#because the imbalance of power between them was too much

[swallowerofdharma]

Hi! Your posts are really insightful so i was wondering about your views on the nature of doumeki’s love? It seems unconventionally strong and unwavering but also controlling and desperate like a double edged sword so can it compliment yashiro’s need for the kind of love that helps him overcome the part of his trauma that stems from the absence of his mother’s love? I am hopeful but also apprehensive narratively speaking

Hello Anon, I share your feelings about being hopeful and apprehensive about the possible resolutions of the situation between D and Y. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how unlikely it would be that everything will be tied up nicely. There are in my opinion certain things that will remain unsolved, if the narrative keeps adhering to the reality of living life. I believe that feelings will be addressed and confirmed from both sides and D and Y will make a mutual commitment that hopefully surpasses the dimension of sexual partnership and force them to reveal their thoughts and fears to each other. After all I believe a main theme of the story is that love is a transformative force, but not a solution for anyone’s problems, those just don’t go magically away.

About Doumeki, I underlined a few times already that he fell in love while his life had been radically altered and he had not much else: he gave himself to love without any fear of losing himself in it since he already was in the position of having to reimagine a new life for himself. He was ready to follow Y regardless of where that choice would take him. Isn’t D the most relatable character of the two for most readers? Falling in love for the first time, and in a moment when he desperately needed a new direction, any caution went out of the window and he was ready to give himself up in every way possible, as long as he could have and keep the object of his affection near. That is a scary thing about love isn’t it? It changes our perception so much that it is hard to keep our judgment. When D is on his knees in front of Y, a gun pointed at his head, he says words that don’t have any other logic except that of an enamouredness that had transformed into blind and desperate devotion. At that moment, D seems completely broken over Yashiro’s rejection, with only his conviction to sustain him, because Y had become the sole focus and reason for living. That is an extremely dangerous position to be, that deadly nature of love that won’t listen to reason that is an extreme literature had exploited greatly. Juliet thought that Romeo was dead and the only course of action that grief and love suggested to her was dying too. If in love we find the greatest affirmation of life, then when we feel that we are losing it we are closer to death than ever. But the playwright is representing the extraordinary, an extreme of passion that cannot be taken as a model that can be seamlessly copied from in a reenactment of the “authentic” forces of love. This scary potential for love to make someone forget themselves in Saezuru is shown in the negative - D being carried by his feelings and forcing them and himself on Y, and later forfeiting his life for Y - and in the potential for the positive - Y confronting his convictions and fears.

chapter 33, confront these words with those Doumeki said in chapter 41

Love brought about an imbalance and disruption so great that the temporary separation was necessary: for D a chance to rebuild his autonomy and confidence in himself, but with that came a form of resentment, nurtured further by his misunderstanding of the nature of the relationship between Y and Inami. Why not him? So the bigger problem in my opinion has always been the fact that D has no real understanding of Yashiro’s situation, he doesn’t know much about his past, about his family’s dynamics or the relationship with Misumi, and he never quite realized how little power Y had over his circumstances, because Y is extremely good at making people believe that he had more agency and made his own choices in life, he built his understanding of himself on the idea of as a strong and willful person who was able to handle everything life gave him and transform his painful experiences into a more bearable and enjoyable and affirming image. Being confronted with the crude reality isn’t easy. D doesn’t know what he contributed to show Y: a worse set of memories than the ones Y had been carefully selected and manufactured during the years. And it doesn’t necessarily mean that D is at fault for what he doesn’t know, but he does make several mistakes in judgment and ultimately the habit of blurring the boundaries in the relationship first established by Y is exploited by D to a greater degree than what could still be treated as non particularly armful.

The fact is that even if Y was able to verbalize the dissonance he felt to D, he is aware that D might as well not be able to fully comprehend, and he has been proven correct in this regard previously. This is not only shown as destruction of trust, in Saezuru, I think that it is clear that Y thought that D is better off not having to bear any of Yashiro’s suffering, even if he will be hurt by the rejection of his feelings, Y thought that it would be better for him in the end instead of having to see or accept the parts that Y has yet to share of himself, an enormous amount of grief and insecurity, of baggage that Y wished to keep buried. Let’s be real here, love will always be a door opened to fear and grief for Y, because of memories he can’t erase. And he will need someone who would not waver to build a completely new habit of trusting another with his most vulnerable feelings. Even now, with D coming in between him and his self-destructive relationship with Inami (self-destructive and yet weirdly affirming to a part of himself that Y finds difficult to let go of), with D trying to reach Y again, without making his feelings overwhelmingly known this time, even now Y keeps thinking of Doumeki’s life as better without himself in it, with Izumi, with the Sakura group since Tsunakawa seems interested enough in keeping D around. Love once again left Y more aware than ever of his wretched existence, it had happened before, with Kageyama being the first person to make Y aware of his loneliness and uniqueness, and it hurt. And he doesn’t feel like he has anything valuable to offer to someone like D, especially if sex is involved, since sex to Y has always meant devaluation of himself and desiring a gentle touch from a man a sign of his wicked nature.

I think that Doumeki’s love has wavered during the years, it would be quite worrying if it hadn’t. Yoneda showed us that D was so affected by the discovering that Y went to meet Inami after D had thought he had given him the sexual release he needed (why else would Y need Inami? here we see the limit of D’s comprehension of the complexities of the situation Y is in as long as he is involved in the yakuza) that he took a step back and volunteered Kamiya to keep an eye on Y instead. Feelings were still there for D, and he was affected by meeting Y face to face once again at Kido’s restaurant, but not to the point of being unable to keep his distance, as he was able to do for four years. Love waits with a surprisingly strong persistence. Just by being a yakuza he had kept his connection to the life he wanted near Y. He wanted Y to choose him instead, when he saw that Inami had a relationship with him, when D was instead forbidden to keep one. That want stems from his incomprehension of a reality where someone like Inami has access to Yashiro. Inami is for both Y and D the ghost of their fathers that haunts their choices.

When I talked about D’s jealousy, my criticism was directed towards the actions that he took fueled by that emotion, in addition to some words he said and the ones he didn’t say. He wants to be on equal terms with Y, so he won’t clarify the nature of his relationship with Izumi unless Y admits to wanting him. If Y won’t break things up with Inami, D will forcefully take the place and function that he thinks Inami has in Yashiro’s life, not realizing that he is leaving Y with the feelings of being treated as a sexual object once again, of his agency being undermined repeatedly. Those aren’t equal terms any longer.

In my past analyses I wrote about the meaning of Doumeki’s first name and about the position of Saezuru as a story not written in compliance with the terms of the romance genre as we commonly see in the English-language market. Saezuru shows the contradictions between eros and love, doesn’t present them as synonyms, even when they coexist. Eros and love are treated as immense potentials for both affirmation and destruction of one’s self. Eros contains positive and negative qualities, the potential for love and for the opposite of it, being it cruelty or fear, it can bring us closer to life or drove us to our death, it promises happiness and can bring unmeasurable pain, being ruled by generosity or prevarication. Saezuru is a story that doesn’t treat us readers as babies or offer any simplification in showing the good and the bad in people or within the role of eros (hear! hear! sex isn’t inherently dirty either nor love is the secret ingredient that protect us from exploitation). Without darkness we can’t appreciate light, so we need to understand that everything is potentially good or bad, even love, we can only try to find a balance and an understanding so that we don’t hurt others in affirming ourselves nor we have to renounce ourselves to become dependent and subjected to someone’s else. That is why in Saezuru the answer could not have been a codependent relationship with everything else buried under the rug.

Anon, I don’t really know if I have managed to answer your question. The topic is tremendously difficult and Doumeki has closed himself up so we can only infer things. But I have blabbered quite a bit. I hope that some of it makes sense and thank you for reaching out to me and giving me an excuse to talk about this manga during this long period of hiatus.

[karlrose]

thinking about the statue scene in puppeteer 2.

thinking about it's possible connection to the story of Pygmalion and Galatea.

just thinking.......

[eccentricallygothic]

Strict Mommy!Abby Anderson | Sadistic Miss!Ellie Williams | Naive Little!You. 

Warning(s): Heavy d/s dynamics, mommy kink, miss kink, slapping, rough stuff, sadism, praise kink, use of strap ons, cunnilingus, allusions to anilingus, ass play, you are a slut sandwich, dacryphilia, humiliation, degradation, power imbalance, nipple play, infantilization, hair pulling, spit play, puppy kink, allusions to face sitting, they're both possessive and competitive over you, pure brain rot because I do and write stupid shit when I am in a real mood. Minors do not interact. 

Yes, Abby and Ellie hate each other and for good reason. 

But if they were to make a truce? What– no, who would be the common interest?

Why, sweet little too dumb to even breathe by herself little you, of course.

Your legs that are covered in glittery pink stockings dangle from the sides of Abby's muscular thighs as your knees bob up and down each time she jostles your form upwards by the breathtaking push of her pelvis. 

A sob curls in your throat from how one of her favorite strap ons hit you deep in your sensitive spot but before it can make its way past your lips, the sound dies down because of how your mouth stretches around Ellie's cunt. 

Your fucked out mind feels as though it is melting out of your ears and eyes in the form of heat and tears that stream down your cheeks. You choke and gurgle on Ellie's juices while your tongue obediently laps at the hot, cherry red stripe of flesh between her pretty milky white petals, nose flared to the max as you try to breathe through them as much as possible. 

Abby's hot lips come to hover next to your ear, one hand tightly holding your wrists behind your back and the other toying with your much sensitive and sore nipples that are in their tender state due to the women's cruel sucking and biting at them.

“Fuck yeah, pretty girl, just like that” Abby is the softer one of the pair, although it is more of a lesser of two evils situation if you are being honest. “Your sweet little pussy is taking Mommy's cock so well” if it weren't for Ellie holding you in place by the hair on the top of your head with her cunt further nailing you all the way down to Abby's balls, the force of the blonde woman's thrusts would have required her holding you by the waist so you wouldn't fall off her cock. “Such a good babygirl for your Mommy, aren't you?”

Your pussy is so wet and stretched around the strap on that you whimper into Ellie's opening as your tongue fights to make an opening for itself, but the strain that the girth of Mommy's cock is putting on the band of your hole only adds to the heat in your clit. Your hips are pulled taut against one another with strings of the orgasm that steadily builds in the pits of your abdomen. It will be the first of many. 

“Dirty fuckin' slut” Ellie rasps when she pulls you off her pussy with a jerk. Your mouth falls open and worked up tongue hangs past your lips like that of a dog. “Crying like a stupid little baby but fucking herself silly on Mommy's cock and slurpin' up my cunt like a bitch in heat” her sadistic fingers cracked across your face and your face dangled to the side, flush cheeks smeared in her juices. “Just so innocent, aren't you?” You cry out as Abby twists your nipple between her fingers while her hips pounds your pussy harder and harder. “You can put up the act for others all you want, but I know what you are” you flinch when she spits on your face, the blob landing on the crease between your nose and under eye. Ellie leans down a little to whisper her words, your racing heart leaping up in anticipation as your back arches from how Abby feels for your pussy with her free hand to rub it. “A filthy little doggy slut” another slap lands on your face and though you cry out, your pussy only clenches harder around the textured girth of Abby's cock. “That's all you are.” They never say it out loud anymore. The last time they had done so had ended up in a fight. So now they choose to claim their ownership over you in less verbal and more physical ways.

It is always a competition between the two of them.

And you're both the playdough and the trophy. 

“Aw, look at this pretty little cry baby” Abby tries to divert you toward herself by wrapping her fingers around your throat for grip. “Such a sensitive little thing for Mommy” when she tries to push you further back against herself, Ellie's dark eyes flash with anger and your scalp burns with how she pulls you closer to herself. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Ellie doesn’t look at Abby and nor does she acknowledge the older female. Instead, all of her ire and reproach gets directed towards you; their ragdoll. “No, you dirty little cum dump, I am not done with you just yet” though Abby says nothing, she growls and increases the force of her thrusts -if it's even possible-, her warm lips attacking your neck to suck new marks into your delicate skin. “Here, take it!” Ellie slaps your tits this time, clapping them together before she turns and then reaches behind her to coil your hair around her scarred fingers in such a way that both sides of your head are in her grip. “You like it, don't you, you dirty little pup?” She starts to roll her hips in rapid succession, as a result of which your lips and face bury in her ass cheeks and your head swishes from side to side from the facial her ass is giving you. 

Ellie loves to sit on your face.

And you sit on Abby's.

