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whenmemorydies · 19 days

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Violence and Love in Monkey Man

Dev Patel's Monkey Man has played at my mind for two weeks now. This is for reasons that I'm able to articulate and for many that I probably have not yet been able to find the words for. This post is, in part, my attempt at sorting through some of my thoughts. My tumblr is all spoilers all the time. If you don’t want that, then please don’t read on.

Violence

Like most places in the world, systemic violence is a scourge in India. Monkey Man does not shy away from this reality and depicts Hindu nationalist state violence and violence against women and gendered minorities in the country to chilling effect.

We come to see this in the brutal rape and murder of Kid's activist mother at the hands of the police, while she tries to shield her child and her land from police and state terror. We see it in the treatment of (largely femme-presenting) sex workers in the two brothels featured in the film, including one frequented by the police and political elite. We see it in the violence and ostracisation meted out against the hijra, or third gender community by individual actors and the state more broadly. We see it in the state-orchestrated razing of an entire community after the land on which it sits is declared a "holy site". We see it in the movement of people from the regions to the city after their land has been stolen and the grinding poverty they face as a result.

Unlike so many action films, none of the violence in Monkey Man occurs in a vacuum. Even Kid's original means of making money in an underground fighting ring is done against the backdrop of his forced displacement from regional India to the city - a migration pathway that many in the country have been forced to take and which is a direct result of land theft and resource extraction in the regions by local and multinational corporations as well as federal and state governments.

The truth is that so much in relation to state and societal control is enacted in painful and violent ways on the bodies of the marginalised and oppressed. And I often think about how the horror and action genres are some of the best suited to speak about systemic injustice because of their capacity to make that violence uncompromisingly visible (one recent example is Mike Flanagan’s Midnight Mass which depicted the bloody fallout of the Christian missionary/colonial project in vivid crimson, splashed all over a non-descript maritime town in present-day America). The violence in Monkey Man is no different.

While Kid's realisation of the interconnectedness and heavy hand of the state not just in the violence experienced by his mother, but also by the hijra, and by sex workers like Sita comes later in the movie, we as the audience are given this insight earlier. Recall Kid pointing out to Sita that her tattoo is of a koel, not a sparrow as originally misidentified by the Australian client sexually assaulting her minutes earlier in the film.

Kid goes on to say that he grew up in the forest and woke up to koels singing everyday. Its the longest conversation that the two have but in those brief words, we understand that Sita too has likely been displaced to the city from the regions, probably under very similar circumstances to Kid. The way this displacement maps itself onto her body is distinctive to how it does so for Kid, with gender playing a large role in this.

Other factors like caste, class and religion also impact on how the characters in this film experience or perpetrate violence. I would write more on these intersections but then this post is going to get more unwieldy than it already is.

I will say though, that in India, where fascist Hindu nationalism is being used by government to harm minority communities, steal land and secure populist votes, Patel makes a distinction between revelatory and weaponised faith. Kid is raised in peace by his mother with the former, but as an adult he lives in a world where the latter has taken hold and is being used by those in power to shore up more of that power for themselves.

For me - as the descendant of parents, grandparents and great grandparents who lived through anti-Tamil pogroms led by Sinhalese chauvinists weaponising Buddhism as part of their fascism in Sri Lanka, who like the rest of us, is living in an election year for Hindu nationalist Prime Minister Narendra Modi in India, and who is also frustratingly, helplessly bearing witness as the state of Israel and it’s allies conflate Zionism with Judaism in defence of the genocide being waged against Palestinians - watching this action film make the distinction between revelatory and weaponised faith was profound.

Love

Patel makes it a point in this film to show how Kid's most nourishing relationships, the ones that sustain him - indeed the ones that literally save his life - are those that he has with women and with people who don’t conform to the gender binary. In doing this, we see what Kid is fighting tooth (quite literally) and nail for throughout the film. We see what is at stake - what we stand to lose - if perpetrators get to rule without accountability.

Its also no mistake that these relationships are all tied visually to the natural world in the film: Kid's mother's deep ties to the earth, rivers, trees and roots that she leads him through as a child. Alpha and the hijra's sanctuary, the Ardhanareeshvara temple with its most sacred space being the roots of a holy tree. Sita and her koel tattoo: the memory of the forest carried on her skin while she traverses the brutal reality of the city. Patel is making a point here too. About nourishment of another kind, through our connection with the earth instead of extraction from it. The visuals in the film drive this point home, particularly when contrasted with the industrialisation and poverty of the city.

Two particular loving relationships that stood out for me were the love shared between Kid and the hijra community as well as between him and his mother.

Alpha, hijra Elder and the hijra community

Keeper of the Ardhanareeshvara Temple and hijra Elder, Alpha becomes a mother-figure to Kid after he is rescued with near-fatal injuries. It is Alpha who keeps watch over him as he recovers, helps Kid to confront the totality of his past memories which his trauma has kept fragmented, and who ultimately leads a veritable hijra army to join forces with him to assassinate some fascists.

Alpha's gentleness with Kid was so moving to see, in particular during the conversation they have about his attempt as a child to save his mother from the fire set by her rapist and murderer. That exchange moved me to tears.

Kid: I failed her.

Alpha: No. You tried to save her. You see scars. I see the courage of a child fighting to save his mother.

The wider hijra community at the temple also take Kid in and care for him during his recovery. Truly, the scenes at the temple were some of my favourite in Monkey Man. Outside of his memories of his mother, they are the only scenes where we see love, peace and joy on the faces of any of the characters in this film.

Also witness this moment of delight below as the hijra at the temple appreciate a fine ass man channelling his righteous anger and fucking up a punching bag full of rice. I note that the music during this training montage is simply stunning. Ustad Zakir Hussain's rapid fire tablas punctuated by each of Patel's landed punches and kicks and then followed by Jed Kurzel's achingly soaring instrumentals (listen to "The Kid" from the movie's score) were just *chef’s kiss*.

Another favourite moment for me was when Kid decides to go back to the underground fight ring one last time and not throw his matches (as he had been doing prior). He bets on himself and when he inevitably wins his fights, he takes the money and gives it to the hijra, ensuring that they can continue to live at the temple without fear of being evicted. We love to see a man who literally pays his rent.

Neela, his mother

Kid’s first teacher and the center of his life as a child. In almost every memory we are shown of her, Kid remembers his mother walking through a forest, sharing her ecological and religious knowledge with him and in doing so, positioning him within the wider world.

GIF by dailyflicks

We watch as he takes this understanding with him forward through the remainder of the film. His conversation as an adult with Alphonso as they drive through the city in the latter's tuk tuk is emblematic of this. "They don't even see us", Kid says of the elite who frequent the club where he has just gained employment, "they're all up there living and we are stuck in this."

His mother showed him what it was to live: to be still and in concert with the world and the Divine around you, to be loved fiercely, and to thrive as a result. This is in stark contrast to what Kid has had to learn to do in the city: to survive, to merely exist. He is never depicted resting or at home as an adult. He's always working, hustling and planning for the next thing, his next step. When he loses his village, his land and his mother as a child, Kid also inevitably loses his sense of home. It’s no coincidence that the tracks “Home” and “Mother” on the movie’s score sound almost identical.

Later at the end of the film, we see Kid close his eyes, having done what he set out to do. The last thing he sees is his mother, smiling at him in the forest. Her face is the face of God he gazes at before he succumbs to his injuries. This devotion to his mother is not just that of a child to a parent. Its also deeply tied to his Hindu faith which calls on its followers to honour the Divine Mother, the supreme feminine energy, Aathi Parashakthi, in all her manifestations including in those who mother us.

The movie ends with Kid’s deep, revelatory faith - instilled in him by his mother - and with the death of the man who weaponised that faith for power and wealth. It left all of us in the cinema seated in stunned silence even as the credits began to roll.

To describe Monkey Man as simply a revenge film does it an absolute disservice. This is not revenge. It is defence borne out of deep love for community and righteous opposition to injustice. Seeing hijra warriors dressed as Kali, the goddess of destruction, dealing death blows against fascists while spinning in the most beautiful lenghas was exhilarating (I literally screamed “YESSSSSSS!” at the screen when they arrived). Seeing Sita take out pimp and sex trafficker Queenie got me cackling and yelling “whoooop!”. Seeing Kid, a masculine character act to defend women and people outside of the gender binary, from further systemic harm without any ulterior motive was absolutely unreal to witness on the big screen. Seeing a person of faith act in deep connection to that faith without judgment against anyone but those who perpetrate harm made me feel hopeful in a way that took me by surprise. Kid acted out of love and respect. I would argue that Sita, the hijra and Kid all acted out of recognition of a shared humanity.

And at a time when folks from marginalised communities are being subjected to horrendous violence worldwide, both interpersonal and systemic, watching the oppressed take their perpetrators out…and I mean out (see: a rapist and murderer getting bludgeoned to death with a glittery high heel and a fascist, self-proclaimed “holy man” being stabbed in his third eye by the blade he hid in his own “sacred” pathankal/paduka), well, it was cathartic to see.

Am I saying violence is the answer to systemic violence? I think the answer to that question is context-specific. Non-violent resistance has a place, but it’s by necessity a performance and requires an audience. What do you do when no one’s watching? What do you do when the people who are watching are doing nothing to stop your suffering? What then? These questions are what many liberals refuse to grapple with because the answers are too uncomfortable for their polite sensibilities. But if you keep your foot on someone's neck long enough, you should expect them to fight back, by any means necessary. In Monkey Man, we have an action film where we get to witness that resistance in all its visceral glory.

#monkey man #dev patel #jordan peele #vipin sharma #adithi kalkunte #sobhita dhulipala #reva marchellin #dayangku zyana #this post is so fucking long but this movie has been sitting on my heart and my chest for days

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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How would you feel about a doing something nsfw of a Kelpie taking a human mate? In myths they usually turn into beautiful women, but what if one was a beautiful man or even an androgynous/enbie person? Instead of being a horse with a human visage, they’re a hot fae with a horse visage (not mythologically accurate, but makes so it’s less horse-fucky and more “kidnapped by a hot fae who turns into a horse to lure people away”). Here are some Pinterest pins of what I’m trying to describe :)

Horse visage- https://pin.it/5QX3bnc , https://pin.it/4bpFPDH , https://pin.it/4X2syHn

True (Fae) form - https://pin.it/421p4lO , https://pin.it/X4ZMkhH , https://pin.it/6djHdvf

I was so excited to do this one and then it took me three tries to get to where I was happy 😵 so sorry it took a while ^_^

Kelpie (Vylkas) x female reader

Word Count: 2.5k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

W: some degrading name calling, vaginal and oral sex, many implied murders, light dubcon

You sighed and smoothed your hand over your friend Vylkas’ shoulder. He was a little damp and cigarette smoke curled around you from the one in his hand. “I’m sorry you can’t drag people into the lake anymore and consume their corpses, but you’ll find other things to do with your time. You got off easy. I mean the judge accepting “cultural differences” as an excuse for murder is remarkable!”

He glanced up at you and glared, looking offended. The two of you were sitting on a bench, he’d built specifically to place his victims where he wanted them to be when his horse form emerged from the water to dazzle them.

“Easy?!” he snarled, “(Y/N) dragging people into lakes and drowning them was my life’s work! Do you know how many bones I’ve collected at the bottom of this lake? What am I going to do with it now? Swim?! I was ten for ten! No one can resist me! Cut me down in my prime is what that judge did. I'm too beautiful to be treated like this!”

You pouted.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right,” you acquiesced, unsure if you really meant that, “but what I’m saying is, you have to reinvent yourself. Come up with a new passion!”

He huffed, glaring at the brand new mega mansion neighborhood that had been built around his lake. As a Kelpie, he’d never bothered to buy the land around the lake he was living in and now it was a corporate housing project. Of course, that had been great for him, for a while. He’d been gorging himself on joggers, but eventually the law caught up to him.

He drew in a long drag of his cigarette and looked at you. Vylkas hardly looked like himself. His normally sparkly, gray skin was sallow, his pointy ears were drooping. What was normally a thick head of shiny black hair looked dull and a bit dry and he had bags under his pretty green eyes. You’d always thought he made a beautiful man as well as a lovely gray stallion, the only thing marring his perfect face, a scar slicing across the right side of his lips.

“Whatever,” he griped.

As if to taunt him a fit, handsome jogger came bouncing up in nothing but a pair of tight blue shorts.

“New to the neighborhood?” he asked you, glancing at Vylkas with distaste.

“Eh…no,” you said, feeling the familiar tension build that always tightened when men approached you in public, unsolicited.

Vylkas looked between the two of you and his frown deepened.

“Pretty lake,” the guy went on, doing some stretches in front of you, “thinkin’ of buying?”

“Look, we’re having kind of a heavy convo here…” you said, trying to give him a hint to get lost.

“Oh really?” he asked, completely oblivious and looking at the clearly despondent Vylkas, “going through tough times, are ya? You gotta change your outlook, man. Depression is all in your mind! Drop the cigarettes and hit the gym. It’ll change your whole worldview. I used to be like you, skinny, shriveled, pale... spent my time playing video games in the dark. I had to completely change my life! I’ll tell ya who you should be listening to, And-”

You stood up. Vylkas was not skinny, shriveled, or particularly pale and this guy was going to give your vain friend a complex talking like that.

“Hey, can you find somewhere else to be?” you asked directly, annoyed.

He grimaced at you and regained his jogging posture.

“Step one is drop the bitch,” he snapped and took off.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, but when you looked back at Vylkas he was looking at you.

“What?” you asked, unable to read his expression.

He gave you a small smile and took another drag of his cigarette looking you up and down.

“Why are you friends with me (Y/N)?” he asked suddenly.

You grinned at him and sat back down.

