harshness of how you pushed him had Kieran rubbing his neck in response, but nevertheless, his attention had been steady on you.

A small smirk pushed at the corners of your lips.

"You're the younger one, aren't you, Kieran?"

A pause.

"…Well, we're identical twins. It hardly matters."

"Mm… Yeah, you're right. Maybe it doesn't, really."

He watched as you turned to Luke and promptly threw over the weapon you'd used to threaten him with, and Kieran couldn't help but scoff—Often, he would wonder how it was that his own twin could be as gullible as he was a menace.

As the two bickered lightly over the supposed weapon now confirmed to be a laser pointer, Kieran fished into his pockets to pull out the very orange that Luke had been playing with mere moments ago.

The moment you had your back turned to walk away, he lightly threw it right at you: "Heads up, Miss Hunter."

Fast reflexes.

As expected from a Hunter.

Your head turned to catch the orange right before it hit your head, but your incredulous expression had him letting out a short, sharp laugh.

"What the hell?!" you looked at the orange in your hand. "Is this your way of getting back at m—?!"

"You didn't eat yet."

You paused.

Kieran, paying no heed to the bewildered aura his own brother was emitting, merely shrugged.

"You didn't eat yet," he repeated. And it was if he'd believed that you hadn't heard him the first time, and it was something that he needed you to hear.

In a way, it was.

"… It's not even peeled."

He scoffed in response. "Like I'd do anything about that. Go ask the Boss to peel it for you if you can't do it yourself."

"You're messing with me."

"You messed with my brother."

"I didn't hurt him!"

"You hurt his pride, though…"

"Hey now!"

"…"

"… Just eat the damn orange."

"Just peel it, then!"

"No!"

—

The room felt a little less lively after that.

And, really—they could have just left.

Kieran didn't think there was any use to staying in this room longer than they'd needed to, and yet, he found himself following Luke back in, watching him stand almost dejectedly in front of the table that… well, previously hosted the orange he'd just given to you.

"I like her."

Luke's voice came cheerfully, first, breaking the little silence that had fallen upon them. When Kieran looked at him, he was standing thoughtfully by the door, chin in hand, yet his aura felt self-assured. "Yeah!" he nodded, grinning, "I like her!"

Curiously, Kieran studied him.

"You… Huh?"

"I like her! Don't you? She's so fun!"

Kieran raised an eyebrow, head tilted to the side—

But it wasn't as if he could deny it.

Still, the opinion he'd had of you from the very start didn't change very much—you were interesting. He supposed that meant he did like you.

So he shrugged, walking over to the bed you'd rested on just to fix the blanket you'd been using.

"Yeah, I guess she's fun. Didn't think she'd pull one on you, either, so that's fun!" A little smile poked at the corners of his lips, and he glanced back at his brother. "Feeling better, though? That was kinda scary."

"Well, it didn't hurt…"

A pause, and then Luke looked away.

"Eh, we've been through far worse," he mumbled. "Not something we need ice for, anyway. At least it wasn't the XT-7…" His voice trailed off for a moment, before he glanced back. "Could'a lost you, too, then."

"Uh? I'd be losing you first?" Kieran frowned, and it was almost his immediate instinct to change the subject. "Whatever, man, you were totally gullible with her either way."

"Well! She wanted to get to know us a lil better! Just—"

Luke crossed his arms, peering at Kieran as he moved from the bed and closer to his side.

"What?"

"Just… Aren't you happy we have someone new to hang with now?"

"Never said I wasn't…"

"It's cool playing with Mephisto, and, you know. The N109 zone is great. Awesome, even. But…"

"But it's nice to see a new face."

Kieran finished his sentence for him, and for a moment, the two stood in silence next to each other.

"I get it," Kieran mumbled. He moved to lean against the nearby wall, crossing his arms to mirror Luke's stance. "It's like it's been just us for so long, that it's pretty interesting to have her stay onboard for the time that she's here."

Luke laughed. "Yeah! I mean, think about it. We'd get to mess with her too!"

"She'd get to mess with us, too."

"And it'll be funnn!" Luke's eyes nearly sparkled with excitement at the mere thought of it, and then he nudged Kieran with a grin. "Hey. You think Boss'll keep her around here for a while? Oh, man. He's totally going to, right? Then that means…!"

"Yeah, I'll bet. No way is he letting go of her. You know, Boss has always seemed a little lonely… At least we have each other, but, he…"

"…Yeah. Sucks to be him sometimes. Maybe it's 'cause he's got all this crazy power, you know?"

"Like no one really gets all that close."

Another pause.

And this time Kieran shook his head, watching Luke do a little stretch where he stood, before placing his hands in his pockets.

"I was totally going to eat that orange, by the way," he gave Kieran a look. "So you owe me. And you knew I was hungry."

"There's literally a whole ass chef in the kitchen. We've tons of oranges."

"But that was the orange we had here!"

Kieran rolled his eyes, offering Luke a shooing motion, as if telling him to leave first. "Whatever. We're free now, so let's go steal some food outside or something so you'll feel better."

A pause, and then—

Three taps.

Tap - tap - tap.

Two fingers over the top of his head, short and light—something that only Kieran could have understood from his brother.

Three taps.

Kieran smiled a little at the gesture. "What was that for?"

"Hehe, nothing. Just... relax, 'kay? I'm a-okay. Nothing happened to either of us, we're fine."

His eyes widened. "Huh? I… wasn't…"

But his own voice trailed off, and he caught the way it was Luke's turn, this time, to roll his eyes.

"Pshhh. As if you can lie to me. You worry too much, Kie. I'm the older one, so leave the worrying to me."

"…"

And as Kieran watched as Luke sauntered out the door first, yelling something about "Finally having a real taste of freedom after so long!", he felt his shoulders relax.

Luke knew him too well. And although it had always been that way, and they never truly had much of a choice—it was still the truth.

Kieran glanced behind him. A small, lone pearl earring stood out on the carpet floor, and he bent down to pick it up.

