#and associate it with him and therefore be afraid of him

[iamthatonefangirl]

dirty little secret - nsfw winter soldier

word count: 6.6k based on this ask. disclaimer: offensive depictions/language regarding mental health. graphic depictions of violence and murder. cheating. *please note: the winter soldier willingly works for hydra and therefore bucky barnes does NOT exist in this universe. NOT associated with my pre-existing winter soldier series.

~~~

it's not like you didn't know, what with the way he looked at you.

the way he'd stare whenever your skin was exposed. a sliver of your ankle, the skin of your neck, your cleavage when you'd bend over... it didn't matter.

he would stare all the same, like you were a prized possession that he wanted but he knew he couldn't have.

all because of the wedding band on your left hand.

so he watched you, and didn't bother to look away whenever you caught his gaze in the act of him staring.

but he didn't dare touch you. that would be crossing a line.

he didn't need to touch you for you to know exactly what was going through his head.

jealously. lust. desire. possession, even though he knew you weren't his to hold a claim on.

~~~

you were something special to him.

in a world where he was surrounded by nothing but blood, weapons, and death, you stood out.

where he tore people limb from limb, disemboweled them, murdered them, you did the opposite. you stitched them back together, healed them.

you healed him.

that was the job you were hired to do, anyways. clock in, take his vitals. check his injuries. ensure he was in pristine condition to do the job that he was hired to do.

your inherent desire to nurture people, all those years of medical education you went through, all of it just to dedicate your life to tending to a man whose life was dedicated to violently executing people.

something about that thought appealed to him.

on the surface, you seemed to be a normal person. just any other doctor, any other woman. pleasant to be around, pleasant to socialize with. casual conversations with the other employees of the organization, smiles flashed at your coworkers when they walked by.

he rarely spoke to you, though. that would defeat the challenge.

defeat the challenge of trying to read you, trying to understand why you chose this job with all the work you'd done to get to where you are in life.

though he tried, he never could understand what about you drew you to this job. he knew that somewhere, deep down, you had to be as sick and twisted as the rest of them in order to work here.

to be willing to be the one who looked after him. the only one allowed to touch him. the only one who spent so much time with him excluding his superiors. the only one willing, nay, actively choosing to be alone in a room with a heartless, brutal assassin.

~~~

in the year you'd worked with him, he didn't speak to you unless he determined it was warranted. at first, you didn't know what to make of it.

when you were offered the job, you knew what you were getting yourself into. you knew the goal of the organization. you knew that you would be working with the most valuable asset among them.

you'd been forewarned, contingent on signing an NDA at interview, that he was deranged. off the rails. a psychopath.

but rest assured, he wouldn't hurt you. despite how they characterized him, you were assured that he was the most self-disciplined and self-controlled person you'd ever meet. he didn't do anything unless it was in the job description, unless it was a direct order.

it was an interesting dichotomy.

it intrigued you, the way he capitalized on his dark desires, monetized his insanity.

no way in hell could you say no to the job when it was offered to you.

so although you didn't know how to interact with him in the beginning, you were never afraid of him. even though his eyes trailed you from the second you entered the room until the moment you left. even when you caught glimpses of him covered from head to toe in blood, guts, and brains. even though you knew he was physically enhanced, had a specially-designed weapon attached to his shoulder disguised as an arm. even though he never said a word unless he deemed it absolutely necessary.

despite all of it, you weren't afraid.

so you continued to show up for work, and you continued to speak to him.

you knew he was listening. he didn't respond to your stories, didn't laugh at your jokes, didn't smile when you greeted him.

but those crisp blue eyes never left your face, never left your form.

after a while, you discovered that was his weakness. you learned to read his emotions through the look in his eyes. the way his eyes would widen ever so slightly when you got to the good part of a story.

the way his eyes would narrow when you mentioned your husband.

his gaze gave it all away.

~~~

that exact gaze gave way to his prized possession: you.

because that's all he could do. observe you.

you chose him, day in and day out, knowing what he did. you chose to speak to him like any other person, chose to ignore the fact that he was what he was. who he was.

you chose him.

you trusted he would never lay a finger on you.

he didn't.

he wouldn't.

about a month after you began work, the tides in his mind shifted. what once was a dedicated loyalty to his craft shifted to you. you became more important.

he realized he would never hurt you in any case. if a day ever came when he was told that you were his next target, he wouldn't do it.

he'd never failed a mission, not once. every target was successfully eliminated at his hands, which is why they never tried to replace him, never tried to seek out other willing talent. he was priceless, paid more than even the superiors who directed him, all because he was the best of the best. even they bowed down to him.

you, though.

forget the money, forget the protection and opportunity they offered him. he would turn on them in a heartbeat if it came to you.

he'd kill anyone who tried to come near you.

your life was in his hands, and he loved it.

he loved knowing that you knew that he could kill you without breaking a sweat, and yet, you continued to show up. he loved that everyone in this organization feared him so much that they would never even try to come near you. he loved that he was the one who dictated whether you made it through each day.

he loved that he owned you. that even though you didn't report to him, that he wasn't even in your direct chain of command, you still served him.

he controlled the breath that flowed in and out of your lungs. he controlled the blood that raced through your veins. he controlled everything.

all those thoughts, all that darkness within him, it all stayed within the confines of his mind. not a word of it was spoken into reality.

real power is best left unsaid.

but his desperate reassurances to himself that he controlled you were nothing more than an attempt at consoling himself.

he told himself he controlled your breath because he couldn't control what he actually wanted.

your pleasure. your happiness.

that's what he wanted to command.

if only for that stupid wedding band on your finger.

~~~

you knew he hated it. you knew that he didn't want to fucking hear about your marriage, about your personal life that didn't involve him. you knew from pretty early on that he wanted to be the only one allowed to look at you. that look told you he was constantly undressing you in his mind.

it's not like he ever explicitly told you to quit talking about your husband. it's not like he would even be allowed to; it wasn't his place. you were colleagues.

your husband, however, never heard about him. perhaps that was a deliberate decision on your part to protect him from knowing too much, protect him from the danger that came with being associated with such an organization.

perhaps it was because you didn't want your husband to know about him. perhaps you wanted to keep him to yourself, your dirty little secret.

perhaps you didn't want to protect your husband at all, but yourself.

you liked the attention the soldier gave you. you reveled in the way he looked at you, the way you felt like something to be desired. you enjoyed the way his eyes grew dark, even angry when you spoke about your marriage.

but that's all it was: a personal comfort to make yourself feel better.

even if it was at the emotional expense of both your colleague and your husband.

~~~

"I have to tell you, I'm leaving early today," you spoke to him, rambling on as you usually did to fill the silence. "it's my anniversary. my husband is taking me out for dinner tonight."

you glanced up at him as you said it, wrapping the cuff of the blood pressure monitor around his bicep. he glared at you as though pissed off at the discovery, yet as usual, he didn't say anything. he didn't tell you to quit talking. he didn't make any snarky comments.

but he heard you.

and he was pissed. now he had the image of you in his head, naked, with another man.

another man getting to touch you, getting to strip your clothes from your soft, delicate skin. a man that's not him getting to watch your face as you fall apart, overtaken by pleasure.

he hated the thought. he didn't want to know that another man was going to parade you around on his arm in some fancy restaurant only to take you home and touch you like he owned you.

worse yet?

it's not just the idea of another man acting like he owns you that pisses him off.

it's the fact that this other man does own you. he's your husband. you've committed yourself to him.

as he looks down at you squeezing the bulb of the monitor over and over again, he notices the way your ring catches the light with each release of your grip. that damn band pledging you to someone else.

he wants to destroy it. he wants to grab you, take you, and fuck you through his bed, ring shattered into a million pieces.

he looks back up to your face.

you don't look particularly excited about the words you're saying. you don't look like you're even happy that it's your anniversary.

you look entirely neutral, which is entirely uncharacteristic of you.

you've never spoken ill of your husband, and you've never seemed unhappy before.

this, though?

perhaps this is telling.

he watches as you continue to take his vitals and check up on a stab wound he sustained to his torso a few days previous. it doesn't bother him. pain doesn't faze him. the feeling of bleeding out is almost enjoyable, if you ask him.

he likes that you always fret over his injuries. he loves how concerned you look when you discover that he's been hurt. he enjoys how you work so diligently to take care of him, to clean him up, to do everything in your power to make him better.

he definitely won't tell you that he lets his opponents stab or shoot him once or twice just so that he gets to feel your warm hands on his skin, to see your complexion against his. to have you closer to him, to have you worry about him.

do you worry about him when he's on a job?

easy. of course you do.

you keep on talking, clearly as a means of convincing yourself that you're excited, that you're looking forward to dinner.

you're not a good liar.

at least to him, you're not.

"you need to be careful," you tell him as you re-bandage his injury. "one of these days, they'll get you real good and you won't come back to me."

your tone of voice is casual, teasing. but just as before, it's a cover-up, a deflection from how you really feel.

he's getting sick of that.

"I always come back," he speaks, gruff, voice hoarse from lack of use.

he would like to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, to remind you that nothing can possibly touch him. except, of course, he's kind of blown that cover by letting himself get injured.

he's long debated if his pride and his ego are more important than getting what he wants.

not when it comes to you.

"yes, of course, but I'd hate to see you come back in a body bag," you laugh.

real amusing.

you offer him some painkillers, to which he denies. you offer him a lot of things, a lot of comforts that he never accepts.

nothing would be as satisfying as you offering him yourself.

~~~

you sit at a table that's too small to comfortably eat at in a restaurant that's too dimly lit to even read the menu.

"don't do that," your husband reprimands when you hold up the screen of your phone to the menu to try and read it.

"I can't even see," you hiss back, but you agree, setting down your phone and trying your best to read the words without enough light.

this is your anniversary. you shouldn't be fighting on today, of all days.

when the waiter comes by, your husband orders a bottle of whiskey, top-shelf, likely hundreds of dollars.

"why the hell did you order that? I told you I have work in the morning, I'm not drinking," you remind him.

"it's my anniversary, too, isn't it?" he retorts, just as the waiter returns with the bottle and two glasses.

you just roll your eyes as he proceeds to down his first few drinks of the liquor.

"and how are you paying for it?" you whisper gently to him. you don't want to piss him off, but you can't just let it go.

"you make enough money at your goddamn doctoring job that you don't tell me shit about."

how dare he speak to you that way?

"oh, so you're paying for it out of my salary? seriously?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

"consider it your anniversary gift to me."

you sigh and shut your eyes in frustration as he continues to drink. you're not in the mood to argue over this in public.

it's not like he got you a gift, either. four stupid years of stupid marriage, only for it to lead to this...

fuck.

when's the last time you told each other you loved one another?

when's the last time you had sex beyond scratching that itch, fulfilling that obligation?

when's the last time he looked at you the way the soldier does every day?

woah, okay, enough. don't go there.

you shouldn't go there. you shouldn't be thinking about another man while at dinner with your husband.

he wouldn't treat you like this.

stop this. right now, you tell yourself. it's not right.

it's not.

but you're really fucking sick of pretending like you don't just casually enjoy the attention he gives you.

~~~

so maybe you give in a little.

maybe you let yourself pretend. at home, in bed, under your husband, that it's not him who's touching you. that it's someone else's hands peeling your dress from your skin, someone who appreciates you. who doesn't see you as the person he fucks but the person he gets to have like this.

as he touches you, the room is dark enough that he's nothing more than a body on top of yours, seeking his own pleasure from between your legs.

your marriage has never felt as loveless as it does to you right now, as you realize how he's not even looking at you. not saying your name, not saying anything.

amidst the pain of realizing it's over the second he presses himself into you without any care for how you feel, amidst the guilt of pretending that it's not him taking you right now, there's a flicker.

a flicker of hope. of potential. that maybe it's not too late for you, that you're not actually tied to the man whose ring sits on your finger. that you can be more than just the person your husband mooches off of, uses to pretend like he's more of a man than he actually is.

the man you're thinking of now could never be so insecure, so fucking pathetic as to demean you by pulling out the second he's done without making sure you're satisfied.

"happy anniversary," he mumbles as he turns away from you, already falling asleep from the liquor.

except you're wide awake. the thoughts in your head are swirling, and the heat in your stomach is growing.

you're up and walking yourself to the bathroom quietly so as to not wake him, shutting the door and flicking on the light.

as you look in the mirror, you don't know what to think. you barely even know who you are anymore, just now realizing the extent to which you're truly miserable. how you don't feel seen, how you feel like a shadow in your own home.

how you feel like someone when the soldier looks at you. how you feel special.

there's a man out there who would kill for you if you asked him to.

you can't help it when you brace one hand on the bathroom sink, the other reaching between your thighs.

would he be quiet when he fucks you, the way he normally is? or would he let himself go, let you know how much he enjoys feeling you?

would he ruin you so quickly you wouldn't even know what hit you? or would he torment you, taking you apart so slowly that you begin to cry, pleading for more?

you reach to turn on the showerhead to mask the sounds of the whimpers escaping your mouth, even as you bite your lip so hard it tastes metallic on your tongue.

you imagine him looking at you with those eyes of his, the ones that never leave you, as he fucks you on his fingers until you're dripping down to your ankles.

before you know it, you're coming. you're hunched over the bathroom sink uncomfortably, your fingers struggling between your thighs.

it's awful, and it's amazing, because the thoughts of what he would do to you continue running rampant in your head.

as you hop in the shower, you tell yourself that you've done nothing wrong.

you've done nothing wrong, technically.

right?

~~~

the next morning, you can't look yourself in the eyes in the mirror.

you can't wake up your husband to tell him you're leaving, to kiss him goodbye, because you're still reeling from the night before.

you're a good person. you're a committed, devoted wife, even through your struggles. you're going to stand by your husband and quit letting the soldier ogle you because it's wrong.

when you get to work, you toss your purse on your desk and change into your scrubs. the entire time, you can't help but be overly aware of the weight on your left hand. it's weighing heavy on your heart and mind, not just your hand. you want to take it off, to relieve yourself of the pressure for the day.

except you know he'll notice if you take it off. he'll see it. it might even be so substantial that he speaks up, questions you about it.

you're stuck.

by time you gather up the courage to go see him, you're told he went on a quick last minute assignment. he'll be back this afternoon.

somehow, that's both a relief and a disappointment. you have to act normal, put last night behind you. you have to move forward.

you don't have a choice.