“Such a brave little girl for us, aren't you honey?” Abby's reassuring words are the bridge that you need along with Ellie's rough handling. You can't take any one of the two extremes without the balance of the other. It simply isn't your preference. 

Your Miss and Mommy aren't wrong, you are a dirty little slut.

“Stop whining and take it like a good pup” Ellie grunts as she pushes her ass against you until your face has fully tucked into it, your lungs scream for air while your head spins from how Abby is abusing your g-spot with her fat cock. 

Sticking out your tongue against Ellie’s holes, you go to work just how your Mommy and Miss have taught you.

[jeremy-pakhitou]

I love Crocodile x Dragon because it only makes sense to a very few crazy people ///

Keep reading for my head canons/storyline (spoilers Headegg)

I'm rolling with a transmasc Crocodile headcanon who was part of the revolutionaries (or what precedes it) and he ended up leaving after loosing his hand in a conflict that could have been avoided. He wants to overthrow the World Government but he thinks Dragon is too soft and slow and that's why he'll try to take over Alabasta and create Cross Guild later on. He still very much wants to destroy the government but he wants to be a pirate not a revolutionary. He's also Luffy's second dad hehe

He met Dragon in his early twenties. They had a pretty big age gap but when it comes to power imbalance Dragon was not winning. Crocodile was savage and ready to shoot a bullet between your eyes if you annoyed him whereas Dragon was bad at communicating and a bit creepy at first when he was just a big softie with great goals and ideals. He was also really chill with queer people as some of his best friends are Queen Emporio Ivankov and my favorite transfem egg : Vegapunk ! (but that's a theory for another time krkr)

In the end Crocodile became attached to this big idealist with a pretty pleasant personality while Dragon was fascinated by the cold and intense Crocodile. But their relation didn't last very long and Crocodile was fed up with the revolutionary army and took his leave. They both didn't really have another relationship after and none of them really took care of the offspring their union created. (Dragon was looking at him from afar and Crocodile completely lost track of him but was reminded sometimes that this child existed, he only realized his son was Luffy at Impel Down/Marinford)

Anyway I love this ship because it's really the biggest white canvas, we know nothing about Dragon and Crocodile's past and I love to make up things. I love how Crocodile is the melting pot for theories too (is he the former Kuja impress ?? Is he Whiteboard son ?? Rocks D Xebec's ??? (I like this one because we don't know sh*t about Xebec either ))

If you read all of this damn thanks first + don't hesitate to share your headcanons you probably have some fjdkdl

[nyxofdemons]

i cannot get over the way that blitz screams "LET'S GO" like he WANTS to fight with him, like he's ASKING stolas to lash out at him and tell him blitz is right, stolas DOES think he's insignificant and he wants him gone if blitz doesn't accept his feelings immediately, just so blitz has a reason to keep being angry and vent out everything bottled up inside of him.

i think all of this comes back to how blitz would rather people hate him than miss him, because at least then he feels like he's getting what he deserves, and he will actively sabotage relationships to MAKE people hate him so he knows they have a good reason - like his breakup with verosika and everything he did to her. if he GIVES her a reason to hate his guts then he gets to know exactly what it is he did wrong, and it's not just because of who he is fundamentally that's so despicable. i think he's TRYING to do the same thing with stolas here - on some level his anger is justified, of course, but i don't think this is entirely that. i think he's trying to provoke stolas into lashing out at him so they can have a huge argument, and blitz can make him feel as small as he does right now, and if stolas gets angry and hates him for whatever cruel things he's going to say, then blitz gets proof that stolas doesn't really love him, gives his self-loathing monster a taste of validation by knowing he is definitely the reason that all of this fell apart, and reaffirms his own warped self-image that he is incapable of receiving love or creating a good relationship.

blitz isn't expecting stolas to take him at his word - that this is nothing more than sex, and he actually thinks of stolas as nothing more than a privileged rich asshole he HAS to put up with - he's expecting stolas to fight back so blitz can keep yelling. but stolas loves him too much to lash out (at least right now,) and he's so aware of the power imbalance between them and feels too guilty about their transactional relationship to try and argue. HE'S being entirely honest about his feelings (and he's distraught and off his meds), so he's assuming that blitz is being honest, too - he really can't stand stolas, and he's been perceiving their interactions as stolas' classism being malicious rather than simply ignorant, so of course there's no way blitz would ever want to be with him. and blitz can't grasp that stolas genuinely cares, and doesn't want to fight with him, until it's too late to backtrack.

[juletheghoul]

unclean

a/n: Honestly, you can blame my period for this one. I took a huge liberty because usually women on their periods in this time weren't treated the way they should have been, also took an educated guess at forms of relief. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for losing her mind with me, thanks my love! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus not being a little bitch about periods, creampie, blood & mess lets be real, boob worship, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

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The wince came without your permission, your face twisting in discomfort as you poured his wine, pausing for a moment to steady yourself; thankfully without spilling a drop.

“Are you hurt, girl?” You unclench your eyes and find him staring at you with a frown, no doubt confused by your expression. 

“Apologies Dominus, it is nothing.” You bow your head but hiss nonetheless and he puts down the bread. 

“Answer me truthfully girl, what pains you?” His eyes are intent and for a moment you cannot tell if it is annoyance or worry that twists his features. Heat rushes to your face, men usually don’t take the news well when they are reminded of the troubles of the opposite sex. You fidget, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth while you gather your wits. 

“It is just, my blood will flow soon Dominus. Sometimes the pain precedes it.” You bow your head and stare at the floor by his feet, gearing up for the usual responses you’d get from the men you’ve served, anger, or disgust. He says nothing, but when you look up he nods once. “I will retreat to my chambers soon. I will send someone else to tend to you if it pleases you, Dominus.” 

“I require nothing further, you may tend to your needs.” He dismisses you gracefully, much more so than any other you’ve served and it’s as though a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. 

The blood does not dull the pain. 

Hours after confessing to your Dominus, you can do nothing more than curl up in your bed, and suffer in silence. One of the older women had boiled some water for you to dip a flat stone, place it on your belly for relief and it had worked wonders for a time but both the water and the stone had gone cold ages ago. All that was left to do was grit your teeth and bear it. 

You cannot help but crave him even more, with the blood flowing, your lower back and breasts aching, and your insides twisting, the pleasure of his cock seemed like the miracle that could cure you. Men didn’t do that though, women all knew it was nothing more than what the female body did, but men–society deemed it unclean. And so you had to endure, without the relief of his body or his gift. Still, you couldn’t help but be grateful for him, he did not protest to the women in his service sequestering themselves until it passed. He did not ask questions, he did not balk at the talk of pain. 

The first day passed, and the second found you in more agony. The second was the worst for you, when the blood was the heaviest, and the discomfort grew nearly unbearable. 

The women brought you hot soups and wine warmed with spices, boiled water for the stone and clean rags for the mess. You thanked them, with tears in your eyes and they nodded and left you to your misery. You slept when you could, but when the night came, sleep had become a stranger, and all you could do was pray to all of the Gods to either take the pain, or take your life. 

Your door opened late into the night and you thought one of the women had brought more hot water but it was him, your Dominus, standing at the threshold to your modest chamber bathed in soft candlelight and shadow.

“Dominus-” You struggled, moving to stand too quickly and falling back to sit on your bed. “Apologies Dominus, what-” He held up his hands to forestall your speech. 

“Peace, girl, I am not here to ask anything of you.” He came in and closed the door, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I heard one of the women speaking about you, she said you were suffering a great deal.” 

“I am well, Dominus.” You could barely keep the grimace off your face.

“Do not lie to me, girl, I can see the agony.” He approached slowly, he’d already prepared for bed and wore a simple tunic. “I have heard it said that pleasure often eases the pain, but I will not force the issue if you do not desire it.” You stared up at him, confusion creeping into your pain-addled mind. He stood, staring at you, for all intents and purposes a gift from the Gods in himself. “Would you like me to help you?” 

“I– but you are not… the blood does not bother you, Dominus? I am unclean–” He raised his arms once more, a frown arranged on his features. 

“Blood has never bothered me, girl.” You droop with relief, tears springing to your eyes and an altogether different ache building between your legs. “You need it don’t you, you need me to take the pain away, hm?” He speaks softly again and all you can do is nod, pitifully. He stands before you, taking in the unruly state of you and for a moment you think you can almost see a soft affection on his face. His thumb swipes against the plump of your lower lip softly, “How do you desire it? Soft? With kisses and gentle touches?” he holds your chin between his pinched fingers, tilting your face up to gaze into his dark eyes, “Or do you desire it more forceful? How do you need me to fuck you?” 

Tears well, and you’re not sure if it’s the softness in his voice or the relief so clearly visible on the horizon, but you swallow around the lump of gratitude in your throat. “I want it all, Dominus,” you hold onto his forearm, afraid that if you don’t make contact with him, he might evaporate like dew in the morning. “I want kisses, and gentle touches but I want force as well, I need your gift to ease the pain.” 

“And you shall have it, my brave girl.” He reaches down, carefully pulling your tunic up and off and your nipples harden almost painfully. He slips his hand down, palming your breast softly, “Do they hurt too much for my attention?” soft as a breeze, his thumb strums at the sensitive tip of your breast and you bite your lip. 

“They ache, but I do not wish for you to stop.” You bring his other hand to your other breast, sighing at the tenderness in his touch. 

“I will be mindful.” He pulls away for a moment to undress and the sight of his cock standing at full mast is enough to make you whimper. “Patience, girl. You will have it soon enough, as deep as I can get.” You nod, but all at once you realize where you are. 

“You wish to have me here? My bed is not as lush as yours-” He sees slight embarrassment on your face and he waves it away. 

“This is my house, girl, I will have you where I please.”

You move back with a wince and he follows, discarding the soiled rag tucked between your legs without so much as a flinch and whatever feelings of devotion, of loyalty or possibly obsession you have for him grow to greater and greater strength. He settles between your spread thighs and just the warm heft of him is soothing, the heat of his skin on your belly, the heavy press of his cock on your sex like a balm. 

Wordlessly he presses his lips to yours, soft, and then not so soft and his tongue explores your mouth, he tastes of wine and dark ripe fruit and you cannot help but wrap your arms around his neck, thread your fingers through his thick waves and whimper. His lips travel, mapping out their course across your skin, down the column of your neck, the base of your throat until he takes your breast in gentle hand and licks at the peak and the moan escapes your lips without your leave. He moves to the other and showers it with the same affection, both breasts shiny with his spit and your cunt melts for him like frost in the face of the sun. You can feel the way he coats himself in your want, his cock slipping between the lips of your sex. He continues to worship your breasts, licking soft like a kitten, and then sucking the tip into his mouth until you cannot take it anymore. 

“Please Dominus,” Your voice breaks when he lets go of your nipple with a pop, enjoying the way you writhe underneath him. “I need it, I need your cock.” He kisses at your breast again before slipping his hand down, and finally slipping into the wet clutch of your cunt. “Gods above, yes, yes yes, please Dominus-” You’re breathless, the feel of him is good enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull. 

“Yes, I know girl, I’m right here.” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust and the moan you let out is obscene. “This little cunt is going to behave for me, isn’t it?” His lips barely touch yours, speaking the words into your mouth; his words, his rhythm making you drip onto the fabric below. The sounds between your legs are vulgar, wet and far more appealing than any music in the world, but it is not enough. You let out a whine, pitiful and painful and he frowns. “Is it not enough?” There is no anger, only the quest for truth in his tone and you shake your head, heartbroken and shaking with need. He pulls away, and you let out a cry of anguish and clutch to him, if he left you like this you don’t think you’d survive. “Peace, girl. We will change our positioning so I can give it to you how you need it.” 

When he pulls away, your eyes widen in shock and horror. Your blood has smeared all over him, his cock, his groin, spreading up almost to his belly, it collects at the mouth of your cunt and when you look down it is all over your inner thighs, the scene looking more like a battle than a bedding. He shakes his head, raising a hand to stop the apology before it is given. 

“This does not frighten me, girl. This is not the first time I have been covered in the blood of another, and it will not be the last. Turn around, I would have you on your hands and knees.” You nod, and with a wince you rush to comply, presenting your backside to him and within a moment he has pulled your hips back to meet his, his cock entering you with no resistance and from this angle he knocks the wind out of you. “There it is, this is the answer, yes?” He thrusts again forcefully and a sound you’ve never heard comes out of your mouth, a dark, wanton noise and it only proves him right. 