A moment or two passed—

He placed it neatly in his pocket before leaving the room.

an : i promise if i wasnt sick id be finishing off ch2 Immediately 😵‍💫 but i hope everyone has a lovely valentine's~

taglist : @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @daturasflower @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @oharasmommymilkers00 @pikachuzhc @venussakura @love-and-deepstrays @cloverlilies @midiplier @kreishin @deusfoundry @keioxo @m2ichaelis

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you know if Riddle, or Tray, ever stands up to his mother? I think i saw it in a Pinterest post once of teen Riddle being slapped by his mom and Tray taking him away.

His background is sadder than Shoto Todoroki from BNHA

We don’t really get to hear about how things are going back home with Mrs. Rosehearts outside of one brief instance. In 4-3, Riddle is leaving for winter break and mentions he intends on speaking with his mother, though he isn’t optimistic about her listening.

Trey states in the same part of the story that he isn’t allowed at Riddle’s house (because Mrs. Rosehearts has banned him). However, Riddle is still invited to visit him and Chenya at the Clover family bakery (though it’s very unlikely Riddle would be able to, since he hasn’t canonically seen Chenya again since the unbirthday party of book 1).

We never get a follow-up on how the conversation between Riddle and his mother went. It’s never touched upon again, and his mom isn’t really brought up beyond this case. (I did happen to write a short piece about Trey, Riddle, and Mrs. Rosehearts interacting though, if you were interested in seeing my own interpretation of this idea.)

Riddle spends most of his time at NRC since it’s a boarding school, meaning there are few opportunities for him to directly interact with his mother. Even if Mrs. Rosehearts were readily accessible to him, I highly doubt we would get to witness Riddle or Trey doing much to talk back to her. As we see in book 4, Riddle is still quite meek and uncertain when it comes to speaking with his mom. Trey, meanwhile, is generally very non-confrontational and may still be dealing with his own complicated feelings about interfering with what are family matters. (Recall that the last time he encouraged Riddle to be adventurous, it resulted in his friend being severely punished and Trey may harbor guilt over this occurrence.) I feel that neither of them would realistically develop the courage to talk back to Mrs. Rosehearts when only like half a year has passed since Riddle’s OB incident as opposed to like seventeen years of Riddle living under her rules.

***CONTENT WARNING: I will be discussing abuse at length under the cut, so please be advised to avoid reading further if the topic makes you uncomfortable.***

Regarding the comic you saw on Pinterest, it is fan art. That is in no way canonical; Mrs. Rosehearts may be very stern and have a temper, but she has never slapped or otherwise put a hand on Riddle. The closest thing we get to a slap is this panel from the manga adaptation, which isn’t even a slap. You can tell from the movement lines and the FWP sfx that Mrs. Rosehearts is just quickly pulling her arm away since Riddle is trying to latch onto it in an attempt to get her to listen to his protests. There is also no mark on Riddle or harsh slap sfx to indicate contact was made.

Now then 💦 There's something very serious and relevant to this ask I'd actually like to discuss, so I hope you'll stick around to hear me out on this.

I know none of us really like Mrs. Rosehearts (which is fair, she has done a lot of terrible things to her son). However, I think it's dangerous for us to speak about her as though she's a total monster and nothing more than a monster. I'm NOT going to stand here and advocate that she has done nothing wrong (she definitely has committed many wrongs). What I'm saying is that I don't agree with her being treated like "just" an abuser.

Let's say we do demonize Mrs. Rosehearts. We see only her negative traits and allow those to define her entire character. This creates a scenario in which she is alienated and dehumanized, left as a caricature of a woman that is solely known for hurting her child. But the thing is, this ISN’T how abuse really works. Few abusers are completely wicked people through and through. Part of the reason why it is so difficult for victims to leave their abusers is because abusers almost never start off abusive. They usually act totally normal, and the abuse often doesn’t come until later or specific situations arise. It creeps up on you in an almost insidious manner, and you don’t expect it coming. I’d also like to mention that abusers often don’t act with the intentional thought of, “Yeah, what I’m doing/saying is abusive”. Abusers typically justify their actions or convince themselves they are acting out of goodness. They don’t do bad things “because they’re bad people”, they do bad things because they think they’re GOOD people. Some abusers may even be victims themselves.

By painting abusers (even fictional ones) as cartoonishly evil, irredeemable, or always cruel, it makes it harder for us to believe the very real danger that we, whom we see as “good” people, could become “bad” ourselves. It makes it harder to believe victims when they report abuse because “oh, the abuse isn’t THAT bad”. It erases the idea that abusers are also human, and that humans have the capacity to be awful sometimes or to perpetuate hurt. It makes it so much harder to identify abuse because we’d only be looking for the most extreme examples of it rather than noticing the small, subtle signs. By “othering” abusers, it’s inadvertently denying so many nuances of abuse... which ultimately is counterproductive.

I would like to point out that even in the example provided of another abusive parent, Endeavor is portrayed with some nuance. He physically and verbally abused his wife, neglected the children he deemed worthless, and pushed the child he deemed to be his successor to the brink. However, Endeavor is also shown to remember a detail as small as his (arranged) wife’s favorite flower when she only told him about it once. He is notably much more lenient when training his first son, who didn’t have the ideal Quirk he sought. Endeavor at one point even confesses to pursuing being a hero in order to avoid the demands of fatherhood, which demonstrates a realistic insecurity and vulnerability… his humanity.

The same could be true for Mrs. Rosehearts. We only assume he is “just an abuser” because we see her in such a limited scope. There are valid reasons to believe why she is a “good” person outside of how we see her acting in Riddle’s recollections, and this may help to explain why Riddle feels so hesitant to “stand up” to her. I would really recommend reading this post, which goes a lot more in-depth about the complications surrounding Riddle’s relationship with his mother. Again, I am in NO WAY defending Mrs. Rosehearts; I am only pointing out that abusers—no matter how horrible their actions—have identities beyond the label of “abuser” that should be acknowledged.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ BUT YOU BELONG TO ME — you, your boyfriend johnny, and his friend simon

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, polyamory, threesome, enemies to lovers, bi ghoap, angry sex, hate sex (kinda), dom/sub undertones, bickering, friends to lovers (for ghoap), love confessions

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

You love Johnny's friends.