“So you don’t murder me,” you answered and he laughed, his face brightening up and sparkling a bit.

–

It was a dark and stormy night. You were curled up on your couch reading a book, trying to ignore the lightning and thunder cracking outside. Rain came down in sheets, pounding on your metal roof. Pulling a blanket around you, you got up to go make yourself some tea, filling the metal kettle at the sink.

You shrieked when you glanced up and a dark horse was standing in the middle of your back yard staring at you. You took a deep breath, pressing your chest to slow your heart before putting the kettle down and hurrying outside.

“What are you doing out here, Vylkas?” you asked the horse when you approached him.

You’d seen him in his horse form many times. You’d become friends because you trimmed his hooves when he needed it done. The gray stallion had the same scar over the right side of his lip.

His large dark eyes took you in and he took a step to follow you to your back porch. By the time you made it to your back door he was in his more human form. He looked a lot better, especially since he was damp. He was the sort of guy that looked best wet, but you weren’t referring to his physical attractiveness. His skin looked healthier, the natural iridescence back and his green eyes were bright as they followed you across the kitchen to your laundry room.

Pulling out some towels you handed him one. He was so much taller than you. Looming over you a droplet of water from his hair splashed your hand.

“Everything okay?” you asked, looking up at him.

He was smiling down at you, his eyes full of warmth.

“Of course,” he said, lifting his hand and pushing a lock of wet hair behind your ear, “I just wanted to see you.”

“You don’t need a trim for another two weeks…” you said, confused as to why he would want to see you.

“I’m not here for that,” he said, taking a step closer to you, his eyes focused and intense.

You blinked at him and blushed even though you weren’t entirely sure why. Your heartbeat picked up in your chest.

“Then why-?”

“I found another passion,” he said before he captured your lips with his.

You were surprised, but not upset when his mouth moved over yours. Yes, Vylkas was attractive, but he was more than that. He was otherworldly beautiful, like a fairy, but he was a Kelpie. The idea that he would ever be interested in you was so far fetched, you’d never even considered it. You pulled away from him.

“Teasing your friends?” you asked, your lips an inch from his mouth.

He smiled.

“This is not a tease,” he said, grinning, “and you’re not my friend anymore.”

You frowned and cocked your head.

“No? Are you breaking up with me?”

He kissed you again, then scooped you in his two large hands, trailing kisses down your neck, his words punctuated by each kiss.

“No…I’m…claiming…you...my mate.”

You didn’t want to believe him, but part of you did. Most of that part was being convinced by the sparkling kisses he was peppering on your collar bone as he pushed your shirt out of his way.

He’d always thought you were pretty, but he’d taken for granted just how attractive you were. Other men saw it too. When you were out together, he got so much attention as a gorgeous kelpie, he hadn’t noticed the looks you got.

As he’d put the energy he usually put into stalking and luring his victims into creeping around after you through your day to day activities he’d grown more and more enraged at the number of men who’s eyes followed you. When you giggled at a lame joke or someone absently brushed your arm he was thrown into a murderous rage. More than one man who’d only committed the sin of touching you was hidden at the bottom of his lake. Since his arrest, he'd gotten a lot better at hiding his murderous activities.

Your hands went up to his, which were holding your shoulders in place.

“Vylkas…wait…we should talk about this…” you gasped even as you panted.

“No,” he growled, pushing you against the wall behind you and jerking your sweatshirt over your head, “I’ve been waiting. You’re mine now and I’m going to have you.”

He’d made up his mind. It helped that, that very morning he’d watched you go riding with one of your other clients. You hadn’t thought much of it. One of the perks of owning a stable was that you got to go ride with your clients all the time.

It was something you did frequently with almost anyone who asked if you had the time. You usually just gave them tips on their riding skills and talked about the horses. But Vylkas saw it as a threat and while he seethed and consumed the flesh of the hapless rider, he decided what he needed to do. He knew you would accept him, of course, he was gorgeous after all.

“Oh.” you said, your eyes going wide, but Vylkas wasn’t looking at your face to see it. He was tearing your bra straps with his teeth and snarling at you, while his clawed hands tore at your sweatpants. It was entirely unnecessary to rip them, but he did and quickly you were standing naked in your kitchen in front of him. He stopped long enough to take you in, appreciating your form.

He dragged his sharp claws over curves ever so lightly, tracing your figure from your breasts down to your hips.

“You’re more perfect then I imagined,” he purred at you, his eyes eating you up.

“Y-you imagined me?” you asked and he nodded, his eyes predatory.

Lowering his head down to your neck he whispered just close enough that you could feel the brush of his lips on your skin.

“Want me to show you what I thought about?” he asked, his voice rough as he held himself back from mauling you.

You whimpered your ascent and he swept you up in his arms, splaying you across the closest thing to you, your kitchen island. He murmured to you, smirking as he spread your legs with his big hands.

“I’ve dreamed of a hundred different ways to make you my little slut,” he groaned, looking at you pink pussy and placing dragging kisses on the insides of your thighs. Your hands found his damp hair and you thread your fingers through it unintentionally tugging him to where you wanted him to be, but he wasn’t in any rush.

He pulled away, pulling you up to him to meet his lips again, pushing his tongue into your mouth to play with his. Large, warm hands cupped your breasts and he kneaded them, enjoying the feeling.

You were utterly overwhelmed. This was completely unexpected, but not disturbing. Putty in his hands you let him suck your nipple into his mouth to circle it with his tongue until it was a stiff point.

His hands were all over you, gliding over your hips and your thighs, squeezing the flesh. This was the closest thing to being eaten alive you’d ever experienced as he worked his hot mouth over your breasts and down your stomach, leaving little love bites in his wake.

Marking you up gave him endless pleasure, knowing you would see the spots later and be reminded of who you belong to.

You cried out loud and your back arched up off of the cool counter when his burning tongue touched your clit. He chuckled, lapping at your sensitive spot. You could have sworn he was spelling his name on it with his tongue, but it hardly mattered. Your hands were buried in his hair and you were crying his name out loud, the sound echoing in your kitchen.

“Please! Please!” you screamed, not sure what you were begging for as you were thrust over the crest of a blissful orgasm. Your mind was completely static, but you felt so empty. Pussy spasming on nothing you brainlessly ground your hips into his face, asking for more.

“My eager slut,” he said, pleased.

He loomed over you, pinching your chin between his thumb and four fingers.

“This pussy is mine,” he informed you as he sheathed himself inside of you, looking you in the eyes to make sure you understood. It didn’t matter, your eyes pinched shut on their own at the invasion. He was stretching you to your limit, making you wail, drool slipping down your cheek.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” he growled and your eyes popped open at the command.

You tried as hard as you could to keep your eyes on him while he pounded into you with no mercy. His face was focused and full of passion, like he was trying to make a point. Your head jerked on your neck with each thrust and your eyes were rolling back.

Vylkas was savoring watching you struggle. He pressed your legs behind your head, folding you in half so you were utterly helpless. Your inability to make eye contact didn’t really piss him off, he just wanted you to try so he could see how utterly brainless he was fucking you.

Scrabbling the counter unsuccessfully for purchase, you tried your best to stay present, but when Vylkas started using his body weight to pound you into the counter all your thoughts were scattered. He was going so deep, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

“Good girl,” he slurred, stretching your legs a little further apart so he could get a good look at his cock splitting your cunt, “takin’ me so good. I’m gonna fuck y’stupid.”

He licked his thumb and started stroking your clit in languid circles while he slammed into you, grunting with each thrust like a man possessed. You drifted up and up, getting wound tighter and tighter. His scent, like fresh rain, was all over you, enveloping you in a haze of him. You could hear his ragged pants and animal noises as his thrusts got more wild and less precise.

“Fu-Vylkas! I’m cumming!” you screamed. You didn’t need to tell him. Your pussy clamping down on his cock as you flew over the edge was like heaven. He grabbed your hips, totally feral, and slammed into you a few more times, wishing he could stay pumping into your tight, wet channel endlessly. Finally, he exploded and you felt his hot cum drenching you. You were limp as he looked down on you, loved up and spent.

He didn’t want to pull out, but he couldn’t stay hovering over you on the counter, so he slowly slid out of you, followed by a wave of your mixed fluids. Looking at you slack body, covered in his marks, with him leaking out of you, his cock got hard.

“We’re gonna do that again,” he informed you, betting himself could fuck you unconscious.

Arranging you in his arms so he had a hand free, he grabbed some water bottles out of your fridge and an apple, taking a big bite to restore his stamina, before he carried you to your bedroom to start all over again.

#monster fucker #monster x girl #monster smut #male yandere #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere x reader #x reader #kelpie #degradation kink

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peachyteabuck · 1 year

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do you want this (like it wants you)

summary: kate likes to misbehave, but yelena has just the thing to keep her in line

commissioned by @caroldantops.

want to commission me? find my commission guidelines here

pairing: kate bishop x yelena belova x reader

words: 4018

content warnings: hair pulling, heavy bratting, intense D/s dynamics, orgasm control/denial, sybian use, dom! yelana, sub!kate, sub!reader, polyamory, pet play, breath play, vaginal oral sex, breathplay, aftercare is administered to both subs

Yelena just wants to rest.

She’s a busy woman, scaling the corporate ladder, a tough task given the complicated gender dynamics of the firm she’s been working at for the last year. It’s not as though she’s not highly qualified, but for whatever reason men with names like “Jason” or “Brett” or “Matt” spend most of their time questioning her qualifications or requesting reviews from someone “higher up” every time she presents, regardless of the fact everything is checked 3-4 times before being spoken about publicly.

This is why she’s been letting Kate get away with as much as she has today. Ever since she’d let the both of you out of your shared crate, all Kate had done was push the boundaries of Yelena’s strict rules. Touching herself? Check. Trying to touch you? Check. Talking out of turn? Check. You’d been on your usual good behavior—saying “please Daddy” and “thank you Daddy” and staying close to her—but you’d also been your usual, easily-influenced self. Kate had convinced you to let her rub over your weeping pussy while Yelena was busy making breakfast (pancakes, Kate’s favorite).

Her breaking point came when she’d separated the two of you, questioning why you were dripping through the simple cotton panties despite Yelena’s very strict direction not to. That’s when she learned that, not only had Kate swirled circles around your clit as you desperately attempted to muffle your moans, but she’d also said that Yelena would blame you instead of Kate for going against such an integral rule.

Kate knows she fucked up, too—another thing that adds another ten to the running total in Yelena’s mind. She can hear the threat in the way Yelena beckons her closer, the “Puppy, come” command a much lower tone than usual.

While not the most critical thinker, Kate’s real deviousness comes in how decisive she is. A car with no breaks, a scent hound caught on the trail of a fox, a baseball flying through the air at 97 miles-per-hour. None of these could compare with Kate, not when she spotted the leather swatch that was used for spankings haphazardly balanced on one of the arms of the couch (Yelena hasn’t had much time to do a lot of things lately, including clean).

Before she can do anything, the well-worn leather is in Kate’s mouth, the woman on all fours with her collar jingling as she pants.

“Let it go,” Yelena sighs more than commands.

Kate does not let it go. She does not even loosen her jaw just so she can tighten it up again once the other person trying to grab it believes they’ve won over her. She just holds it between her teeth, staring with narrowed eyes and a growl forming at the base of her throat.

You’re not sure what to do. Kate, a sharp contrast to your own fear of retribution, loves to misbehave. She likes to tease, to poke and prod and see what sort of volcanic eruption she can trigger with the least amount of effort. Yelena normally humors her at least a little before enacting strict punishment—getting out the whips and the darkened cage and the electric shock collar and the touching you while Kate remains tied up.

But Yelena doesn’t seem in the same mood as she does when she fingers you until you cry as Kate’s arms remain restrained behind her back, the rope connected to a hook in the wall to keep her in her place. Doesn’t have the same “try me” glimmer in her dark eyes, the same teasing smile.

This is different. Something—something you can’t quite describe—is different, and all you can do is watch.

As she decides what to do, Yelena thinks about the whiteboard Natasha had custom-made for her, the words “DAYS WITHOUT BRATTING” underneath a large “zero” she had written nearly two weeks prior. She knows she’s been working a lot, and (even though her office is within the house, and both of you have places to sit with her while she works) Yelena knows both of her subs had been feeling lonely.

But subs like Kate require consistency—give them an inch and they’ll find a mile. She’s not like you, nice and self-correcting. Once you found yourself grinding against a pillow while waiting for Yelena to clean you up after an intense squirting session, and almost cried from the shame. Kate? The definition of gluttonous in her lust, couldn’t stop even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t. Yelena is her guardrails, a yellow light, a tree for her to collide against.

“Give Daddy what you have in your mouth,” Yelena says through grit teeth. “Or I’ll have to reteach you what it means what someone loses their patience.”

You remain seated, curled up next to where Yelena props her feet up on the coffee table. A fluffy pink dog bed with Bunny embroidered on it, you were happy to spend the morning (or all day, really), resting your head against her legs while she occasionally pets your hair.

But no, the universe continues to punish you with the presence of one Kate Bishop.

A stare-down ensues in front of you, neither of them moving, but alert in case the other does. You half expect tumbleweeds to roll in the distance--as if the town isn’t big enough for the two of them.

But nothing happens, and the world stands still.

That is, until Kate makes a run for the bedroom, where there’s the only closet in the house that locks from the inside.

What Kate failed to consider, though, is that Yelena isn’t just fast: she’s strategic as well. Leashes with hook ends drilled in the wall are placed on each side of every room, useful for a litany of play. Now, though, they act as anchors Kate can’t easily avoid on all fours. She gets a few feet, if that, before Yelena’s got one hand on wrapped around the collar and the other on the leash’s clasp. One click later, Kate’s stuck in place, the short leash keeping her on her knees with her back straight.