~~~

in normal circumstances, he goes to get cleaned up before you evaluate him post-mission.

this isn't normal circumstances. somehow, you're frantic to see him, just to remind yourself what normalcy looks like. you need to lay your eyes on him, remind yourself he's actually a colleague, not a fantasy you've made up in your head. that way you can fucking get over yourself.

you've got too many thoughts at once, all swirling around like a hurricane in your head.

this isn't like you. you need to relax, calm yourself down.

but somehow, you feel more trapped than you've ever been right now. even in this job where you have free reign, take orders from next to no one, get along with your coworkers...

the ring on your finger continues to weigh heavy, no longer a symbol of connection. just a ball and chain.

just when you get yourself so riled up that you think you might quit your job and leave your husband without a word, there he is. you're standing in the doorway of your office as they lead him down a hallway to his quarters.

he's back, covered from head to toe in blood, sweat, and dirt. he's wearing that tactical gear you rarely see him in. he looks better than you think you've ever seen.

you want to hide the way you gasp, the way you're taken aback at the sight of him like this.

but when you're there, he knows. when you're in the room, his gaze has nowhere better to be. he's far more observant than you know, reading your body language better than you yourself can, thanks to his enhancements.

he immediately knows something is different about you. how your heartbeat is racing faster. how you're not the calm and collected person you usually are.

he ditches his handlers, telling them to fuck off as he walks over to you. they're none the wiser.

he towers over you, black synthetic covering the lower half of his face as he glares down at your shocked expression, sensing the way your face heats under his watchful eye.

you normally don't respond to his gaze.

something is off.

something is different.

he permits himself to speak.

"how was your anniversary?"

the question, particularly from him, shocks you and angers you all at once. you try your best not to respond, keeping your real thoughts to yourself, as you let out a scoff and roll your eyes. the whole time, you fidget with the ring on your finger, gently tugging it up to your knuckle, and back down to its seat...

your lack of a response is just another indicator on top of your inability to hold eye contact, the way your eyes roam.

roam his face, catching the scratch on his left temple, noting the way his hair is a mess.

even though he sees everything, always maintains his composure, he's still wound up from the mission. maybe his dick is still hard from having watched the life drain from the man he was just sent to kill.

you don't know it, but he's just as amped as you are right now.

he's never crossed the line. he's never touched you.

he shouldn't do this.

but then your eyes meet his again, and the choice is made for him.

his hands come to your hips, gripping you tightly, forcing you backwards into your office as he kicks the door shut behind him. you almost trip as he walks you backwards, but his hold on you is so firm, it keeps you upright.

his eyes are pointed in a manner you've never seen before. you've seen them narrowed in confusion and in anger when you've told him your life stories, but never like this. never with all the heat in his body manifesting itself into his expression as he looks at you.

you could spend the rest of your life right here, being watched, observed, if only by him.

he's shameless as he drops his eyes from yours, down the slope of your nose to your lips, gently smeared with tinted lip balm.

did you wear bright lipstick for your husband?

what would it look like smeared on his skin?

his eyes continue their descent, all the while you make no effort to fight against it. you should push him away, tell him this is inappropriate, that you know where this is leading.

even in your baggy scrubs, he manages to make you feel naked and exposed.

you might swoon.

once his gaze finally trails back up to meet yours after what feels like a lifetime, you're powerless against the way you whine,

"please."

without hesitating, he's gripping your hip tighter in his flesh hand, pushing his thumb up under your shirt to finally feel your skin. his metal arm, little more than a weapon attached to his body, comes up to wrap itself in your hair, tugging roughly to expose your neck to him. you gasp at the sudden motion, but comply without a second thought.

his flesh hand moves from your hip, ever so slowly, to remove the mask from his face.

there he is.

you hear it clatter onto the desk behind you where he tosses it, his hand coming back to hold you tightly, fingers pushing up under your shirt to splay his huge palm against your skin.

he leans down, pressing his face into your neck, and he inhales so sharply against you that you can hear the swoosh of air. he adjusts his grip on you, holding you closer to him as he presses his lips to your flesh.

his mouth is warm, and wet, and then-

he bites down, hard.

"oh, fuck," you hiss, but still make no attempts to move away, instead finally bringing your hands to his waist, holding him in place the way he's doing to you.

he makes a noise against you as he licks over your skin where he just bit into you, and you know right now: you're so fucked.

he covers every inch of your exposed skin in his marks. he wants you to remember this, to know who left all these bruises on your delicate skin, even long after the fact.

all the need he's harbored, all the desire he's kept perfectly under control over the last year, all comes undone in less than a second.

you squeal as you find yourself being shoved to your knees in front of him, his metal hand holding the back of your head so you can't escape.

as you look up to meet his gaze, he knows he could keep you here forever.

maybe he should.

your hands find their way to his outer thighs to hold yourself up, and you watch as he continues to just stare you down without making a move.

"soldat?" you inquire. it must shake him from his thoughts as his other hand comes to his cargo pants, pulling and ripping at the buttons and zippers. he's already straining against the fabric, finally having you like this, at his mercy.

he's never letting another human being see you like this again, least of all your husband.

your husband.

"give me your hand," he orders, and the sound of his voice in your ears heats your whole body. you shakily reach your hand to his, where he grasps it softly, taking a moment to look at your ring as though admiring it.

and then you feel his fingers wrap around it, tugging the platinum gently off your finger, and then-

you hear it clatter to the floor, and you watch as he stomps on it, the beautiful diamond shattering to pieces.

"look at me," he hisses at you. you're still in awe, in shock, jaw dropped from the sight. what this means for you now, what it represents.

his hand comes to your chin when you don't move quick enough for him, forcing you to look back up at him.

"you belong to me."

you want to revel in the words, forget all about the ring destroyed on the floor. your eyes so badly want to flutter shut at the thought.

you know better.

"I own you."

this time, his words are a smidge gentler. the look in his eyes almost softening, showing some real emotion behind them, how badly he's wanted this, too.

your ring is on the floor, destroyed. your marriage in the gutter, hopeless. your body and soul in the hands of the man above you.

it's so refreshing, somehow so freeing to repeat back to him,

"you own me."

only then does the weight of your ring finally fall from your shoulders, the chain finally cut, freeing you to tie yourself to who you really want.

his hand on your head pushes your head forward, pressing your face up against the outline of his cock under his black boxers.

"damn straight," he whispers. he releases you momentarily to yank the fabric out of the way, and you're immediately drooling all over yourself when you see him.

you don't get the chance to stare for long because he's yanking your jaw open with one hand and pushing himself down your throat without another word.

it should be uncomfortable, making your jaw ache as you struggle to hold your mouth open enough, eyes watering, unable to breathe.

it's exactly what you want.

he wastes no time in moving your head for you, thrusting in and out of your mouth, watching as your lips part to take him without complaint. your eyes shut as you eagerly let him fuck your face, tears falling down your cheeks to mix with the mess of saliva collecting at the sides of your mouth.

you grip his legs as tightly as you can, hands still shaking, as he continues to use you the way he's longed for since he met you.

"you're absolutely fucking perfect, you know that?" he grits out amidst his rough movements. "you're perfect."

did your husband tell you how good you were?

did your husband even appreciate getting to have you like this?

you're a mess, whining and whimpering around him, disgusting noises filling the room and catching his ears.

you want nothing more than this, for him to want you, to keep going. but you don't know how much more of this you can take.

as though on cue, he quits moving, holding your head down on him as he lets go down the back of your throat. his release fills your mouth so wholly, dripping down your chin as you don't swallow in time.

he hauls you to your feet and sits you down on the desk behind you. his flesh thumb finds your chin and wipes away the remainder of his mess.

"gonna fuck you 'til you don't know where you're at," he hisses, reaching his metal hand to yank at the string on the waistband of your scrubs. "tell me you want it."

"shit, I want it," you affirm, your voice absolutely wrecked from the way he just debauched your throat. "I want you so bad."

you watch as he pulls on the string, bow coming undone, the sound of nothing but both your breathing in your ears. you let him reach for the hem of your shirt, gently dragging it up and over your head. you kick off your shoes so he can ease your pants down and off, finally getting them out of the way.

in all the times you felt his gaze on you, it's never felt like this. you've seen him look needy, wanting, staring at you like you're the most valuable and priceless treasure known to man.

this is something else. this is him realizing he gets to touch you, gets to see what he's imagined under your clothes for a year. he gets to strip you, gets to have the only thing he's ever wanted more than the feeling of someone dying at his hands.

he gets to have you.

he gets to make you scream in pleasure, all because of him, only for him.

it just then hits him that you're in your office where anyone could hear what's only for his ears.

his metal hand comes to rest atop your lips, gently sealing your mouth shut to prevent any sounds from escaping. at the same time, his flesh fingers find their way beneath your underwear.

if not for his hand keeping you from moaning out, you'd be a wreck, a noisy mess all from a single one of his touches.

"look at you," he whispers, pressing his fingers further down between your folds to where you're aching for him so desperately. "so warm and wet for me."

he grunts as he pushes two fingers up into you, making your whole body withdraw automatically.

"shhh, I've got you," he tells you, and you ease into the feeling of his fingers inside you making your mind go blank.

you've never heard him talk this much, ever. the sound of his voice makes you feel so giddy, the fact that he's speaking to you making you feel relaxed beyond belief. he's always so deliberate, so careful, that the feeling of him talking to you like this only exacerbates the heat in your abdomen.

he continues to hold your face firmly, keeping eye contact the whole time as his fingers move inside you, deeper than you could get yourself the night before.

fuck, the night before, when you got off to a scenario almost mirroring the situation you're in now. you let out a low whine against his hand, and he steps closer, staring at every reaction that manifests itself in your eyes.

he looks determined. excited.

you don't want to come too fast. you don't want to embarrass yourself, except-

you grip the edge of the desk tightly as your orgasm takes you with little warning, your whole body trembling, his hand never faltering.

he keeps working you through it, continuing the pace and rhythm he's set even when your body feels like nothing more than liquid. it's so much, it's too much, you want to protest.

"again."

you don't know if you can, cries bubbling in the back of your throat as your eyes struggle to open to catch his gaze. you can't, you can't...

"you will."

is he an actual mind reader?

he might be, you think, as your body shakes uncontrollably as he sends you into a second release so quickly you might die from overstimulation.

you lay back, head tapping the desk as you try to catch your breath. your hands are shaking as you bring them to smooth our your hair, trying to calm yourself, wiping the drool from your chin.

you can't possibly force yourself to move right now, not even to sit up as you feel him stepping in between your legs, the insides of your thighs against his hips. you shiver yet again as he trails a metal thumb up the soaked fabric of your underwear.

he hooks his thumb inside the fabric, pulling, ripping it from your skin to see the way you're already swollen and still dripping for him.

"all mine," he hisses, cupping you in one large hand and leaning over where you're laying on the desk. his face is right in front of yours as he grits out, "this, you? all mine."

you nod lazily, eyes fluttering open and shut repeatedly, humming your approval.

his flesh hand comes to rest under your head as he lines himself up against you, between your legs. your body moves before you're aware of it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, legs moving to hitch themselves around his hips.

"please," you mumble. you're already half gone, all thanks to him.

now you need him to fuck every last thought, every last doubt out of your head.

"that's my girl, begging for it like you should," he mutters, pressing a metal thumb to your clit just as he steps forward, thrusting himself entirely into you in one quick motion.

"fuck," you scream out suddenly, keening at the burn, how utterly stretched beyond belief you feel.

he quickly covers your mouth again with his free hand to keep you quiet, rubbing you between your legs to help you settle. "you're fine," he whispers to you, "doing perfect."

you nod your head vehemently, trying to compose yourself, all of your limbs clinging so tightly to wrap yourself around him.

next thing you know, he's pulling out about halfway, just to drive back into you with so much force it rips a moan from your throat. he doesn't hesitate, having craved having you like this for so long, fucking you with all the built-up tension inside of him.

the sting gives way to the most blinding pleasure between your legs. you're a complete mess as you hold onto him like you never want to let go. you feel the way his fingers move against you in tandem with his thrusts. if you had any critical thinking skills left, you would wonder how he finagled this position, how can he possibly be comfortable leaning over you like this...

he doesn't seem to care, grunting and wincing with every movement. this is the first time you've ever seen his face contort, the first time you've seen him actually put his feelings on display for you to see.

you're infatuated with him, the way he's showing you a part of him no one has seen before, the way he's fucking you like he has something to prove.

you're a mess, losing control of your muscles, your stomach cramping as you're already on the edge so soon.

by the way his breathing changes, you sense he is, too.

"come for me, right now," he grits. "on my cock, for no one else, ever again."

you're helpless against the way your body follows his orders, every other part of you going lax as you squeeze him so tight it sends him into his own release.

you don't know how long you stay like that, him leaning over you and still buried so deep inside of you. you feel a burning pain in every fiber of your being, but it's the most satisfied you've felt in a long time.

you listen to him breathe against your ear, and you eventually realize he's looking at you again, watching as you come back to yourself.

your mind slowly starts to turn on again, as does your body.

you blink once. twice. you swallow.

what have you done?

the instant his hand falls away from your mouth, you begin to panic.

"my husband-"

"I'll take care of him."

you don't want that to sound appealing. you don't want to savor in how hot and bothered the idea of him killing for you sounds.

"I can't ask you to do that."

he lets out a rough exhale.

"then I'll ask you. let me take care of the motherfucker who kept me from you for so long."

he feels the way you tense, how you squeeze around him, still half-hard inside you.

he wants to smirk at you, tell you that he knows. he knows you like the idea of it, that you get off on it the same way he does.

"let me take care of him."