Really, you do. They're a rowdy bunch, all in-your-face with their larger than life personalities and even larger frames. However, overall, they're people you don't mind hanging out with, as long as your lover is by your side.

But that's all... general.

It's an entirely different story when discussing Johnny's closest friend. The only other person to hold their own acre of property in his gentle heart. A man who the Scot admires almost as much, if not the same amount, as he does you.

Simon Riley.

Since the day you met the lieutenant, you knew that your relationship was going to be a rough one.

He's quiet. Annoyingly so. Somehow, he manages to deliver the nastiest of words without opening his mouth, or taking off that damn balaclava of his.

No. He says it all with deep brown eyes, and overall presence. Who the fuck does that? Can manage to do that?

The feel is mutual, you discovered within two seconds of meeting him for the first time, all those months ago. All it took was a firm, almost warning, shake of your hand to cement that fact, and a hardening glare of his from behind the mask.

Since that very first interaction, the animosity between you both has been nothing if not apparent.

And, look, you try. Really, you do. This is your soulmate's best friend, the one who he spends an equal amount of free time with as you. That's all fine. You're happy for Johnny.

It only becomes a problem when his love for the two of you overlap. When he invites you both over at the same time, or you plan to go on a date and Simon just 'happens to be there'.

It's weird. Alarm bells siren in your ears, red flags are waved in your head, and you have an inner monologue yelling at a mile per minute.

At the end of the day, if you ever truly suspected Johnny of being unfaithful, you would end things.

You knew your worth, even if the pain would be near unbearable.

But this is different. Hell, you know that this is different. And not because it's a man -- your boyfriend had always been open with his inclinations for just about any gender -- but because it's Simon, and because it's you.

So.

When you and Simon are in the same room together, it encompasses a hell of a lot of insults and pettiness from your end, with Simon's cold glares and huffs of indignation on his.

It's a never-ending cycle.

Johnny, for his part, puts up with it. He laughs it off, cooling the mood, because that's who he is. It's part of the reason that you love the man, his ability to work with people and deal with confrontation outside of missions.

Neither you or Simon could've properly prepared for his patience to end, however.

Or the realisation he came to.

You're spending the night at Johnny's, which, at this point, is an event occurring more often than not, when Simon knocks on the door.

And, look. Usually you'd pull up your big girl pants and deal with it.

But you'd been waiting for weeks to try something out with Johnny. You'd both done all the research, ordered the rope, and bought the blindfold and cuffs. The wine in your hands and makeup you'd done with the specific intention to cry it off later said just as much.

It all collapses onto itself when Simon fucking Riley knocks on the door.

Johnny gives you an apologetic rinse, before hopping off of the ouch and lightly jogging to the front door, unlocking it and cracking it open. You mourn the lack of his body heat, his warm body against your own.

The dim lights from the warm yellow lights sat at the back wall cast heavy shadows over Simon's face -- his maskless one. It's rare that he shows up without it. In fact, that's only happened once in the year and a half you've known the guy.

"What's up, mate?" Johnny asks with a tilt of his head, leaning against the door frame and folding his muscled arms over his bulky chest.

Lord, if you didn't already have him, you'd be praying to every God to get your hands on that frame of his.

Simon replies quiet enough that you can't hear, and you know it's an intentional act. It shouldn't piss you off as much as it does, but you can't help the feeling of annoyance and distaste creep into your mouth like a poisonous acid, lacing your tongue with the bitterness.

Johnny murmurs back his reply, before Simon steps in, and your boyfriend shuts the door closed behind him.

"Are you serious?" The words slip out on your own accord, before you can stop them. They're accusatory, angry, and... reflective of your current mood.

If Simon's responding glare could kill, you'd be six feet under. "Date night?" Is his dry, curt reply, and fury boils in your blood.

"He had no where else to go, lass," Is Johnny's input, but you don't even spare him a glance. No. Your ire is all directed at his best friend, and he deserves every last drop of it.

"Actually, yes, it is date night," You quip back, ripping the blanket off of yourself and standing up, moving towards the two men where they stand in the doorway. The light creeps onto the floorboards, the darkened corner of the room shrouding yourselves in shadows. "You know. One without your ass for once."

Johnny rubs his roughened hand over his face, looking up to the roof as if asking it to spare him.

With a roll of his eyes, Simon spares you a flitting, dismissive glance, before turning back to his best friend. "Needta' keep her on a tighter leash."

There's a moment, then. One where you're stuck on a forked path, where each option seem as unimportant as gum on a city sidewalk.

They'll both change the course of your life forever -- but it certainly doesn't feel like it, and it certainly isn't about to affect your decision-making in the slightest.

"Is that why you can't get laid, huh, Simon? Want a submissive little wife you can walk all over? Didn't know you were compensating that fucking much. Hell, if you're that fucking desperate, we can lend you a few bucks and you can go get lucky at the fucking strip club!"

There's a tense silence, that passes for a few beats.

One.

Two.

And then Simon scoffs a nasty, incredulous sound, his attention now fully on you. "Didn't realise ya were so passionate about where I stick my dick, Princess."

It's a lot of words from the usually quiet man, and -- and they're hostile, with anger lacing every syllable that escapes his scarred mouth.

You take a step closer, unknowingly, jabbing a finger into his -- admittedly built -- chest.

"Wasn't until it started to affect me and Johnny! You're always hovering, always fucking there -- hell, if it weren't for social decorum, you'd be pulled up beside the bed while he fucks me! Maybe you could take notes, hey? You know, so you could actually find a chick that could fuck this -- this clinginess out of you!"

It's a low blow, you know it all too well, but he reacts like a dog with a bone, and it's somehow satisfying, rewarding in a way it shouldn't be. Not at all.

"You're actin' like a spoiled fuckin' brat, Princess. What, Johnny's gotten' bored of your ass? Gotta beg him to fuck ya?"