Yelena’s fuming as she releases the leash, keeping her other hand occupied with the collar. It’s not loose, and she can tell Kate’s struggling to breath against the minimal give of the leather. Good, Yelena thinks. Maybe that’ll remind her how vulnerable she is.

“Let. Go.” She says through grit teeth once more, rage a fire in her eyes.

Kate’s got fire, too, but the kind that yearns for more gasoline, more newspaper, more anything to keep the blaze growing. Slowly, she moves her head from side to side, refusing to give up her bargaining chip. Does she know what she wants? Not exactly. But does she kind of, sort of, maybe have a plan on how to get it? Absolutely. And it involves the leather piece in her mouth.

“Fine,” Yelena cedes. Kate perks up at that, believing she’s won for now. “If you want it so bad, puppy, go ahead keep it in your mouth.”

What she doesn’t hear is Yelena mumbling under her breath, the blonde woman rubbing at her temples as she murmurs about how she’ll need something to bite down on in a minute.

“Stay right there, bunny,” she says, more audible now. She turns to Kate to say the same thing, then snorts.

Distorted by the leather, the stuck sub looks at you and smirks. Look at what I can do, her face says.

Yeah, yours replies, much drier. Sure.

Yelena returns a short time later carrying the sybian in her arms, silently setting it up. You can tell Kate’s as confused as you are—the sybian is usually a reward. Kate doesn’t let it show, though, still holding the leather in her mouth even as drool begins to drop from the corners of her lips. Once she sets it down as close to Kate as she can, she moves to you, her eyes full of concern.

“You okay, bunny?” she asks, wiping the tears from your eyes. You’re sweet—too sweet, sometimes—and she knows you require more emotional support regardless of what’s happening.

You lean into her hand, letting her caress your cheek. You’ve always been bad with chaos, with the unplanned. But Yelena’s there, always, to calm the storm.

“M’okay daddy,” you mumble. “I promise.”

This time her smile is genuine. “Good, bunny. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod, moving your head to the side to kiss at her palm.

When Yelena’s certain you don’t need anything for now, she turns her attention back to Kate.

“Go ahead and mount it, puppy.”

Delightfully unaware, Kate does as she’s told, moving ever-so-carefully with the constraints of the leash’s length. Time stands still until she finally has it between her legs, her huffs of determination the only sound in the room. She looks pleased with herself as she rests on the rough silicone pad, a small triumph given the circumstances.

Yelena, once again, remains silent. She remains silent as she stares, waiting for Kate to move (she doesn’t). She remains silent as she opens the coffee table, the top lifting to reveal a batch of meticulously organized toys. She remains silent as she regards her options. She remains silent as she grabs purple rope and walks back to Kate.

Yelena only speaks when she crouches down and begins to wrap the ropes.

“I didn’t want to do this, you know,” Yelena mutters as she ties the them so that they keep Kate’s legs folded. She tests the give of the rope with her fingers, moving to tie her wrists behind her back after Kate gives her a nod. “But if you want to test me, fine.”

Yelena turns to the side, grabbing the large pink wand vibrator that had been charging in the bedroom. As she moves, her tank top falls down her chest, the silver keys on a matching chain nearly visible. One engraved with a P, the other a B; the keys to each of your chastity cages remain an ever-present reminder of one of Yelena’s favorite punishments.

Be good, she said once as she edged you, dangling them back and forth in front of your hazy eyes. Or I’ll need to make sure these still fit in those cute little locks over your pussy.

“C’mere bunny,” she says, beckoning you over. “Come here to Daddy.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you get up, slotting yourself in the chasm that’s formed between them. You stand in front of Yelena, a little apprehensive but ultimately willing to trust her with whatever plan she has formed while she was waiting for Kate to stop misbehaving.

Yelena leaves soft kisses along your jugular, her hands finding your hips. They’re still sore from the night before, covered in light, spotty purple bruising. She holds you as though you’re fragile, breakable—not wanting to crush you with her skilled hands.

She pushes up your shirt a little to cradle your tummy. For some reason, it makes you feel exposed.

It’s not like you were wearing much anyway, your preferred at-home attire being a well-worn shirt from either of your girlfriends and a comfortable pair of cotton panties. The shirt today is a two-sizes-too-big t-shirt from a tech startup Yelena had the misfortune of working for (and caused her to swear off startups forever), the underwear a pink pair with a small bow on the front. They’re also joined by your day collar, a silver necklace with a bunny outline and “property of Daddy” engraved in the back.

“Eyes up here, puppy,” she says, teeth scraping now along the column of your throat. She knows how sensitive you are there, how easily you’ll melt into her palms with a few well-placed kisses. She also knows how much Kate needs attention—and hates when others get it when she doesn’t.

When Kate finally meets your eyes, you feel one of Yelena’s hands move and then hear a faint click—followed by the sound of vibrations and Kate’s muffled moans.

“Stand right here with Daddy,” she whispers in your ear, voice low enough Kate can’t hear. “I want to see what she does when she realizes which one of you is about to get off.”

Kate’s close to your pussy, close enough that you can feel her heated breath against your core. She’s panting in that desperate way you’ve always loved, the kind that makes her face flushed. Her lips are swollen and red from rubbing them against the leather, making them extra kissable.

You love her like this, fucked out before even being fucked. But you wished you got to see her like this outside of Yelena’s intense punishments.

That’s when you hear another click, another vibrational hum joining the symphony of lewdness. With one arm around your middle to keep you upright, the other grabs the vibrator and runs the head over your covered, unsuspecting clit.

“Oh!” You’re caught by surprise, wrapping your shirt in your fists as an alternative to grabbing something for balance. You’re able to lean on Yelena, your back pushed against her chest. But there’s nothing else to keep you upright. “Oh Daddy!”

“That feel good, bunny?” she coos at you. You can feel her smiling into your heated skin, sometimes leaving small nips as she revels in giving you pleasure.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as she presses harder, still making those large, slow circles meant to tease you. The nods you give her are quick, frenzied. All you want to do for her is find the nearest tall surface and bend yourself over it, pulling your soaked panties down your trembling thighs to give her free access to your dripping center. You want her to fuck you in the hard, fast, rough way you liked; the kind that left you struggling to walk the next day.

When you don’t reply immediately, she decreases the speed.

“No,” you whimper, grinding your hips down as best you can. “Daddy no, no, no please don’t please!”

“Then answer me, bunny,” she responds. “Don’t want you to end up like puppy here, do you?”

While a keen ear could hear it immediately, you’re too fucked out already to tell that the sybian Kate’s riding is on the setting that rotates through intensities. It never stays on the higher settings long enough for her to cum, but never gets low enough to give her any sort of relief.

“Yes, Daddy!” It’s hard to form words, your speech speeding up as the vibe rolls over your clit. “Yes, fuck Daddy it feels so good.”

“Good, bunny. I’m glad.”

You think she’s going to let you cum now, going to press the vibe as hard as she can into your aching center. But she doesn’t—she just continues her cycle, not telling you she’s timing them so you and Kate are on opposite settings. When one of you is moaning, the other is begging for more. Yelena revels in making the two of you play off of each other, forcing the two of you to intersect in ways she orchestrates.

“You look so pretty, bunny,” she coos, her eyes flitting between both of you. “Doesn’t our little bunny look pretty, baby?”

Kate tries to say something, but it dies as something muffled by the material still in her mouth. Still, she continues to try, the mumbled words sounding more and more desperate as she continues. You assume you look like a mirror of her—same fuzzy brain leading to the same pleading eyes and choked cries.

“Puppy, do you want something?” Yelena’s words are coated in the fake-caring tone that sends another wave of heat through your abdomen. A noise that sounds something close to a “yes” comes from Kate’s throat.

Yelena just tuts. “You need to tell me what you want, puppy.”

Kate whimpers, drool starting to pool at the sides of her mouth. Tears, too, are now flooding her cheeks.

Yelena’s smile is sinister, a light laugh bracketing her words. “Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? You lost that privilege when you decided to be a stupid brat and disobey a simple command. I trained you better than that, puppy.”

The desperate brunette couldn’t defend herself if she wanted to. Yelena’s always been a domme with high standards, standards she’s always communicated clearly and effectively. Kate has just…always liked to push buttons, the envelope, boundaries. Anything she thought she could defy, she would.

But Yelena still loved her, always providing the punishments appropriate. There was never a challenge she couldn’t meet, and Kate loved her in return.

“Are you willing to drop it now?”

Kate blinks at her once, twice. Then nods.

Defeat, Yelena thinks, always tastes just as good as she predicts.

“Then drop it.”

For the first time that day, Kate does what she is told without a fight. She doesn’t realize how sore her jaw is until she’s finally able to move it around, the muscles resisting the stretch.

“Do you want to come now?”

Kate nods, the words a little garbled because of her jaw. “Yes, please Daddy.”

Yelena doesn’t respond to her, instead turning to you.

“Go ahead and cum, bunny. I’ll hold you, don’t worry.”

Her permission is all you need, crying out as the avalanche of gratification floods your veins. The white-hot euphoria burns your fingertips, Yelena’s strength able to keep you from falling on your face. She turns the vibe down as your orgasm succeeds, slowly pulling you from the euphoric edge.

“Such a good girl for me,” she says, holding you to her as you pant. “Such a good little pet for Daddy.”

When your breathing finally evens out, she slowly lowers you to the ground. She’s wearing the same sweatpants she was last night, the soft fabric a welcome pillow as you lean against her. They smell like her, too, like the cologne she wears even though she works from home and the honey shampoo she likes. You drink in the comfort of being near her, of being enveloped by her.

Yelena pets your hair as she speaks once more. “I want you to cum while eating our perfect little bunny out,” she says. “Can you do that? Or do you want to go to bed without an orgasm?”

“I-“ you watch as Kate grinds against the toy, her pussy so slick you can see her wetness seeping over the silicone bit of the sybian. It catches the light, and your fried brain is mesmerized by the sight. “Yes, Daddy. Please let me eat our Bunny’s pussy while I cum.”

“Good girl.”

Yelena picks you up and moves you into position, pushing your shirt up and your panties down. You don’t have to think or do anything but stand there, leaning on her for balance as Kate licks up your weeping slit.

The angle is awkward for both of you. Every time Kate presses herself to you, she has to hold her breath—which can never hold long enough for you to get anywhere close to your peak. Yelena makes a mental note to try this again if she ever wanted to edge you, especially since Kate loves a little breathplay now and then.

Despite all of this, though, it’s easy, for both of you to lose yourself to the pleasure, and so you do. You don’t think about the strain in your knees, or how dry your mouth feels. Kate doesn’t think about how sore she’s going to be tomorrow from her muscles tensing so often, or the fact her cunt aches in that way Yelena’s only been able to draw out of her. All you can think about is the feeling of Kate’s tongue lapping at your soaked folds; all Kate can think about is how much she loves drawing those little gasps out of you she loves so much.

“Such perfect pets,” Yelena murmurs. One hand is threaded through Kate’s hair, the other reaching around your waist to palm at your ass. “So good to each other...”

She remembers, vividly, when the two of you couldn’t seem to stop hating each other. There were fights and so much bickering that drove Yelena insane. In the end, an extra extra large crate; an extra, extra short leash attached to both of your collars; and a few overstimulation sessions got you two to get along quite well.

It’s good—so good—and all your fucked-out brain can do is babble nonsensically. Her movements are jerky and mistimed, but with how sensitive you are, it really doesn’t matter.

Kate finally cums a few minutes later, moaning lowly into your cunt. Her whole body shakes with each breath, her chest red hot from exertion. Ecstasy flows between the two of you, settling on your skin like glitter.

“You okay?”

Both of you nod. Kate’s face is covered in your wetness, the same wetness that drenches your thighs.

Yelena watches you both for a second the same way hunters monitor their kill even after they’ve hit the ground. There’s something special about knowing she’s the one who did this—who set the scene where both of you finished so worn out that neither of you could do anything else but fall to the floor in exhaustion.

But she’s a sadist, not a monster, and so once she’s had her moment of fun, she carries you to the couch before untying Kate. The ropes have made beautiful indents in her pale skin, and Yelena can’t wait to trace them once all three of you are cuddled up in bed. Yelena carries Kate so you two can lay together as she checks the minifridge in the bedroom, making sure there are enough water bottles and light snacks to last you until you can eat something more substantial. After making sure the covers are in the right order (you’re ridiculously picky), and the heated blanket is on its lowest setting (Kate always gets cold, but hates being too hot), she returns to find the both of you cuddled into each other like newborn puppies.

Fuck, she thinks. She always feels bad moving either of you once you’re snuggled up and comfortable, let alone when you’re all cozy together.

But Yelena also knows the couch definitely isn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’re already going to be sore tomorrow, and there are no blankets, and there isn’t any room for her in the mix of all of this. So, partially selflessly, partially completely selfishly, she slowly detangles the two of you. It’s a mess of limbs reminiscence of a tangled pair of earbuds, but somehow she manages to free you from each other and carry you up to bed one by one (Yelena’s strong, but she’s definitely not strong enough to carry both of you at once, unfortunately). You’re on the right side of the California King with Kate on the left, leaving a big enough space that you can’t find the other one and tangle back up again. Once both of you has consumed a full water bottle’s worth of water and are wearing clean shirts to sleep in, Yelena finally crawls under the covers to join the both of you.

“I love you both,” she says as each of you cuddles into her chest. You prefer resting your head in the crook of her neck, while Kate prefers to be face first into her chest. Even half asleep, Kate’s always a little obsessed with Yelena’s tits. “Even when you act like spoiled little princesses.”