"they'll think it was me, I'll be the one who gets accused-"

"you think I'm gonna fucking let that happen to you?"

you don't know what to say.

deep down, you knew he would do this for you. you knew he would do anything for you, but the fact that he's actually confirming it, telling you that he'll kill your husband for you?

you were an idiot to not give in to this, to him, sooner.

he watches how the look in your eyes morphs from one of concern to one of contentment. he's already hard again by time you tell him,

"do it."

~~~

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[misspoken-pea]

Twst theory instead of studying:

Fae history (or lack ther of) (Briar Valley)

—————————————————

The reason why we don’t see much record of fae history nor do we have much understanding about fae in twst textbooks or in general is simply because just like any white colonised country (a country that never managed to recover most of their lost land at that), Briar Valley / Kingdom (the major land of origin for most faes) history was written over and downplayed by its colonisers during / after the irl events of Lilia’s dream.

The people know about Malleus simply because he is royalty and overpowered, not because they gaf about Briar Valley culture. He is simply a notable oddity on a global scale.

Which leads to one of my head cannons as to why Tsunotaro was so feared. It wasn’t just because he is powerful, no, it’s because he is also a tool for political fear-mongering.

Imagine an ex-colony starting to rise in power and recover from the damages it took from a war that wiped out half its population under the protection of it’s extremely magical capable queen (a power hard to cultivate in the world of twst).

The best way for other countries to maintain and establish their global dominance is to isolate Briar Valley via propaganda, which is already greatly achievable due to the fae’s mystified existence (lack of technological advancements and buried history). Now where else to better start then demonising the magical-nuke of a gothic royal family Briar Valley prides on?

And the thing is, these rumours are highly believable with people’s lack of understanding on magic and the seemingly endless pool of power the Draconias have, effectively obscuring the image of fairy-kind. The fact that Malificia is too tired to bother with the propaganda as she is tired with life (slightly implied in game) and Malleus being a mentally troubled autistic teen worried about making friends at school does not help.

So of course sweet ol’ Mal is not gonna make friends at school aside from his brother, his dad and the neighbours loud ass kid. Cuz who else’s gonna approach the emotionless all powerful Godzilla god-like creature that lives in the dark, feeds off of newborn babies, and will blow you to bits for even slightly angering him because all faes are arrogant and horrid creatures/j.

—————————————————————————

So yeah this is my ted talk on why Malleus is a loser (affectionate) who can’t make friends (self projection beam).

[nightingaletrash]

I know we all get a giggle out of Dracula playing at being his own staff and running around the castle to do the work of a household by himself but a thought I had during today's entry was that it could be another tactic he uses to make Jonathan more vulnerable to his manipulation.

When the driver disappears, Jonathan is left waiting on the doorstep of the castle, waiting for the Count or a member of the staff to let him inside. All the while, he's stuck standing there in his thoughts, stranded in the mountains of a foreign country that are very much hazardous to him. There are wolves, strange blue flames, and an inescapable feeling of pure dread created by the foreboding scenery and general fear of the people around him. The whole journey to Castle Dracula, Jonathan felt afraid. And now he's alone with no way out, left with only his thoughts as he waits to be let into the 'safety' of the castle. He describes being crowded by his doubts and fears, wondering what on earth he's gotten himself into, but also how he can't turn back because he's a full-blown solicitor, and that this whole situation is starting to feel like a nightmare that he can't wake up from.

And then Dracula arrives, welcoming him inside and insisting on carrying his luggage for him, and Jonathan feels his doubts and fears melt away. Dracula - while strange to him in some ways and already arousing some suspicion with his resemblance to the Driver - immediately becomes a sort of safety from the nightmare. That long wait between the Driver's exit and Dracula's arrival generates an unease that can be taken advantage of.

In dogs, feelings of Fear leads to Seeking, Frustration and Rage behaviours. Whatever makes the Fear go away first becomes super reinforcing and the dog will go with what works: strange man with a big stick stops being scary if I bite him, then I'll bite faster the next time a similar threat appears. Going in my crate means the scary thing stays away from me, then I'll go in my crate when I feel scared. This person makes me feel safe? If a scary thing happens, I'll go to them and they'll either make sure the bad thing doesn't kill me or they'll tell me that I don't need to be scared.

In Jonathan's case, Dracula is the positive association. Scary place, scary circumstances, lots of doubt and fear? Well the Count I've come to visit has arrived to let me inside, away from the scary things, and is treating me to a lovely dinner while being very polite and courteous. I am no longer scared, therefore the Count is someone who makes me feel safe and therefore I am safe around him.

By letting Jonathan wait to be let into the castle and to engage in socialising, Dracula lets that fear build up. Lets it get to Jonathan just enough that he starts to feel it keenly before sweeping it away and becoming a point of refuge and safety. The only refuge and the only safety.

[harmonyrae]

Sylus Spoilers & Theories🐦‍⬛

So I have only gone through Sylus's chapters in the main story update, but I have a lot of thoughts and I need to get them out so I can process the rest of the story. So...

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD (and heavy theorizing)🥀

First off, if the timeline of Love & Deepspace confuses you I want you to think of only one thing:

It's okay not to understand the timeline and be confused. The writing team have woven a delicate ball of lore and given us the chance to decipher it. Right or wrong, they're probably enjoying our attempts to figure it out. So, theorize we shall.

Anyways. My current thoughts on Sylus lore is this:

The FIRST time they were together is Dragon Sylus & Sorceress MC. Why? Because the concept of him being a fiend, an other-worldly being who EATS souls is far too big to ignore. And it explains how they are soul-bonded.

I think Sylus & MC were on a different planet entirely for the gladiator stuff. Philos and Earth have been the primary planets mentioned, but they don't originate there. There were "rooms" assigned to Lemuria & Backtrackers & Zayne's divinity stuff. Obviously, Caleb & MC grew up together there. Where was Sylus's "room"? There's no "Tartarus" or "Fiend" study rooms.

Another reason a different planet is likely - child MC literally jokes with child Sylus about "throwing him into Tartarus" (underworld/hell). Like it's a place or a fable for them.

Also, there's no shot all these hints at Hades are gonna be left alone. Pomegranates, the mythical name for hell's hell, devil association - like it's happening.

Sylus willingly gave himself to EVER and had the Aether Core put in his eye. That would connect his choices in his Catch 22 story. Maybe that is how he saved her from the chamber originally, he was already inside the facility - as a patient.

OR: The Aether Core isn't a thing, it's just a part of their genetic makeup. Like did MC really get a protocore lodged in her? That's a cover story, how did I not get that until now... So, because of Sylus having the same energy, he could get close to EVER.

MC would match Sylus's age if she hadn't been fucked with in those experiments... Sylus seems to age slowly (like Xavier) and MC is probably the same, but she kept getting "reset." When Sylus arrived and she was a child he was probably surprised.

Next Myth Theory: Gladiators & Space Pirates. Yes, I think we will see a combo. We see child Sylus & MC grow up together as gladiators, their escape & then their exploration of the galaxy as they search for their own little safe haven. You know, while being hunted by their handlers probably. I think this time around MC is gonna die, which is how she get separated from him and ends up reincarnating on earth. He searches for her (racks up an intergalactic bounty), finds her, waits for her.

HOW IT CONNECTS TO OTHER LIS: Walk with me. I think her soul can become fragmented. Versions of herself exist that are not soul-bound to Sylus. Therefore you can "choose" your Li without worrying another will swoop in. However, for main story purposes, the writers had to pick one of the Lis to facilitate the bombshell of her very existence. Picking Sylus explains 2 things: his lack of content & his seemingly unlimited power. And it allows Sylus to teach MC how to handle her extraordinary power since he also contains his own. Each Li has a purpose in the main story and this appears to be Sylus'.

So those are my current theories. I am SO curious to see how the main story will effect Sylus's cards. Will lore be dropped more casually? Will she be afraid of her power openly with him? Will we get a card where he is training her to control her power? Will she remember Dragon Sylus at some point? Since it's only clear she remembers the gladiator stuff for now.

Will MC slowly start remembering things for all the Lis and just "oh yeah btw I remember this"? All I know, the next time main story MC sees Caleb she better say "Do you remember Dimitri?" and he just loses his fuckin mind...

Share your theories with me. THIS IS ONLY FOR SYLUS THEORIES - I will probably make a separate one for Zayne.

[scoobydoodean]

what is your opinion on people calling dean a heavy misogynist? i don’t agree personally but i feel like you could put my thoughts into better words

First, I have to chuckle a little at "heavy misogynist". Apparently, some people have begun to realize their fave is also guilty of misogyny crimes therefore they focus on making sure all of us know Sam is a light misogynist and Dean is a heavy misogynist. I just find that amusing.

This is a broad topic in a long show, so I won't endeavor to address every conceivable incidence of misogyny in the show I can think of. Instead, I'm going to create a few headings, at least one of which I think most criticism falls under.

Misogyny through the writing team

How Sam's misogyny gets a pass

Purity culture wank and Dean performing for Sam

How Dean actually treats women

Misogyny Through The Writing Team

First, Supernatural in of itself has issues with misogyny—as in, the writers of the show (including female writers) have issues with misogyny which they are happy to put on display semi-frequently. The show started in 2005, during a period of time where casual sexism was absolutely rampant on TV and no one thought anything about it. Female celebrities were regularly mocked and dragged on cable television in a way men simply weren't. They were called bitches and skanks and whores, and even "progressive" voices were inundated with casual misogyny and a fixation on purity culture (that largely applied to women only). Quite simply, I think fandom tends to be far too generous toward the writers, assuming certain things were "flaws" the writers intentionally wrote for the characters.

Put another way, there are some criticisms I prefer to level at the writing team rather than the characters, because what is written plainly reflects their ignorance in the real world rather than any intent to give Sam or Dean or any other character meaningful flaws—much less outright terrible ones that greatly harm their image. I'll give a few examples:

2.17 "Heart" makes me very uncomfortable as I sit here in 2024 and observe how Sam and Madison's romance develops. Me feeling that way does not mean the authorial intent of 2007 Sera Gamble was that I think to myself, "Man Sam comes off as uncomfortably rapey here." Hopelessly bad with women, perhaps—but not creepy.

In season 2, the writers begin to develop a running “joke” that Sam is afraid of not just clowns but also little people. The latter “joke” is (wisely) dropped fairly quickly. I have never criticized Sam for being afraid of little people, and I never will. It is readily apparent to me that this running "joke" reflects the ignorance of the writing team rather than an intent to give Sam meaningful or interesting flaws. Their intent was to use little people as the butt of a joke. I personally find this "joke" distasteful, and the idea of trying to take that and somehow "dunk" on Sam for the bigotry of the writers is more distasteful to me.

This is also how I feel about the running "joke" of a porn magazine and website (BAB) that solely features Asian women, that is put on display on multiple occasions during the show—first in 2.15 "Tall Tales", where the context is Gabriel infecting Sam's laptop with a virus from the website and making him believe Dean is responsible. BAB continues to make "Easter Egg" appearances in the show afterward. While often associated with Dean by fandom, the writers clearly think of BAB as a general, "funny" (it isn't), running gag with no more depth than "haha men like porn funny". An issue is stolen by a sentient teddy bear in 4.08 "Wishful Thinking". An issue is owned by the teenager who swapped bodies with Sam in 5.12 "Swap Meat". The Men of Letters also collected a considerable number of issues (8.17). I simply do not believe the writers thought for a single moment about BAB being a grossly racist gag. They most certainly did not write it as an intentional criticism of Dean from that perspective. It reflects nothing but their ignorance and racism here in the real world, and absolutely SHOULD be criticized from that REAL WORLD impact.

How Sam's misogyny largely gets a pass

One of the things I have not been able to stop noticing on this rewatch is Sam's issues with misogyny, and how often Sam's misogyny comes out in conflicts with Dean... starting from the very first episode of the show. Pretty much any time you get anything that feels like it might be a misogynist Dean or horn dog Dean moment... Sam either just has or is about to follow that up with some misogyny of his own.

In 1.01, right after entering Sam's apartment and meeting Jess, Dean mentions the Smurfs on Jess's shirt. We think to ourselves "Okay. A little misogynist... a little horn-dog Dean." Sam is happy to 1-Up that in two ways. First, Jess voices her intentions to go get dressed. Dean dismisses this, but while doing so, makes it clear he intends to leave the room with Sam, as he'd like to have a private conversation with Sam anyway. Sam objects, walking over to Jess and putting an arm around her, demanding Dean say whatever he needs to say right then and there. Maybe this would feel supportive if Jess wasn't in her underwear and hadn't just made it clear that now that the panic over a possible break-in is over, she'd really like to not be in her underwear in front of a stranger. But nope. By god she needs to stand there so Sam can prove a point about misogynist Dean! Second, Sam immediately (and I think quite erroneously) jumps to imply Dean is trying to cut Jess out of the conversation because she's... a woman? Or... something? He makes a big show of moving over Jess and standing beside her, saying anything Dean has to say, he can say in front of Jess. However, the moment Sam actually understands that Dean is here because John is missing on a hunting trip, he dismisses Jess to speak to Dean alone... because he's lying to her. By painting Dean erroneously with this "The men are talking" bullshit that had nothing to do with anything, Sam sets himself up to be viewed as a misogynist by his own framing of the situation and what it means to leave Jess out of a discussion. He also reveals his own alleged principles as a performative illusion. Despite being his intended life partner, Sam never intends to tell the woman he loves about his past as a hunter (he makes this clear later on the bridge). However, I think because Sam's actions usually co-occur with what gets called out more directly or more immediately recognized as misogyny from Dean (should have gotten him for the Smurf's comment, Sam!) Sam's misogyny often flies under the radar... and he's really... pretty bad.

I spoke here at length about how Sam tends to look down on women who interact with Dean (often before meeting them). There is absolutely an intersection with purity culture here and there's discussion in that thread about that as well, and whether this is a "2000s writers" issue or intentionally written flaws.

In 1.06, Sam cuts Dean off before Dean can accept an offered beer from Rebecca, but then as soon as Sam needs Rebecca out of the room, Sam asks her to not just bring them those beers... but also fix them sandwiches. Rebecca says, "What do you think this is, Hooters?" and Dean mumbles, "I wish" and we somehow lose sight of the fact that Sam literally just asked a woman to make him sandwiches which is possibly the number one misogynist man trope. Sam vaguely suggests Dean is a misogynist in 1.19 for nudging Sam to go on a date with Sarah Blake and possibly get information on the case, because that would be "using" her, but Sam wants to "use" Meg Masters in 1.22 and he wants to "use" Ruby to get what he wants, and when he said getting information from women was "Dean's job", he was also showing he was perfectly willing to use Dean and Sarah—he just doesn't want to get his hands dirty. It also comes to light in 1.19 that this is more about Sam's belief that he has to protect women from him, and Sarah herself ends up calling Sam antiquated for it.