You aren't entirely sure when the two of you had gotten just a breath's distance apart, when you'd had to start tilting your head back to keep eye contact, when the tips of your bare feet started pressing against his black shoes.

Both of your breaths come out ragged, and you're entirely in your own world, forgetting all about the man holding both of your affections, the man that started this vitriol-filled relationship in the first place.

"What? Wish it was you he was fuckin' instead?" You hiss, lowly, calculated, and Simon rears back as if you've slapped him.

In a way, you might just have.

"You need to get put in your fuckin' place," is his slow, scarily calm quip in return. Your spine is ramrod straight, eyes filled with a fire in the barely-there light.

"You need to get laid," you seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides.

"Ye both needta' fuck a'd get it over with."

Silence, once more, fills the room, infinitely more cataclysmic than what any of you had planned for.

But that's just it.

There's no planning a calamity.

"What?" Johnny shrugs, as if he hasn't set a bomb between you all, as if he hadn't planned for you all to fear shrapnel scraping your skin. "Dinnae realise it was a fuckin' revelation."

"Johnny --" you begin, or, well, you try to, but your brain isn't exactly cooperating with your mouth, and vice versa.

"No, love, I'm serious," he raises his hands, palms facing both you and Simon in a placating gesture. "Hell, yer both givin' me a boner jus' from watchin' ya both go at it."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, he's right. He's so fucking right. The tension, the thinly veiled animostiy between you both -- it's never been one of pure hatred. Never been one of pure, mutual dislike.

It's been one dripping of sex, of desire. One consisting of lashing words and biting tones because you couldn't unleash them on each other in the one way you wanted to.

And maybe something else. Something you're not quite ready to face, not yet, not now.

But you will. Someday.

"Johnny..." Simon's brows are pulled together, and god, now that your lover has made you confront the feelings so heavily pushed down inside of you, you realise how beautiful the man is. Short, almost messy blonde hair, scarred face consisting of sharp features and defined cheekbones.

He's disarming in how attractive he is.

And when paired with Johnny? It's as destructive as the very bomb resting between all three of you, the one that your partner had constructed with bare hands and an ever barer heart.

"Yer tellin' me ya don't wanna bend 'er over the couch?" Johnny asks, flippantly, a genuine question.

The silence is as good of a reply as any words, and the man figures as much.

It's Simon's next words that change everything.

"Not just 'er," he says.

Not just her.

...He says.

Not. Just. Her.

The warmth of the living room reflects in Simon's velvet brown eyes, in the vulnerable glint in them. With those three words, he's put everything on the line, prepared himself for the guillotine that's in Johnny's hands to erect.

You see your lover work his jaw, work around the words about to leave his mouth, and your stomach hollows out.

If it had, oddly enough, been anyone else. Anyone else, you'd have already asked them to leave, let alone after that remark. But it's Simon. The man you know Johnny loves just as much as he does you, and the man you've forced yourself to hate, if only to repress the emotions you wouldn't allow yourself to feel.

"You," Johnny says, properly rolling his tongue over the full word, letting its weight sink in to the quiet of the apartment. "Want us. Both."

A moment passes.

Then, Simon nods, albeit stilted and, dare you say it -- nervous.

They both look at you, then, and you realise that what happens next is entirely in your hands, that all of your lives are effectively at your mercy.

So, with a deep breath, you nod.

a/n. just a teaser for this oneshot. ghoap x reader agenda 4ever!! just something about them is so flavourful and then adding a reader-insert?? boom there u go that's the good shit

[nyhti]

Batman Rogues Tumblr AU:

Jervis:

-Joined Tumblr in 2009, has had the same blog all this time -Has a big follower count, but most of those blogs have long since been abandoned -Is very active -No sideblogs, everything from kink to cute animal pics is on the same blog -Has witnessed or been involved in every single major event in this site's history -Attended Dashcon (he was the one who pissed in the ball pit) -Involved in some sort of petty drama on a daily basis -Has a 20km long post of just going back and fort arguing with some random user. This argument started in 2016 and neither remembers what it even was about. He gets worried if the other person hasn't responded in a while. -Gets at least 3 callout posts a week. Always makes sure to reblog them and adds an essay underneath defending himself no matter if the callout post was about liking the wrong pony in MLP or murdering someone in cold blood. -Kinnie drama the likes of which you've never seen before -And in general just discord you never thought anyone could ever come up with -At this point you wonder if he's even having fun on this site, but he just keeps on reblogging bunny pics like it's nothing -Has a Wacom drawing tablet

Jonathan:

-Joined in 2011 after Jervis introduced him to the site -Has some really tacky theme he hasn't changed since 2013 -About a couple hundred followers, but they are very devoted. Lots of mutuals -579257405547 blurry photos of Nightmare -Post fics and essays on various topics he's been thinking about lately -Of course reblogs every single spoopy art piece he finds -Definitely does fic request -The most fucked up smut you've ever read -Like smut you don't even know is smut, because it's just that confusing -Most of his post don't get past 50 notes, but he has made a couple of post, mainly of the: ”Here's how you write x, y and z...” and ”As a Professor of Psychology, I can tell you...” variety, that have about 10 000 notes -Has a chill time on Tumblr -Only uses Tumblr on desktop. Has never even seen the app. -Completely unironically reblogs every cool skeleton on a motorcycle pic

Joker:

-Joined in 2013 -The only reason he joined is because he once came across a horny drawing of Batman and searching for the artist led him to Tumblr. -Starts writing a post, gets distracted mid way though and starts doing something else. Comes back to Tumblr 3 hours later, notices he was making a post, doesn't even bother rereading it despite not remembering what it was about and just hits posts. His blog is full of completely incomprehensible post that just stop mid way through -Makes a couple post that get so popular they are still making rounds today. They will always have additions like: ”I still can't believe this post was made by the fucking Joker” and ”Joker had a Tumblr?!” -Forgot his password a month after joining and never visited the site again. Barely remembers he ever had an account -Those true crime people still harvest his 20-post-pathetic-excuse-for-a-blog-blog for content to this day all the while completely ignoring all the rogues with still active (and better) blogs. They are saying things like: ”Ooohhhh, it's like a deep dive into his twisted mind :00” and are always trying to find some hidden symbolism and meaning behind all his ”just farted so loud it scared the neighbor's cat” kinda posts.