And she does, truly. She loves Kate even when she bites her out of nowhere, and she loves you even when you go along with Kate’s ridiculous schemes. She loves Kate even when she refuses to just ask for what she wants, and she loves you when you beg for whatever Yelena’s willing to give you. She even loves you when you snore ever so lightly right into your ear, the sound lulling her into a deep sleep.

#yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x yelena belova x reader #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

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vitaminseetarot · 7 months

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NaNoWriMo PAC: What Character Could You Write Into Your Next Story?

Hey y'all, arriving to the party fashionably late for my last installment of the PAC marathon. I've decided to take up the NaNoWriMo challenge this year and wanted to use some cards to generate new plots and protagonists for my fanfiction novel. Then I figured, why not pull up a few cards to see what kind of characters you could fit into your own creations? It could be for the month long challenge, or for something you're writing on your own time. It's just interesting to see what the cards bring up!

(Trust me, this PAC was planned! I'm actively working on my writing as I type, I swear ;D )

To help you choose between the piles, I have chosen four images representing a few of my unique gel and ballpoint pens. Pick a photo to find your mystery character below. Note that each pile allows for a variety of options as everyone writes a different story. I also included "MBTI" types as keywords though not all the types may be represented in these piles, it's chosen on intuition.

Pile 1, Black Pen - Clear Quartz Pile 2, Blue Pen - Mermaid Pile 3, Green Pen - Prickly Cactus Pile 4, Rainbow Pen - Cat

Pile 1: Black Pen - Clear Quartz

(Visionary, Sagitarius Moon - Optimism, The Sentinel, 71. Aplomb, Mix Tapes, Shadow, Mirage; 8 of Coins, XIII Death, 9 of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, 5 of Cups, 6 of Swords) MBTI Energy: ENTJ, ENFJ, ESTP, ESFP

Pile 1, your character is very likely the main character. Even if they become a supporting cast member, their personality has a chance to steal the show. Even if they're in the background, they may become the dark horse. Plucky is the word that comes to mind with their personality. They have a way of seeing the world and no one is going to mess with that level of clarity. This character is the type to see something through to the end, without cutting corners. They are the pollyanna type that smiles in the face of adversity and laughs in the presence of fear. They're full of life and fury, and will not let tiny things slow them down, though major obstacles may force them to come to a screeching halt. They have the inner fire to dry themselves off from a bad rainstorm and head out the next day as if it never rained.

This is the kind of character who leads or is somehow the representative of an empire or big league corporation. For all their power and potential, they still live in the shadow of someone greater, like siblings competing to be the best violinist, or a young woman becoming CEO of her mother's company. How they approach this issue is up to whether they become the Face or the Heel. A great fortune or privilege could be passed down in the form of inheritance, to which your character must deal with the backlash of being associated with such a predecessor. In spite of your character's perceived confidence, this challenge will inevitably slow them down and prevent them from being more help than they could be with their various resources. Events will have them rethinking their previous position and actions regardless of moral outlook, not wanting to deal with the harsh consequences that may come from making a wrong move.

There's a good chance this character will be dropped into an environment outside of their comfort zone, to a place or state that looks bleak, when it seems like it can't get worse. Their job may just be to hold light and offer comedy relief, though it won't be the comical character that makes a fool out of themselves. If others don't believe them, they will at some point, and they won't expect all this wisdom and profundity coming out of such a person. Your character may see something for what it is and offer relief and advice, or will learn how to use their expansive perspectives to help them out of difficult chapters. Other characters may or may not wish to take their advice. Comic relief is not to be confused as a two dimensional being who never feels sad or who can't acknowledge the dimmer aspects of life. There may be times where they even show grief and must find ways to work around said grief and bring their light forward for healing and community strength.

When the people of their community are ready to move on, this character will be there to wave the banner and forge the new path to follow. This is the energy of Moses leading people out of Egypt, except your character can't help but wisecrack along the uncertain and foreboding way. Whether main or side character, they'll be the type to shout "well, what are you all waiting for? Let's get to it!" and move out before anyone else takes the first step. They're the first in the audience to clap when they see something they know they like, not waiting for another's opinion. Whether they elevate or step down from their positions by the third act, they can offer boons to other characters in the story. They, in the end, can be accounted for their unique contributions, if not in resources then in sheer wit and boundless tenacity.

Pile 2: Blue Pen - Mermaid

(Warrior, Taurus Moon - Exaltation, The Diviner, 41. Nostalgia, Passing Notes, Pickle, Waves; II High Priestess, Queen of Cups, 2 of Swords, Page of Wands, Knight of Coins, 3 of Swords) MBTI Energy: INFJ, ENFJ, ISFJ, ESFJ

This character isn't just a warrior, but one with a big heart. Like a guardian of something sacred. I'm seeing Princess Mononoke and yet I'm hearing Xena: Warrior Princess theme music. This seems like someone who has strong psychic power or influence in nature or the community. They are not necessarily an expert at what they do, but it comes naturally to them. This power could have something to do with retrocognition, or understanding pieces of the past. It could also have to do with growing new things, planting abilities, or even a form of conjuration (manifesting from thin air). The power may be channeled through your character for them to pass on information to their tribe, their power may be simply transferring messages from another source. Or they could receive messages from another source on how to use their powers, and a special connection is formed in between.

Your character feels passionate and greatly motivated about what they do; they may not be a master of using their power but they could be on a good career track in your story, with a chance for elevated status near the end. Part of the plot could revolve around their gradual development and growth, particularly during challenging chapters or acts. It seems like your character carries a lot of youthful, can-do energy in spite of their position and in the current climate of their time. They may not identify as female but hold a lot of powerful feminine energy, like a lioness who knows when to relax and when to attack for the pride's sake. Their sense of boldness and strength is married with their heart based decision making. They consider the effects their actions will have before proceeding. They put their loved ones and overall mission ahead of themselves.

There could be blockages that come along, preventing your character from using their abilities. If they are prophetic, they may have to share bad news and receive a blow to their reputation, or like Kassandra not be believed by those most at risk. As a conjurer, they could slowly wear down their energy or be restricted from using it by dogmatic authorities. Or they could even risk using it for their own personal gain in a desperate enough situation. As a hero, they could learn to stay true to their mission, or as a villain choose to turn away. Why would they turn? To run from the pain of the past, or to make good on what they do to help others? Either way, your character will be made to confront different sides of themselves. They will be able to glean deep insight into what's happening around them, in a way that may not make sense to other characters.

As a neutral and minor character, they could represent a person who offers resilience during a hard time, dispensing advice to the protagonist. They can offer protection and development for your protagonist. They could offer food, shelter, and clothing. They could be the leader of a small troupe of soldiers who relies more on strategy and perfect timing than brute force. They would lead in a spunky manner, I'm thinking of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan in particular. Someone who's had to prove themselves in combat to be worthy of an elevated position, but doesn't let the status get to their head. They can stay grounded in by addressing issues that may have been brewing for long periods of time through bringing other characters together with a plan.

Pile 3: Green Pen - Prickly Cactus

(Rebel, Aquarius Mercury - Originality, The Painter, 38. Moving Forward, CDs and DVDs, Bubble Gum, Galaxy, Delivery Brown; Knight of Wands, 6 of Wands, I Magician, 9 of Wands, 4 of Wands, 10 of Swords) MBTI Energy: ENTP, INTP, ESTP, ISTP

This pile couldn't be more clear about your character! They are so straightforward in their pursuits. This is the character possessing some kind of genius or mad scientist potential. They may have made some form of alien contact or gain hold of ancient or future technology. This could be the kind of character who creates avante garde material that disrupts a social order. This is a character who could invent something that twists how their community sees everything around them forever. Time or space travel could play a role here, very likely involving futuristic worlds or gadgetry. Wherever they found themselves, this is not someone who wants to or likes to look back on their decisions.

Chances are, your character has a strong bond to either what they have or what they do. They may have to relinquish something, or travel to a time or space that does not gel with their knowledge or personality. This could cause them to feel lost or outcast from society or the group. A character that comes to mind is Peridot from Steven Universe, who had a very clingy and needy attachment to her technology. This is something that could be greatly challenged during the story. This is an already dynamic person, but someone who could easily turn arrogant and dogmatic about their approach if not tempered with some kind of setback. If they're used to pride, they will learn humility. If they are a hermit who can't open up about their inventions, they may be put on center stage to showcase it regardless of whether they're truly ready for the attention.

This is also giving off a bit of starving artist vibes, or there's a situation where, if you character is a creator or inventor, they can't get their creations out to the world for some reason. Doing so could likely create some net benefit for others, even if they don't understand it at first, but to do so there must be some level of overcoming the fear or defeat or rejection. They could have someone actively keeping the technology or creation away as they know what it could be capable of doing. There may be risk or overusing, overextending, overcompensating, or overestimating how the technology or science will help the community involved. Your character may come to this realization and perhaps decide to shelve or retreat their innovation on behalf of a request or demand on part of other characters to fulfill.

As a hero, they may learn to work through rejection and embrace their nonconformity, like Happy Feet. They may have to help the community with their inventions as a major sacrifice. Or as a villain they may act more like Syndrome from Incredibles, using their incredible genius to attain fame and status. They may serve as a metaphor for the risks of abusing knowledge and technology. As a minor supporting character, they may assist the protagonist using their genius brain or skills with different tools. They don't have to be an inventor--they could work with technology in other ways, like piloting a spaceship or working alongside giant mecha fighters. They may focus their goals on awakening others and bringing important concepts to light, even if they're doing it by traveling through time. The possibilities are as limitless as their mind.

Pile 4: Rainbow Pen - Cat

(Athlete, Gemini Moon - Adaptability, The Wise One, 18. Festivity, Arcades, Sunrise, Buzzfeed Yellow; 6 of Swords, King of Coins, King of Swords, 4 of Swords, 3 of Swords, Ace of Swords) MBTI Energy: ENTJ, INTJ, INFJ, ISTJ

Wow look at all these swords and two kings! This particular character means business throughout the ups and downs of life. Whether they arrive to the story in the beginning or close to the end, they will be known for their seasoned experience and heavy dose of wisdom. This is the type of character who would mentor the hero through applying steady by-the-books discipline, or the hero who runs to the mountains to train for many years. This is the energy of someone who stops at nothing to see their ideas turn to results, no matter how long it takes or how many sacrifices they must make in the long run. In spite of their wizened abilities, however, they may need to learn how to slow down and approach matters with a more gentle and cheerful touch. This character is a graceful combination of brain and brawn, with a good dose of heart at times like Uncle Iroh.

It could be that they take up martial arts and act as an instructor for a group of students. They could be more involved in intellectual challenges like chess and be viewed by others as a paragon of the game. They could be a successful lawyer who uses both their wit and their many years of experience at the firm to win their cases. They could be a military general who finds new ways to train rookies into becoming indomitable warriors. In whatever career they find themself in, this character will be seen as competent and good at remaining cool in scenes where other characters would panic. They are reserved about dispensing their wisdom to others, only wanting to say and do as much as is necessary to allow events to move. There is a cold and somewhat calculated demeanor present in this character whether they align with good or evil.

They may have an intimidating cover that belies a more vulnerable disposition. It could be that their focus on career and proficiency has cost them a few relationships in their life. This is a very James Bond type of pile, in the simplest sense. Bond is very much the ace but also the inevitable loner wolf. It's up to you how you wish to subvert or deconstruct his tropes. I also see Sanji from One Piece in this pile. This is a type of character who, if emotions affect them in any serious way, it will be through powerful and difficult ones to overcome like grief, regret, and need for vengeance. They may be utterly driven to win in spite of who gets hurt. They could be the type to play very neutral, or even on the side of good, until push comes to shove, until someone they care about gets hurt. This is the kind of character who cherishes past relationships deeply because they are often the only thing they have to hold on to when they're used to leaving the rest behind.

This character knows how to easily move from place to place, finding a new undercover job to do or trying to stay on the run from evil organizations in hot pursuit. They may or may not necessarily enjoy the traveling, or constantly changing identities or lifestyles in order to accomplish their goals. They may travel from remote places to train, but miss something hidden in plain sight which will give them some important key to advance the plot. This hidden thing likely involves relationships, or healing from past trauma. This character must look into their own inner wounds in order to be the strongest kind of teacher or provider for others. Their heartache can give way to finding the heart to stand up for good, or consume them into a toxic side. But it will be a deciding factor in their development. This character is no stranger to hardship but it's up to individual choices that bring them to where they end up. If they do have a happy ending, they may finally get the chance to warm up and join the rest of the cast in their merry denouement, if they do not go the way of the noble sacrifice (but if they do they may be greatly honored for it).

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

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idcnticxl · 13 days

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The Fours cheering on their siblings in a fight aka Corporate wants you to find a difference between these two photos.

#the umbrella academy #the sparrow academy #tua #gifs by courage #feel free to use

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tteokdoroki · 2 years

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OCTOBER 15TH. CRUELLA DE VIL

“i live for fur, i worship fur. after all, is there a woman in all this wretched world who doesn't?.”

♱ — shouto todoroki + fearplay.

♱ — synopsis; cruella de vil cruella de vil… if he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will. a man of shouto todoroki’s calibre finds amusement in torturing the one thing he might love more than spots… his favourite little hybrid, his most prized possession…you.

♱ —length; 5.9K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, mentions of smoking, cigarette burns, dry humping, shoe humping, stockholm syndrome, orgasm control, fear play, power play, clothed sex, blowjobs, oral sex ( m!receiving ), humiliation, edging, pictures, spit!kink, fem!reader, hybrid!reader, cruella de vil!todoroki. not beta read !