I mentioned before that Sam doesn't plan to ever tell Jess who he is, and he makes the same plans with Amelia. Dean, meanwhile, confides in Cassie (it's what leads to their breakup) as well as Lisa.

I also have to mention... one of the funniest things I see deancrit samgirls in particular dig at time after time after time is Dean calling women "bitches". Never mind that Sam also calls women like Ruby and Bela bitches and calls a woman a bitch in front of Madison. Apparently none of these occurrences count because... *looks at notes* reasons. "Bitch" only counts as misogyny when it's Dean saying it. Also, let's not mention that Sam exclusively uses the word "bitch" to refer to women, while Dean also calls men and creatures bitches at different points so it isn't a gender specific insult for him.

Dean is definitely the "heavy" misogynist here... right? (I guess Sam is a "tall" misogynist instead).

Purity culture wank and Dean performing for Sam

Dean is commonly treated in fandom as if he's some kind of sex pest, and quite blatantly... he isn't one. Women almost always proposition Dean first (thejabberwock has sets on this here and here), but him asking people out also isn't inherently creepy in any way? Co-occurring with Sam's purity culture inundated judgements, we often see fandom's own as well, where Dean is some kind of sex pest because he... likes women? Or... because he has sex with consenting women who also want to have sex with him? Sometimes it's giving purity culture wank, sometimes it's given big radfem energy... but regardless, I sometimes see people talk about Dean like him so much as making eye contact with a woman is a violent sexual threat, and that's just laughable—as is denying the agency and autonomy of consenting women in general.

Even though it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, I'll also add that Dean... doesn't even actually have sex with the frequency that people talk about it? Dean has sex with Cassie—who was a long term partner of his in 1.13. He has sex with an actress in 2.18, and with Doublemint twins in 3.01. He has sex with a waitress 4.05. He plans to have sex with someone in 3.04, but turns her down when he realizes she's a prostitute who's working. This happens again in 10.07. I'm on season 4 of my rewatch and haven't been formally keeping up... but Dean is not actually having a lot of sex? We get implications he's been out partying a few times, and can maybe infer he scored, but we don't actually know.

I'm not a huge fan of performing Dean, in the sense that I think over the years I have seen it wildly overstated far too many times. But I do think Dean sometimes plays a character for Sam especially. Dean tells us this himself in 2.03 "Bloodlust" when confiding in Gordon. He never says so directly when it comes to the sexy sex guy doing sex persona, but his actions reveal him. One can think of plenty of examples of Dean saying horny stuff about women to Sam... but what about his actions?

How Dean actually treats women

Finally, there's how Dean actually treats women... and one would be very hard pressed to prove to me that Dean is sexist toward the women in his life. He's been close friends with multiple women and worked with women on hunts on multiple occasions and never once batted an eye. Jo in 2.06 is sometimes floated as an example, but it's actually discussed within the episode. Dean makes it very clear that he thinks women can do the job just fine. What he has a problem with is Jo's lack of experience and her romanticization of the job (especially during a period where Dean has fallen deeply out of love with the job himself). Everything we see as the series progresses supports Dean's assertion as truth. He's very good friends with Charlie, Jody, and Donna and doesn't go around excluding them on hunts while favoring men. That is not a thing that happens. While he initially tries to talk Claire out of the life (as he does everybody—this is not unique to women—see Adam for example) when she decides to hunt, he supports her regardless. There is nothing uniquely overprotective about how Dean treats women who hunt. End of. Dean has no illusions about traditional gender roles or any of that nonsense, jumping to clean dishes after dinner at Jody's and cooking breakfast for Lisa and Ben. (Our knowledge of Dean and the chores he does for his family already tell us this—but regardless). Even Demon Dean, an entity with no love for anyone and close to zero principles, targeted men who abuse and threaten women, and when Crowley ordered him to kill Lester's wife to fulfill the terms of Lester's demon deal, Demon Dean instead became so deeply annoyed with Lester's hypocrisy (he cheated on his wife first) and his assertion that it's different when men cheat, that he killed him and smiled while doing it.

So anyway, nope—I don't think Dean is a "heavy" misogynist.

[rainbowolfe]

Working on a totally normal deep analysis of the daycare attendant and. Noticing how Moon is villainized by the game and therefore the fandom even though the one causing harm every step of the way is Sun.

Because gameplay-wise, only Moon can jumpscare us in SB. Which causes it to read Moon as a danger, while Sun is not.

But Sun quite literally calls for the Glamrocks to come jump Gregory. He's also most definitely corralling Gregory before that moment. He's offering lots of fun activities, but he has no intention of doing any of them. Since, how can they do anything if Gregory isn't allowed to leave that spot?

It's actually really odd that Sun resists turning into Moon, but Moon doesn't resist turning into Sun. The general/popular consensus is that Sun resists the transformation because Moon intends to do harm. But if thats the case, why doesn't Moon want to do harm as much as Sun wants to stop him?

The moral of Bobbiedots (and Bobbiedots part 2) is that the true threat is what appears nice and friendly and new. This could loosely be applied to the Glamrocks. But it can also be applied to Sun and Moon.

Sun doesn't look new, because he shares a body with Moon. But Sun is new. Because Sun's in the VANNI system, and Moon isn't. In fact, Sun likely never had a physical body. He's something added on to Moon. Notice how Moon feels pain, but Sun is unaffected throughout that whole exchange in Ruin.

Moon is the one who's broken and deeply traumatized. Therefore, based on what Bobbiedots presents us with, Moon is the one who's trying to help us. Moon is the one that looks scary, but isn't the real threat. He can be a threat because of an ingrained trauma response, but he's never acting with malice.

My son never had sleeping problems. But after spending an evening in the daycare, he refuses to sleep with the lights out anymore! He just cries and cries. And then when I do let him keep the lights on, he wets the bed!

This message was mostly taken as evidence that Moon is evil/the problem/infected with the virus. But if you read between the lines, what this kid is truly afraid of is Sun. The bed wetting is a significantly more severe reaction than the crying.

It's entirely possible that the crying isn't even the result of Moon's presence/associating him with the dark. (Especially since, would there even be a nap-time for an evening session at the pizzaplex?) Theres only one rule, and its to keep the lights on. And the daycare regularly and randomly experiences blackouts.

Which is exactly what happened when Gregory grabbed that security pass. There's just. No way that little freddy capsule doubles as a kill switch for the power. Why would it?

Sun (and Freddy) assume it's something Gregory did. And Sun sentences him to a fucking execution.

[krewekreep]

Help Me Create Perfection Part 2

Part 1: Prelude + Plot

Tags: Evil Scientist AU, Reseacher!Reader, Mad Scientist!Sukuna, dubcon, enemies to... (have fun), boss/subordinate dynamic, God complex, Yandare realness, Breeding Kink Sukuna wants to defeat life itself...it's Sukuna, kinda expect the worst.

Summary: 2.6K words. Ryomen Sukuna is on a quest to become God. What happens when his most prized researcher keeps messing up his experiment?

Author's Note: Kinda Proofread, always editing. (Took way too long, sorry 😭) ((Also no word count, it’s super long.))

“Y/N,” Ryomen forces you to face him again. How annoying it is your tears are falling all over his hand and arm. How beneath you it is to cry and allow someone to affect you so much. He’ll have to be sure to teach you better than that. “What does my creation need?” You’re gonna tell him one way or the other. You have no choice now, and the darting of your eyes—obviously trying to think of something, made Ryomen enraged. Is the idea of him that repulsive? Are you really someone so prideful to deny yourself the privileges of his association? Any other woman would’ve done anything to be in his bed—plenty do. Do you think you really are that special? How lucky you are he simply needs to use you for a much grander goal.

“What does…our child need?” He can’t wait for you anymore. It’s decided, had been long before he snatched you away. “It,” you spat but before getting any farther in your denouncement he grabs you by the hair pulling your head back. A warning to refer to your child with proper acknowledgment. “He…he needs parents Ryomen.” You’re a breathless and dazed mess from the sheer weight of the confrontation at hand. He pulls you to face him—his expression a blazing mysterious scowl. “Everyone, get out.” His assistants are stunned and look between each other and Lu, poor baby, might have had his eyes on you the whole time but can’t bring himself to come between the two of you. And he hopes you can forgive him. Which won’t matter given he’ll never see you again. No one will. “I said…get out.” Ryomen never shouts. He never has to as when the baritone of his bravado drops to an eerie growl, it is a deep primal assertion to do whatever he wants. And everyone follows suit. They all quickly leave, Lu essentially escorted out by the assistants who could only pathetically push him towards the exit. His apology was all over his face and if you could you’d tell him there’s nothing he could do. Because there is nothing he can do. The doors slam and flutter until settling close, a deafening silence sealing your fate.

“Now tell me,” you’re still against the wall, lab coat fallen from your shoulders as your hands brace against the cold lab. Your legs are failing you and buckle leaving you at the mercy of the strength of his very harsh grip. Ryomen has a physique indicative of a psycho. Someone absolutely obsessed with perfection. His 6’5 frame seeming silly in a lab coat. How he bulges out of all his clothing seemingly testing on himself too. Atleast that was the rumors. How you would cough and look away catching yourself staring at the rise and fall of his huge pecs as he barked commands. How disgusting you felt feeling stimulated when your hands touched or when he gave only you praise for a positive update. Ryomen knew you wanted more too. Just too cowardly to get it. “Tell me your observations Doctor. I imagine you have a number of invaluable insights.” He huffs against your lips, fighting what little he has to not simply have at you right now.

“Mahoraga is too ambitious. You are not the first and will not be the last man attempting to create life in his image. Your image is blemished, bruised—and so therefore he cannot be better than what he comes from.” Something in you while afraid feels…free. Free enough to be honest and clear. Ryomen is abhorrent but…he’s not trying to hurt you right now. Not anymore than he already has, he wants your opinion. He needs it. “So what do you think, with your expertise, is what I know to be what he needs?” He leans closing in on your ear. Your cheeks touching feeling his radiating annoyance against your stiffened neck. It causes the both of you to quake with goosebumps. “Do you finally understand what I’ve been wanting of you?” This is the softest he’s ever sounded. He’s contemplative but frustrated. He settles even closer to you, his immense bulge twitching against your stomach. You sigh heavily knowing of course you knew what he wanted, he just didn’t deserve to get it. He is too nasty and evil and expectant. He’s a child that can’t be told no. And you refused to give in to the type of man you could never respect. He might be powerful, but not all powerful and refused to be scared to death of him.

“Whatever you want. You will not have.” He releases you leaning away. “What did you say?” He can’t help the maniacal surprise you elicit. His eyes almost twitch and his fangs bare because he will possess you even if you leave out of the room between his teeth…you could be nothing more than an experiment to him. He is trying to see you as an equal, stop fighting him. “This is not a discussion, Y/N.” He snatches you easily by the wrist pulling you to him. You crash into his chest and look into eyes that damn near blaze red. “I have chosen you to ascend with me.” His eyes soften again, you realize Ryomen is beyond mad, beyond evil. He’s absolutely fucking crazy. “Why don’t you want to ascend with me? Adam and Eve were nothing but pawns. Nothing but new limbs without any sense of self. We, are the next evolution Y/N…we are the next generation.” His grip doesn’t loosen but his eyes are so sullen. This is the sweetest he’s ever been, how he is looking at you as an equal. How he always did. Is this just someone who has been alone and misunderstood? He doesn’t really want to do this? He’s just…troubled. Maybe he just needs someone as smart as him to make him understand his goals are just overcompensation. Maybe you can fix him.

“Ryomen, please. This isn’t the way. You do not have to go this far. You’ve created organs from nothing. Your the name everyone wants to be attached to…including me. I didn’t know that someone I had admired and looked up to had only created good in the world by accident.” The tears fall again. “Working with you to cure diseases, innovate health sciences all over the word, all to realize it’s because you’re a sick person with even sicker aspirations. People look up to you! If only the rest of the world even knew five percent of the bullshit we do here…we all deserve to die. We do not deserve to play God, Ryomen. We don’t.” You collapse in his arms. The work stress, the failure of your dreams, the dredge of life, the mind bending philosophical madness of the entire situation…you couldn’t tough it out anymore. Ryomen holds you as you weep into his arms. How annoying this all is. If you could just put the emotions aside for the bigger picture. If you could realize the point of stupid people are for smart people to live better than them. How short sighted you are…if everyone is of his image they’ll never be another disease to cure. How he seriously needs you to put the emotions away to fully become the best you possible. The you he knows he can help you to become. If only he could distract you of this overly emotional mother complex of yours. How perfect this would be for later, when you’d be a mother. The protectiveness, the concern—a proper mother of the world. You will be able to balance his iron fists…oh how perfect you are in every sense of the word

His cock is the most emotional though, and Ryomen has been fighting his urges far too long. You’re in his hands, in his grasp, albeit not the sexiest presentation but you’re here. He’s waited so long to break these barriers down and as the sick man he is he doesn’t quite care it comes at the cost of your mental health. He sees you coping through a breakdown, but needs you to break so he never has to hear you care about strangers again. He pulls you into him, placing his head on top of yours as he accepts your clawing into his shirt and crying your eyes out. What you think is a moment of getting through to him is simply him counting to thirty. You have thirty seconds to cry, and be comforted. He can admit he put a lot of pressure on you. He wanted you to get here. So the very least he could do in his victory is let you weep. He considers the way your nails dig into him, how he’s wanted to know how much strength is behind those always manicured hands. If you’re a biter or a sucker. He wants to know what you’re hiding that makes you so fixated on keeping up appearances. How once he’s seen the plushy shadow of your pussy lips when you bent to retrieve something, Ryomen veered his head from the other side of the room to soak up your mound hidden by black panties and black stockings. How’s he’s wanted to leave you a sullied mess in his office while he goes on with his work day.

“28, 29, 30.” He counted the last three aloud. You were too busy thinking maybe he wasn’t all that bad. Yet, your brain couldn’t recognize being lifted and laid down on your desk as swiftly as he did it. Ryomen was so big your thighs had no choice but to spread. Your knees almost flush to the desk as your scared pussy kisses his angry bulge through your clothes. You squeeze instinctively already emotionally overstimulated. Your mind wracking to accept or make sense of the position you are in. Ryomen might be a monster but he can admit it.

“It will hurt.” He leans over you, his full weight crushing as he holds you by the thighs. Your heart beats even faster because no matter your attempts he is fully overpowering you. “I don’t want it to…” he places a kiss to your temple. “I’m risking the results testing this while you’re under so much stress…so my new hypothesis is how the emotions in the midst of child rearing will impact their personality.” You cry more. “No, No, shhh…” Ryomen’s kindness makes you sick. His softness and affection confusing you. “Eh, I change my mind.” His demeanor switches back to cold and for a moment you think he’s lost all interest in you and this. If anything just some other poor woman will be his victim. But he’s not done. The bit of hope ripped out of you when he seats himself in your work chair, shirt buttons lost to the wrestling and his belt and pants unfastened.