Eddie:

-Joined in 2011 -759752974576 sideblogs, 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts -When he's really low he'll post a poll like: ”Be honest, am I cute? Yes/No” and then has his 55425720752174838+1 sockpuppet accounts hit ”Yes” and somehow ”No” still wins. He deletes the whole post. -Posts the most obvious ”and everybody clapped” Tumblr fake stories you've seen. When he gets called out, he pretends you were supposed to figure out they were fake -Has an awful time on Tumblr, but can't delete, because he's addicted to getting notes -Always falls for every one of those post where OP pretends to be stupid on purpose (i.e. smooth sharks, putting fingers in guns etc.) -Posts riddles everyday that even his biggest haters cannot help but try and solve -Sends himself hatemail so he can post the witty comeback he just came up with. Forgot to hit anon once and people just won't let it go

Hugo:

-Banned for posting cock :/

[loverofstufflof]

Black Myth: Wukong rant because I’m just… so tired of you people.

I hate the community this game has cultivated. I hate looking through the tags and seeing people tearing each other apart over a game based on a story I love.

There’s two stances:

Those who say that merely interacting with the game is in support of all the terrible things the developers have (allegedly) done. Who parade accusations that many have stated were mistranslated and that the situation is far more complicated than it appears.

Those who mock the former by making a straw man of their concerns while simultaneously displaying their misogyny, racism, homophobia, and general traits that make it clear they’ve never touched a woman in their life.

One is slightly more tolerable than the other. Neither make me feel welcome in enjoying this project I’ve been looking forward to for years.

I will be talking more about purple, because I don’t speak Chinese, and feel that I have no authority speaking too much on orange.

Purple people are beyond insufferable.

I think that most of this came from a Screen Rant review that listed one of the game’s flaws as “a lack of diversity.” This is an accurate analysis, and has been warped beyond belief.

I can understand the outrage… a bit. When playing a game surrounding Chinese culture, in which you play as an inhuman character fighting equally inhuman enemies, it doesn’t make too much sense to request racial representation. And when there isn’t any romance, representation for sexual orientations also wouldn’t work. Including anything in those merit would feel forced and out of place, I agree.

But you wanna know what the reviewer wrote?

She was concerned about the lack of women.

She felt unwelcome when playing a game made by rumoured misogynists because there were no women at all.

And she explicitly said that the game was still enjoyable despite this.

She gave it such a “low score” (3/5) because of the performance issues and repetitiveness. By her own rating, the game was listed as “Worth a shot despite its flaws.”

Everything got so bad they had to take down her name for her safety.

People in the purple category took this review to mean that the “woke left” was “pushing an agenda” and “trying to cancel this game for not having pansexual nonbinary black people.” Which, as I’m sure you can now understand, was not the case. The boycott surrounding this game is purely based on accusations targeted towards the developers, not the game’s content.

Of course, I don’t expect many of the aforementioned people in this category to care too much. I’ve seen the Steam reviews where they praise the lack of women. I’ve read the Reddit threads where they feel grateful that there’s “finally a company who understands the male authority.” I’ve scrolled through post after post on Tumblr that “no one would want to play a game where females jiggle their tits around while doing nothing.”

That last one gets me. It’s really telling what you can learn about a person when they say things like that.

The point is, these people make me feel very unwelcome in a community that previously made me most comfortable.

So let’s recap:

The people who I would find community with are portraying the mere interest in this game as a sin that’s worthy of being blocked and shamed over, and the people who are actually in this community remind me why I’m terrified to walk alone.

I have a lot more that I want to say on this, but I don’t really have the words quite yet, and still need to do a fair amount of research (which I probably won’t be doing because holy shit I’m so done with this). Maybe I’ll come back and add some more, but for now I just might block the tag entirely.

I just feel shitty ‘s’all ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

[burningcheese-merchant]

When Burning Spice was introduced a lot of people made comparison with Capsaicin, and even thought they were related. You have any thoughts on that?

I do, and you're all probably going to be very disappointed lol

Not only do I NOT vibe with the idea that they're related, I'm actually really annoyed that it's as popular as it is lol. It doesn't even make sense. Burning Spice was in prison for thousands of years; when, where and how did he have a kid? At what point in time did this occur? Capsaicin is a young man. A regular mortal, outside of his "Spice Overlord" thing. I ask you all again: when? Where? How? WHY? Has anyone ever actually thought this through?

"ThEy LoOk SiMiLaR" okay, and? So fucking what? Neither of them own the concept of "long hair" or "muscles" or "sharp teeth". Pitaya has those too, and he has an arguably more substantial connection to Capsaicin because they're actually from the same fucking area. Happenstance. Lots of characters in this game have similar attributes, that doesn't necessarily mean anything

"ThEy'Re BoTh SpIcY" Refer to point A. Do you all think all the nut-based cookies are related, too? That's the logic you might as well be operating on. Correlation is not causation

"Blah blah both go 2 jail" you know how many characters in this wack-ass phone game count as felons, bro? How many of them SHOULD count as felons lol? The Cookie Run universe might as well be one giant Alcatraz with all the shit these little affronts to God get up to every day, I ain't making them all each other's relatives because of it

They're the wrong ages for them to be family. Burning Spice was serving a life sentence since long before Capsaicin was even thought of, he literally got out after the guy was already a grown ass man. They're not even from the same fucking CONTINENT! Capsaicin has probably never even HEARD of Beast-Yeast! Even that little comic the CRK Twitter account posted makes fun of all this shit!!! The Wild Spices mistake Cap for Spice from behind, and then get confused when he turns around because THEY VERY CLEARLY DO NOT KNOW WHO HE IS AND HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE! Wouldn't an army know if their general had a son, even if it was only mentioned in passing? Wouldn't THIS army have a vested interest in having their general's son around if he existed, and stop at nothing to bring him home should he vanish, to gain favor with Spice and because of how powerful Capsaicin is and how useful he could be to them?