♱ — notes; beep boop !! happy sinister saturday my angels, this week we have one of my faves, cruella de vil 'n shou so i hope you enjoy!! i'm so excited to share this one with you <3 - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

there is always work to be done when achieving perfectionism

discipline and obedience were two very important lessons shouto todoroki had learned early on in life.

though raised with a silver spoon perched between his perfect lips— the man, like any other who has walked this earth, has had his fair share of struggles too. enji todoroki was a man who believed in perfectionism…only achieved by hard work. discipline. obedience.

his father was unrelenting in making sure shouto knew what those words meant, raised up to take over the family business out of the three other siblings in his brood. he was neglected and unloved— but taught lessons on how to manage, make money, to speak when spoken to and listen when required to. shouto was malleable, easily trained back then, worked hard to please his father and all the companies to the family name until his light broke. until he’d had enough.

with uniquely split peppermint hair he’d managed to escape into the shadows with a sum of hush money as though not to spill the evil secrets of his upbringing— shouto had kept his lessons of obedience and discipline in mind. the money he would use as a start up, rationed into portions for rent, food and materials for the clothes he’d designed. someday hoping to make a man out of himself, and sell them to the world.

todoroki wanted to be seen by people, for his designs to reach and touch the hearts of people across the country and maybe even the world— but to do so he had to be obedient, taking an entry level job at a department store that sold high fashion ( of course under a different name…the name cruella, shouto would start from the bottom and make his own way up— he wouldn’t be attached to the cruelty of his childhood ). names of dior, gucci and valentino… burberry, celine, christopher wang flashed in front of his mismatched eyes over tills on a daily basis— pearls and diamonds he’d never seen or heard of were favoured among customers in the store. he aspired to be like them, become a household name.

to be recognised for his efforts in the world of fashion he would have to work hard, make his way up the ranks to afford furs and chiffons for the goes he had designed—stacked up on napkins and parchment paper, whatever he can find, discarded around his shitty little one bed studio. todoroki sells his first piece into a winter collection after months of cold calling and door knocking towards big owners of major stores.

success, comes with discipline, feigning obedience.

and shouto todoroki knows that he’s finally made it when the calls come flooding into his quiet, dingy london apartment looking for hints in whether or not he’s designed a spring collection.

of course he had, years in advance.

and that brings us to today, where there’s corporate buildings across the world with his alias spelled out in big red and white letters across the front, filled with passionate designers and models and all sorts of staff. there are billboards at every corner plastered with teasers for todoroki’s upcoming fashion show, he’s been on the cover of all editions of vogue at one point or another— he’s built himself off of the ground.

starting with obedience and discipline and mixed with a hint of dedication.

perhaps todoroki should thank his father for not showing he and his siblings any compassion while they were growing up, for the fearful lessons he instilled in them— but then again, it was the dual haired man who’d made a righteous name out of the syllables of his last, who became a pioneer and spearhead to the fashion industry…not poor old enji. poor poor enji, there’s not a dime to his name these days, shouto and touya had made sure of that by selling their childhood trauma to the media.

shouto made millions which he put towards his fashion company, touya has his band, fuyumi her family comfortably nestled up in some uptight gated community and natsuou wrote a book. they had all utilised what they’d been taught, to make money and to speak when spoken to ( promoted by press to speak on their upbringing of course ).

shouto todoroki is now loved by many, a peppermint haired boy estranged from his family putting himself and his designs in bright colours and elaborate patterns contrasting of his cool, and clipped self out there into the industry. and perhaps it was a cruel move on shouto’s part, but he didn’t care. dear old daddy would have to suffer for raising a son just like him. for acquiescence and regimen breeds rebels, and in excessive amounts, gives birth to bad…bad people.

he is loved, he is bad, but he is free— his ego kissed and stroked by all of those around him, who don’t know the true him. and cruella, or shouto is sure if people knew how bad he truly was behind the smoke screen of his brilliance, then his career wouldn’t quite be the same as it were now.

even though the peppermint haired designer loves his job and his work more than anything— a work life balance was also important to him too, to let the day’s stresses flood from his body was a priority. it was hard to keep the cruelty that danced around in his blood stream at bay while todoroki flittered throughout his offices and approved fabrics or threads…he needed an outlet, a reliever to tuck shouto todoroki away and let cruella come out to play.

as soon as the designer finds himself within his expensive apartment complex— his Chelsey boots clicking against the white glossed marble flooring, he’s swarmed by eager staff that welcome him home. bright eyes full of admiration tracing his outline, puffy cream fur coat, as he cascades through the reception without a care in the world. “afta’noon mister todoroki— i-i mean cruella!” the doorman had greeted him with a bobbing Adam’s apple and polite smile. “a pleasure ta welcome ya back!”

with his diamond lined eyes narrowed, todoroki let the corners of his pretty lips twitch up into a soft, smug grin. “the pleasure is all mine, darling.” he’d replied pompously as he made a b-line for the elevator. there’s confidence in every movement he makes and a bristling frost on every surface he touches as he steps straight from the elevator into his own luxury penthouse apartment, greeted by staff that shiver in his presence when he enters his home.

“mister todoroki,” staff bob their heads in respect, like they’re serving a king which they might as well be. he holds power over everyone who gets a chance to witness him speak, have the honour of seeing him at work. a king in the world of fashion.

todoroki’s boots continue to click and clack the further he explores the penthouse with high swooping ceilings and glass windows about the place—letting the cool night and all it’s stars pour in, illuminating the room accompanied by that of the moon. the white light shines in winter tones through paper scattered about the place, scrapped designs, those that’ll make the cut and some saved for future opportunities like the met gala look a celebrity has requested from him for next year. animal prints are thrown over the backs modern day architecture and chairs— the striped ones are often hidden.

shouto much prefers the perfect simplicity of spots.

they’re his favourite, round…infinite… never ending. the promise of forever is embodied in a perfect spot.

there’s a reason why he has a framed portrait of his most beloved design— a real fur coat, made entirely of spots.

is there anything more precious than something so simple and beautifully designed by nature? this is a question todoroki finds himself asking almost everyone night when he returns home from work, from being adored by people who do nothing but put pennies in his bank account— without even knowing the real him. but then he comes to stand in front of a special locked door, to which he holds the only key, he finds the answer, he smells it hanging in the air of the room as he unlocked it, pushing open the door and tasting the scent of you.

you are the most precious creation known to mankind.

knocking the heels of his pointed boots together, todoroki watches as spotted black and white dalmation ears peek out from deeper in the room, barely visible over the edge of the comfortable leather couch installed into your playroom. they hang over your darling face in shame— you know what you’ve done, and a wicked chill seeps from his bones into the air around you once he notices your dainty tail no longer swishing behind you but instead tucked between your thighs… no doubt slicked up with an orgasm you know you weren’t allowed to have.

he knows, that you know, you’ve done the unthinkable— the punishable, topaz and granite eyes glossing over with a frightening level of disappointment, lips quirking up in satisfaction when you quiver like a leaf in the wind and a puppy whine sits cutely in the ridges of your throat. you’re not to touch what doesn’t belong to you, you know that.

“there you are, pet.” cruella, shouto cocks his head to the side, speaking with his tone tilting into condescending as if he’s looking down on you. he is, clicking his heels together again but three times in order to command you to sit once you reach him. “have you been good?” a scarily sunshine smile sits heavy on the peppermint haired designer’s face, gaze flickering down to where your hips don’t fully touch the floor— no doubt avoiding contact with your swollen, dirty clit. sticky, probably, with a release you shouldn’t have had. “i don’t think you have.”

he pulls a thick, long, thin red and white smoke stick from the left inside pocket of his tailored suit— crouching down to your height and uses the death stick to tilt your stare up from the black leather of his boots to his steeled pair of eyes. “pet?” over the tobacco scent hanging between you both, todoroki catches a whiff of your arousal, a touch of perfume smelling like your instinctual fear… he sees it bright in the pretty flecks in your eyes, dancing around like candles flickering in the wind. it’s a beautiful sight, seeing you scared. he loves it, he thinks—nudging your cheek a little more. “answer me.”

you flinch back at the harsher tone he uses, the one that makes your skin crawl and you immediately lower your head in an obedience that comes with much training. “‘m sorry,” you say in one hesitated breath, shutting away those darling eyes when shouto drags a thumb over your bottom lip after popping the smoke stick between his own. you lean into him, slightly, foolishly trusting the man with your life. “‘m sorry… i am. r-really, i am—“

you’ve always been meek, todoroki knows that. he’d picked you up from a rundown pound after a hit of inspiration— a whole collection he’d design based off of black and white spots. it had been hard sourcing an amount of Dalmatian hybrids that large— especially after his flimsy childhood friend deku darling and his clumsy pianist partner eijirou had rejected his proposal to take their lot off their hands. they didn’t like the idea of him using real fur, real spots to make a work of art.

out of the bunch he’d brought, shouto kept you. the little pup who cowered in the corner, kept out of sight and out of mind. so instead of turning you into a purse or pair of boots or the fluffy fur coat he’d dreamed of… todoroki kept you, because you were most afraid of him, like you’d soil yourself or cry if the devil popped up to say hello— you didn’t love him, or pretend to at first. you were as real as could be, you didn’t fake it just to be near shouto.

you were perfect.

“c’mon pet, sit with me.” standing to his full height, looming over you— shouto hooks two fingers under your collar, the one he had custom made for you in his colours of red and white, dragging you over to the couch placed in the centre of the room. the leather digs into your skin, your eyes bulging at the lack of aid which fizzles across your empty little brain. “did you miss me, today?”

you sit back on your haunches when todoroki sinks into the couch, your teary eyes instantly and obediently shooting down to his half-hard cock as he man-spreads in his seat. fear breeds obedience, the more scared you are the easier it had been for shouto to train you to behave how he wanted, to be used how he wanted.

nodding, you whine and shouto tuts in disapproval.

“your words, darling.”

“i d-did, i missed you s-shouto!” you perk up a little too quickly at the pet name, smaller-than-his hands resting on the swell of the designer’s thigh before your ears flatten back as if you know that you’ve made a mistake, leaning your baby fat cheek on his leg in hopes of making an apology. “i-i mean sir!”

“what a good girl you are.”

shouto leers down at you, his eyes glinting with iniquity— the glistening gem colours darkening as if raging stormy clouds had blocked out the sun. he reaches out to pet you, and though you wince it’s easy for you to keen into his touch at the slightest hint of praise. “is that why you touched yourself while i was away?” he tilts his head, lips in a faux but cold pout as you simper out for him. “i can smell it on you, you filthy little mutt, soaked on your skin, slicked up on those precious fucking thighs.” suddenly, he grips your puppy dog ears, and the wag of your excited tail slows to a stop. “you disappoint me. you couldn’t even wait until i returned home. for you.”

for you.

only when your eyes brim with apologetic and fat tears, does shouto let go of your sore spotted ear— amused in how you sniffle, frozen in your place by fear. but there’s love in his eyes too, taking the form of heart shaped pupils as his gaze hones in on your messy, teary state. there should be hate blooming in your chest instead of love and yearning. this is the man that took you from your family; saw you as nothing more than fabric between stitches and buttons every time you whined and called out for the pups in your litter.

tapping his food against the floor again, shouto commands your attention. “i’ve worked so hard to keep you safe, pet, you know that’s why i work so hard,” one hand guides yours to the bulge between your owner’s thighs while the other brushes over the pink curve of your bottom lip. “designing and designing…” he pulls you up close, hunching over you at the same so that you’re a breath’s width apart.

your breathing is ragged, chest heaving in anticipation as shouto parts his lips— letting a clear, heavy wad of drool drip from his mouth onto the palette of your eager puppy tongue.

“do you know what i made?”

the question barely registers in your mind as you swallow a haziness of lust taking over— clouding your eyes and a hunger to please clawing it’s way up your throat. “nuh-uh,” you say breathlessly, tilting your head up for more, earning another glob of spit on your tongue. your tiny little hand starts to move on it’s own accord, pawing back and forth, back and forth against your owner’s dress pants. your tail picks up again, adorably swishing from side to side feeling shouto throb beneath your talented little fingertips— blood pulsing through his clothed girth.

“do i have to tell you again, pet? use your words.” todoroki relents, taking your lip between his teeth— taunting you, nearly kissing you but not quite because he knows how much you need it. he knows that if he keeps you on the blurred line between pain and pleasure, fear and felicity…you’ll behave accordingly, become easily malleable into the perfect pet.

“i-i’m not sure, sir.”

“spots.”

it’s so adorable how you go rigid, turning to stone though your heart beats in your chest and your hand rubs harder, greedier at the hard on growing beneath shouto’s expensive clothes. your eyes continue to sparkle too, with desperation to take his cock deep into your salivating mouth, pink tongue rolling out like a puppy in the wind. he sees the way your thighs stick together, grazing one another as your hole slicks itself up— ready for the taking. if he could bend you over, pull your ass cheeks apart, todoroki has no doubt that your little wagging tail would be covered in strings of your potent arousal, oozing in thick waves from your spasming puppy cunt.

he knows this for a fact, not only because hybrids like yourself are wetter, messier to aid the breeding process, but because you love being scared just as much as you so pathetically adore todoroki. you enjoy the flicker of your brain between fight or flight, how he makes your blood run cold or threatens your life as if it hangs in the balance.

mistakenly, you love shouto todoroki— and you think he might feel the same about you. you think if you behave and perform tricks, if you’re obedient just like he had taught you to be..that he might keep you safe. cherish you.

maybe that’s all true, maybe cruella isn’t so cruel. maybe he finds it in his ice laden heart to care for you just a bit… and not just because you’re a cute little pup trained to suck his pretty dick.