“Open your legs, Y/N.” You refuse, only able to shake your head in protest. A thunderous rumble barrels out his chest as he barks. “Open your fucking legs you stupid slut.” You couldn’t help but cry at the verbal abuse, knowing you had no choice. You spread your legs weakly, trembling all over. Your pussy visible through your soaked cotton panties. How Ryomen’s mouth watered at the wetness coating your thighs. He knows the body can betray itself but you…how humiliating you must feel to be at his mercy. Someone you not only despise but once…admired. He wants to pull his cock out and make you watch him please himself to your tears. How beautiful you are, how superior you will be once he fucks all those tears out of you. How he will fuck some sense into you once and for all.

“Play with yourself Y/N.” A command just like any other. There’s no fight left in you. It’s easiest to obey and follow orders. You bring your uneasy hand to your core. Tears brimming as you close your eyes, unable to watch him enjoy this spectacle. How any sense of humanity is gone. How he looks starved, rabid, and wide eyed. You begin to rub yourself moaning against your better judgment. For what’s it’s worth the mild pleasure of this helps you not lose your sanity entirely. If you can just hold on long enough you can survive him. Just give him what he wants, he’ll leave you alone eventually. Play along, be eager. “Enjoy” yourself. Play on his depravity and get the first flight out of there the minute he lets you go. You begin to roll your hips, uncomfortable but needy for something. Your wetness coats your fingers and makes massaging yourself that much better. He watches you, studies you, and approves. How he learns from this you know yourself well, a proper woman. Your migraine is beating at the top of your skull, and you press harder on your clit for that numbing feeling. Ryomen can tell you aren’t doing this for him. It turns him on even more. How he knows your spitting in his face by refusing him the power to fully humiliate you. What you don’t know is the little respect he does have for you is your saving grace from his own tested form of annihilation. He’s the worst of the worst. He likes you fight him, for whatever reason. You aren’t weak, and his heart swells with pride at how well his selection was. He grips his crying cock with a hurtful tightness, he wants to fuck you until you pass out, slap you awake, and continue. Your immersed in finger fucking yourself having inserted two fingers and bucking against yourself like a mad woman. Fuck Ryomen, fuck this job, fuck your life. You needed to cum. You lock eyes with Ryomen for a moment almost embarrassed but you hold his gaze and keep at it. There’s no name to call, there’s no person to think about. And Ryomen is seething at you refusing him the delicious satisfaction of taking over you. What little humanity he has tells him he doesn’t need to hurt you. He shouldn’t hurt you. Yet, the man in front you snickers before throwing out: “Cum. I want you to cum. You're still going to get fucked.” He laughs at your hand stopping and your eyes opening wide. “Oh no, keep going. Now you have to see it through.” You bit into your lip, pussy throbbing and awaiting you as the cold lab air chills you back to reality. “Finish. Or do you want me to do it?” You both narrow your eyes at each other. True enemies. Regardless of being his subordinate. “No.”

“No what?” He questions amused.

“No to both.” You slip your hand away frustrated but determined. “That was enough Ryomen…” you can't even catch your breath, haphazardly wiping your sweaty face. “You get no more…” you look over at him who is seemingly bored. “No more you say?” Without a word he releases the behemoth in his pants. “I don't really get the final say…he does.” His cock was massive, eleven girthy, veiny inches. His tip was blushing red and leaking. His cock just wanted you to notice him. He's wanted your attention so long and could've had you for so long. How he's wanted to meet your cervix and kiss her hello. Ryomen is such a pretentious asshole. You could've been pregnant the second week you began working under him. He could've had Mahoraga completed and on battlefields by now…he could cause the world to end knowing he can happily return to the family he's coveted with you. He's a sick fuck who likes a sick fuck. He gets tired of lovers fast, he gets tired of sex. After time he could only cum if he thought of the surpreme being lying dormant in his body. How he conserved his ejaculation or lied. How he's physically repulsed by the idea of his seed being incubated by a weak vessel…

“Come,” he orders. “Sit in my lap.” You look over him. There's nowhere to run, no one to turn to, and for certain no way to report him. You can only plea a final time. “Ryomen please…why not the normal way? A date? A drunken night out…why like this?” For once he can say he has no words. No answer. Why didn't he just...talk to you? He had done it (albeit resentfully) every day he had to seem sociable at this god forsaken place. He could've manipulated you traditionally. Why the long game? Why flat out… this? He had no answer which angered him a bit. Who are you to challenge him in any way? Why has he allowed you still some sense of pride when you deserve to be choked by his cock. “Maybe I would've… understood or…accepted things if you just treated me like a person... But nobody is a person to you so…” you spread your legs and lean your head back looking up to the ceiling. He wanted you to accept him and you are...you just never said you would with a smile. “You plan to take me? Take me…but I'm not a plaything and I'm not going to entertain you any more than I already have...” Ryomen is stunned. The air sucked out of the room. His bloated and blinded ego called out to show itself. And it is nowhere to be found. He rises from the chair, debating now with no upper hand what he should do. He hasn't been unsure since an orphan child, how small you made him feel. Unwanted and undesirable and nothing more than a monster. But… his child won't be. They'll be a God. They have to…

It's sealed. Ryomen is shirtless, his slacks to his ankles. He thumbs over the tip of his cock, eyeing your pussy before reaching to rub you vigorously. You moan at the contact, futiling pushing him away. He's eerily silent, keeping an analytical gaze all over your body. He's calculating and theorizing and trying to not lose his composure. Not much to lose for him but only he knows the brutality he locks far in the recesses of his mind. How he cums his hardest from cruelty… he knows how genuine your despair would be and for what it's worth that's not a good time for him. You just need to accept being Queen, Mother, and all bearer of the next generation. Whether through science and test tubes or the oldest human activity—he will conquer new lands and create new people with your help.

He pumps himself and without a word he edges his tip against your puckering hole. Your pussy closing even tighter. You won't give in easy and your body disagrees with his presence even more. You pray he has some sense of humanity, enough to not take you carelessly. And, he comforts that fear by slipping a finger into his mouth coating it before gliding the digit into you. He pumps you with a precision, curling to touch the ribbed, sensitive pallette of your g-spot. Your thighs squeeze his arm as you grip his wrist painfully tight. Your too weak to do anything besides accept it. You both know you can't and won't get him to stop. But it's wrong how your toes curl, how your back arches, how your hips roll. He knows what he's doing on a scientific level. He knows you can only battle it so much. Your pussy clenches on him and is too upset he's the one causing this pleasure. “Mmm, your pussy is angry with me? She doesn't like to feel good?” He slips a second finger in which stings you slightly at the spread. You yelp and moan out to which he scoffs and lowers his mouth to your clit. Your heart is definitely beating through your chest as you pull his hair. Your legs clamped around his head both pushing away and pulling him deeper to suck and nibble on your exquisite clit. He could taste the sweat, the fear, the resentment. He could taste the enjoyment and release and relief. His dick jumped and twitched in his lap. Just a little while longer, he's waited enough for this — he won't ruin it being a too rash. His tongue became precise with the order to make you cum and get you ready for penetration. But your taste combined with the fact you just won't hold still made it hard to conquer you. He just needed you to succumb and wondered how hard you'd squirt. You work up enough courage to face the man between your legs and the sight was amazing. Ryomen, eyes closed, nails digging into your thighs a bit too harshly , eating away at you nastily. His tongue flat like a dog as he licked from your asshole up to your pubic hair. It was unlike someone so distinguished and strict as him. His strange pink sunset hair a mess across his face. Unrecognizable as anything other than a perverse, deprived man. You admittedly were fighting cumming all over him for minutes. Agonizing minutes of hating yourself for how your eyes rolled to the back of your head and no matter how hard you pulled at his tresses it was nothing more than encouragement to bring you past your peak.

“Ryomen, p-please. It’s too much.” Your body betrays itself as your pussy clenches around his tongue. His tongue darted in and out of your heat before pulling away enough to lap against your overstimulated clit massaging it until the hot rumble in your belly exploded. Your head falls back with a loud gasp as you squirt all over Ryomen. His face, neck, and chest soaked. You release a gushing mess that causes Ryomen to scoff and tease, “Someone was pent up.”

You futilely push Ryomen from between your legs. Chest heaving and falling despite your genuine attempts to remain calm. Your migraine creeps back, as your nervous system is absolutely confused. The true fear in your belly can’t make sense of the pleasure your body wants more of, and Ryomen takes in all your efforts and calculates: stubborn but willing, combative but fearful, too smart for her own good and too good to not have…

Has he? Zoned out? You think to yourself as he’s absentmindedly placed his fist under his chin. You almost are inclined to feel insulted but the way his eyes take over your physique in a far-away but rabid kind of expression…you decide it best to let him finish his musings and compose yourself as best you can. “When were you last on your cycle?” So matter of fact and without regard. Useless to do but still you pull your lab coat together protectively. “I—I don’t think that’s appropriate to ask…regardless of the circumstances…” you sheepishly reply.

“I must. The best time to get pregnant is during ovulating as you well know…” is he really trying to small talk? “It’s most optimal to attempt conception five days leading up to your menstruation. Most are afraid the female cycle may undercut the attempt but the female body is an exemplary example of durability…” he eyes you over again… “then once you take into account intelligence level,” he takes your face into his soaked digits, a thousand words behind his eyes and the thoughts he does allow you to hear. “A highly intelligent, durable, emotionally balanced female…” his eyes spark with an intimidating gleam. “How rare…” you think to spit at him for that insult but know better. He sets his thumb on your lips and lightly taps them after every word. “Last.Day.You.Bled”

“Three weeks ago…” you answer easily. His command is powerful, palpable and decidedly you won’t make this experience any worse. But you should’ve lied because the fire that ignites lets you know he’s gonna try for this child until you conceive. “Do you track your cycle?”

“Myself. Yes, I don’t use apps. I know what the government does…it’s not like we don’t use biomedical data...” You throw out awkwardly. He doesn’t laugh.

“So you know you’re ovulating, correct?” You snap back to your reality and his only purpose for you.

“Yes…I would suppose that’s correct.” You resituate your mind, taking in how his usually slick back undercut is all over his head and his brutish inner nature shines through the stiff, arrogant, dismissive expression he holds you under. This must be who he really is: evil and morally unkempt.

“What are your plans? What happens if anything is wrong with the child?” You cringe at the language openly upset at the idea of any child being vulnerable to his wrath. He scoffs looking away and waves away your comment snidely.

“That won’t happen…”

“But it—“ He snatches you up easily. His grip isn’t enough to choke but enough to warn successfully.

“It not only won’t happen…” he brings your face to his. His breath hot across your fear stricken face. “It can’t happen…but I’ll amuse you…” he sets his forehead against yours, pulling you to him enough he can wrap his arms around your sat frame. “If anything is wrong with our child…” he pulls away to down at you. His eyes dreamy but empty. “We’ll simply make another one…” and with that he yanks your hair enough to make you gasp, but doesn’t release you, taking the opportunity to overtake your mouth with his. You wrestle in his iron clad bear hug, unable to avoid his tongue as it wrestles messily with yours. You can move enough to lean back which simply allows him to set himself between your legs. His grip changes to holding your hands behind your back. It’s too easy for him to hold both of your wrist in one of his hands and to hold you by the hair to kiss you properly with the other. Your chest pushes into his and your nipples harden through your stiff work bra. Ryomen leverages his weight to hold you down against the desk. Your back pressing on the cold furniture firmly as Ryomen maneuvers your remaining clothes off. Your stockings and underwear ripped and accounted for, last being this insufferable bra that’s been fucking up his view.

Your body was beyond his imaginations and the jiggle of everything now free was delightful. He examined you again without an expression, taking himself in his hand and setting against your shy but blazing hot hole. How his veiny girth spread you open without hassle. Your pussy wet and confused as much as your own head. “Ryomen…” he paid you no mind. His eyes closed and his mouth pulled tight as he entered you slowly. He chokes on a growl creeping out of his throat as he feels your plushness tighten instinctively. He goes as far as he can immediately, reaching your cervix with a bit more ease than he would’ve had you not been prepped already. It seemed he couldn’t even help himself. His usual cold, sterile demeanor replaced with a rapidly breathing grunting sweaty mess. You dug your nails into his shoulders, clawing him really and a soft bleeding came through his button down. The rhythm of his thrusts and ability to move you easily made accepting him embarrassing but fulfilling. You didn’t have to do anything and felt oddly better for it. The slippery slap of skin began to fill the echo less void of the lab. A man of so few words now down to nothing but choking on his moans and grunting. He could hear the slam and movement of the desk objects but could only focus on the numbing squeeze of your bullied pussy. Ryomen tucks his head into nape of your neck sucking and biting and licking like a crazed feign plunging in and out of you with little regard. How you adjusted to him but kept your digging into his skin. Both of you biting your own lips to not give in to the moment. He doesn’t know why this is different from any other time he’s fucked. Maybe because he knows you’ll bear him a beautiful child, multiple. How no matter what you do— you will be pregnant. Without another thought and giving into his instincts he raises you in the air before plunging his cock into you without remorse. You yelp and tighten your legs against his frame feeling his immense girth stretch and meet a much deeper part of you. 

The both of you finally forgo any sense of formality and Ryomen can’t help but watch as you glide along his girth with a sick expression of satisfaction. You can’t muster the courage to face him but his canines bear ever so slightly as he huffs and grunts his sexual frustration into you. You move your hands to grip his hair and close the distance tucking your head into his neck and biting down. The bite and tug of his hair makes him do the same and in a fast adjustment sets himself in the closest office chair, bringing your bodies even closer as his clothes are torn and strewn across your heaving, hot bodies. “Ryomen!” You yelp as his hips adjust to stuff his entire cock in you. To the hilt and instead of continuing his relentless bucking he forces your hips to ride him. An agonizingly intense and far too intimate for the both of you but the heat of the moment evaporates all shame. Ryomen can’t contain himself and digs his fingers into your flesh as you mutually nibble and bite across each others’ necks and shoulders. It’s an admittedly disgusting display of ferality that neither of you care to restrain. Your body is quaking and dripping in sweat, goosebumps all over as your stomach swirls with dazed anticipation. You never forgot the point of all this and although you can admit to giving in to him you await his gushing conclusion with intense anxiety. “I’m really being bred by him,” you think. But with a sudden, fearful gasp you’re taken from any clear thinking by the way his mouth suckles along the veins of your neck. Is he enjoying himself? Somewhat of a stupid consideration given you’re far too gone to notice he’s equally far too gone. Feeling close but wishing this conquest had taken place in a more resigned environment. He wanted to test your limits until you had no choice but to scream at him to stop and use all you could to push him away. But he had to admit this was just too good to ruin. Your grip on his hair was admittedly strong and he liked you had more strength to you than he first suspected. He smirks to himself and gazes up at you sneakily with a feverish glare. He isn’t someone to be good, not even decent and he already feels you received enough fair treatment in this circumstance. Without a word he quickly wraps one arm around your waist keeping your grind concentrated as you accept him as deeply as he can go.