“Yes Dominus, please, like this–” you don’t finish your sentence because he pulls back and punches forward again with enough force to rock your bed. Your head drops, your back arching and he sets a brutal pace. Tears slip out from the corners of your eyes, trapped between where your face presses against the back of your forearms and you think for a moment that nothing has ever felt better. 

He grunts, and for a handful of minutes the only sounds are your combined heavy breathing, the wet squelch between your legs, and the rhythmic rocking of your bed. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips hard enough to bruise but it matters not, the pleasure is too great, the relief of his cock is a sign that the Gods are real and that they have sent him to you. 

You reach underneath, gasping at the feel of your cunt spread wide to take him and at just how wet you are. The engorged little pearl of your pleasure begs for attention, and you cannot deny it. With a handful of swirls you seize up, screaming through your climax and he groans as the fist of your cunt squeezes him tight, making him slow slightly but he doesn’t stop. Your knees give out for a moment but he doesn’t let you falter. 

“I am not finished with you yet, this little cunt will take what I give her.” His grip tightens and he lifts you back up into position. Fucking you through your flutters, “You will give me another, girl, you will squeeze my cock again, only then will I give you my gift.” He’s breathless, maneuvering his hand around to reach between your legs while he drapes himself against your back. His fingers manipulate you rougher than you did, forcing another climax out of you while his hips drive his cock deep enough to kiss your womb. 

The second climax is more intense and lasts longer and the force of it milks him dry. You feel him empty himself with a punched-out groan, collapsing onto you once his cock twitches for the last time. 

Everything is silent, and for a moment, you think you might have gone onto the afterlife but then he shifts and you take a deep, steadying breath. The relaxation is so great you are afraid to move, afraid that any engagement of your muscles might result in the pain returning and so you stay still as he pulls out. You will clean once he is gone but he shocks you again when you feel a cool cloth on the skin of your backside. 

“Dominus, I can–” You turn your head to him slowly but he shakes his head. The tenderness in his hands not reaching his face. 

“Silence, girl.” He says nothing else, but dips the cloth into the basin of water again and rings it out, cleansing the mess between your legs silently. “I expect you to let me know the next time you are in pain.” Once he is satisfied with his task, he dips the cloth again, and uses it on himself and there is something about seeing him do this that is unnatural, you cannot help but stare. He is quick; utilitarian. 

He drops the used cloth back into the basin, grabs his tunic and slips out of your room without so much as a glance but it matters not, you are asleep before he shuts the door.

-

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Under the Christmas tree [dark!141 x fem!Reader] (Secret Santa fic)

Secret Santa gift for @crash-and-live 141 had a wonderful time taking their combat medic to be their captive barracks bunny instead. Now, the Sergeants have decided you will make a wonderful gift for their COs. CW and Tags: Dub-con, poly!141, inappropriate celebration of Christmas, power imbalance, bondage, slight BDSM.

Gaz was always an expert on knots. 

Fancy little ribbons and bows – not so much. He prides himself on being suspiciously quick to adapt to the changing environment, yes, but learning how to tie bows when your little captive is acting just a tad bit dismissive towards the whole idea is…hard. Not as hard as hanging down the rope on a moving helicopter, but…

— Come, luv. Stop strugglin’ 

He smiles, all teeth and no lies, when you – his favorite medic, the best thing ever happening to this bloody team – started meowling something about the circulation and cutting off the bloodstream and how you don’t exactly like not only being held in the basement of the base but also being tied up…he looks at you and just knows he can’t resist booping you on the nose, kissing your perfect fuckin cheeks while Soap already has his hands in your hair, gently brushing it to put even more ribbons and bows. Red, just like on a Christmax gift. 

You’re a bloody gift. 

— I ken ye don’t like sittin’ like this, but Lt needs pick me up, aye? 

Soap smiles when you struggle just a bit more, your tied hands brushing against his stomach as you slowly buck your hips back. Trying to get just a tiny bit of stimulation, sneaky little lass – this is why he loves you, so smart and so adorably dumb at the same time. The best thing that ever happened to them is that you still act like you don’t enjoy being their shared chewing toy. They can agree it’s just a bit of a stretch from your previous working environment but hell, at least you’re not being shot at. Johnny’s hand gently moves from your head to your neck, adjusting the little red bow he made from the ribbons. They tried so hard to find the softest ever ribbons without a sharp edge and material that could cut off the circulation – even though Kyle was still doing his favorite knots that rendered you absolutely defenseless. You lick your lips and try to rock from side to side, making the ribbons a bit more loose – it doesn’t work, of course. Not like your team ever wanted you to have a say in their perverse desires, right? 

You fell into the Stockholm syndrome quite easily, especially since they were so stuck on always respecting your wishes(except for letting you out, of course) and never forcing anything too harsh…up until now, apparently. Making sure you’re on your best behavior because it’s Christmas, they have a small table set up – beer, whiskey, some snacks that you naively put on because you’re still not allowed to cook, and they don’t really care for home-cooked meals – and your shaking form, twisted in a somewhat sexy pose all because they needed a little Christmas present for their CO’s. 

Gaz brushes his hand on your tummy, gently pushing it down – you were prepared, of course, so much lube was out in your glossy folds, with Soap’s mouth buried deep between your legs, until you felt you’re going to pass out from the sheer amount of orgasm he was edging out of you. There is a reason why Johnny isn’t allowed to eat you out when Ghost isn’t around – his self-control is non-existent when push comes to your cunt and the tongue he can shove in. 

You feel like you’re going to burst when you finally hear the door opening. When you finally hear Captain – his tired, gruff voice, the way Ghost’s jacket silently hits the ground as they start to undress. Usually, you’re made to greet them with kisses and your soft lips on their cocks if they feel particularly tired. Usually, you’re made to wait for them in the bedroom, with their sergeants gently playing with you because, of course, you’re the property of all four of them, no matter the power dynamic. 

Nothing is usual now – you’re laying under a Christmas tree, naked and aroused, your pussy is all puffy and swollen from Soap’s tongue, your body is tied up with red ribbons Gaz was using. You want to be good for them, and so you lay here, hoping your obedience will be enough for a few more climaxes. Ghost is the first to put his hands on you. 

Kneading your breasts, gently forcing his rough fingers on your exposed nipples, you’re so sweet for him, so perfect, laid out like a beautiful gift – he can only groan in arousal as he slowly pushes the ribbons from your chest, taking in the view of your hardened buds and bite marks – evidence of Kyle taking his mark while he was tying you up. You might have been apprehensive about the whole idea, but you’re playing the role of a gift perfectly – just like you should. 

— Bloody hell, love. So pretty for us. 

— She was such a good girl for us, Lt. Didnae even resisted much. ~ — Is that right, sweetheart? 

You can only nod, your mouth stuffed with a pretty gag – you’re drooling all around it, looking fucking adorable as you try and look as harmless as possible. No reason to provoke them now when they already made it clear just how many orgasms they are going to take from you tonight. 

Ghost smiles under his mask, his hands moving to play with your lower tummy, squeezing the soft flesh and teasing your folds – you’re soft and pliable for them, spread out like a perfect toy. The most desirable thing they could ever find under a Christmas tree.

Price caresses your face with a softness you didn’t know a man of his position could have. He kisses you, and his whiskers tickle your soft skin – you aren’t sure if you can even handle him being so damn gentle about everything. He laughs as you try to wiggle out of Ghost’s grasp, their hands laying on your body – bruises and marks are scattered across your skin, making you the perfect canvas. Gosh, you’re beautiful – John doesn’t even know what they did to deserve such a little treat. — Such a pretty display for us, eh? 

— Sergeants outdid themselves this time. 

— You bet they did. Are you goin’ to behave for us, love? 

Price smiles when you whimper, spreading your legs like a pretty toy. Ghost already pushing you to the ground, forcing his way in between your thighs – you’re so open for them, vulnerable to the tip of his cock pressing in your folds already. Soap did a good job eating you out, even Simon’s cock won’t be too much – not after the way Gaz was spreading you on three of his fingers, smiling with each of your little attempts at moans. You know the night is going to be long.

[targaryen-dynasty]

INNATE DESIRES. (1/5)

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, profanity, semi public sex, size kink, power imbalance, breeding, choking, female reader (no mentions of looks besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.4 K

NOTES: The events of this start somewhere between 41 AC to 44 AC, while the rest takes place around 45 AC. Visenya has not died (yet), but Cersye, Alys and Tyanna have. Aegon and Rhaena are captured at Crakehall, and Viserys is still his squire and hostage.

After the passing of your father, you, your younger siblings and mother had fled from Dragonstone to Driftmark almost immediately. It was a blessing and a curse altogether, because it meant you could keep your life after the arrival and coronation of your uncle Maegor, while you would have loved nothing more than to witness the sight of the Black Dread’s shadow devouring the castle on the eponymous island. 

When the Dowager Queen and Vhagar arrived, it was her that urged your mother to come back to join the busy life at court – meaning you and your siblings were to abandon her childhood home Driftmark. 

Your mother’s stay in the capital was brief, and you assumed it was because she could not stand to be separated from her children any longer, as Visenya had ordered you four to Dragonstone instead. 

Two years after your arrival, it was evident that you had become a prisoner in all but name to Visenya on Dragonstone, barely allowed to leave the castle. When she was not around, her spies and vipers were. 

And so it was even more surprising that, when you were summoned to the Throne Room in the midst of your lessons, you came face to face with none other than your uncle. He sat on the throne, his mother lingering not too far away. With him in the room, his big frame concealing most of the impressive seat, it was even more apparent how frail she had become over the years. If you would have to guess, she would not do much longer. 

As your purple eyes met his, it was as if a wildfire ignited in your body, coursing through your veins, vividly remembering the night you had caught him speaking to your father about a possible betrothal. But it also angered you, knowing that he had left for Pentos with his second wife not long after, without even saying goodbye. 

On the other side of the throne stood none other than your mother, and while both Visenya and Maegor seemed rather smug and pleased, Alyssa had a grim expression on her face. 

Like an invisible string luring your body towards his, you came to a stop shortly before the first step to where he sat. “Your Grace.“ You smiled sweetly at him and slightly bowed your head, more out of courtesy than true belief, because your brother Aegon was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne after all. 

At least five knights guarded the door to the Throne Room behind you, and when Maegor rose from his seat with the pommel of Blackfyre fidgeting between his thick fingers, you were certain that was the moment your life came to an end. 

His steps were heavy as he walked down the steps, coming to a stop just shy of you. His domineering frame was looming over yours, and you had long forgotten the last time you had to crane your neck to look up at someone as tall and big as he was. 

“Leave us,“ Maegor’s gruff voice rang out, and when both Dowager Queens opened their mouths to protest, he was quick to shush them with a simple raise of his hand. Even when they walked past you, you did not dare break eye contact with your uncle, and while he usually was a hard and brutal man, there was a hint of softness in his eyes solely reserved for you. 

When you two were the only people left in the room, he directed his voice towards you. “You have grown,“ he stated, his eyes traveling up and down your body. With the defiance of a young woman, you jutted out your chin just slightly, nonchalantly looking up at him. “How would you know?“ you asked. “Five years and you have not once come to visit me.“

Your uncle chuckled dryly, one hand coming up to pinch your chin. “You know ‘tis not as easy as you make it seem.“ 

From how much your father had told you after Maegor’s departure, you knew he probably was right, though you had yet to find out the true reason behind it. With his longing stare making you somewhat uneasy, the pregnant pause between you two grew thicker with tension.

Until your voice cut through it. 

“Why are you here, uncle? Do you not have a wife to care for and a realm to rule?“

“I do,“ he said, his tone growing a bit harsher as the memory of the stranger taking his three wives not too many moons ago flashed before his eyes. “I am here for you.“

A small crease formed between your brows at his words. “I am afraid I do not understand.“

“Maybe you will understand this.“ Where his paw had rested on your chin before, it traveled down to your waist, almost taking up its entirety with his fingers splayed out. 

He dipped his head towards yours, but you were quick to bring your hand up between your faces, taking a careful step back. “We can not,“ you stated, trying to sound stern, yet you were betrayed by your fluttering nerves, your heart beating in your throat.

With his hand still on your waist, he pulled you back against his firm chest as if you weighed nothing, the sheer display of his strength bringing heat to your cheeks. “The matter is settled already. I shall take you as my wife in a sennight,“ he said. “I have waited long enough for this, and with my brother dead there is no one left to deny me.“

“My mother–“ 

“Has no other choice than to give me what I want.“ The threat was unspoken but clear. 