“i’m thinking of making another fur coat,” a wicked chuckle rumbles the designers throat like thunder in a storm, only interrupted by his hips that shoot up to grind into your hesitating hand— the one that feels out the lengthy shape of him as his precum smears against the fabric of his underwear in opaque white. he drags a finger over your face, looks with hooded eyes as your lashes brush against your cheek and you drag your tongue over his clothed stiff cock. shouto adores your tremble…you think that he might hit you.

you’d deserve it, and he had before—useless little mutts like you needed to know their place if you wanted to stick around. “that’s…that’s nice sir,” you stutter, holding back on your brainless babbles, your hips gyrating into the floor beneath you, unbred and leaky hole clenching around nothing.

a reflex out of fear.

shouto hums, tilting your chin up to face him when your mouth hits his seedy tip through the fabric of his clothes— the heat from your sloppy tongue penetrating through the rough linen layers. “so, pet, if you want to make sure i don’t turn you into something even prettier… into something nice for me to wear,” todoroki sneers huskily, tinged with evil while he uses his grip on you to shove your face into his lap roughly. “then i suggest, you open up that sweet mouth of yours and let me feed you my cock, hm?” that’s how shouto todoroki gets you hooked, he has you running on the fumes of survival instincts— trained to love him, do absolutely anything for him despite how cruelly he may treat you.

though your crystalline puppy dog eyes are screwed shut and your spotted ears, sweaty and sore and pinned to your skull— you manage to pick up on the clink of todoroki’s gucci belt, making you growl low and impatiently. the desire to taste his cum, make him happy, shoots through you like a sedative injected into your veins, targeting your red blood cells and wrapping around them to spread obedience through you. yet again, against your will, you’re coaxed into the dark, cruel enigma that is shouto todoroki, letting him set fire to your body and take over any logical thought in your mind.

cunt dripping, juices sweet as ripened fruit— you peel back the layers of shouto’s garments ( though his pants sit at his slender hips, not fully pulled down )…a mean chuckle resounding in the sex tainted air in the room as you reveal his cock to your innocent stare, letting him lean back into the leather couch. he’s longer than he is thick, mushroomed tip a little purple with blue-tinted veins running up and down the length of him, a shade rivalling his own hungry eyes as he observes your next moves. the entirety of him pulses in your soft grip, the scent of his arousal bleeding from his cockhead sending your dalmation puppy instincts into overdrive. todoroki hisses, painfully hard, as you take him gently between your fingers— your thumb moving with uncertainty to rub his pre into his tip sweetly.

you’re almost ashamed of how much your mouth starts to water, the strings of your own saliva connecting the roof of your mouth to your tongue that writhes in place— aching to taste him, pleasure him with all that you can. the prominent adam’s apple of shouto’s throat bobs, watching with lustful mismatched eyes as you inch forward like a predator hunting it’s prey— reverting back to animalistic instincts while your pupils dilate. his face scrunches, a haughty moan vibrating in his chest when you grip him fully so you can guide him to your mouth—little hand dwarfed by the size of his cock, soft palm grazing the forked vein on the underside of his shaft as it throbs. “oh pet,” todoroki‘s words are drawled, lips between his teeth. “come on, be good.” you do your best to appease him, dragging his bulbous and creamy tip along the seam of your lips, kitten licking him to test the patience of your owner.

you’re frightful that you might have fucked up when you hear his hands slap down against the leather sofa before shouto drags you by your Dalmatian ears off of his girth, his own breathing irratic and irregular— cruel and cold eyes now blazing with hunger. you look up nervously, a whimper brewing on your wet, pre cum glossed lips to find the smoke stick now between his lips ( he’d lost it when kissing you. ).

“help me light it while you get me hard.” he grunts quietly, voice dipping an octave, dripping with a threat. as if he’s promising you danger if you danger if you don’t comply. he fumbles with his loose left pocket for a light after shoving the smoke stick past your wet, arousal soaked lips— maintaining eye contact as he flicks the lighter in front of the rolled tobacco. even though you can tell that todoroki is heavily aroused; you have no choice but to do what he says. he dominates your life, decides whether or not you stay as a fuckable pet or get turned into the next best fashion item. he has power over you even when his dick pulses in your hand and you squeeze him softly, letting his precum guide your movements as you start to palm him to a slow and steady rhythm. once the smoke stick in your mouth is lit, the flame threatening you, shouto takes it from you and places it between his own lips— puffing a ring of smoke into your face.

your wet puppy nose twitches unhappily, but you know that protesting will only end badly for you. that doesn’t seem to calm the racing heartbeat in your puppypussy, however, drooling at the idea of being scolded by your owner.

shouto leans back, tousled half and half hair thrown over the back of the couch— his flesh sticking to it, only caused by the cold sweat your temperate mouth has him in. both of you moan when you finally take him into your mouth, sinking down on him until your nose is pressed against milky flesh just like you’d practiced before. yours is desperate and needy, shouto’s raspy— proud at how well his little pup treats him.

of course, todoroki had to train you to suck cock too, breaching the innocence of your mouth despite your whimpered out protests at the time. he’d soon fucked it into your throat that if you wanted to live, you wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.

“y-you, oh fuck—“ shouto lets out a throaty hybrid noise, a lewd mix between an amused laugh and a deep moan as you flex your saliva laden tongue against the underside of his dick— taking a puff of his tobacco before looking down at you with so much love you might even think it was real. “you’re so pretty pet, so… so pretty.” he knows he’s done a good thing by keeping you, cruella; shouto todoroki brought to his knees by the sinful heat of your hell searing mouth, making him repent for everything he’s ever done wrong. “were you scared, pretty? t-that why you’re taking my cock so fucking well?”

all you can do it nod, swallowing the designer down eagerly in response— a resounding hum sending chills running down his spine as teeth and tongue vibrate around his shaft. you can’t help but let your awe-filled eyes flutter shut at the heaviness of todoroki on your tongue, drooling and dribbling above the place— soaking through his clothes that probably cost more than an entire litter of Dalmatian hybrids such as yourself. he oozes copious sums of precum, thick enough to glue your mouth shut ( like peanut butter for puppies ), filling you up and luring you into going after more.

pleasing him more.

your cheeks swell while you paw desperately at shouto’s ruined lap— breathing deep through your nose before you feel the weight of his hand right between your sensitive puppy dog ears. he tugs at the twitching limbs, twisting them while pushing you down on his aching cock. your throat contracts, cheeks hollowing until you’ve swallowed him down to the base and you’re practically gagging on the length of him, tip brushing against your uvula lips k the way down. poor puppy, you flinch at the slight twinge of pain from where shouto begins to pound your mouth roughly, balls slapping against your chin, slurping mixed with his yowls of delight filling combining with the sweat and sex loaded air. when you flinch, your teeth graze at the sensitive veins wrapping around shouto— making him choke just like you, on a puff of his smoke stick.

“fucking mutt, oh—shit!” he snarls, yanking you off of his tender and red, smarting cock— not caring of the way he holds you hurts you. “watch your fucking mouth, pretty. or i really will turn you into my next fur coat, darling.” the warning is firm, rattling you to your core, your mouth even more so wet and salacious at the fear shouto strikes in you. you’re back on him before you know it, his hips jutting up into the molten heat of your mouth, tip hitting the inside of your cheek, making him shudder every time. todoroki would be lying if he wasn’t obsessed with the way your floppy Dalmatian ears bounded the more he rolled his hips into your mouth, fucking your face. he was even more delighted by your sharp canines just brushing over his shaft, but he wouldn’t admit that.

loosening his tie, he throws his head back in a drawn out gripe, his moans raising a pitch when you grip his swollen balls, full of cum and roll them between dainty fingers. he pulls his smoke stick from his lips, tongue darting out to wet them as he taps the ash against your pretty face. “i think i’ll get you off pet, since you missed me so much. since i feel so bad for scaring you.” todoroki coos with faux sympathy, head lolling down to get a good look at your tear stained cheeks and your clumped together lashes. his dual toned hair now askew.

stilling in surprise, you yelp in shock as shouto shoves a boot between your arousal painted thighs— pressing the toe against your aching, untouched clit that's barely covered by the flimsy baby-doll shorts you usually wear. they’re coated in your sweet honey, and your owner’s mouth hangs open; mocking the darling mewl that would leave your own if you weren’t being stuffed full of cock.

the boot nestles perfectly at your cunt, spreading your swollen pussy lips apart and expostulating it’s in your sweltering heat. “you’re this wet? from hardly being touched?” he mocks you, pulling his foot back to stimulate your core. “oh darling, you’re soaked, pathetically so.” it is; it’s embarrassing how turned on you are from being threatened, fucked like your mouth is a flesh light. how you want him to love you even though you could be killed at any second. “grind that pretty pussy down on me pup, suck me off good and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

doing as you’re told, you work yourself down on shouto— tail thumping against the floor while you circle your hips over the cool leather of his shoe, the material pulling back the hood on your clit and sending shockwaves of dopamine across your brain. puppy dog eyes cross, with tongue running it’s owl circles along todoroki’s shaft. the fact that he looms over you, has all the power in the world to end you servers as your own personal adrenaline but you don’t dare deny that getting him off, gets you off too.

despite trying not to fall apart at every lick and suck you give him, sweat shines on todoroki’s pale winter skin— just as cold as he is, but maybe his evil heart melts a little, maybe having fur is less valuable to him when you weakly pull off him, and your precum-spit glossed lips encapsulate his seedy cockhead as if to makeout with it, running the tip of your tongue through his sensitive slit. “that’s it pet, swallow me down. earn that right to cum.” simpering, shouto grabs the sides of your head— holding you in place as his ploughs his hips and dick shallowly into o-shape of your mouth, battering about inside of it.

the cigarette he smokes just barely burns marks into the black spots or your ears, making you whimper out despite desperately thrusting down against your owner’s foot, practically riding it while a tight knot forms in your lower stomach and your puppycunt gushes about the place.

todoroki lets you go once he’s exerted himself, a mop of sweaty red and white locks dangling over the back of the couch. the world wouldn’t believe it it they saw their beloved cruella now; twitching and heaving as he stares his Dalmatian puppy down, marvelling in the way you spit down onto his bulbous and dripping cockhead before joining you in doing the same. the frothy white and bubbly mix crudely runs down his shaft, and you’re quick to lick it up from the balls to his slit again.

“oh fuck, pretty darling. you’re trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer, jerking the man off as you look up at him so debauched; yet so innocent. he can see you fight the cross in your eyes as he wiggles his boot against your hardened pleasure nub, a cream staining the leather.

“w-words pet. tell me or you really won’t get to cum.”

you remember your desperation to be adored by shouto, as well as the release that sneaks up on you. so you find your words though your voice is hoarse from your throat being ravaged and decorated with precum. “i want you always sir,” you plead. “for you to always feel g-good with me!”

shouto grins, menacing, borderline crazy— it makes your pussy lips quiver while he angles his foot up, right as you drag your fluttering entrance over the toe. “you know just what to say to get me close, darling,” he says, grabbing hold of his own dick to tap it against your slobbery puppy tongue, feeding it to you again and thriving in the way that you tilt your head, angling it so he can fuck your cheek makinf your skin bulge. “gonna cum…pet, ‘n you’re gonna be obedient. hold it, until i’m finished with you…or you’re dead. meat.”

he punctuates his words with two rough thrusts, flinching with ecstasy, voice trembling. todoroki doesn’t let up in teasing your pulsating pussy, shaking his foot as you bump and grind against the shoe to your hearts content— fighting not to lose your orgasm while simultaneously dragging shouto to the edge of his own. it’s obscene the way both your mouth and cunt squelch, your owner leaking ungodly amounts of arousal into your mouth and down your chin ( though you’re no better, hot wet pussy ruining his shoes for good ).

todoroki loses his pace, smoke stick just missing his lips from how irregular and languid his thrusts are and before you know it, he’s taken a hold of your sore dog ears once more— his high takint him by surprise. “holy fuck, that’s it pet, be a good fucking dog, take it all. my seed.” the world around shouto todoroki falls away into mismatched pieces, warm and viscous cum flooding your mouth in waves; and you can’t even stop, sloppily worshipping his cock and all they it offers you as if todoroki is your god.

he might as well be, the way controls whether you live or die; even as you stare up at hearts dazzling your eyes. you need him to love you, to be proud of you. “so g-good, god pet. you’re wonderful,” the cruelty of cruella praises you, still filling you the brim with seed that sits salty on your tongue. todoroki takes a drag of his cigarette, feeling loopy, happier than ever with his decision to keep you.

lewdly, he drags shapes onto your swollen clit too, rocking his shoe against you— amused at how you struggle to keep your release at bay. tapping out the ash of his tobacco one last time, todoroki puts it out by singing the end of his cigarette into your spotted puppy ear again— smiling at your low, whistle tone whine.

“cum.” he commands, smearing his ruined cock against your lips. “or else, you won’t get another chance.”

fear breeds obedience and as if on queue, your body follows the order— a clear stream of arousal splashing out hard against the floor from your raw, sticky cunt. the world is a blinding white, black spots eating at the corner of your vision.

by the time you come to, world famous designer cruella— shouto todoroki has returned to petting your hair with gentle care that doesn’t make you fear him any less but makes you love him a little more. he chuckles, red and white hair shaking with it as you sleepy nuzzle his thigh— a mess of cum and tears and spit.

so shouto snaps a picture of you, a perfect muse for his next design.

his obedient and well disciplined, precious dalmation puppy hybrid.

more precious than any spot in the world.

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nonunsnonunsnone · 2 years

Text

Corporate wants you to find the difference between these two GIFs

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #guillermo #nandor

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celestialholz · 1 year

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Surrendering fucking Sunflora.

Oh Brassius. Brassius, Brassius, Brassius. I'm going to have to murder you with my bare hands for this one. Don't even need to wake up the Armarouge - you take an extended nap, king, keep those cannons fresh.