“Are you ready?” He says softly, much too sweet and far more intently venomous as he tugs you by your hair to kiss you sloppily again. Too distracted by his overstimulating intimacy, the pull of your hair, and the aching of your pulsating walls, you gasp loudly into his mouth as you feel him cumming in you. You can’t break away and with extremely futile, weakened effort you scratch and push at his chest helplessly. Yet his strength is overwhelming while you can’t even break away from his forced tongue kissing. You feel him filling you much more than any other partner or anything you expected. With one hand pushing you to continue your kissing and the other wrapped keeping you chest to chest Ryomen settles comfortably and confidently pumping the last of his seed in you, thrusting without any sense of restraint. The throb of his cock and the stiffness of his tip against your pulsating plushness dizzies you. Dizzying you beyond belief and sinking into his kiss with a humiliating submissiveness. He’s succeeded with his mission and can’t help but savor the sloppiness of your breeding session with a harsh slap to your ass. He already is impatient for you to grow his seed, be big and plump, and bear his fruit smoothly. And to do this again and again until your womb can’t anymore. He can’t help his sick mentality of conquering, and you don’t help since you are the one now gliding up and down with ease. His seed coating his shaft as you ride him recklessly— he’s proud of you even if he’ll never mention it. “Good girl,” he mumbles against your colliding lips. “Ah, good girl…” he says as he catches himself relaxing into your assertive work of his lap.

He pulls you away from the kiss roughly, a large portion of your hair remaining tangled in his thick, mean fingers. “Enough.” He says with finality and without another thought you almost automatically halt at his command. You blush with a sense of embarrassment and recline away gripping his hand with the both of yours to indicate he should loosen his grip. You finally give him a good look in the eyes, still completely shaking and filled on his soaked lap. You meekly attempt to look away but he corners you with a quick grasp of your chin, roughly making you face him in this moment. Both your chests’ heave as you openly catch your breath, taking in the man who took you so forcefully with his calculating but calling gleam in his glare.

“Get up.” He demands and you come back to reality enough to feel the weightlessness of your limbs and the absolute lack of energy you have. He knows this by the dead weight you are in his lap but it amuses him to see you fail at gaining any sense of self respect or wherewithal. He’s absolutely taken with you and his conquest of the little laboratory brat who seemed so above everyone is tantalizing to his egomaniacal mentality. Mahoraga and his siblings are well on their way to actualization. “Get. Up.” He spits harshly, raising himself from the chair without thought. Against your better judgement, and with some self respect to not just fall to the floor, you cling to him wrapping your legs around as much of his hulking frame as you can. “Oh, mommy’s not that weak is she?” He retorts with a truly chilling laugh. You forgot who you were dealing with, someone of plain evil intent. “Well then, if you refuse,” and with little force on his end but undistinguishable to you he weakly attempts at removing you from him. You cling to him albeit humiliating and with your pussy dripping against his torso he swiftly takes his oversized coat to strap over your frame. The scene is immensely familiar to a child being wrapped in a blanket and carried to bed by their parental. Ryomen can’t help but smile devilishly to himself. “One baby carrying another…both mine.” What should’ve been an awkward redressing was easy as you kept your face hidden in the crook of his neck only lifting away enough to let him pull and fasten his pants. The rest of him bear to the no longer cold laboratory. “Well I guess that means back to my place?” Another command you knew it to be despite his sociopathic ability to feign sincerity. You didn’t have the confidence to speak but were forced to when he continued: “Yes or No?”

“Yes, Ryomen. Please, I can’t be any more put down than I am…” you say defeated.

“Oh no that’s not true,” he shushes while patting your head. “There’s far more ways to…put you down…the experiment isn’t over. One success just means you’re perfect for more tests…” and without another word he carries you out of the lab, leaving it a belligerent mess. “You’ll be living with me now. As I said…your things have already been moved. The plan was going to go my way regardless— one way or the other…” he laughs again while patting your back all too softly. You scowl to yourself disgusted at what he’d done to you and more disgusted you lost yourself in intense pleasure. But you wouldn’t let him ‘succeed’ so easily. You regained enough composure to think a thousand swirling thoughts as you were carried easily towards Ryomen’s office that had its own exit. He wouldn’t win so easily but you knew a fight was definitely in your futures. Mahoraga whether experiment or child or child experiment — wouldn’t come to fruition. But the odds were not in your favor and the fight was now on, whether Ryomen could tell or not. And nothing in you was convinced he believed this could truly happen so easily.

Tag List:

[williceunleashed]

Finally settled on 6 pokémons for Dardanne's full team !!!

More infos under the cut ! (TW for previously abused pokémons, Plasma brainwashing. They are all better now, it's a story about healing :)))

Context : Dardanne's current job involves taking care of pokémons who were hurt by Plasma (or otherwise abusive trainers), to heal them, care for them, and get them to be either released or given to a new caring trainer. Dardanne is still very much suffering from the Plasma brainwashing. He rarely uses his pokémons for battle, as he follows N's ideals of limiting "pokémons suffering" as much as possible. In-between BW1 and BW2, he only battles if needed, or if his pokémons manage to communicate that they wish to battle simply for the fun of it, in which case he was battle with them but still feel guilty about them being potentially hurt.

He only starts using his team to battle "for fun" once N returns and confirms that his views on battling have changed, and when N actually translates Dar's pokémons' will to battle. Post BW2, N and Dardanne go to fight every single gym leader over again so that Dardanne can win the badges for himself. N follows along, this time just for fun, and to associate new happy memories to traveling throughout Unova instead of his memories of Plasma and Ghetsis.

Dardanne tried to release most one of his pokémons at some point, and only chose to keep them if he felt like it genuinely made the pokémons happier.

Dardanne also named all of his pokémons in Kalosian as it is his mother tongue !

Aster (Mienshao) : Dardanne mains Aster ! When Dardanne's Politoed died of old age, Dardanne got into a really dark place. Rood offered him a pokémon egg to help him grieve and redirect his attention on something else. A baby mienfoo ended up hatching from the egg. Aster usually runs around the house and the nearby forest, fighting other pokémons just for fun, which is how he got to evolve. Dardanne did give Aster the choice to be released in the wild despite having him since his birth, but Aster chose to stay with Dardanne. Aster is cheeky and mischievious, but good-hearted. He is Dardanne's "ace".

Duvet (Minccino) (meaning "soft fur" or "fluff") : Duvet is the first pokémon Dardanne rescued. Originally, Duvet was meant to be released, as he had been captured by a very uncaring trainer and had been taken away from said-trainer from his safety. Duvet was very agressive with humans, meaning he couldn't be given to another trainer. However, after being allowed to roam around Dardanne's house and noticing Aster and Dardanne's positive interactions, Duvet began relaxing a bit. When Dardanne attempted to release Duvet, Duvet followed him back home. Several times. Therefore Dardanne accepted the new tenant.

Duvet is very agressive with almost every human, except maybe young children, and Dardanne. Yes, Duvet did try to beat up most people, including but not limiting to Rood, Bianca, Gray, Cheren, Alder, N, and Dardanne himself in the beginning. Duvet is Dardanne's strongest pokémon with Aster and is a menace to society.

Galet (Boldore) (meaning "pebble") : Galet was a small, timid and fearful roggenrola who was stolen by Team Plasma in BW1. Despite looking for her original trainer, no one came to retrieve her. With her scared and timid behavior, her survival in the wild was uncertain, so Dardanne decided to keep her around longer than normally expected. Roggenrolas being seen as "common" and "boring" pokémons, no trainer adopted her. In the end, Galet ended up creating a strong bond with Dardanne. When it came time to release her, Galet chose to stay with Dardanne. Like Aster, Galet was able to evolve by going out in the forest and engaging in battles on her own.

Galet loves pokémon battles, but she is very much afraid of humans. She will run and hide under the table or behind the couch when a new face shows up. She loves cuddles, which is a bit awkward for a living rock, but Dardanne still gladly showers her with love.

Galet is also quite small for a boldore !

Sable (Crustle) (meaning "sand") : Sable was a crustle rescued from Team Plasma. The goal was to slowly readapt him to humans, to have him be either released or given to a new trainer. Sable was very agressive to humans, which meant his recovery was slow and complicated, as he wouldn't allow humans near him. Sable attacked Dardanne several times, but with Dardanne never retaliating, Sable came to understand that he was not in any danger. Like Galet and Duvet, Sable chose to stay with Dardanne instead of being released. Nowadays, Sable is still very wary of humans, but won't be agressive as long as Dardanne is around him to reassure him.

Sable is playful and enjoys following Dardanne around. He usually waits for a human or a pokémon to sit on his ''shell'', and then he runs around the house or the garden at full speed with his new passenger on his back. He is quite the prankster.

Sable is an unusually small crustle. His owner was never found, so it was theorized that they were either a tourist who had returned home, or that they had passed away.

Coton (Braviary) (meaning "cotton") : Dardanne actually found Coton as a rufflet in the nearby forest. The rufflet seems strangely calm for an usually pretty agressive pokémon. Dardanne found him very cute and fed him a few pokésnacks. After that, Coton followed him home and refused to leave, and kept entering Dardanne's house through the cat-door. Despite Dardanne trying to release Coton back into the wild several times (because at the time he was still thinking that pokémons were happier without humans around them), Coton always came back. Dardanne ended up giving up and taking Coton in.

Coton is abnormally friendly for a braviary. He enjoys being petted and carried around, even once he evolved and became much bigger and more imposing. Coton was actually trained by Dardanne once Dar started battling and that is how he got to evolve.

Coton is bigger than a normal braviary !

Sucre (Zebstrika) (meaning "sugar") : Sucre is Dardanne's most recent pokémon. Sucre was another victim of Team Plasma and was a stolen blitzle. Dardanne took him in to progressively readapt him to human contact, while Rood looked for his original trainer. Sucre was extremely agressive, and there's a high chance that instead of being stored with all the other stolen pokéballs in the Castle, Sucre was directly used by Plasma and the grunts to battle.

Sucre slowly came around, mainly because he witnessed the positive interactions between Dardanne and his pokémons. Sucre ended up accepting treats, and soon enough he tolerated being petted for a bit. Sucre's trainer was found, but Sucre chose to stay with Dardanne instead of going back to his trainer. Dardanne felt horrible for Sucre's trainer, but because of his blind devotion for N's ideals, he had to make Sucre's happiness his priority, and so he decided to keep Sucre as his own. Sucre is actually quite soft and friendly once he trusts someone. He loves battling, but distrusts humans in general.

Sucre was also trained by Dardanne once Dar started battling and that is how he got to evolve.

[that-one-unhinged-dadvid-blog]

Max's expression when he and David have that scene in the rain are really interesting to think about.

So, this was right after he did the whole, "People suck, the world is full of assholes, I wasn't loved as a child so now I'm evil and don't go to bed on time" yada, yada, yada. You get it. You can instantly see that he's smug. This could be due to the fact that David didn't respond, therefore in Max's mind he "won" This whole season he wanted to "break" David. According to him he wanted David to see that his idealistic worldview was wrong so he would "cry himself to sleep like the rest of us" Yeahhhh our boy isn't ok...the fact that a 10 year old said this is insane. So maybe he thoughts that he finally broke him and did what he wanted. But then look at his face when David admits that he's right about nobody caring.

He's confused, he probably just thought that David wouldn't respond, leaving David alone to think about his worldview, but instead David agreed with him and we can tell by Max's face that this wasn't apart of the plan. He just wanted to tell David that he's wrong and get it over with, but then David agrees with him, and is far from the usual cheerful counselor we normally see him as. This intrigued Max, which seemed to be why he stayed.

Now let's look at his face after David's awesome but heartbreaking line "That's why I'll never stop trying. Because somebody fucking has to."

The guilt is clear on his face. I think this is where Max finally noticed the effect he had on David. While Max wasn't entirely responsible for David snapping here, It'd be foolish to think that he didn't play a part in it. We know that while David tends to act unaffected by Max's comments, he cries over them when he's alone

"I'm so happy you're here, I'll only cry for 2 hours over that comment later!"

He's probably confused, this is what he thought he wanted. David finally broke and admitted that Max was right, and that nobody besides him cares, so why does he feel so guilty? Isn't this what he wanted?

Then he reaches out for David, we don't know what for. He could've been trying to apologize, make the whole speech he gave sound less harsh, or maybe comfort David in his own weird way. I mean, Max isn't really good at comforting people, since he never had any friends before Camp Campbell, so he never had to comfort anyone. And his parents are emotionally neglectful, so it's not like he had any example to go off of, especially since this was before David comforted Max in Parent's Day, so he had no healthy example of how to comfort others. But he still wants to try to comfort David in one way. Showing how guilty he really feels. But David instantly shut him down, probably too emotionally exhausted to hear from Max right now. Which, while it may seem harsh, it's kinda hard to blame him. He also cuts Max off because he still cares about him. "Go back to your tent Max, you'll just catch a cold."

I'm tempted to gush about how sweet it is that David still cares about Max even when he's at one of his lowest points butttt that's a post for another time. This post in about Max, but look at his reaction when David cuts him off.

He flinches...I wouldn't be surprised if Max's parents were not only emotionally neglectful, but emotionally abusive as well. Seeing how he reacts to an adult cutting him off, he definitely associates adults cutting him off with negative experiences, even if it's subconscious. This is one of the few times we see Max actually afraid, even though David just wanted him to go in a tent so he doesn't get a cold...fuck, Max's parents really did a number on him

Now let's look at the next time we see Max genuinely afraid which is right after this when the logs fall on David cause the show can't just give David a break ig

He's terrified...this may seem like an average human reaction, but this is Max we're talking about. He straight up tried to kill David in episode 2 of this season (Although this might've just been a gag, and not something we're meant to take seriously) but here, he tried to reach out for David, then right after this he got help and convinced everyone to do the campfire. Then yelled "Don't look too deeply into this!" when David found out, he still cares about David but doesn't want to admit it, due to a fear of him having something more than just friends to say goodbye to when he leaves Camp Campbell. But also having to say bye to the only father figure he ever had in his life, so he puts up so many walls when it comes to David in particular my poor baby boy

[alicerosejensen]

Together forever pt.3

Warning: Yandere!leon; kidnapping, forced cohabitation, stalkering, fem/reader, age difference, pet names.

A/N: I wrote this earlier, but I will repeat it again so that there are no complaints: I do not approve of this in real life. What is written here is simply fiction, if you have any psychological trauma associated with this or do not like such content then DO NOT READ!

Part 1

Part 2