Every attempt to speak against him was silenced by his lips on yours. The kiss was far from being gentle, and it was evident he claimed your lips with a carnal need. With his hands traveling over the curves of your waist down to your rear, roughly fisting the skirts of your gown, it was obvious that he intended to do the same with your body. 

Your heart was racing, pounding against the confines of your ribcage when your lips parted, releasing a shaky breath. “I-I have never–,” you whimpered, trailing off as you looked at him with wide eyes. Every ounce of affection and gentleness Maegor mayhaps held before had vanished with a snap, leaving only a man hungry for your virtue. 

But no matter how badly your body ached for his touch, having craved it for so, so long, you pulled away to walk past him, climbing the few steps towards the throne with shaky legs as a heat settled at the apex of them. You had to bring some space between the two of you, mayhaps that allowed your thoughts to clear again. 

”My brother Aegon–,“ you started, but were interrupted when you tripped over one of the last steps, causing you to topple forwards. Taking in a sharp breath while bracing yourself on your hands and knees, Maegor was quick to not allow you to get back on your feet. Kneeling down next to you with one hand resting in the place between your shoulders, he applied just enough pressure to keep you down. 

“Where is your craven brother now, sweetling?“ he emphasized the nickname with a condescending tone, and it should have you feeling sick to the stomach, not aroused. “Not here. He had the chance to claim the Iron Throne, but he did not take it.“

His hand brushed over the bodice of your dress, trailing deep enough so he could cup your arse. But it merely lingered there for a few seconds, never settling. That touch alone still was enough to reignite the flame within you, and only when your fluttered nerves calmed just a bit, you noticed the proximity between you – and how he looked at you with darkened eyes. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you tried to gather some courage before speaking, “You are just as much of a coward as he is. Coming to claim what is rightfully his when he is besieged at Crakehall.” Another chuckle came from Maegor, but this time it sounded somewhat amused. 

“Oh, I know you do not think so highly of your own kin,” he said, a smug smirk pulling on the corners of his chiseled lips. His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently, the pad of his thumb brushing your lips. 

“Enough with the mummer's farce, Y/N. Are you not at least a little happy to see me, mh?” It was evident in his mocking tone that he did not really care much about your feelings. You were meant to marry him regardless of what you wanted. 

With pleading eyes, you looked at him, slowly nodding your head and allowing your guard to fall – even if only for a few seconds. “Y-Yes.”

“And do you not want to be a good, obedient wife to me?”

If his question did not already choke the air from your lungs, his hand fisting the skirts of your dress to lift it just enough for his hand to snake underneath certainly did. It was him harshly groping the flesh of your arse that caused you to speak again, forcing you without voicing a command. 

“I do.”

As his fingers started to drag over the dampened spot in the center of your smallclothes, he got all the confirmation he needed to proceed with his actions. The ministrations of his fingers grew in determination, dragging around your little bud in circular motions and eliciting soft whimpers to fall past your lips. As the pleasure rippled through your body, your hands grabbed the edge of the step beneath you, knuckles blanching from the force. 

Shame filled your veins, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, instead focusing on the throne in front of you. “I–,” you wanted to repeat your previous words, but your uncle was quick to cut you off. “Then let me be the first and only. You belong to me.” 

Any protest was once again silenced by your own gasp as two of his thick digits pushed the linen of your smallclothes aside, scarcely dragging through your soaked mound. Only when they were generously coated in your arousal, he eventually pushed them inside without a warning. 

“Gods,” you whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as your maiden hole tried to adjust to the girth of his fingers. “P-Please…” You did not know what you were begging for. For him to leave you be or for him to give you more?

Maegor seemed to be at least a bit mindful when it came to your maidenhead, keeping his fingers still until they were buried to the hilt. You clenched around him tightly, which caused him to hiss through gritted teeth as if it was his cock plunging deep inside you and not his fingers, hardly preparing you for what was to come. 

“Please,” Maegor mocked you with a chuckle, pushing his lips forwards into a pout that feigned his pity. “You are so pretty when you beg, niece.” The ministrations of his fingers were slow, pulling out almost completely only to push right in again. The sounds of pleasure they forced from your throat were enough to drive the man next to you close to insanity. 

His head dipped forward, looking you down with a sharp expression that savored the sight of your face contorting in pleasure all because of him. Your body was torn between feeling hungry for him and being humiliated because of him, the interplay leaving you utterly confused, and longing to be filled by something else of his. 

When he withdrew his fingers from your cunt, they were glistening with your arousal. The warmth that slowly spread throughout your stomach had vanished just like that, and the whine that slipped past your lips at the loss of friction was the epitome of being pathetic. 

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, engulfing them with his lips and humming as if he enjoyed the finest Arbor red the castle had to offer. You squeezed your thighs to soothe the aching that burned between them at the sight, feeling empty and not at all satisfied. “So, so sweet,” he purred, the tone a stark contrast from the harsh one he had used before. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he released in the following, the purple of his eyes almost eclipsed by black. 

Magor leaned in to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent he had missed so dearly for the past five years. 

The softness of his voice and the close contact had you losing yourself in his dominating presence, completely at his mercy. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head before his bulky frame disappeared behind you, one leg bent at the knee while the other foot was planted firmly on the ground. Because he was so close, you felt him undoing the laces of his breeches, his hands bumping against your arse each time he pulled the strings loose. 

Your impatience got the worst of you, masked as a shiver traveling up your spine. You were not sure if you had to accommodate a girth wider or lesser than his fingers, but at this point you did not care. Your body longed for something you hadn’t felt before, and it needed it. Now. 

One of his hands darted to your hip, squeezing it harshly while the other wrapped around his hard member. Feeling the impatience take over your body, you pushed your hips back enough for the tip of him to prod at your hole, causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. 

As you turned your head to look at him from over your shoulder, your hooded eyes met his, a lazy smirk draped over his features. “That is all it takes to change your mind?” he mocked, stifling a grunt as he forced himself into your tightness, your maiden walls squeezing him. “Pathetic.” All of the sudden, his raspy voice was strained, having to restrain himself from pounding into you before he even filled you to the brim. You could see it in the way he set his jaw, forcing you to avert your eyes in fear.

You released a mixture of a whine and a shaky breath, the burning of the stretch prominent enough to cloud your mind and set your body on full alert. With both his paws on your hips, you could not even intervene or squirm away. Every ridge and vein of his cock dragged along your clenching walls as you accommodated the sheer size of his member, not making the stretch any more pleasurable. 

“S-Stop,” you whimpered. 

And Maegor actually listened, but only because he had bottomed out completely and needed a few moments to regain his composure, adapting to you squeezing him like a vice. “It will become more pleasant soon,” he grunted, trailing his hands up and down your sides in a comforting manner you did not know he possessed. “Trust me.”

The first snaps of his hips were neither hard nor fast, but deep and determined enough to brush that sweet spot inside of you your own fingers had not reached before. Having his breeches pulled down enough to free his cock and the sac of his stones, they slapped against your sensitive bud each time his hips met yours. 

With that pace, the burning slowly but surely turned into the pleasure your body had been asking for. 

Looking back at him once again, you were blessed with something you hadn’t seen before. A few strands of his usually neat, silver hair hung in front of his face, every now and then clinging to the few beads of sweat on his forehead before the tremors of his thrusts freed them again.

He felt you adjusting to his size, which prompted him to increase the pace to the point he was pounding you. Each impact forced your head to tip forwards and your knees to scrape across the stone floor, barely diminished by the skirt of your dress. 

Something you hadn’t anticipated was him bringing his hand in front of you to clasp around your throat. With the strength he possessed, his grip was tight, choking you regardless of him intending to do so or not.  

“I want you to look at the throne,” he commanded through gritted teeth, the choking and gasping sounds you made merely a dull noise in the background. “‘Tis the seat our son will sit in one day.”

His other arm snaked around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his firm chest, securing you and keeping you steady despite the reckless snaps of his hips. Mayhaps it was the possibility and danger of the Dowager Queens barging into the Throne Room or because you finally got what you had craved for more than five years, but your peak built in the pit of your stomach far too quickly for your own liking. 

“I am going to fuck you so full of my seed, making sure it will bear fruit.”

Maegor shifted his hips, angling them so he was thrusting upwards into you, which had his cock reaching even deeper than before, causing you to mewl and whine. Even if you wanted to, you could not reply, but with a renewed wave of your arousal dripping down his throbbing member and stones, you did not even have to.

“I-I–,” you stammered, his grip not loosening. It was a surprise you managed to inhale enough air to fill your lungs – mayhaps he was better at assessing his strength than you thought. 

“Go on,” he rasped, squeezing your throat in a rhythm that matched his hips, sensing your impending peak. 

It was embarrassing how quickly your peak took over at his words, rippling through you with soaring pleasure. Each time his stones hit your little bud, your overstimulated body tried to jerk away from him – but to no avail with his strong arm around your waist. 

Maegor watched in awe as your body trembled within his grasp, the tremors growing more apparent with each second he did not pull out. His mouth pressed to the side of your face, tongue licking a flat stripe from your jaw up to your temple. 

“You want my seed, niece?” he grunted into your ear, “want me to fuck a child into you? See your body swell with my seed?”

Finally loosening the grip he had on your throat to allow you to speak, you croaked a ‘seven hells, yes!’ into the chilly air of the Throne Room. “Put a babe in me… please,” you all but begged, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him – enough to capture his lips with your own. 

The response of your body his and your own words elicited was pitiful, but it was just the truth. You wanted his child, the thought lingering in your mind for the past five years. Your walls trembled around him, choking him so tightly the bull of a man behind you had to take a deep breath to keep his composure. But all effort was fruitless when his pulsing cock spent itself inside of your quivering walls. 

Each of his grunts and groans was devoured by your lips on his, drinking them down as if they were the only things keeping you alive. Out of instinct, you started to roll your hips against his, prolonging his own peak as you milked him for every drop of his seed. 

Maegor was out of breath by the time his movements came to a stop, staying buried inside of you as if he meant to make sure his efforts bore fruit. And you relished in it, despite the vulnerable position it brought you in.

Tipping his forehead against your temple, he closed his purple eyes, breathing shakily before speaking, “merely pack the bare essentials for the travel. We shall depart for King’s Landing in the morrow… on dragon back."

Bowing your head once, you fixed your undergarments and dress once he had pulled out, sitting back on your haunches. With your back facing him, he did not notice the wide grin on your lips. 

Mayhaps then you finally were to witness the sight of Balerion’s shadow devouring Westeros' capital.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme

[yandere-romanticaa]

The deep corners of the sea harbor many secrets. Be it countless lives which were claimed by the tides, ancient tales of a bygone era, or perhaps something even darker, something so great that the feeble human mind could not even think of comprehending.

The murky waters hid many things indeed. But for the Duke, his little secret was not so ancient, something not so important in the ultimate grand scheme of things.

It only mattered to him and only him.

He gazes fondly at his secret as he sips tea in the cafeteria, taking a break in a highly conspicuous area simply because he was the Duke and he could do as he wished.

He could have you at any moment he desired. The sentence was prolonged for absolutely no reason and searching for one was pointless. The Duke has his reasons, the staff would say. Run along now and go back to your duties. If you keep slacking off you'll starve.

Wriothesley liked to play favorites when it came to you.

That became evident to some of the staff very fast.

He had it arranged that your meals be of, at the very least, decent quality. No mystery meat for you or any rotten vegetables. If you consumed any of that your health would be in jeopardy. He could always just give you a proper meal or maybe even a downright good one but that would arise too much suspicion from the inmates and he was not in the mood to hear them complain. One day, the chef decided to be bold and serve you a wretched meal on purpose, just to test his hypothesis.

As expected, Wriothesley gave him an earful even if he never actually said anything about you. His bias was still evident and nothing could hide that.

Wriothesley liked to consider himself as an honest and a frank man. Like all people he had his secrets and his own cross to carry but if he could he wanted things to be done right in the open. No mysteries, no hesitance. If you were not a prisoner in the Fortress, Wriothesley would already have you on his arm. He was also aware of his imposing presence, the last thing he wanted to do was to scare you off. The power imbalance was simply too large between the two of you.

Therefore, like the predator that he was, he bid his time. He locked away his rawest feelings deep in his heart and hid the key, never wanting to throw it away.

He wanted you to come to him. He wanted you to seek him out.

Oh, to be loved, to be wanted by another human being. What a foreign yet pleasant thought. Wriothesley knew you did not see him in that light but damn it all if he does not try. All of the cards are in his hands and he has dealt you yours. The only option left is for you to play straight into his hand.