I wouldn't be so bent out of shape about all this if it wasn't LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYWHERE!!! I cannot enjoy any content of Burning Spice OR Capsaicin without having to endure a fucking barrage of "hurr durr father and son" posts!!! I just want to ogle my hot, sexy, deliciously evil spice man BY HIM-FUCKING-SELF in peace, I never asked to have to hear the exact fucking same "hi son I came back with the milk" joke over and over and over again

I know I sound like a massive dick right now and I'm truly sorry. You are more than welcome to think of these two as related in some way if you wish. I am not your mother, nor your leader, nor your god, I'm just some cringe loser on the internet. Enjoy this game and its characters in whatever way you choose. I even actually like a good bit of the father/son art, a lot of it is cute and funny. I'm able and willing to say that with complete sincerity.

I just wish I didn't have to feel like it's being forced on me. That is one of the biggest issues I have with this fandom: how oppressive it often feels. You MUST ship this particular pairing, you MUST headcanon these characters as family, you MUST take this one-off joke that was clearly just a goddamn joke and preach it 24/7/365 like it's the gospel truth that Devsis themselves wrote on stone tablets and delivered from the top of Mount Sinai. And then when someone doesn't want to do that, everyone else descends upon them like a plague of fucking locusts. I actually saw a Dad Spice + Son Cap post on here with the person who made it saying something like "ok since everyone agrees that these two are family [...]" and I just got so fucking irritated. No, actually, not everyone agrees. Not everyone agrees on a lot of the fanon that's shoved down the entire community's throats on a regular basis. PLEASE stop acting like they do. I still remember when people would get flat-out harassed for not acting like Herb is Sea Fairy's son (old ass drama lol).

Say what you will about me, I'm just one person and you can block me or whatever dumb tags I use for my dumb shit. There is NOWHERE I can go to avoid this. Twitter? Plagued. Tumblr? Plagued. Even fucking reddit is on this nonsense (only in my personal opinion). But that's what I get for acknowledging Reddit in any capacity lol

I shall once again sincerely apologize for my harsh tone here, I am not attacking you personally or anyone who headcanons these two as relatives. I am just generally, profoundly frustrated and I need to get it out. I appreciate you taking the time to ask me an honest question, I hope you can forgive me for my painfully honest answer

[cillianhead]

Anything about cillian with a beard!

Cillian with a beard... oh my god don't even get me started.

Anyway here you go my love <3

Three And A Half Months || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, also a fluffy sweet fic, oral sex (f receiving), face riding, mentions of blood but nothing too graphic, general adult content ahead.

18+ Minors DNI

Last night you had reunited with Cillian. It had been three and a half months since you had last seen each other, the longest you had ever gone without seeing one another, he was away shooting for a new film and it was in the states so traveling back and forth between Ireland and America grew exhausting. Of course, as soon as you saw each other, you had no time to process the beard on his face, just the fact he was there. Nothing else mattered except him being there, right in front of you, to touch and to hold. So you went at it like rabbits, knocking over furniture, breathing each other in like feral animals, making love until you were sore and panting for air. No amount of late night phone calls could ever truly compare to the feeling of having his cock deep inside you.

The next morning arrived, light pouring through the curtains and lighting a still sleeping Cillian in a golden light, the rays gave him a tiny halo, one you thought he rightfully deserved. You just smiled to yourself, the both of you still completely nude from last night's love making, you felt at peace, lying in bed with the love of your life, his arm draped over your waist heavily, the sound of his slow breathing, and the indescribable feeling of his warmth beside you. Every time you looked at him, a metaphorical slow romantic guitar would play, your heart would swell and overflow with love, and your eyes stung with the happy tears that seemed to always come. That was the thing about you, so incredibly emotional, Cillian always teased you about it. You'd cry at any chance you could get, whether it be because of hormones or because you saw a cute cat or because of the beauty that Cillian is. And when he had come home with that rugged beard that made him so handsome and so deliciously masculine, you felt weak in the knees, you cried but not from your eyes.

"Mornin' me love," The irish lilt of his voice mixed with the grumble of his morning voice brought you out of your daydreaming. "Lookin' so beautiful f'me." He leaned in, placing a soft sweet kiss to your cheek. You couldn't feel uglier with your messy bed hair and your puffy face after a long night's rest. But to Cillian you were the apple of his eye, no other woman could ever possibly compare.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," He chuckled at your confession. "Those three months and a half went on for far too long but I'm here now, lovie."

"No, no..." You shook your head with a childish grin. "I missed you while we slept... missed you for every moment... was watchin' you sleep."

Cillian laughed contagiously, you giggled too as you felt him pull you closer to him, your bare chests touching. He nuzzled your nose with his own, this moment so full of love, so intimate and private. You felt like the luckiest person in the world to be with him. The light painting you two in a golden hue, the moment felt so surreal, like something out of a wonderful dream or something you'd see right before you die, right as your soul becomes free.

"What've you got planned today, Cillian?" You hummed, you both huffed out hot puffs of air on each other's faces, neither of you caring that you hadn't brushed your teeth yet. Just relieved you could finally touch each other again, relieved your souls could finally reunite and recharge, that your bodies were flushed together, it wasn't possible for you two to be any closer (physically at least).

"Nothin'," Cillian murmured quietly, stroking your hair softly. "Just planned on spending it with my favorite girl, thas' all." You felt yourself grow flustered, nuzzling your face into his chest before glancing shyly back up at him, growing more flustered at the sight of him and his beard. That beard that made your heart race and in between your legs throb with desire.

"Cillian..." You whined, catching your bottom lip in between your teeth. He was so fucking pretty and even after all this time of being together, you could never get over it. It made you feel like a giddy little girl with a silly school girl crush.