He really didn’t want to resort to force, but you simply left him no choice...

Flashback to weeks earlier, when you weren't yet under his protection, Leon was analyzing everything about his sweet angel. Well, ultimately, carrying your once again unconscious body back to bed, of course, the last thing he wanted was for you to get injured, but you never know what stupid thoughts could come to your mind after waking up again, so putting you into bed, he pulled out the handcuffs and chained your hand to the headboard of the bed. Not very comfortable but you can sleep.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't want to keep you on a leash like a dog at all, but Leon has noticed for a long time that you are in constant danger. Back in that dusty archive, when you reached for another folder, the laces on your worn sneakers were untied. Darling, you don't know how to tie your shoelaces at all! He immediately thought that you could have fallen and broken your neck or any other bone, you could even have died by your own negligence! It's good that Agent Kennedy was around, right?

Looking at how you sleep and your eyelids twitch in your sleep, Leon threw the blanket back over you. He knows that your sleep is restless, in fact, he almost knows about nightmares, but you didn't need to be afraid anymore. Nevertheless, Leon was well aware that a sudden change of situation and getting used to the new rules that he created to protect you would be stressful for some time. However, it was still better than wandering through dark unsafe alleys alone on the way home, drinking drinks in cheap bars with your friends who didn't even bother to call you a taxi. Leon doesn't know who to thank for the fact that you're still alive and haven't been raped by some asshole who would break your whole life. Despite the fact that the DSO pays its people well, this rather applies to agents and various informants who risk their lives, but small archivists like you do not interest them at all. Therefore, his angel could not afford a nice apartment in a decent neighborhood without bastards and drug dealers who would gladly get you hooked on some trash. The door of your apartment was indecently easy to open Leon would have done it without a lock pick without any problems, but he didn't want to scare you, however…

It is now his house completely at your disposal. The refrigerator is filled with high-quality products and not cheap instant noodles whose packages were lying in your trash. Money was really tight, wasn't it? A mug with a touch of tea or coffee that for some reason you didn't want to wash well, an unmade bed with your smell that he liked to inhale so much. The moment he plopped down on your bed, the desire to hold you in his arms just took root in him.

He wanted your scent to sink deep into him, to penetrate into every cell of his body. He just needed to possess you. That's why Leon couldn't wait, especially since you never let him become anything closer than just a colleague with whom you chatted during lunch. At some point, knowing where you live, he even came up with the idea that you were really offended, but there was nothing about it from your correspondence or medical records. Like you just liked being alone.

He was watching you to keep you safe. He walked you home ready to become a savior at any moment, it's not the first time he's saved a lady in trouble, despite the fact that you weren't actually that lady. Not according to Leon. Sometimes he came to your apartment and leafed through your books that he didn't like, but he didn't judge. He was taught to be quiet and inconspicuous, so it was extremely difficult to understand about someone else's presence. The only thing that really started to bother you is that things sometimes rearrange themselves and the old traces of coffee on your favorite mug magically disappeared. Robberies were not uncommon in this troubled area, but the only valuable things in your apartment were a laptop and a game console. Actually, it was important for Leon to know about all your preferences!

Now it was all in the past. You're safe here with him, away from all the shit that can hurt you. And in fact, you no longer need to worry about bills and how to live until the next paycheck. Leon doesn't consider himself a psycho when he lies down next to you, inhaling the scent of your body, pulling you to him, kissing your temple. After all, if you want, he will become the hero of those stupid books for you.

"I will definitely take care of you," he whispers, making you shudder in your sleep after hearing this insinuating voice that leaves no chance of salvation.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Your resistance is really annoying. You are still sitting handcuffed to the bed and there are already bloody marks on your wrist from the skin erased into blood after a steady twitching of your hand.

"I just need to dress you up," Leon says in a calm voice, while his patience still allows him to hold in his hands cute clothes for his angel.

Skirt, tights, and a warm sweater. Of course it's warm at home, but he wants to be sure that you have everything you need. That's just you kicking, yelling at him and crying incessantly ignoring the pain in your wrist.

"Baby, don't make me use force. Enough of this moaning!"

"Let me go!" you shout on the verge of pulling the hated handcuffs even without looking at him. Over the past two days, hysteria has been covering you with your head constantly not allowing you to think clearly.

Leon sighs. In any case, he doesn't want to stuff you with drugs anymore, and then what he was trained as an agent comes into play. He needs to break the will of the enemy or rather his beloved. He didn't want to take emergency measures, but you just forced him. He comes up to you squatting down and takes your face by the chin, forcing you to look into his cold eyes. The prepared clothes fly to a chair that is too far from the bed to reach it, but it doesn't matter anymore.

"To be honest, I didn't think that you would calmly react to the move," you were outraged when you heard his words

"Moving in with you?!" you cry out. Tears are spurting from eyes. "Since when is kidnapping suddenly called moving?! I'm not a stray animal for you to just pick me up and stab me in the neck with various rubbish!"

"I could have been slower, but you just left me no choice. Seriously, I could no longer watch you live in that anthill and spend 10 hours in a dusty room earning yourself asthma. Although considering your problems with shoelaces, I would bet that you would have killed yourself earlier by falling off a stepladder or would have been crushed by one of those huge boxes with folders."

“what?.." a guess flashes through your head.

Of course, he could probably somehow get a dossier on you and find out the address of your residence, but… rearranged things, a mug… Did he break into your apartment? You've heard that Leon was one of the best. Patrick even once mentioned that the president himself constantly praised Leon and his services to the country could not be called insignificant. There are many successfully completed missions behind him, but you have never really cared about it. At least until you yourself become one of these successful missions.

"Your poor stomach won't thank you for stuffing it with these disgusting noodles and chocolate. You need to eat right, honey," his words make you angry "You need a proper daily routine, good sleep, fresh air and balanced nutrition. I can provide you with all this, but you only need to be my good girl."

Leon's hands grab you by the face and his forehead presses against yours when he closes his eyes, stroking your cheeks wet with tears with his thumb, then briefly and gently kissing your lips, which is why you try to turn away from him.

"Heal your head!" another shout and insult. "As an agent, you're probably supposed to have some fancy psychiatrist or psychologist!"

"It's true," he easily agrees, biting his lip and getting back on his feet. It still didn't work out in a good way to solve the issue "One way or another, you will obey me. I just wanted us to come to this without unnecessary conflict and tantrums, but if you like it more, then fine. Sit alone for a couple of days without food and water. And I'll come back later and you'll tell me about your decision."

"Wait!" You called out to him almost at the door when he had already turned the handle. Leon turned in anticipation of your words and probably there was still a glimmer of hope in him that you would accept his love right now without radical decisions. "You can't keep me here! My family and at work will be looking for me. No one will believe that I just disappeared!"

Leon only grinned briefly.

"Oh, sweetheart. People disappear every day and believe me, many don't care about them, and as for your family, they could take better care of you, but if they didn't, then this care falls on my shoulders"

The hope that it was just a way of intimidation for further submission glowed deep in your chest. No matter how much the soul did not want it, the brain still suggested that Leon was never the one for whom he could be mistaken. The sound of his footsteps quickly subsided and occasionally you could catch some rustling and knocking on the ground floor. Didn't want to know what Kennedy was doing there, but fear kept throwing up ideas about some sadistic torture room and the fact that he wanted you to forcibly become his girlfriend made you suspect of possible sexual abuse after which it would be impossible to become the same.

And yet the wounded deer jumps higher, fights more desperately. You tried to somehow take off your handcuffs, and to be honest with yourself, your hand was really hurting mercilessly that you wanted to howl. It will be quite difficult without an analgesic. The search for some kind of paper clip, an accidentally lying nail under the bed or something with which you could unlock the lock was not successful. However, you didn't have the hacking skill either, and the handcuffs definitely weren't from some sex shop. Steel bites into the skin until it bleeds, and it would be worth listening to Leon though in this: no need to make sudden movements. Moreover, there are already enough bloodstains on the bed linen, but you were so absorbed in despair that the brain simply ignored part of the pain, but very soon it will be very hard.

Add to that the fact that Leon decided to starve you.

At first, everything was even tolerable. The stomach began to cramp from hunger only in the evening add to this the fact that you are being kept locked up handcuffed to the bed makes your body exhausted. You cried for several hours, but Leon's mercy did not descend to you. It really wasn't a prank and he kidnapped you for his own purposes, which you didn't want to know anything about.

"Leon?.." is quieter than you wanted, you called him again.

It all seemed like a nightmare. Time dragged on so slowly that it was unbearable and scary from the unknown. You were hoping that Leon had made a mistake somewhere and the police would find you very soon, the main thing at this moment is to stay alive and not dead because you definitely won't be able to win by force against a government agent who has undergone professional training and completed many successful missions. When your nerves calmed down a little, you started thinking about how to deceive him. It may not be possible to escape, but send an SMS or make a call to the rescue service. You've heard these stories when a girl called under some pretext and was rescued, but will Leon trust you with the phone?

Later you heard footsteps. Probably Leon was listening to the sounds that you could make, but you were silent, looking at the door with the eyes of a frightened doe. However, nothing happened.

He's probably gone.

The throat was dry. You tightly squeezed your eyes shut trying to calm your breathing and come up with a plan of action. If hunger helped at first, then as time went on, the thought of food and water constantly stirred your thoughts.

there was one maddening silence around. Your wrist began to itch and throb painfully, the blood clotted, but at the slightest movement it began to bleed. It got dark outside again and it started to get cold. You carefully crawled under the blanket, covering your frozen feet with it, trying not to think about the desired water, especially since you had of blood loss. How long can you live without water? 3 days? 4 maybe 5 days?

"Please?" you whispered softly, starting to cry again and giving in to panic. "Leon?"

You needed painkillers. It was a bad idea to actively pull with your hand, but people often do what is not necessary when they panic and you had enough reasons to worry, but in the end there was no point in protesting. Not when you are on someone else's territory under the power of a physically strong person. And yet, most of you wanted to scream and scream, beat him and fight, and not invent plans to escape and naively rely on his mercy, which probably does not exist.

"Leon!" you called again louder in a plaintive voice, licking your dry lips. "Please… at least give me some water."

Drugs and stress perfectly lead to dehydration. Especially the first one considering that you were sick earlier. But Leon was still deaf to the pleas, it was generally quiet downstairs. Maybe he was already asleep?

By nightfall, the condition only worsened. You wrist was swollen and even the slightest movement caused hellish pain, throat was dry and your stomach hurt wildly that it began to seem that he began to digest himself. Maybe agents can safely endure such trials with dignity, but again, you have never been interested in this. You didn't even have the strength to cry.

Actually, it didn't take him two days because his heart was just bursting with pity for you.

Leon looked at you with such a puppy-dog look when you were sitting on the bed with your head bowed and trembling. Well, one day would be enough for his princess, and he sincerely hoped that this punishment would be more than enough.

Click.

You shuddered from another flash of pain and when you opened your eyes, you shuddered with fright when you came face to face with him again.

However, the handcuffs were removed.

"poor girl, I really didn't want anything," he threw the handcuffs on the bedside table, "But sometimes we have to do things that we don't like, right? if you hadn't screamed, things wouldn't be so bad right now and your arm wouldn't be swollen."

He stretched out his arms to lift you up, but noticed another resistance when your tired body moved away from him, which made Leon look at you with a threatening look again.

"Do you want to sit like this for another day?"

You nodded your head negatively and out of fear allowed him to lift you up to lower you to the first floor.

"Give me some water, please…" by God, this was the only thought in head

"Be patient angel" Leon's lips touched your temple when he put you on the sofa.

The glass of water handed to you turned out to be so desirable that it seemed you were a traveler lost in the desert who found an oasis. And yet Leon didn't limit you to one glass, allowing you to drink as much as you need, BUT in small sips. Given the thirst, you ignored his words and eventually choked, starting to cough while covering your face with your hand. Of course he didn't like it.

"Sure it's my fault, but you have to listen to me!" An irritated male voice made you shrink and look at him with those cute eyes that Leon loves and hates so much because you are afraid of him.

He put the first aid kit next to the table and took your wrist carefully, first examining the deep abrasion. You screamed loudly when Leon treated her with a disinfectant solution and then wrapped her in a bandage. having previously smeared some ointment, but it did not hurt less from this. And then he kissed you on the forehead like a brave child for whom it was a feat to endure such a thing.

"What do you want from me anyway?" you asked, afraid of the answer anyway, because your presence here did not bode well. "I didn't do anything wrong to you"

"I didn't say you did anything to me. I just want to take care and keep the one I love safe. In this case, it's you."

"Me?"

"Exactly," he smiled, sitting closer, "I wanted everything to be like everyone else, but you didn't give me a chance. Good for Patrick, too. And yet, to see how you walk everywhere where there is a potential danger… I just couldn't, Princess. I just couldn't take it anymore. But now I promise that I will take care of you and I know you better than you know yourself! Just leave all the tantrums of the fight. No more bumps or bites. I'm serious!"

Yes, there was a good mark of your teeth on his hand.

Although you didn't smile and were actually horrified by the human diversity, one thing was clear for sure even through fear - he wasn't going to kill you or…rape. The latter is not accurate, but the soul hoped for it.

"Just let's do it in order." You reluctantly nodded knowing that you have no choice "First we will put you in order, I will make you a bath and you wash, then you will eat and we will have a good rest and in the morning I will tell you about the rules with a fresh head. I will give you everything you want: books, clothes, cosmetics, whatever you want, but in return, no resistance, okay?!" Leon's hand stroked your tangled hair and at the same time pulled you closer to him against your will, but even despite a little resistance, he pressed you to his chest. "I won't be in a hurry. We will go slowly, there is no need to be afraid for me, the main thing is your safety, and there will be time for the rest"

And hear the joyful beating of his heart, you hoped only that you would have enough time to find help or escape, but for now… you may have to be not an obedient but a cunning girl, otherwise the consequences can be fatal.

For now, you need to wait for the moment and find its weaknesses.

[accio-victuuri]

bobo the piggy. 🐽 + cpns