The thought of sharing a cup of tea with you made his heart soar. Patience was indeed a virtue. And fortunately for him, the Fortress of Meropide had taught him that skill a long time ago.

🖤 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @mayulli, @saturnalya, @alatusprinz, @lakxcpsta, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @ficsreblogs, @goldenglow149

[loveliestlovelygirl]

play for me

pianoteacher!anakin x student!reader

synopsis: mr. skywalker asks you to play the piano for him. only this time, he wants you to sit in his lap.

w.c: 0.9k+

warnings!! {minors dni} age gap, power imbalance, cockwarming, gentle dom!anakin, sub!reader, fem!reader

inspired by this ask

The humored grin Mr. Skywalker wears as he opens the door for you tells you he’s not exactly surprised that you show up on his doorstep this weekend. He pats you on the head and moves back to allow you in his home.

“Already missing me?” he teases, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

You hold your hands behind your back and bite your lip as you nod. Your heart suddenly quickens when he steps toward you, closing the gap.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. As he holds you, he presses the side of his face to his chest and his chin rests on your head. “How’s college going? I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“Really?” You wanted to say why haven’t you, but this wasn’t the time. And you think you know why. It’s probably for the same reason why you didn’t reach out to him. You’re doubting things.

It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him. So, his lack of calling you might be meaningless. You came back to remind him of what you want.

He takes your coat and hangs it up for you. “Every night I’m missing you. I-I just figured... you might be busy.”

You grab his hands and slot your fingers between his. “That’s not true.”

Anakin turns to hide his face. “Have you thought about... us?”

Hearing him say us melted you. Does he know that you’re all his? Only his. You belong to him. He’s the one you gave everything to. He’s seen, touched, and kissed every inch of your body. He’s been inside you. Why is he acting... hesitant?It’s so unlike him.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” you say. “I drove home to see you.”

The grin that builds on his lips is smug. “Oh. So, mommy and daddy don’t know you’re here?”

You shake your head, feeling almost humiliated by the infantilizing way he asked you that. The fact that you liked it unnerves you even more.

“Good,” he starts pulling you by the hand into the parlor. “You’re not gonna have time to see them anyway.”

“Why?” you ask, feeling stupid for not knowing the answer.

He chuckles. “You’re going to be spending every minute with me, angel.”

You jump on him to hug him. You squeeze tightly. Inhaling hard, you drown in his familiar scent. You’ve missed him so much you could almost cry.

“Play for me?” he asks, then kisses the top of your head. He lifts the lid of the white grand piano. He says that because he knows it will make you feel better.

With your body against his and the bottom of your chin pressed against his chest, you look up at him. “Of course. I’ve been working on something new.”

He plops down on the bench first. “I wanna hear it.”

Holding onto his hand, you step around and smooth the back of your little spring dress down. But before you make contact with the cushion, Anakin grabs your hips and forces you down onto his lap.

Your eyes instinctively enlarge, you fight against him at first. “What’re you—”

He turns you to the side and grabs the back of your neck to shut you up with a kiss. The way his mouth defiles you as his tongue pushes past your lips instantly relaxes you. Closing your eyes, you hold onto him and give into him completely. It’s like he knew this was what you needed to break the uncomfortable tension. You couldn’t help it though. For the last few weeks, you worried that he lost interest.

Yet the hand that ascends the length of your thigh puts your fears to rest. And his lips reveal that you’re still the object of his obsessive desires.

You feel his fingers invade and create a space between you and the crotch of your panties. In one motion, he swipes them from your legs and sets them to the side. Come to think of it... he never returned the last pair he ripped from your body. For a moment, you consider the perverted reasons he held your favorite panties captive.

Surprisingly, your teacher’s hand leaves you wanting. You expected him to finger you. You’d be grateful just to be edged. You’ve missed him. And when he breaks the kiss, the ache of being left unsatisfied builds.

You know he sees the disappointment on your face.

“Stand up for me?” He helps you to his feet.

With your back to him, you hear him fiddling with something. You glance over your shoulder to see his leather belt removed from his pants and dangling in his hand. There’s no question where this is leading, especially hearing him unzip.

No words between you, he grabs your hips once more and pulls you down on him, this time guiding his cock inside your pussy. You’re already slick just for him. The hours and hours, days and days of waiting left you always on edge. Sometimes, just thinking about him was enough to turn you on.

With his length fully seated inside you, he hugs you close to him. His lips brush against your ear. “Are you comfortable?”

Both of you are completely still. Your face is hot... and so is the rest of your body. Your heart beat is a little quicker than normal, but that’s only because you feel so close to him. When he’s inside you, all you feel is contentment and pleasure because everything you could want is in your grasp.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

He nuzzles the side of your neck. “Good. Are you going to show me what you’ve been working on, angel?”

“Right now?” You look over your shoulder. “Like this.”

“Yeah,” he shifts his hips, and the new, deeper angle makes you shiver, “exactly like this.”

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[thecharacterchronicler]

District Girl (Part 3) || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: Coriolanus meets you again and, as a bad thunderstorm approaches, you invite him to take shelter in your cabin…

Word count: 3’686

Warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, power imbalance, virgin female (implied) and rough explicit sex.

Author’s note: I tried to fulfill a request I received while sticking to the original idea I had for this part 3, so I hope whoever (anon) asked for it will be okay with this one being a bit rough. I promise I’ll try to write a much sweeter, more romantic, one shot of the reader losing her virginity to Coriolanus for you soon. Thanks for inspiring me with your request! 🖤 (Though I’m not sure I’ll know how to write sweet and romantic Coryo…)

((Part 1 )) - ((Part 2 ))

It had been cloudy since morning, causing the humidity in the air to rise above what Coriolanus usually deemed acceptable. It was still warm, even without a trace of sunshine, hidden behind menacing black clouds. Far in the distance, he could hear the distinctive roar of a thunderstorm approaching from the mountains, electricity almost palpable in the air.

Coriolanus didn’t enjoy sunny days either, mostly because he couldn’t get used to the uncomfortable climate of District 12, but standing between broken shacks, on a dirt road that would probably flood and turn into mud as soon as rain would start falling was a whole new kind of hell to him.

Hopefully, the party he was supposed to keep in check would end soon. It had barely started, with the two newlyweds couples returning from the justice building, gathering with their guests in a narrow space of grass between two cabins. Music was playing, but he didn’t like how wrong it sounded in his ears. People were joyfully chatting, trying to ignore the presence of peacekeepers nearby, watching them in search of an excuse to break out this gathering before it could turn sour because it somehow always turned sour in district 12… But maybe it would be the approaching storm that would put an end to the festivities first, allowing Coriolanus to go back to the barracks and have the rest of the afternoon to rest.

Standing tall, stoic, with a hand on his weapon, he watched the party unfold as some kids ran off to gather branches and burnt grass. He didn’t know the traditions for a wedding in this district but it sure seemed kind of pathetic to him. If it was his wedding, he would have made sure that it was a special day, he would have worn his best outfit and he would have made sure that his guests did too… Unlike most of the ones present today, still in their mining clothes and covered in dust. He also would have made sure that he had a proper venue where to celebrate his wedding, not a small patch of burnt grass near a row of sad cabins. And surely, he would have made sure that no storm was threatening to ruin it all.

“Hurry up or we won’t have enough time to get the fire going for the toasting.” You instructed a group of kids, as they placed a few fragile branches in your hands before running off again. You looked worried, your eyes on the black clouds in the horizon.

Coriolanus’ entire body reacted to your voice, briefly breaking his steady posture. He gazed at you, an irrepressible smirk appearing on his lips at the sight. You looked lovely. Even better than usual. Of course, you - out of all the other people - had had enough respect for the newlyweds to show up to their party wearing a nice and clean dress. The color brought out your eyes, making it all he could see for a moment. Until he lowered his gaze to your silhouette, noticing how it hugged and highlighted your lines and curves in the best way possible. It was as if the dress had been tailored for your body. Flawless.

Even if he wasn’t invited to the party and was instructed to keep his distances unless anything important occurred, he was happy to see you. He could watch you from where he kept guard, admire your beauty and make sure he memorized the contours of your body in that dress to entertain him later, when he’ll be alone in the showers. It wasn’t so bad after all.

The kids brought back another batch of branches to you and you placed them in a pile on the ground, taking a step back as a couple leaned down to light them on fire. All the guests applauded when red flames appeared, you included, as if lighting a fire was some kind of victory… Maybe it was after all, in such a humid climate.

A second couple did the same thing, starting a smaller fire next to the one slowly gaining strength and it pleased the guests just as much. Coriolanus held his breath when he saw you step up again, expecting you to follow suit on the odd tradition with a man that wouldn’t be him. You were dressed so nicely, your hair so beautifully arranged, that it finally occurred to him that it could be your wedding too.

No, he wouldn’t allow it. You were his. You had tasted him and he had tasted you, you knew each other intimately, you couldn’t belong to another man. Not anymore. Not when you could have him.

Instead of lighting a third fire, you handed both brides a loaf of bread and they proceeded to impale it on a branch, the grooms held it above the dancing flame and everyone watched as the bread slowly cooked. In the Capitol, cakes and desserts were served at weddings not… Toasts ?

He shook off his grimace of disgust. He wasn’t sure if it was because he kept being surprised by everyone’s lack of dignity in this district or if he was still slightly unsettled by the idea of you, marrying someone else.

A louder bang resounded through the street, bringing everyone’s attention to the mountains from which menacing clouds were quickly approaching. It was brief, everyone preffering to focus their attention back on the darkening bread held above the fire rather than on the weather, except for you. Coriolanus locked eyes with you, his heart strangely racing in his chest. He wanted you to notice him, but the possibility you might ignore him again, like you had a few days ago at the Hob, made him uneasy. He had showed you how good he could be to you. How lucky you should feel that you had somehow managed to catch his interest. But maybe you would provoke him again, just so that he could show you who you belong to once more.

A few very explicit images bloomed in his mind, he could be pretty creative when thinking about all the ways he could mark you as his. And as usual, it made him hard and desperate for attention.

But it seemed you weren’t going to need a reminder of his claim on you after all. You had stepped away from the party and were now walking in his direction, your pretty dress caressing the dirt road in the wake of your steps. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you grinned at him, as if you were happy to see him too.

“Are you keeping an eye on me, Coriolanus Snow ?” You asked him, playfully, stopping in front of him just slightly closer than what he would have expected.

His whole body buzzed at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. He had never told you so it must mean you had asked around about him. Maybe you had been obsessing over him as much as he obsessed over you, trying to find out who he was and how you could keep being the object of his desires.

“Always since I know how good you are at sneaking around.” He replied, with a grin. He didn’t know your name, but he would eventually. He simply couldn’t ask anyone about you, not when it might bring negative attention on him from his superiors. And what about his colleagues ? They might think that you’re an easy girl, or at least one who isn’t bothered by the peacekeepers’ uniforms and try to flirt with you - very much like Junius had - if they knew. It was better if he kept it that way for now, you’d be his little secret. “You look lovely in that dress.”

“Thank you.” You replied, seemingly a bit surprised by such a compliment. “My friends got married today.”

He nodded. That much he had gathered, even though wedding celebrations definitely looked nothing like the ones he had seen in The Capitol. He glanced to the sad party, where one couple was now eating their toasted piece of bread while others looked at them with emotion in their eyes. You followed his gaze back to where you came from.

“I’m sorry, I can’t invite you it wouldn’t be…” You started, but stopped yourself as he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, of course.” He finished for you, with a smile meant to reassure you that he had absolutely no desire to be invited to such events anyway.

A moment of silence went by, a bit awkwardly. He couldn’t force you on your knees and get you to suck him off right there, in front of everyone, even though there wasn’t anything he wanted more at this very moment and you couldn’t bring a peacekeeper back to the party with you, so you were both frozen with indecision, unsure of what else to do when you couldn’t put your hands - and mouths - on each other.

Despite daylight, an orange lightning illuminated the sky, fracturing the black clouds over your heads. A few seconds later, a loud bang resonated against the wooden walls of the nearby cabins, making the road under your feet tremble. Rain instantly poured down from the clouds, cold drops of water mixed with icy hail, piercing through the leaves of the trees and bouncing off of the roofs and ground.