"Hmmm?" He hummed. The deep vibration sending jolts of arousal straight to your core. "What is it, baby love?"

"Your beard..." You ran your fingers along the hair accumulating across his jawline and cheeks, clenching your thighs together. In all the time you and Cillian had been together, he had always been clean-shaven, of course there'd be the rare occasion where he forgets to shave for a day or two and has a bit of stubble but nothing ever this long. Cillian had that knowing look on his face, he very much knew the effect he had over you. Arrogant was not the word you would ever use to describe Cillian, in fact he was an incredibly humble and modest man but when it came to riling you up, teasing you, he was quite arrogant then, arrogant in the way he knew every little inch about you and would use that against you. He enjoyed teasing you, enjoyed getting you where you were weak because he enjoyed watching you squirm. "It's so...." You trailed off, biting your lip once again with that flustered look on your face.

"...So what?" Cillian grinned, a cheeky glint in his blue eyes as his hand slipped further down your back until it rested on your bare ass. "Go on, tell your husband how wet his beard's gotten ya, love." Well that was unexpected.

You let out a bashful squeal, diving your face into his chest to hide the look of desperation and embarrassment on your flushed face. You heard him laugh, amused by how easily aroused you were. "Cillian... don't tease me... it's been three months..."

"And a half!" He added.

"...Since I last saw you, you can't blame me... especially since you look sooooooo fucking good with a beard..." You were looking him in the eyes now, his own pupils blown wide and a small one-sided smirk on his face. You slipped your hand down his abdomen before your fingers wrapped around his already hard cock, he let out a small breath at the feeling of your gentle hand.

"C'mere, Y/N," Cillian groaned, grabbing you by your waist, picking you up like you weighed nothing and sitting you up on his stomach. "Wanna taste you... s'been too fuckin' long."

Your arousal pooled on his stomach, getting off on the slight friction against your clit every time he breathed in and out but it wasn't quite enough. "Cillian... baby..." You huffed, too shy to make the first move, he gave your ass a gentle slap.

"Go on, sit on me fuckin' face," He was growing impatient, licking his lips. "Show me how much you love my beard, know you're soaking wet 'cause of it, silly girl."

He wasn't wrong and so you meekly crawled until your pussy was aligned with his hungry face. You hovered your hips hesitantly over his nose and lips, your thighs on either side of his head. He roughly grabbed ahold of your plush hips and pulled you down until he was suffocating in your sopping cunt.

"Fuck!" You mewled, your pussy ached with how turned on you were. His tongue lapped up at you, his nose perfectly brushing your clit as he fucked his tongue in and out of your tight hole. You never understood how he could breathe with your weight fully on top of him, he'd always give you some form of punishment if you didn't sit on top of his face like he was just a chair so you did as you knew he wanted. He always reassured you that he loved it, that being under you with his face buried in you was heaven on earth. And who were you to deny him what he so desperately craved when it felt so unbelievably good? He especially loved it when you took control, when you gave into the pleasure and rode his face, used his face like it was just something for you to cum on. He also knew the consequences of growing out his beard, he knew it'd turn you on, and this was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew once you came all over his face, he'd smell you in his beard for days.

Cillian was in pure bliss as he felt your fingers interlock with his hair, holding onto him for support as you began rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue and nose, moaning so fucking loud that the neighbors could hear. It had been so long and the feeling of his beard scratching your thighs and sticky folds made the experience so much better. The new sensation was only making you moan louder and louder.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck... Cillian..." You were gasping, Cillian groans into your pussy, encouraging your rough movements. "Missed this so much! Missed your face..." Fuck. The feeling of his nose pressed right where you need him, right against your throbbing clit, it was like he was made for you. You loved his nose and you always told him so.

Cillian was breathing you in, feasting on you, like all there was was you. Well at the moment, that was true. All he could hear, see, taste, and smell, and feel, was you. He could feel cum leak slowly out of his cock, not being able to handle how turned on and rock hard he was, he needed some kind of release. But there was no way in hell he was going to touch himself, not when he could have his hands grasp onto your hips, holding you down on his face even further. He hoped one of these days that you would eventually become one. That he could have your delicious cunt permanently on his face, even if it meant suffocating to death.

"Cillian... I... fuck..." Your head was rolled back, hand gripping desperately onto the top of his head, too lost in the pleasure to think about how you could be hurting him but you knew if it was too much for him he'd tap out which he never does. You knew Cillian would take whatever you gave him. "I'm cumming!" You choked out, your hips that were previously fucking his face slowed down a bit, stuttering your movements as you came. You hadn't came this hard in months, your fingers could never compare, nor could your vibrator, or showerhead. You had fully collapsed on top of his head, thighs squeezing his head like a vice as you saw stars. Your vision going completely white. Cillian lapped up all of it, taking it gratefully, face completely drenched and well ridden as you pulled off of him with a gasp.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, gasping for air. You sat on his chest, still too weak or sensitive to move. Cillian smiled up at you dopily, high off of feeding off you. It only turned you on further how he got off on your pleasure. "Tastes so good... missed that so much... think I know what I'll be doin' all of today, love." You shook your head at Cillian, giggling a bit.

His face was drenched and beard sticky with your cum. Your cum formed perfect little droplets within the hair on his face, looking like he had just dipped his whole face in some sort of body of water, your cum had made it all the way to his forehead somehow. You blushed as you hopped off of him, you always felt embarrassed afterwards.

"Oh my god!" You exclaimed, seeing a bit of blood staining his teeth, you looked down at your groin to make sure you weren't bleeding (maybe you got your period?) but your heart sank at the realization you had managed to bust his top lip with how hard you rode his face. "I'm so sorry, Cillian! I'm so so sorry!"

He sat up with a frown, rubbing at his mouth to see the bit of blood on his fingers. He grinned like a mad man at the sight, standing up to look at himself in the mirror. You didn't understand why he was so happy about it. Beard coated in your creamy cum, face flushed, and his top lip bruised and swollen from where it had been repeatedly rubbing against his teeth. Cillian was pleased with his appearance and the newly made wound on his face. You stood up on shaky legs, cupping his face, worriedly.