i think it’s about time to make some kind of compilation about this aspect of the fandom. mainly because xz seems to be attached to it lately. this characterization of him is more of good natured teasing and endearment — nothing derogatory. i know there is a negative impression when someone is a “pig” but that’s not the case at all with yibo. it’s more of the cute side, and to represent that “soft side” of yibo when he’s not on lion or panther mode.

a huge part of this is mugui laoshi’s bobi character that everyone loves and why it’s really stuck with the fandom. who wouldn’t love that cute character? in the same way that yibo also has that cute side to him we all adore.

let me start first with yibo and his connection to the “pig” title. with him being known as the Little Golden Pig in c-ent. i’m getting this one from Baidu:

"Little Golden Pig" is a nickname for entertainment star Wang Yibo. This title comes from his extremely high popularity in the industry. With great influence, he is regarded as one of the top artists. The commercial value is so high that in the activities he participated in such as Weibo night or YH Family concert. Using his name the prices of related products will rise rapidly. Therefore, he known as the "Little Golden Pig" in recognition of his achievements in the business field.

TOTALLY AGREE. <3

other instances of this association:

• videos of him with pigs for your pleasure ( trying to be friends with one and this show actually had him rapping to this pig lol and feeding a pig at DDU )

• the miniso collab doll that is supposed to be yibo is a cute pig.

• he once wore Nike shows that’s called Pink Pig.

• the fact that we associate Pink as being his other favorite color and how he seems to associate that with romance.

• that viral pig meme that danced to Wugan 😂😂

• meme/expressions of him sometimes used by fans where he looks like a pig.

i bet there is some more, but i will stop here cause i know people ( and me personally ) want to move to the cpn side of things already! the first one will have to be PEPPA PIG. something that started within the crew and has somehow evolved into being about wangxian — and by extension — yizhan. ( some cpns here here and here )

• this video by BYS ( by your side ) of a behind the scenes clip when xz called wyb a pig. that’s it, in the video he calls his attention by shouting “pig” and then asks him to catch the sword and then they proceed to their usual banter.

• there is an lrlg rumor where xz was talking about a piggy nose. i think he really fixates on that. and the way xz says it, you can see that it’s good natured teasing. then wyb compares him to a black pig.

• his pig drawing, but it is doing a finger heart sign. a pose wyb was fond of at some point.

• the book xz was photographed with “The Maverick Pig” by Wang Xiaobo. i mean, look at the cover and the name of the author. tho we know that xz loves to read a variety of books and this one seems interesting.

and there was an lrlg rumor where it looked like wyb was reading a letter by xz to him. he started with “i give you my whole soul..” and xz cuts him off. like he is embarrassed and doesn’t want wyb to continue on. cpfs thought it’s from a poem by the same author called loving you is like loving life.

I give you my whole soul, along with its quirks, tantrums, flickers, 1800 bad habits. It's really annoying, there’s only a little good, Love you.

🫠🫠🫠🫠

• pig on his phone! 📲 i think this one is more telling and personal. you can explain it differently and say that since gg is superstitious, he believes that it’s some form of attracting prosperity. which could be true. but at the same time, wyb does the same for him. his piggy who brought him happiness and good fortune in life.

• fake rumor of them arguing as they usually do and then xz saying “the pig is angry” pertaining to wyb.

• another cute rumor:

🟢"It's cold, I'm afraid he'll freeze his head. Doesn't this look good with a hat?"

🔴"Yeah, you're pretty good at taking care of yourself."

Teacher Wang locked his phone. You're not going to reply? Hahahahaha. It's a piglet doll wearing a hat with the number "16" on it. It's pretty cute.

people are pointing at this stuffed toy as the alleged pig that yibo is taking care of. and the fact that it has 16 on it. 👀

and it’s a cow piglet!!!! 💕

just thinking about xz giving bobo a doll to take care of is making me somft!

• and another rumor 😂😂😂

XZ: There is a pig here wyb! [There is a pig sticker on the side of the makeup mirror. I don't know who put it there. ]

then xz was saying it’s cute, wyb then says “don’t say it looks like me!” to which xz replied: “I didn’t plan to say it! Why do you always think about yourself?” 🤣🤣🤣

they are so chaotic!!!!

there is something funny in all of this because with all the symbolism we have associated with them like the moon — xz chose the pig. maybe it’s because there is no room to misunderstand the meaning or association. you can explain what the moon, stars and umbrellas are for in a non-cpn way when he posts about it, but this leaves almost no room for escape. xz is really out here going on vacation and relaxed but leaving us stressed out with the candies he drops!

source.

[discordiansamba]

some more spitballing for the Avatar Zuko AU:

After the Agni Kai, Zuko is afraid of his own fire. The one who ends up helping him through this is Gyatso. His life might have been brought to its end by fire, but he is old enough to remember a time when firebending was not just associated with destruction.

The valley in which Aang grew up in was of the subterranean variety- the last place anyone would ever think to look for airbenders. Before Zuko arrived, he'd never left it, though he would often climb up until he could see the sky.

(his father left once, to get medicine for his mother after she fell ill during her second pregnancy. he never returned, and his mother and his younger sibling died.)

Aang at first only knows Zuko as 'Li', but once Toph joins them, she very quickly outs that as an alias. He's forced to admit his name is actually Zuko, and that he's the exiled former prince of the Fire Nation.

Aang, looking Zuko up and down: ...are you sure about the prince part?

Zuko: what's that supposed to mean?

According to rumors, the new Avatar is an Earth Kingdom boy named Li. Long Feng knows this is impossible- his predecessor had the former Earth Kingdom avatar in his possession, but allowed him to kill himself before the Dai Li could take complete control of him. Therefore the new Avatar must be from the Fire Nation.

All the more reason to capture him and bring him under his control.

Sokka: Okay. You know how I said you were being paranoid about the whole 'everyone wants to kill you thing'?

Zuko: Yeah?

Sokka: ...I think you might have been right about Long Feng, actually.

Zuko: No shit.

the rumors of Prince Zuko being a traitor reach the Fire Nation before the rumors of him being the Avatar do. when Azula is sent to collect him, she's in for the shock of her life.

What do you mean, Zuzu is the Avatar? He's Zuzu! He's not even a very good firebender!

Iroh arrives at the North Pole after Zuko does, after his friend Pakku sends him a very curious letter informing him that the Avatar has arrived there. Finally, he will have his chance to teach the young man firebending. He seems to know the basics already, but Iroh knows many advanced techniques he is certain will be helpful.

When he gets there, the Avatar is trying really, really hard to avoid him.

Aang: Why are you avoiding Mister Iroh? I thought you said he was your uncle.

Zuko: He is. That's why I know he wants to kill me.

Toph: Pretty sure Pakku said he wanted to teach you firebending.

Zuko: Well that can't be right. Why would the dragon of the west want to teach the Avatar firebending?

(Iroh will eventually run into Zuko despite his best efforts... but he is only deeply confused as to how his nephew got to the North Pole. Pakku, why didn't you tell me he was here? You know I have been searching for him.)

[astro-cattus]

Flatland (The book) is pretty good!

I read Flatland not too long ago, I´m afraid to admit that I saw the 2007 adaptation before I read the book fully. I didn´t change the fact that the movie was a hot mess to me.

At first I chalked it up to be just an indie movie from almost two decades ago, of course the script would be messy and the visuals jarring. But the moment I gave myself the time to read the book in it´s entirety, I realized how bad Ladd missed what the book was aiming to teach, and make fun of. Bigots like him :^/

Not only that, but something that irks me so fucking bad is the whole Chromatists ark in the movie; not only is it extremelly inaccurate to the book. This being A.Square´s retelling of a historical event that happened so long ago, we can´t really take A.Square´s word for it, as it was probably altered to make the Chromatists as "irrational liberals" and the Circular Priests as "the voice of reason".

Bringing this very much innacurate retelling to the present day of Flatland feels to me, like a very poorly made strawman.

I need to mention too, the leader of the Chromatists, an irregular shape. Which could´ve been an interesting approach to the differences between both kindoms. But,, the way he´s characterized really hits me the wrong way, feels extremelly ableist. And just serves to further the point that Ladd Ehlinger didn´t comprenhend the message the book was trying to comunicate.

Or he did, afterall, the Chromatist movement was a in-book version of a human rights movement, as it seeked women´s and irregular liberation and individuality.

To be honest, It could be interesting to explore a Chromatist resurgence in Flatland, the book has plenty of worldbuilding and potencial to have new stories written about it. (I´m yet to hear of a good adaptation though, If you have any good adaptations around this world, I would love to read it!). But not by people like Ladd.

Another thing I would like to mention is how much Ladd butchered A.Sphere´s personality in this movie. I hope I´m not the only one who has this sentiment. A.Sphere is supposed to be humble, he scoffs at the idea of somehow being a supperior, perfect being. He´s also empathetic and patient, things A.Square mentions he associate´s with women, and therefore inferior. Something that is supposed to challenge his view, as he has this notion that A.Sphere is a godly entity.

I believe this was a counsious desition; by scrumbing this character of this personality, now he doesn´t have to challenge A.Square´s (and by proxy Ladd himself) bigoted views.

I can still understand people might´ve grown attached to the character, I trust you have two brains and understand the core message of Flatland regardless.

This just goes to show media literacy is a very crutial skill, specially as an adult.

Anyways, have this quick thingy before I run to my Uni because just now I realized I ranted too much and now I´m late lol

[drewblossom]

Voice of the Cheated

It's my favorite guy!!!

Therefore, he gets my favorite colors!!

Thems the rules, I'm afraid.

It was difficult to design him at first. What are symbols for cheatedness?? He cares a lot about fairness, and justice is blind, so I gave him a blindfold. But he keeps an eye open because he definitely doesn't trust the ref.

I also think he likes games (he makes a lot of card game references), but only when everyone plays by the rules. So he has a chessboard pattern on his dress.

Therefore, there are no* references to gambling or cards games in his design.

I know some people associate him with gambling, but in my opinion, that's the least Cheated thing to do. Why play a game you're guaranteed to lose. You know who would gamble though?

I did absorb the shitty haircut from the collective zeitgeist. Like, that's so funny! It was supposed to be a jellyfish haircut. Thanks, Razor!

He also has an overall maid/Cinderella look to him. The culmination of all things. Why? Because Cinderella deserved better (and she got her Happily Ever After).

*Wink*

[thiccsys]

i love you error sans mwah <3

Btw what caused errors haphephobia? Im curious to see what u think :3

i love you error sans.

ok. honestly i have no idea. and ive looked and found nothing much (or i didnt look hard enough and if there is a canon reason i’ll die). but heres what i could come up with.

found this about his glitches (and strings). i think, since he is ABLE to touch people without freaking out, its a comfort thing. he gets nervous trying to touch (even if its just holding someone’s hand) and he doesn’t like the way it feels. when he holds someone’s hand in the askerror comic, he takes it slow, he trembles, but he eventually does it.

error can. Ykw. NOT glitch. Thats how he was able to fool ghost toriel so well into thinking he was her sans. so if he’s calm, feels comfortable, and isn’t glitching, he’s able to touch another person (and considering how lonely he is, he could be pretty touch starved).

he actually willingly takes his glasses off and shoves them onto blue in the askerror comic. to do that, he’d have to touch blue. he trusted blue enough to show him a part of his past and even considered him a friend (enough to where he felt betrayed when blue claimed he figured him out). he trusted blue enough that, when he attempted to touch his face, he was able to without glitching and getting nervous (albeit the contact wasn’t for very long, its still touch).

thats also why he doesnt like touch out of the blue. he needs time to calm down and make it leas painful/uncomfortable for himself.

every bad experience with touch makes physical contact harder the next time he tries. every good experience does the opposite. it’s a matter of who he’s touching, for why, and how its initiated.

it could be a matter of classical conditioning 🤓 touch was something he was ok with. a neutral stimulus. the glitches are painful. he is naturally inclined to react to pain, as any living thing is. unconditioned stimulus triggering an unconditioned reaponse. now, after becoming error, touch can make him nervous, and being nervous makes him glitch. therefore, the neutral stimulus of touch becomes conditioned, triggering a fear/sympathetic response even though TOUCH isn’t what hes afraid of. that is his conditioned response.

his haphephobia could LITERALLY be classical conditioning and all he’d need to do is have someone be patient and slow with him to associate touch with something positive rather than the pain/discomfort of glitching. error’s haphephobia is a fixable problem, but he’s soo unfocused on his mental health it’ll probably just get worse and worse as time goes on. considering how i like to treat error (with nightmare and errormare), nightmare will just make it worse, and ink doesn’t care enough to take it slow nor entirely respect his wishes.

anyway. yea. thats what i think

[jays-therapist]

So much of who Yukio is stems from his self-hatred.

He wants to be an exorcist because he hates how weak he is. A lot of the contempt he holds for his brother derives from a desire to be like Rin, and not like himself. The way he remembers his own childhood is distorted by his self-hatred, as he struggles to focus on memories where he isn't inadequate.

I think the reason he hates who he was as a child is because he’s associated all of his worst traits to "Pre-Exorcist Training" Yukio, where he felt truly helpless and unable to do anything about his fear. Becoming an exorcist kind of gave him a sense of power? By learning about what he’s afraid of and how to deal with it, he now has control. At least, I think that was the idea behind it. What he doesn’t understand (and what Shirou probably didn’t consider when he gave his baby a gun) is that he’s not really overcoming his fear of demons. He’s just compensating for it, and clinging tight to any source of control he can get. Deep down, the fear remains; he still feels helpless, with a whole bunch of terrible coping mechanisms as a bonus.

(I also think this is one of the reasons he has such violent reactions to losing control, specifically towards his own body, like when he stabbed his arm to prevent himself from panicking in the Kyoto Arc.)

And he gets worse, because as he reasses the goals he had when he was a child (partly due to Toudou’s influence), he can only focus on all the ways they are selfish. A seven year old becoming an exorcist because he wants to be stronger only reinforces Yukio’s self-hatred, because it’s a self-oriented goal. Rin wants to be an exorcist so no one has to die for him like Shirou did. Shiemi wants to be an exorcist so she can protect others the way they’ve protected her. Bon wants revenge for the Blue Night and how it affected his family, and on and on and on. Yukio is surrounded by people who have experienced incredible pain, but focus on those around them. More and more, Yukio is seeing himself as the outlier, whose selfishness only serves to build upon itself. As he says, “I’m so obsessed with myself I can’t see anyone else!”

And like, that’s why I think the line “I’m strong because I had you!” holds so much weight, for both Rin and Yukio. For Yukio, it’s a realization that he loves his brother more than he hates himself, you know? He didn’t just want to be strong so he could surpass his brother. He wanted to be strong for his brother, and was inspired by him. It was that love that pushed him forward, and it’s that love that allows him to heal, a little bit.

This is best shown in the flashback he has later in Chapter 130 when they’re getting ready to square up with Satan. Earlier, I said that Yukio’s memories are distorted by self-hatred. Here, in this scene, we see a memory free of that bias, where Yukio, once shaking in fear, takes Rin’s hand. Yukio is brave, and able to overcome his fears with support, it just took him awhile to realize this.

Therefore, even though so much of Yukio is built upon hatred, he’s slowly recognizing just how much he loves and has loved.