Coriolanus left out a curse as the wedding party he was meant to keep in check dissolved, people hurrying in different directions to take shelter from the hail. If anything happened now, it would be his fault because he wouldn’t be able to tell if everyone went back to their cabins or if anything illegal took place afterwards…

You pulled him out of his thoughts by taking his hand in yours and guiding him to the nearest shack on the road, just as another lightning hit the ground, a lot closer than where the previous one did. You opened the door and pushed the peacekeeper in, closing it just as the roaring thunder reverberated through the street.

Coriolanus took in the modest house he was standing in, the few pieces of furniture and the broken window above the kitchen sink. It was about the size of his dormitory, but contained everything a house should, there even was a bed in the far corner of the room.

“You can stay here until the storm passes… If you want.” You suggested, the confidence you had been able to display during your previous encounters with him suddenly gone. Maybe because you felt awfully more vulnerable having him standing in your home rather than in a more public place. “Your clothes are wet, maybe I could hang them to dry ?”

A smirk appeared on his lips at your words and you smiled back at him, slightly blushing. He fixed his pale blue eyes on you as he slowly began unbuttoning his vest, you followed the movement of his fingers with eager eyes. He remembered how it felt when it wasn’t his buttons he was so deftly working on but you, pumping his finger deep inside the warmth his cock was so desperate to be buried in too.

He removed his vest, carefully placed his gun on the kitchen table and took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. He saw the way your eyes widened at the sight and liked how you couldn’t help but stare at his muscles, gaze lowering at the same speed your cheeks were gaining colors.

He opened his pants, lowered his underwear and left his erection proudly stand up from the fabric. He was hard for you, so hard it was almost unbearable, and you had barely done anything yet, apart from wearing a dress that hugged your silhouette and smile at him. It was kind of pathetic, how he probably could have come undone simply from closing his eyes and imagining his cum shooting out of his spent cock inside of you… Either buried deep in your wet pussy, either lodged down your throat while you gagged on his length, or even painting your face and chest with his cum again, the lovely sight it had been the first time still burned in his memory.

There were so many ways he wanted you. If he could have it his way, he’d probably lock you up in his dorm so that he could come back to you and fuck you mercilessly every time he felt the need to. Having you at his disposal would be such a relief for his cock - and hand. Maybe he’d finally manage to get you out of his mind if he could indulge in every fantasy he had about you, act out every scenario, test out everything he thought of, until he no longer had anything to think about to bring his cock to life at the most inconvenient times.

Although you seemed a bit more reserved this time, you still had the courage to reach behind your back to unzip your pretty dress, the fabric instantly falling and pooling around your feet.

Coriolanus’ blood changed course and flew to his already stretched cock, making it even harder and twitching with impatience. What a perfect sight you were, standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. It wasn’t a fancy set of lingerie like the girls from The Capitol usually wore but maybe it was because you weren’t a girl from The Capitol that he was so obsessed with you. You were a district girl, and he had never seen a body more beautiful than yours, even in plain underwear that didn’t even match. It was as if he had designed you himself, the shape of you perfectly tailored to his preferences, with curves and dips that drove him crazy and plump, soft, skin that haunted his sleepless nights. It left him unable to decide between his desires to ravage you or worship you.

He stepped forward and carefully pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders. He unclasped the hooks in your back, a bit less assured than he wanted you to believe he was and, once he was able to pull your bra off, he took a step back to admire your bare chest. Perfect.

He pressed a hand to your tender flesh, excitement buzzing in his veins when he felt the soft malleability of your breast. His hands weren’t calloused like the ones of the miners you probably knew, they were soft and delicate, a clear sign of his luckier upbringing.

He leaned down to place a kiss against your neck, just so he could press his body against yours, feel your heat, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. It was the most intimate he had ever been, with you and with anyone else. He couldn’t say he disliked how it felt, but it was also terrifying. He couldn’t let himself be too vulnerable with you, not when it risked leading to feelings he really didn’t want to have for a district girl like you. He already barely could manage how badly he wanted you, how much he thought about you, day and night… What if he fell in love now ? Surely, it would ruin his life.

No, there wouldn’t be any feelings, not on his side and not on yours either. It was just sex. Really good sex. But just that.

He didn’t have to be soft with you so that you’d like him, he could just take what he needed and give you what you wanted too and call it quits. Yeah, it was a good plan. Flawless even.

He pulled your panties down with a rough motion, taking you by surprise. You barely had time to kick the crumpled fabric off of your feet when he reached for the back of your knees, lifting you up into his arms with your legs closing around his hips for support.

He took a few steps until your back was pressed against the wall. Your face was so close to his, your wet lips making it so hard for him to resist kissing them with all the depth of his passion for you.

No feelings. He reminded himself.

He pushed his hips forward, his hard cock easily gliding through your arousal. You were so ready for him. Just like you had been the other day. And this time he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of being inside you. He pressed himself all the way up to your entrance, finding an unexpected resistance on the way. He heard your breath catch in your throat as he attempted to pass it, noticing the grimace on your face but since you didn’t ask him to stop, he kept trying to dive into the surprising tightness of your pussy.

He felt your hands clasping his shoulders for stability, your body writhing with discomfort at the invasion. He knew he was fairly big - bigger than the fingers he had put inside you at least - but he didn’t expect you to be so incredibly tight around him. The pressure of your walls clenching on him almost making him dizzy with the intensity of the pleasure it built in his abdomen.

Then, without a warning, you suddenly relaxed and your pussy seemed to swallow him whole, finally allowing him to fully bury himself inside of your wetness. He cursed at the sensation and you quietly cried out when he hit the deepest point possible.

You still felt tight, but you were finally giving him permission to move. He gently rocked himself, getting his cock to slide back and forth as a way to loosen you up. He was molding you to fit him. Him, and no one else.

No feelings.

He closed his eyes. He could come just from this but he wasn’t going to be selfish. Not when he wanted you to keep wanting him as much as he did. So he focused, keeping his movements slow and wide despite how fast and rough his brain urged him to go.

Suddenly, you came, digging your nails in his shoulders and whimpering against his neck, your pussy contracting around his cock, forcing him to stop his movements inside you again and stand completely still while you moaned in bliss. He was good at this, it was his second time making you reach your climax and it gave him an unreasonable amount of pride each time he achieved this. This time especially, had merely felt like work at all, you simply couldn’t take that many slow thrusts inside you. And now your cunt was contracting around him, trying to milk cum out of him like the only thing missing from your orgasm was a load of his release inside you. But he wasn’t going to give it to you, not yet. No matter how limp your body suddenly felt in his arms and how you cried out as soon as he resumed his thrusts, he was going to fuck you until he was satisfied this time.

He adjusted his grip on your body and carried you to the bed, lying you down and immediately placing himself on top of you, putting his dick back exactly where it belonged, buried deep inside you. His hands behind both of your knees, he held your legs against his hips as he pushed himself back and forth in you, on his knees while you were lying down with your head resting on your pillow. He could feel the pleasure bubbling inside him, demanding more to finally explode and allow him some relief. He was so desperate to finish, he needed to fill you up with his seed, make sure you would be his from now on. Hell, he wanted to spill everything he could inside you until he was bone dry and then, feed you every drop that might escape from your folds so that none of his release would go to waste.

He leaned forward, the weight of his body shifting and pressing yours deeper into the mattress. The bed was creaking loudly with each of his violent thrusts, menacing to break, while your cries of agonizing pleasure escaped through the broken window, mixing with the splatter of the heavy rain outside and the low rumble of thunder.

It wasnt so much the way he drove himself in and out of you, fast and without mercy, that pushed him off of the edge but the sight of you, gasping for air like you couldn’t take him anymore, crying out his name with half of your face buried in your pillow, your pretty lips forming a perfect oval as he finally groaned and released himself inside you, making you climax once more, in unison with him this time.

He filled you up, waiting until his cock was done twitching, the very last drops of cum dripping from his tip before he took it out. He needed to catch his breath now but the way you were still shaking with pleasure in front of him, beautiful as ever and claimed by him made his heart race.

Rain and hail crashed noisily on the roof of the cabin, covering the sound of your panting breaths, lightning illuminating the darkness that had filled the room every once in a while. He knew that his friends were probably waiting for him back at the barracks, that his superiors might start wondering where he was since he wasn’t on permission yet, but he couldn’t get himself to leave. Not yet. He had been dreaming, imagining, fantasizing about this moment for too long to cut it short. The way you had felt, how your body looked without any clothes on, your face when he poured his release inside you, everything had exceeded his expectations. You were truly perfect for him. And he no longer could resist kissing your lips, making sure you’d understand how obsessed he was with you.

No feelings.

[luna-azzurra]

Do you have any advice for writing a fight scene? No weapons or anything, and one is a werewolf?

Thanks! xxx

sure!!!!:)

The environment is a huge part of any fight. Where the battle takes place can affect the mood and pace of the fight. If it's a forest at night, the atmosphere might be thick with tension, the shadows playing tricks on the human’s mind. Every snap of a twig could be nerve-wracking. In contrast, if it’s an abandoned warehouse or alleyway, there could be crumbling debris or walls that the werewolf could crash through with ease. Consider how the space constrains or opens up possibilities. Does the human have room to run, or are they trapped, back against the wall?

One of the most important elements of this fight is the clear imbalance between the human and the werewolf. The werewolf, being a supernatural creature, should feel like a force of nature, faster, and stronger than anything a human can easily contend with. Its movements are instinctive and powerful, maybe even graceful in their brutality. The human, on the other hand, needs to rely on their wits, speed, and survival instincts. They know they can’t overpower the werewolf, so they’re constantly looking for ways to outmaneuver it, maybe trying to use their surroundings to gain some advantage, like ducking behind obstacles or luring the werewolf into a trap.

To make the fight feel visceral, focus on the physical sensations and the toll the fight takes on both characters. For the human, every punch or kick should feel like a gamble, maybe they manage to land a blow, but it’s like striking a wall of muscle. Each missed hit could leave them open to devastating retaliation. The werewolf, meanwhile, is likely much more durable. Its claws tear through the air with deadly precision, and each swipe could mean serious injury for the human. Describe the impact of each hit. Does the werewolf's claw barely miss, ripping through the fabric of the human's shirt, leaving them gasping with adrenaline? Or does the human manage to dodge just in time, but only because they’re running on sheer instinct? Let the reader feel the weight of the werewolf’s power, how the ground shakes when it charges or how its growl reverberates in the air, sending shivers down the human’s spine.

What is the human feeling during this fight? Fear, obviously, but maybe also determination, rage, or despair. Do they think this is the end, or are they fighting for someone or something they care about? Maybe they’re not just trying to survive, maybe they’re protecting someone or trying to escape with crucial information. On the other side, consider the werewolf’s emotional state. Is it in control, methodical and cruel, or has the beast taken over, making it savage and unpredictable? If the werewolf is toying with the human, letting them think they can escape only to pull them back in, that can create an agonizing tension. Or maybe the werewolf is in a blind rage, reckless and wild, which could give the human a small opening, perhaps the only one, to escape or gain the upper hand.

What does the fight feel like? The smell of the werewolf’s fur, matted with dirt and sweat, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the sound of claws scraping across concrete or bark. What does the human hear? The werewolf’s breathing, the snarl rumbling deep in its throat, the snap of bone as it crushes something in its jaws? Describe how the human’s body responds to fear—the pounding heart, the shaking hands, the burn in their muscles as they keep running or dodging. The fight should feel exhausting, both physically and mentally.

Fight scenes need to be fast-paced, but not rushed. Keep the sentences tight and impactful. Short, sharp sentences can reflect the speed and danger of the fight, while longer ones might slow the action down in moments of brief respite, like when the human is catching their breath or assessing their next move. You don’t want to bog the reader down with too much detail at once, but you also don’t want the fight to end too quickly. Build up the tension, let the human get close to being caught, cornered, or even injured, then find a way to narrowly escape, only for the danger to come back twice as strong.

Every punch, kick, dodge, or claw swipe should have consequences. If the human lands a blow, how does the werewolf react? Does it shrug it off, or does it get angry, its aggression intensifying? Similarly, when the werewolf lands a hit, don’t be afraid to let the human suffer. Maybe they get clawed across the arm, and now they’re bleeding, one arm practically useless. Injuries should affect how they fight going forward, slower, more desperate, limping, or gasping for air. Let the reader see the human struggling, on the verge of giving up, but somehow pushing through. End the fight with a definitive moment, a final, brutal blow, a clever escape, or a narrow victory. Maybe the werewolf’s strength falters for just a second, giving the human a chance to escape, or perhaps the human collapses in exhaustion, moments before what they think will be their end.