Did you know guys that there are thirty-three Surrendering Sunflora in and around Artazon? I do, because I've just spent forty-five minutes of the only life I will ever have working it out. And then another twenty ensuring I'm not wrong, which I possibly still am because this bitch has hidden these things everywhere! Arceus has placed me on this earth only to suffer.

But in spending over an hour on this, finally my soul can rest, because I have confirmation. Confirmation of what, exactly?

... Well, every single Surrendering Sunflora location is representative of what Hassel means to Brassius, in one way or another.

Might want to get your popcorn for this one, friends, maybe grab a blanket...

First though, before I attempt the frankly ridiculous task of explaining all these locations and their meanings, corporate needs you to find the difference between these two pictures:

They're the same picture.

Hassel is Sunflora in human form and with more dragons, right down to his mostly-green-and-yellow colour scheme and sunshine personality. And we know from this little extract that he is the direct inspiration for Surrendering Sunflora, because after Brassius tells you Hassel saved his life, he adds:

Much like The Harvest is part-Arboliva, part-Brass and part-Hass, as seen here in respective shape, spikiness and dragon colour...

... Surrendering Sunflora is part-Sunflora, part-Hass and part-Brass, in form, representation, and mood at the time of its creation.

Anyway, with that established, a map that took me another forty minutes to put together:

This is the location of every Surrendering Sunflora in and around this goddamn hellscape of a town. (/j, it's very pretty, but I am a salty girl.)

Now, some of these are notably easier to figure out than others, but just for clarity's sake... one to thirty-three, a breakdown. (Of the numbers, not me. Although you pull any more of this shit Brassie, it will be my personal breakdown.) I would screenshot every one, but Tumblr's 10-pic limit is having none of it, so I'll show off the more interesting ones at points and note the rest in text. I will also be looking at them from the perspective of being the Sunflora - the direction the sculpture itself faces.

Now, bear in mind... these are allegorical. I've had to surmise what they mean in most cases, but... that's what an artist does. Art asks you to consider the artist's intent, to interpret what they meant by location, form, colour... whatever the piece entails. It's why we have art critics, why we have museums and art galleries - and all of these point to one singular conclusion: Brassius? Super fucking gay. If you've ever made a fic or a piece of art that hides small details or leaves things just a little to one's imagination, you've been Brassius with these sculptures.

... And frankly, why the hell else are they where they are? These are chosen spots. Most of them aren't even central, or helpful where they are, without an alternate dialogue to them.

So, let's begin!

One: just across and to the left of Two, and directly facing Glaseado Mountain. Hass leading him upwards, to literal higher heights. Doesn't get any grander or higher than Glaseado.

Two: atop a cliff face, and it's already pic time!

This one has a few things to say. First, it's overlooking the gym, second it's pointing directly south if you look at my mini-map. This is one of several that faces south, which is valid - most of Sunflora's dex entries tell us that it loves facing the sun, and in terms of planetary orbit, south is the direction in the day where the sun is at its height... which is telling, when Hassel led Brass out of depression, being his literal sunshine.

Three: right beneath the centre of the maze. Hass guiding him to the heart, his 'core' - helping him find meaning in life.

Four: also in the maze, but near the entrance. A guiding hand when one is lost, at a genuine 'dead end'. A little girl in another dead end of this maze comments how lost she is.

Five: is actually hilarious.

Sir are you fucking kidding me I will fight you in an Every Wich Way parking lot right now

Six: facing local small cliffs. Climbing the smaller hills first is a notable method of depression recovery, and given that Brass' health issues also seem physical, this is a small, easy-to-climb hill - a step to feeling healthier.

Seven and Eight: greeting you as you walk into town for the first time from the direction of Mesagoza. A feeling of comfort and homeliness, which two men with such a connection clearly have.

Nine: has a similar vibe - straight ahead of Seven and Eight, the first thing to greet you in the central plaza. The kind of welcome feeling Brass gets from Hass.

Ten and Eleven: are very obvious. These two directly face the maze, and are facing one another on opposite sides. Trust, warmth, familiarity. Interestingly, one faces east, and one west - where the sun rises and the sun sets. Hassel's always there for him.

Twelve: faces the way out to Levincia beyond, because welcoming works from either side of town.

Thirteen and Fourteen: are both either underneath the gym arena, or very nearly underneath, and Fourteen looks straight at the gym. What did I say about these two taking one another into battle?

Fifteen: is facing the pool... for a man who cries a lot. No further explanation required, but this is one of my favourites for how adorable and accepting it is on Brass' part.

Sixteen, Seventeen and Eighteen: the first of the climbing frame Sunfloras, and all of them are in a line, facing the gym. See Thirteen and Fourteen, but... these ones are also elevated, as though Hassel is watching over him during battle. Another gesture of support. They also happen to overlook a Heterarchical Loop, which we'll revisit in a mo...

Nineteen: is on the side of the climbing frame, staring at the Sunflora field used during the gym challenge. Given that it's also staring at said field's house, this is one of two things - emotional vigilance, or home comforts. It's also beside a version of The Harvest, which we know is part-Hass too.

Twenty: climbing frame, above Sixteen, Seventeen and Eighteen - an even higher guardian, and also one that can see the arena. This is also directly across from the Paradoxical Popper, and coupled with what I just mentioned about the Heterarchical Loop... well, this brilliant piece of meta that you've probably already read (top job, fellow theorist <3) shows us that yeah, these old pieces by an unnamed artist are probably also Brassie's, which makes this completely adorable - we know from Art (4) that Brass considers his old pieces 'shallow trash'. By his masterpieces overlooking them, they act as a reminder - that Hassel believes in him, that he can do brilliant things - that his new work has a purpose. Even if they aren't his old works, the fact that he places them literally higher up shows that he has more respect for something inspired by Hassel than any other works.

Twenty-One and Twenty-Two: the last of the climbing frame ones, and again, at height, and directly facing the gym. Just behind these is a climbing wall, which heads up towards a dragon-coloured Harvest. Considering that we can infer that Hassel influenced Surrendering Sunflora first, as Brass tells us that he created it directly after Hass saved him, having to head up to a Harvest coloured with Hass' type is really quite sweet as it was likely a result of their connection later down the line. But regardless of order, these two are again indicative of Hass' care for him.

Twenty-Three: is... well, at the back of someone's house. What's fun about this one is that A. there is literally no reason for this to be here if it's simply about showing off an art piece, and B. even in the daytime, as you can see, this spot? Perpetually in the shade. Even when Brassius feels dark, there's Hassel - his permanent sunshine, making sure he never feels too alone, or abandoned in a place no one would look for him.

Another of my favourites - the symbolism here is gorgeous.

Twenty-Four and Twenty-Five: greet you if you walk into town from the Levincia side, which is very much along the same lines as Seven and Eight - a warm, sunshine welcome, a peacefulness of spirit.

Twenty-Six: stares directly at the side of the Go-for-Broke Grill... which just so happens to be where one finds Encounter Power: Dragon food. Goddamn gay people and their apples...

Twenty-Seven: is behind the Grill, and looking straight at the Sunflora field. The Sunflora field is not only a core part of the gym test, but the specific direction of this one points at the house attached to the field. So not only is this field full of sunshine, it's overlooked by it, too. Anything directed towards a house also speaks of hearth and home - a comfort, a feeling of literally being 'at home' in someone's presence.

Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine: stand as guardians to the Sunflora field, right on either side of its gate. Now, for this one, I would like to draw your attention to a piece of dialogue Hass gives you during the League:

"I am Hassel, the dragon guarding the final fortress of the Elite test."

Whilst this field is no fortress, these ones nevertheless stand taller than any other Surrendering Sunflora in the town - the 'protectors' of the field of sunshine, the warmth and the light Brass has experienced beneath Hass. Now, given that Hass also tells you in the League that his job as a teacher is to guide students and watch them grow... well, here we are. He's helped Brassius grow, prosper, and find his inner light, and he'll protect him at all costs from that darkness. And size matters, here - these are big, they stand out, therefore they are deliberately important. This is Brassius' greatest impression of his love - as a protector, and a guide to the light.

Thirty: stands in the Sunflora field itself. This one is notably smaller than the gatekeepers, the usual size of those around town, and is just across from a dragon Harvest in the same field. Again, why not put your emotional sunshine in a field of your actual ones? (And why not do it twice, y'know, because you're massively dramatic...)

Thirty-One: sees our final return to the climbing frame - this is one of the ones I missed originally, because it's directly beneath it. There's another one down here too, right beneath the Popper, but as they mean the same thing as Twenty-Three, we'll count them together - a location always dark and in shade, illuminated. They're also hemmed in by the wooden walls of the climbing frame - they are, quite literally, trapped - like one might be in their own mind, during depression, without a source of light.

Thirty-Two: is probably my favourite of them all. This harks back to number One, overlooking Glaseado, except...

Well, this looks at another mountain, and it's literally not in Artazon - it's the one I showed you in the very first photo of this post. The location box for Artazon doesn't even crop up. It is, however, facing direct south, but... what's it doing here?

In facing the sun's peak, this one exists to show us that there isn't a mountain Hassel can't help Brassius overcome, however high. Look at where you end up, if you follow this cliff directly from this Sunflora:

The highest peak you can see all of Artazon clearly from, considerably overlooking every other Sunflora that already overlooks core parts of the town important to Brassie. You know what they call that level of symbolism? Fucking love.

And finally, we end on Thirty-Three, which... well. I think we all know what a Pokemon Center does. It heals, it brings your Pokemon back from the brink of death - and who do we know, who's done that for Brassius?

... Pokemon Centers are free, and in this generation, even feature a kindly Nurse Joy who will offer you guidance and assistance through the big, wide, open world of Paldea from the goodness of her own heart.

... This whole town is a love letter. At every turn, you run into a new page of narrative through these Sunfloras: you slot together another meaning, you see the hearts of two men woven into every little stitch. And whether or not this was Brassius' intention, it was almost certainly the intention of those who made him. This is what art directors do, this is what devs hide for you to find. This is Pokemon's ultimate Easter egg, and it is fucking beautiful.

I don't know any more than you lovely people do if they're ever going to officially confirm Hassius as a romantic duo - in love, married, whatever. And I'd love to see it as much as you all would, but... well, I already have. Here it is, right in front of us, if only we're willing to look. Of all the meta I've posted on these two so far, this... yeah, this is the most gay and glorious of them all. And I've still got more to say, just... not on this. We're good here.

... Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that killing thing I mentioned earlier, though maybe after a nap... sir you must die by my own hand for CRIMES AGAINST MY FREE TIME. (jk, king. Love you, keep doing what you're doing. I am but an average poster without your delicious homosexuality. xoxo)

#ephemeralartshipping #hassius #brassel x hassius #brassius #hassel #pokemon scarlet and violet #I have sunk about five hours of the ONE LIFE I have into this and I regret absolutely nothing if I'm honest lmao #it's the most goddamn beautiful thing I've ever seen #I'm literally that one meme guy who's like 'I've looked at this for five hours now'#... fuck. Just... fuck.#meta #gay gay homosexual GAY.#how are you going to give me the most wholesome love story in the canon and not even officially TELL ME it's the most wholesome love story

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devilfic · 1 year

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uh..hi, I see you are accepting requests; Bruce wayne (battinson) with a gothic s/o? I leave everything to your discretion ( I'm a little new here on tumblr and this is my first request so sorry if I did something wrong,sorry :(

❝bruce wayne with a gothic s/o❞

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: mentions of/use of blood. words: 1.1k.

a/n: you're perfectly fine!! dw bub. also, I hope my representation of the goth community is adequate. I am a fan of the music but am still very much a baby bat ;-;

for all intents and purposes, bruce IS a goth

but to be honest, he isn't really in the culture

he definitely went through a modest phase as a teenager but because of the public eye, he probably wasn't allowed to lean into it in regard to looks

but music has always been a way for him to express himself

and come on, the guy lives in goth-am. the archetypes write themselves

I could see him having a steady rotation of grunge rock, alternative, and goth rock on his playlists

alfred has never really understood the ominous choirs or the skull-shaking bass but “go off, master bruce” as he would say

he would not say that

and let’s face it, take bruce to a goth club or something and no one will be able to tell that he’s not familiar

in the event that bruce ends up with a gothic s/o, I think he would be quietly fascinated over you

you would catch him watching as you put together outfits, do your hair or makeup, etc. with this slightly unnerving stare that you’re unfortunately used to, but the difference between bruce’s stare and others’ is that you can tell he’s fascinated

whenever he finds something that appeals to him, he tends to get a little lost watching it

it’s really endearing when you happen to catch him doing it to you all the time ;-;

asking him what he’s thinking about when he looks at you usually helps get him out of the trance

he sometimes asks if you can try looks on him that he otherwise wouldn’t do himself

he doesn’t really like to do this, but he does have to keep up the image of a squeaky clean ceo that definitely doesn’t dress up as a giant bat every night, so whatever you do to him has to come off in one hot shower

the first time you ever took a tub of gel to his hair and drew on some elaborate eyeliner and eyeshadow, he’d stared at the mirror as if he was trapped inside someone else’s body

he was used to caking black paint on his eyes in a messy, undone up way of course, so he’d never looked this… deliberately pretty

he really couldn’t begin to consider wearing looks like this out with you because, again, squeaky clean ceo

but you’ve gotten plenty of pictures of him in the privacy of wayne tower to make up for it

but wouldn’t he just look darling in a corporate goth getup? ;-;

he would. because that’s literally his fashion style right now

as for music, I mentioned in my headcanons for bruce making you a playlist that he absolutely loves taking recommendations from you and playing them in the batcave at a deafening volume

it’s his love language: including bits of you into his routine

now I said that he’s not able to dress up with you when you go out, but that doesn’t by any means mean that he feels you shouldn’t either

bruce is a secretive, possessive lover anyway. it’s very rare you two are spotted together outside of the tower, especially in his early days as batman

when he starts getting back into the swing of being Bruce Wayne, there are plenty of public events that he’s asked to attend

of which he usually just goes to by himself

but once you two have been together long enough, I think bruce would start asking if you’d be okay being his date to things

like he knows that some of this stuff isn’t your cup of tea, and he knows better than any one that gotham high society is brutal to anyone who doesn’t “fit in”, so he would never want to put you into a position where you felt uncomfortable or ostracized

but he also genuinely is proud to have you by his side, and he’s a little tired of bringing alfred as his date to things LMAO

he makes it painstakingly clear that you’re free to be yourself. he doesn’t want you to put on some facade just to appeal to people that bruce doesn’t actually care about

if you want to go all out at galas, he’s all for it

hell, he’ll even don a few accessories (your choice) to match you

speaking of

I know that not every goth is into this BUT I am

if you and bruce were to get even more serious (or married!), I think that he would be interested in exchanging blood jewelry with you

it’d come up one night as you’re patching him up, pressing a cloth to a cut in his cheek that he got on patrol

he’d be a bit unsure about how to go about asking you since he has no idea if it’d freak you out

but he proposes it carefully, “I’ve seen these... rings. unique rings. I thought about getting us a pair”

when you ask for further explanation, he tells you about artisans who take your blood and fashion them into beautiful bands of silver

they’re minimalist, subtle, and mean something

“I’d like to carry you with me, in a way. what do you think?”