"It's okay, love," Cillian reassured. "I'm fine, just a bit of blood, it'll heal by tomorrow I'm sure."

"No! I hurt you! I'm sorry I wasn't thinking!" You felt so guilty, you felt like the worst wife in the world. You brushed your thumb along his wet beard with a sad look on your face.

"Y/N," He said firmly, grabbing a hold of your waist, giving you a soft kiss, giving you a taste of yourself. "I wish you could understand just how much I love it when you ride my face. Best fuckin' thing in the whole world, how many times have I told you I'd die a happy man if it meant I got to drown in ya? Hmmm?" He smiled, you still frowned up at him, feeling guilty at his reddened lips. "Fuck, I don't think I could look sexier right now, I mean look at me! I don't really care f'me on looks but c'mon... you make me beautiful, Y/N..." Cillian looked delicious, he was right, you wanted to pounce him then and there and sit on his face all over again. "If people ask what happened to my lip, I can make up some flimsy excuse about how I fell on my face or some shit like that but smile to myself... knowin' the real story..." He licked his lips before continuing. "Knowin' that my goddess of a wife got herself off on my face because she loves me so much..."

His voice was soft, his hands caressed your naked body as he leaned in and kissed you. His beard was the best feeling ever against your lips. "I am sorry though... Cillian... I should've been more gentle..." You murmured. Cillian shook his head, he loved it when you were rough with him.

"I know a way you can make it up to me, darling," He hummed with that mischievous grin before gently pushing you down onto your knees, face right next to his deliciously hard cock. He moved his hips so that the head of his dick pushed at your lips, slapping you gently across the face with it. "Can't promise I'm gonna last very long though..."

"That's fine, Cillian... love the taste of your cum..." You said smiling as you lovingly took him into your mouth. God he looked so pretty with his beard.

-

<33333

[fleshing-out-fodlan]

Petra and Lysithea Parallels

Lysithea is often hailed as an “honorary Black Eagle” due to the parallels in hers and Edelgard’s backstory. While there are no doubt many similarities there, I’ve been wondering recently if Lysithea and Edelgard’s relationship may be overshadowing some parallels between her and other Black Eagles, particularly Petra.

There are three components of these characters that I want to focus on in this discussion: age, death, and loyalty. I believe by focusing on these components we can see ways these characters parallel each other, but also ways that their paths diverge.

Age

Anyone who knows anything about Lysithea knows her age is a major point of contention. As the youngest student at Garreg Mach, she often feels that other students are talking down to her. But what if there was another character that wasn’t that much older than her? Enter Petra.

Both Petra and Lysithea join the academy at 15 years old. While Petra’s birthday is a few months earlier than Lysithea’s, this age gap is one that would be insignificant in real world schools. Yet these characters are viewed very differently in Garreg Mach. I believe there are two main components as to why this is, one: how they present themselves, and two: racism.

Even just looking at their character designs, many people unfamiliar with the game probably would assume Lysithea is younger. She’s much shorter and in general looks more child like than Petra and appearances really matter in situations like this. Even beyond appearances though, Petra is much more mature that Lysithea. Let’s start by looking at their likes and dislikes:

A lot of Lysithea’s interests are things associated with children (liking sweets and cute things while disliking bitter foods and being afraid of ghosts). On the other hand, if you look at Petra’s interests, nothing about them scream child. In fact, her dislike for discrimination speaks to a maturity on her part as she is taking note of the unfairness in the world as opposed to focusing solely on herself. Furthermore, Lysithea is very petulant and prone to emotional outbursts (some could call them temper tantrums) particularly pre time skip. In contrast, Petra has always been a fairly composed person. Even in difficult situations like realizing one of her class mates is the son of the man who killed her father, Petra manages to stay fairly calm.

While we do see in their A support that her feelings are more complicated than Petra is initially letting on, this still speaks to a great deal of maturity as Petra is trying to let go of her personal grudges and see Caspar as an individual not an extension of his father.

2. Petra has dealt with a great deal of racism from the empire, something Lysithea as a native Leicesterian girl does not have to deal with in the Alliance. She was taken as a hostage at only 10 years old and even comments in her Hubert C support that she was treated like a “strange beast.” What we hear from her mirrors the treatment of Dedue in a way (although we don’t get as many details on Petra’s treatment) as we see NPCs who are grown adults act as if he is some terrifying monster and not just a teenage boy. From these two details, it becomes clear that those in Fodlan have a tendency to adultify foreigners, forcing them to grow up and mature faster than their Fodlan counterparts.

Death

Both Lysithea and Petra have lost family members and both of them lost them at the hands of the Empire. Petra lost her father in the war at 10 years old while Lysithea lost all her siblings in an experiment while very young. We see how these experiences have a profound impact on both these women, as they feel the need to step up and shoulder great responsibilities even when children. Furthermore, they both grow to focus their energy on those who survived their tragedies not those who died, with Petra wanting to help improve the quality of life for those in Brigid and Lysithea wanting to help her parents. Neither of them give much focus to avenging the dead.

This leads on to my third point.

Loyalty

Petra shows great loyalty to her people while Lysithea shows great loyalty to her parents. For both of them, this loyalty is motivated by knowing they are the only hope. Petra is the next Queen of Brigid, she knows she is in a unique position where she could free them from oppression and lead them to prosperity, meaning she needs to be very careful about how she approaches these matters. She needs to make cautious and calculated decisions when it comes to foreign affairs and can’t risk doing anything brash, she knows she is playing the long game.

Lysithea, similarly, knows she is the only person left to take care of her parents after the death of her siblings. This is what motivates her to work so hard as she wants to ensure her parents can live the rest of their lives in peace. However, in contrast to Petra, Lysithea knows she is on a time limit. She has to accomplish all these things at a very young age otherwise she will never accomplish them. While for Petra, aging is an opportunity to help her people in new ways, for Lysithea aging is what takes away her opportunities.