[messiahzzz]

i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).

there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.

we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.

which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.

leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.

there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:

“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."

even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.

evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.

another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...

[another-goblin]

There were some interesting discussions about Dr. Ratio and Aventurine's power dynamic recently. And if someone is inclined to see their relationship (whether it's friendship or something more) as problematic due to the power imbalance between them, it's undeniable that it's screwed in Aventurine's favor in nearly all aspects:

Aventurine has actual fighting skills; he carries a gun. Ratio doesn't;

Aventurine possesses immense mystical powers through his Cornerstone, as well as his supernatural luck, while Ratio is a normal person;

Aventurine holds one of the highest positions in one of the most powerful organizations in the universe. Ratio is a teacher;

I think it's implied that the Intelligentsia Guild takes orders from the IPC (even though formally the Guild is not a part of the IPC). So I wouldn't be surprised if technically Aventurine can give Ratio orders or even have him fired. And the Guild is definitely fully dependent on the IPC financially;

Aventurine is implied to be insanely rich. Ratio is a teacher;

Aventurine is on Penacony to achieve his and the IPC's goals. Ratio is there to support Aventurine;

Aventurine seems quite adept at manipulating and using people;

as per 2.3, Ratio seems to be MUCH more involved in whatever is going on between them. He is unable to talk or think about anything other than Aventurine, who, on the opposite, mentions Ratio once, passingly, without even calling him by name (so it might not even be Ratio):

Despite all of these I don't see their relationship as problematic due to this alledged imbalance because none of these matter (except for the last one): Aventurine isn't going to fight Ratio, or bribe him, or threaten his job, or exploit his willingness to risk his life and reputation to help Aventurine with his shady business.

And for the last point, my personal interpretation is that Aventurine wants to keep their relationship secret (allthough the idea that Aventurine just uses his new "friend" as a tool, the way he usually does, doesn't contradict the canon either: "yeah, I made some smart guy help me". Meanwhile said "smart guy": just unable to function due to how much he's affected by this relationship. Ah the sweet delicious angst)

So the way I want their relationship to develop is for Aventurine to show that he cares too by protecting Ratio from something. It might technically contribute to this "imbalance" in ways that don't matter to me, but it would balance it out in the only way that does.

[blackleatherjacketz]

All Better

Eric Northman x Female Reader

Summary: You miss a meeting because you're sick, and Eric makes a house call to make you feel better.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Eric being Eric, Strep Throat, Antibiotics, Shoving, Blaming, Kissing, Glamoring, Hypnotizing, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Healing Vampire Blood, Blood Drinking, Biting, Vampirism, Nipple Play, Licking, Cunnilingus, Female Orgasm

Read more Eric!

“You don’t look very good.” Eric states the obvious as his brows knit together in a look of, wait a minute, is that… concern that you’re seeing on his face? It must be the medication you’re on that’s blurring your vision and dulling your senses, because you’re pretty sure that ‘concern’ isn’t in Eric Northman’s emotional repertoire. “What’s wrong with you?”

It isn’t until he pushes you up against the wall, staring at your pale face as beads of sweat run down your temples that he understands why you didn’t show up to Fangtasia tonight or bother answering your phone when he called. The realization of your illness slowly melts that concerned look of his into a stoic expression of understanding, allowing his pupils to expand just the slightest bit before his lips part in silence.

“I’m just sick, it’s nothing.” You try to look away from him, tempted to fall back into your old habit of isolating yourself when falling ill, only he grabs hold of your chin to prevent that from happening.

“Sick, how?” That sense of understanding gets washed away in a flash, his brief display of genuine emotion quickly covered up by his usual curt and cutting tone.

“It’s just an infection, I know I should have called, I just didn’t think you’d…”

“Didn’t think I’d what?” He tightens his grip on your chin, bringing his face closer to yours. “Didn’t think I’d notice that my favorite human wasn’t there to greet me tonight?”

Favorite human? Did you hear that right? You can’t help but raise your eyebrows in surprise as he admits it out loud, albeit through gritted teeth.

“I was too weak to drive out there, I…” You mutter as his cool grip on your face chills you even more, forcing your body to shiver in its febrile state.

“Then let me heal you.” He offers, his eyes scanning over your shaking form before he brings his wrist up to his mouth.

“What?” Your arrangement with Eric has always been very simple; you show up once a week to let him feed on you and he pays you enough money to cover your mortgage each month. It had never been more than that though, never crossed any other carnal line despite your secret desire for more intimacy with him. He had never once offered you his own blood before, and the idea of it still kind of scares you, if you’re being honest with yourself. “Heal me?”

“So you won’t be sick anymore.” He loosens his grip on your face, his hand falling loosely around your neck.

“I’m on antibiotics, Eric, I don’t need your blood.” You attempt to walk away from him but he places his palm flat across your chest, forcing you back into position against the wall. Even his restrained amount of strength is too much for your weakened muscles to withstand as you wince in pain.

“Let me heal you.” He stares into your eyes, accessing your subconscious mind as you can’t help but stare right back, too tired to put up any sort of emotional barrier between the two of you. You’ve seen him do this to others before, convincing them to do whatever he wanted, whether that be to pay him back, run away or even kill someone for him. You just never thought he’d do it to you.

“Okay,” You hear yourself whisper almost immediately before taking his hand and leading him to the couch at the far end of your living room. You watch him sit down as if he’s already been there dozens of times before, as if he’s lived there with you already, as if he owns the place. You feel him pull you onto his lap, guiding your hips and thighs so that you’re now straddling him in the middle of your couch as his hands carefully smooth their way up your back.

“You’re shivering.” He grins as you settle into him, your pelvis slowly rocking against his hips as his hands find their way into your hair. “I can fix that.”

“Yeah?” As scary as the idea of drinking his blood is, the thought of letting this feverish hell continue any longer seems way worse.

“Let me take care of you.” Eric fumbles through the random items on the side table closest to him until he finds something sharp at his disposal: a ball point pen. He pushes the cap off with his thumb, smiles up at you before jabbing the pen into his neck so quickly, you barely have a chance to register what’s happening before he pulls you in closer. “Now, drink.”

You gasp as your heart races in a confused sense of horror, watching droplets of his blood ooze out of his wound and down the porcelain skin of his neck. Your lips begin to tremble as his fingers weave their way into your hair, pushing your mouth in closer to his throat as you attempt to fight your body’s natural panic response.

“Drink.” He instructs again, only this time more sternly.

Having no other choice but to do as you’re told, you open your mouth and lick the droplets of blood from his neck as he continues to hold you in place. It tastes a little better than you thought it would, a sort of salty mixture with hints of iron and blackberry wine that leaves a surprisingly pleasant aftertaste on the back of your tongue. Kind of like a rich Cabernet.

Well, that’s not so bad, now is it?

You open up again and start down at his clavicle this time, making sure to clean up any remnants of the fluid until you get all the way up to the puncture site, greedily suckling straight from the source. You can hear him moan as you lap him up, feel his grip on your hair tighten as you consume him, getting lost in the closeness of your bodies and the binding of your fluids. You’re sure that he can hear your heart beating wildly inside your chest, thumping hard against his as you wrap your arms around his torso to get even closer to him. You can feel his blood working inside you, healing you on a cellular level; each vampiric red blood cell eradicating any bacteria into oblivion as the weakness leaves your muscles and the pain dissipates from your throat.

“Enough,” he whispers reluctantly, now having to pull your mouth off him. “That’s enough, sweetheart.”

His words barely bring you out of your trance, his salty flesh no longer beneath your tongue as he tugs on your scalp to get you to finally stop drinking. It’s almost as if you’ve been brought back to reality after having one of the most intense dreams you’ve ever had as you watch his wound heal just as quickly as he had made it. You’ll never get used to that.

“It worked.” You exclaim gratefully. “I feel better!”

“I told you.” Eric grins as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip, reminding you that you’ve made quite the mess of yourself. “This is why you have to let me take care of you.”

“I’m not very good at that.” You’ve always had to take care of yourself in the past. One lesson that life has taught you time and time again is that the second you start depending on someone is the very moment that you’ll be disappointed.

“I know, but you have to let me do it anyway.” His eyelids drop halfway down as he looks at you longingly, gazing upon you in a way that you’ve never noticed before.

Maybe it’s that look, or maybe it’s the high of his blood now coursing through your veins that makes you suddenly feel compelled to press your lips against his, letting that vampiric confidence guide your actions. You keep them there for a few seconds, realizing that he isn’t pulling away from you, but instead is kissing you back with just as much enthusiasm as he pulls tighter on your scalp.

You’ve always wanted to kiss him, from the very first moment that you saw him. But something about him told you that he had women throwing themselves at his feet left and right; and you didn’t want to be like one of them. You were just grateful for the little contact you got when he fed upon you each week. You relished every caress of your cheek, every squeeze of your waist that sent shivers down your spine before he ended up drinking his fill. You never thought that he’d be interested in you like this, that he’d actually want you in that type of way at all.

However, his tongue now parts your lips as his kiss intensifies, all but moaning the truth into your mouth as if he’s been waiting just as long to finally taste your lips. His kiss is desperate and sloppy, so different from the perfectly put together business man you first met that night at the bar. His composure casually crumbles to pieces as his hands travel all over your body, frantically grasping onto your muscles until they find themselves in your hair again, his lips curling into a deviously satisfied smirk.

You feel him grow beneath his jeans, his clothed member now brushing against the thin fabric of your underwear as his hips needily writhe against your junction. His deliberate movements trigger that moisture to collect between your thighs as he continues his rhythm upward with several shallow breaths. Now stained in his own blood, his mouth ventures over every inch of your lips and chin before moving down to your jawline, licking a trail alongside your pulse.

You whimper in response, grinding your needy center against him as you brace yourself for the bite that never comes. Instead he lifts your shirt up over your head, exposing your bare breasts to the cool temperature of the room as your nipples harden in front of his face.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” He teases, letting go of the rest of you so he can graze his palms across them, sending a much more intense tingling sensation down your spine.

“I didn’t know that you wanted to…” Your breath hitches as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard before wrapping his arms behind you and turning you on your back. He keeps contact with your skin the entire time, pulling on your sensitive tissue as he looks up at you with those eyes again, dragging your tender bud in between his teeth.

“Really?” He laughs with a smirk. He moves on to the next one before popping it into his mouth while pinching the other, sending a barrage of little fireworks into your skin. “You think I make feeding contracts lightly?”

“No, I uhh…” Your back arches toward the ceiling as he sucks bursts of delight into your tissues, humming a sweet vibration against your skin as you all but melt beneath him. Pleasure being the last sensation you expect to get from Eric’s mouth, you can’t help but feel a little breathless as his fingers simultaneously tug your underwear down your hips as they instinctively lift off the couch cushion to aid in their removal. “It’s hard for me to tell sometimes.”

“You thought I didn’t want you?” He licks a languid path down your quaking abdomen as your muscles contract in hurried anticipation, beads of sweat popping up in his wake. He circles around your navel with his tongue, kissing a hungry trail down your pelvis while his hands help slide your panties off your calves and feet. He smiles and spreads your thighs as far apart as they can go, straining your muscles as he stares at you like a jungle cat would its prey before it pounces. “Looks like I could be a better communicator.”

His fangs drop and his eyes darken, wasting no time in settling between your thighs to take the bite you were wondering would ever come at all. Instead of sinking his fangs into your femoral artery to get the most blood in the least amount of time, though, he bites you just above your swollen center. He laughs as you yelp from the piercing pain, letting that red hot fluid spill down your already dripping wet seam before he dives in to finally taste it.

That cold, blood-thirsty vampire that you’ve known for the past few weeks finally comes out as he starts licking streaks of crimson up and down your puffy lips, spreading the blood and gore into your folds as his tongue delivers that tantalizing balance of pain and pleasure that you’ve only read about in books. He growls like the creature of the night that he is as he devours you, snaking his arms beneath your thighs to pull you in even closer as his mouth delves into your flesh. Unable to be sated, he flicks his tongue up and down your sensitive clit, sending signals of ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain as your eyes flutter with visions of shapes and colors you never knew existed.

Maybe it’s the vampire blood pumping through your veins for the very first time, or maybe it’s Eric’s skilled mouth that forces your eyes to roll back into your head. The way he keeps eating and drinking makes it feel as if each and every tiny hair on your skin is now alive, standing on end waiting for him to touch them, to give them permission to explode until your entire body begins to shake. You reach out for him in vain as the otherworldly sense of euphoria washes over you, forcing every muscle in your body to convulse in rhythmic waves as he relentlessly drinks from your bloody cunt. He glances up at you only to grin as your skin changes color, warming and cooling in phases as your orgasm violently works its way through your skin and bones and finally out of your mouth.

“Eric!” You cry out as he finally pulls back from you, licking his lips as you rattle and hum in the crimson mess he’s made of you. “Oh my God, Eric!”

“See?” He smirks as he watches you come down from your hormonal high, running your hands through his hair as he finally gives your bloody center one last lick. “All better.”

[myslutwritings]

Hello could you do uppermoons with a S/O who has anger issues?

ofc! thank you for the requesting:)

➤ Uppermoons reaction to a S/O who has anger issues

including; Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu & Urogi

not proof read

Muzan Kibutsuji

• He believes the way you act is childish whenever you’re angry/upset.

• A little bit hypocritical of him considering he potentially has slight anger issues himself but after all he is a demon so he assumes it’s normal. Doesn’t really think much of it tbh.

• If you’re the type to have frequent outbursts/tantrums when you’re angry i feel like he would just ignore you until you’ve calmed down.

• Not the best at comfort. Affection isn’t his forte.

• Once you’ve calmed down a bit he’d return to comfort you in his own way.

• His way may not be as affectionate but it’s his way of showing you he cares.

• Muzan isn’t a softie (obviously) he’s very intimidating and downright the embodiment of evil so his way of showing affection is not ideal.

• But he cares though (more than you think)

• As your relationship progresses and you open up more about your own mental issues and needs and how you prefer to be cared for whenever you’re having an episode he’ll try to be more understanding!!

• Muzan still isn’t all that used to it but he tries just for you.

• Sometimes finds it amusing when the smallest little things piss you off though..

• He’ll chuckle under his breath at your little childish out bursts which only adds more fuel to the fire.

• Might bring you one of his victims so you can take your anger out on them because he assumes it’ll soothe down your nerves

• He’s never met someone like you and your emotions are pretty powerful. It makes him wonder how powerful you’ll be as a demon if he were to turn you into one. He prefers you as a human though because of the power imbalance.

• Fights may occur frequently between y’all due to you accidentally taking your anger out on him sometimes (god help your poor soul)

• Don’t worry! He won’t kill you.

• Usually he is very calm whenever you’re angry but if you just lash out and take everything out on him he’ll get pissed too.

• Whenever you two are some arguing you guys kind of just forget it ever happened and he just holds you in his arms or makes you sit on his lap to see if that helps you or not.

Kokushibo

• Kokushibo here sorta gives off this semi-calm vibe in my opinion? However, whenever he is angry it’s fucking terrifying.

• Whenever you’re upset he will sit you down so the two of you can discuss it.

• Like Muzan he will probably chuckle if you’re mad over something so tiny.

• However, unlike Muzan he isn’t toxic about it.

• He’s still a demon though so don’t expect it to be perfect.

• If you tell him what’ll make you feel better then he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

• You need a hug? okay! You don’t want to be touched? that’s fine too! he’ll give you the space you need until you’ve calmed down.

• I feel like he is the type to grab you firmly by the shoulders and tell you to calm the fuck down.

• Or maybe he’ll stare at you menacingly until your anger subsides..

• He’s the voice of reason whenever you’re upset over something ridiculous.

• If you’re mad for an entirely different reason (that’s valid in his eyes) is when he’s more caring and affectionate. (then again, in his own way)

• Kokushibo is quiet. He is not all that vocal unless he’s fighting demon slayers but whenever he isn’t on a mission he gives the “quiet kid” vibe.

• Koku embraces you and strokes your hair if you cry when you’re mad.

• If you’re the type to break things whenever you’re mad Kokushibo dislikes that sort of behavior. Isn’t a fan of extreme loud noises. He will get you to stop by manhandling you. Doesn’t usually raise his voice at his precious s/o no matter how mad they are.

Douma

• My fucking god.

• This little shit finds it cute

• Will tease you. (finds your anger issues entertaining)

• Human emotion is just so strange!!

• Fun fact: Douma actually feels emotions around you. However, it’s still somewhat foreign to him and he still has major difficulty understanding human emotions. (please be patient with even tho he is a menace)

• If you talk to him about it more he will surprisingly understand you. This surprises you because he doesn’t understand any of his followers half of the time. (You special frfr)

• Don’t expect the teasing to stop entirely though.

• He thinks mortals are so endearing when they spark with such intense emotions over the stupidest of reasons!

• It doesn’t matter how pissed off you are. This mf will only continue to think it’s adorable and tease you relentlessly which boils your blood to the maximum level..

• Blud DEADASS gets confused when you snap at him for it.

• “Ehh?? why are you mad at me?!” (He’ll whine about it)

• Douma is a complete menace. Knows exactly what he’s doing.

• Once he realizes “Maybe they don’t actually like it when i tease them..” he’ll tone it down a notch.

• Still somewhat teases you though. That isn’t going to go away permanently but he will tone it down only for your sake!

• Similar to Muzan, he will laugh at you when you get mad over something little/stupid.

• And like Kokushibo, also the type to manhandle you if you’re out of control. (Smiles the whole time while handling your feisty ass)

• However, he is still sweet so if you sit down and talk to him then he’ll do anything he can to make you feel better! After all, you’ve always been there for him so he must return the favor!

• Whenever you cry when you’re mad Douma forcibly pulls you onto his lap and peppers your face in kisses.

• If you’re going on a rant about something that made you angry he’ll definitely shut you up by kissing you if he grows bored/tired of listening to you.

• He is a slave for you so he’ll let you take your frustrations out on him (New kink unlocked)

• Always finds your emotions very intriguing. How can a human feel so much?

• If there was a certain someone who triggered your anger issues Douma will just eat them! He won’t let anyone hurt you<33

• Or he’ll maybe let you kill them to help you feel better.

Akaza

• Akaza is beyond caring and understanding of your anger issues!

• Akaza is very worried about you! Will want to communicate with you immediately about this.

• He listens to everything you have to say.

• Does get a little taken aback by your outburst though. you’re like a volcano.

• He’ll politely ask to hug you if you’re the type who wants to be touched when you’re angry to help calm you down!

• Offers to give you a massage as well.

• However, if you want space then he’ll gladly give you that as well!

• Will occasionally check up on you, asking you if you need anything.

• Whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

• If you want to break things when you get angry he will find objects for you to take your anger out on.

• If you’re a demon and you get heated he might find it hot when you’re mad. He’ll watch with pride as you fuck the shit up out of one of the demon slayers!

• I feel great pity if anyone caused you to get angry. This man will ANNIHILATE a village worth of people if they’ve hurt you in any way. (He’s super overprotective)

• Overall 10/10 boyfriend! will always be here for you and help you during your episodes:)

Sekido

• Oh boy. SAME BOAT, SAME BOAT.

• Like you, he too has a very short temper.

• Okay, i feel like he is definitely the most understanding out of EVERYONE.

• Sekido’s anger issues are SEVERE (just like yours)

• He honestly relates to you.

• Sekido is scary enough but the two of you combined? All hell will break loose.

• The other clones are terrified of you both 😭😭

• And if you’re a demon that’s a whole different story..

• You guys are a power duo and definitely go on killing sprees together whenever y’all’s anger is out of control.

• All though he’s the one who truly understands you he isn’t the type to communicate about it nor provide you with any ideal comfort.

• Sekido’s way of showing affection/comfort is just letting you stay mad until you’ve calmed down or just shit talking with you about whatever made you mad

• He will listen to you and understand. Bro will be mad FOR you in any situation that ticked you off 💀

• It makes HIM even more infuriated whenever someone pissed you off.

• Will kill them INSTANTLY for you and will not give a shit if you protest.

• Y’all scare the shit out of the other clones. (and each other)

• Have i not mentioned the both of you have the strong tendency to take y’all’s anger out on each other?

• It’s crazy.

• The sex is great though so it’s fine! (y’all have hate sex)

Karaku

• Like Douma, he’ll tease you relentlessly

• This mf prolly gets horny from seeing how ANGRY his s/o gets.

• He’s honestly surprised at first.. he thought you were innocent.

• Karaku has to deal with Sekido all the time so he isn’t scared of you.

• The only difference is that he finds you cute/hot when you’re mad.

• Bro will probably offer you head to make you feel better. He is the pleasure demon after all so he’ll do anything that’ll pleasure your angry little self!

• Steamy make-out sessions 😍‼️

• The type of mf to fuck the anger outta you probably (Or he’ll let you fuck him)

• He will also tease you and laugh at you though (He is a jerk like that)

• He teases you WAYY more than he does sekido

• He will baby you if you start to cry when you’re angry

• Now, do not be mistaken. Karaku DOES care but his way of providing comfort is rigged with his sadistic personality.

• You remind him a lot of Sekido just less intimidating because you’re his partner.

• Will hype you up if you destroy shit when you’re mad. He can just replace them anyway so it doesn’t matter

• “OH YEAH, FUCK THAT SHIT UPPPP!”

• Sometimes doesn’t understand when you only grow more angry with him when he hyped you up or when he teases you. Humans are so funny to him.

• if you were a demon he’d probs get even more turned on if you just slaughtered the hell out of the person who made you angry.

• Karaku will lend you his fan that he uses so you can destroy more things with it while you’re mad!

• Would love, love, LOVE to see you take down anything in existence with his fan.

• He isn’t the best communicator but he’ll hear you out whenever you’re venting.

• He doesn’t have anger issues so he won’t truly understand. But he’ll be there for you so that’s good, right?

• Still capable of sweetly comforting you! He will hug you and pepper your tear-stained face in kisses (Still picks on you though)

• With all that aside, Karaku messes with you still and that’ll never end. Unlike Douma he won’t ever stop teasing you nor level it down a bit despite your protests.

Aizetsu

• This pussy bitch is scared.

• Bro cries because of you

• He strongly dislikes yelling and overly violent behavior. (Is not too fond of loud noises basically)

• He is scared shitless of sekido. so when he founds out you get as angry, if not more angry than sekido himself Aizetsu is going to be petrified at first.

• Aizetsu may be a demon who devours people but out of all of the other clones he’s the most soft.

• He is usually calm, tends to give silent reactions but whenever you’re angry and yelling his mind is at war. He’s scared but also worried for his s/o at the same time.

• On the verge of a panic attack on the days/nights you’re mad.

• Will be scared if you have dramatic outbursts

• The one to watch you silently, on the verge of an anxiety attack as you flip the fuck out over whatever angered you.

• Aizetsu won’t judge you if you’re mad over something small. However, he will definitely be confused though. (Why are you angered by something so meaningless?)

• BUT!! despite your ballistic behavior and immature tantrums you’re still his beloved s/o! Aizestu will still do his all to ensure you’re protected and safe from harms way at ALL costs!!

• Aizetsu probably trembles whenever you scream a bit too loudly (It always surprises him because he never knows what’s going to set you off)

• When he first found out about your anger issues (Which was completely out of the blue because you’ve never told him before) Aizetsu is a tad bit disappointed you never told him prior.

• Eventually he will get used to it (sorta) and as he does he will feel guilty for not comforting you properly in the past.

• Aizetsu will let you lay your head on his lap as you vent/rant about what pissed you off.

• Aizetsu is still fiercely protective of his beloved s/o. Will unalive whoever upset you.

Urogi

• You and Urogi are the complete opposite

• He is positive and joyful while you’re negative and cunning.

• Whenever he witnesses you having an episode he will immediately bear hug you.

• Attacks you with kisses and laughs.

• Doesn’t really understand but he will listen to you!

• Like Karaku he will probably tease you only to immediately regret it because you won’t let that slide 💀

• Tries to ask sekido for help or the other clones. (Doesn’t get any)

• He’s not scared of you like Aizetsu because he deals with Sekido’s burning rage on a daily basis

• Urogi tries his hardest to keep his S/O in a positive mindset!

• Not the greatest at advice giving but (kind of) an excellent listener.

• He’s usually very hyperactive and talkative but whenever you need to vent/rant then he’s all ears and won’t interrupt you!

• Will wrap his wings around you in a protective manner if you want to be spooned by him.

• The type of man to take you out whenever you’re upset to get some fresh air.

• Probably will offer you sex to see if that’ll make you feel better 😭

• I feel like Urogi would be clingy so if you ask him for space it’ll be hard for him because he just wants to make sure you’re okay!

• Sometimes he finds it attractive when you’re angry

• a/n: I don’t know what else to put here (LMAO)

that’s about all! i hope you enjoyed reading<3