if you’re down, he is excited to get the actual rings done

he has alfred draw the blood for both of you, sending it off to get made, and when the rings come back he immediately finds you to try them on

your matching rings are stunning, a trick of the light that makes others think they’re made of garnet or stained, tempered glass

and if anyone asks, that’s what he might say

it’s your little secret ^^

ALSO

YOU CAN’T STOP ME

if you happen to show him the crow (1994), he is super gonna wanna dress up as eric for halloween with you

I’m talking full face of white paint and black eyeliner/lipstick, tight leather pants, ripped muscle shirt, the WORKS

like, LOOK at the material

you cannot tell me bruce wouldn’t be made for this look

it’d be a few steps out of his comfort zone with the elaborate makeup and the tight-fitting clothing, but I think he’d do it just to have you compliment him

god forbid you tell him that the look suits him and he should wear it more often

I said bruce has to play the role of the squeaky clean ceo but he loves you, public image be damned

I would give anything to be a citizen of gotham experiencing eric!bruce

I would be the biggest pick me ever, I’m sorry dear reader

but all jokes aside, I think bruce would really enjoy having a gothic s/o! he would think ur really cool and hot wear your blood as a priceless accessory (if you’re down) <3

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @moonlightreader649

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanons #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #batman headcanons #batman fic #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #mjwrites

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fromriches-tosin · 22 days

Note

Hi, I am in love your all of your headcanons and fics! Reijean is one of my favorite ships because of you. An underrated trio is definitely Eren/Jean/Reiner, I’m aware that you are also a fan of this trio. Will we potentially see a threeway between these three in a future fic of yours 👀

In the meantime, can we please get a modern AU Eren/Jean/Reiner poly trio headcanons SFW and NSFW 😩 🙏🙏🙏 thank you 💕💕

Hello!! Thank you so much for your kind message. 🥹💜💜

I haven't thought about writing an EreReiJean fic before (I did think about EreJean, and there is that one fic I have lined up that contains elements of Eren/Jean and Eren/Reiner, but it's still mostly a ReiJean story), but it would be nice to spice things up a little. Maybe Reiner and Jean get lost in the Paths, run into Eren and by accident create an alternative reality where the three of them get stuck? I can already hear Jean yelling his head off. Taking care of one suicidal maniac is tough, but two? I'm really digging this idea. 😈

As for a Modern AU!!

The three of them live together. Eren is his charming, dark, bordering on dangerous self, Jean is perpetually annoyed and Reiner is mostly a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. Eren is a hacker, Jean works in a corporation and Reiner is a personal trainer (because why not).

As far as their relationship is concerned, they're all very jealous, but they show it differently. Jean shouts like a madman, Eren gets that morbid look in his eyes that tells you you're going to die in mysterious circumstances, and Reiner smiles brighter than the sun before dropping a barbell on your foot.

Jean is the functional adult of the group (or so it seems because he’s the only one who can cook). He has a "serious job", wears suits, attends company events… But he's also always only a minute away from a mental breakdown because he hates his job (the money is good), so Eren and Reiner feel very protective of him. Even though Reiner might seem quite innocent when compared to Eren who surely has a criminal record, they both can get very intense when it comes to Jean. Also Reiner is big. Very, very big. Eren has a nice knife collection and can prepare a Molotov cocktail with his eyes closed.

Eren always "works" from home unless he disappears without a word for a day or two, and Reiner likes his job so much, it seems like he’s always on vacation. No wonder Jean is constantly pissed off. But Reiner and Eren take good care of him. Jean is a certified pillow princess and a brat, and likes to be doted upon. His lovers know how to keep him happy, but they also know what to do in order to set him off.

Sometimes they start having fun when Jean is still at work, so that when he comes home, he immediately gets red in the face and complains about the mess they’ve made. Eren and Reiner are fucking on the sofa, asking Jean to join them, and Jean is lamenting his life choices. He’s hungry, he wants to take a shower, he doesn’t want anyone to touch him, so Reiner and Eren have to put on a real performance to get him hard – and they always succeed.

Reiner and Eren get off on voyeurism, and Jean is the shy one. Reiner loves watching Eren fuck Jean, and Eren always buys the weirdest sex toys he can find (big fan of Bad Dragon). When Jean gets to be in charge every once in a while, he’s usually a very soft dom and a pleasure top because his mom raised him to be a nice boy.

#thanks for the ask ✨#reijean #reiner x jean #erejean #ererei #reiere #jeanere #erereijean

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typical-simplelove · 2 years

Text

Illicit Affairs (M. Tkachuk)

Summary: Based off of Taylor Swift's Illicit Affairs

Author's Note: This has been a thought on my mind for so long, so I'm glad I've finally been able to put it onto paper. I wrote this today in like two hours because I just couldn't stop thinking about it, so I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think!

Warnings: implied!female reader; arranged marriages; affairs; loveless relationships; the FBI; alcohol; many Folklore references; quite angsty; not proofread

Word Count: 5.5k (including song lyrics)

Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head, keep your eyes down Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

Despite growing up in the glitz and glamour of the American Southeast’s socialite scene, it was never something you enjoyed. While the glitz and glamor and mirrorballs and champagne were fulfilling for moments at a time, you had to force yourself to try to enjoy it. You weren’t that old when you had the epiphany that you realized that you enjoy hanging out at home in your cardigan instead of trying to build up your family’s dynasty.

If there was one thing you did enjoy, however, was meeting so many different people. Your parents owned a large corporation with offices across the world (you couldn’t tell anyone what the company actually did) and had ownership in organizations across the world. It was interesting to see the different types of people and the traditions and how they lived their lives.

Because your parents were part owners of the Florida Panthers, they were invited to the hockey organization’s charity gala, and because your parents said yes to every invitation and used it as a networking event, your parents and you attended. It wasn’t any different than any other gala you’ve attended, but for some reason, you felt at peace. Normally, you opted to exile yourself to a corner and wait for your mother to introduce you to people, but this time, you wanted to do the mingling and networking.

It was half-past seven when your friend Betty introduced you to someone before running off for a secret rendezvous with her husband. You were always slightly jealous that she found the one for her who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with but someone her parents also approved of.

“Matthew Tkachuk,” he says, extending his hand. You place your hand in his as you say your name, and an electric shock goes through your body. You look into his eyes to see if he felt it, too, but when you look into his eyes, it feels as if an invisible string has attached itself between you two and is pulling you closer.

“Hi,” you whisper, your throat suddenly dry. Your mother would say you were acting like a mad woman; socialites don’t get tongue-tied.

“Hi,” he whispers back, his hand not leaving yours.

You both don’t say anything for many more seconds as you both struggle to find the words. What were you supposed to say to someone who basically felt like your soulmate?

Meeting Matthew felt like a beach day in the early days of August when the summer still felt like summer, and the impending year didn’t feel like it was fast approaching. Meeting Matthew felt like you were born anew. He was that missing piece.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom quickly,” you say instantly, dropping Matthew’s hand and running away. You didn’t know what else to do or say.

True to your words, you run to the bathroom and run your hands under cold water to cool your body temperature down. By the time you feel more put together, you exit the bathroom. It’s a surprise when you see Matthew standing across the hall.

He looks up, and his eyes light up like a Christmas tree when he sees you. “I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to spook you or anything. Betty just told me that I had to meet you, and that’s it.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you say, taking a brave step closer to him. You’re looking at him intently, and within seconds, his hands are cupping your face, and your hands move to pull him closer to you by the lapels of your jacket. You’re kissing him within nanoseconds, and it feels like everything’s functioning the way it’s supposed to.

Matthew’s kissing you passionately and forcefully, as if he can’t get enough of you, but he’s also making sure to be gentle and careful. He doesn’t want this to be just one kiss. This kiss is supposed to lead to another kiss to another to a lifetime of kisses that aren’t supposed to ever end.

When you both finally pull apart, it’s too soon.

“I hope that was okay,” he breathes out, still trying to get oxygen into his lungs.

“It was more than okay,” you whisper, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. You reach into the inside pocket of Matthew’s suit jacket and pull out his phone. You turn it on and turn it to his face to ask for his passcode. When he tells you the numbers, you give him a curious look, shocked that he told you considering he’s only known you for an hour. It feels like he’s known you for eons, though.

“It’s my mom’s birthday,” Matthew blurts out. “That’s my passcode.”

You smile as you find his contacts app and add your phone number. “I have to get back to my duties, but don’t be a stranger, Matthew.”

With another small kiss on his cheek, you hand Matthew back his phone and head back to the ballroom. For the next couple of hours, you and Matthew don’t cross paths. It’s a few hours later when Matthew comes up to you as you’re talking with Ines.

“Matthew, this is Ines,” you say as they shake hands.

“I’ll be back,” Ines tells you with a wink.

When she walks away, you give Matthew a curious smile and look at him. Before you’re able to say anything, someone walks up and wraps their arms around your waist and kisses your forehead.

“Ah, Matthew, I see you’ve met my fiancee,” Theodore says.

Matthew’s eyes go wide as he looks at you. “Fiancee?”

“Yeah,” Theodore responds. “Our parents have been friends for our entire lives, so we’ve been in each other’s orbits for years, and we fell in love and here we are.”

So, that was the story you and Theodore were going with.

“I don’t see a ring,” Matthew says, his voice choppy.

“Yeah, I didn’t pick the right ring size, so it’s currently at the jeweler's getting resized.”

“Well, congratulations, if you’ll excuse me,” Matthew announces and walks away to a different group.

It’s closer to midnight when you feel your phone buzz. It’s from an unknown number, but you know it’s Matthew. He’s asking you to meet him on the roof. Looking around to make sure that none of your family is looking, you sneak out of the ballroom and head to the roof.

“You’re engaged?” Matthew asks, enraged when you walk up to where he’s standing. “I know I just met you, but I think that should be some information I should get before I kiss you in the hallway.”

“It’s a loveless engagement,” you quickly defend.

“And?”

“It’s an arranged marriage,” you add. “My parents and his parents are basically forcing us to marry each other so that their respective companies can do a clean merge. Because I don’t have anyone else asking me to marry them, I don’t have a choice.”

“So, what, am I just something you do right before you pledge yourself to Theodore?” Matthew internally vows to never say Theodore’s name or to ever hear it come out of your mouth.

“No,” you say. “I met you, and it was like everything fit into place. Everything made sense, and that’s it. I didn’t come here tonight planning to kiss anyone but Theodore.” Matthew sneers at the name. “But you mean to tell me that what you feel between us doesn’t exist? Are you telling me that this pull that is evidently there between us isn’t there?”

“I’m not saying that,” Matthew responds. “It just would have been nice to know that you were engaged before I kissed you.”

“Understood,” you let out slowly. “You have my phone number if you ever want to talk or anything.”

With that, you head back inside, and Matthew watches you walk away, not putting up a fight. It really didn’t matter if you were engaged or not. He had to have you in his life, and he was going to find a way for it to happen.

So, he called you. And he kept on calling you because he couldn’t stay away. Phone calls turned into meeting for coffee at coffee shops on the other side of town, away from anyone who might know you. Coffee meetings turned into coffee dates with kissing. Kissing on coffee dates turned into kissing in his apartment to the point where Matthew was falling for you.

He should have stopped, but he couldn’t. That pull between you was enough for Matthew to ignore all reason that was telling him this could only end badly.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

It wasn’t often that you managed to spend the night at Matthew’s, but Theodore was out of town for work, so you didn’t have anyone to have to pretend for you. Because he didn’t have any practices or games for the entire weekend, you got to Matthew’s late Friday night after the game and plan to stay until Sunday night where you’ll prepare for Theodore’s flight home early Monday morning.

You were up early on Sunday morning as you soaked in the warmth of Matthew’s ridiculously soft blankets and the warmth his body exuded. Not wanting to detach from his grasp, you get more comfortable in his hold, and in response, asleep Matthew pulls you closer to his body.

This. This is what you thought about when you were at your apartment sleeping in a cold bed next to Theodore. You dreamt about Matthew’s body being sturdy and stable right next to you. You dreamt about the smell of Matthew’s bed sheets, and you dreamt about the way his hair smelled when he took a shower right before going to bed. You dreamt about running your hands through his hair as he tried to stay awake and talk to you after a long day. You dreamt about his arms around you as he held you.

Most of these fantasies, however, lasted for a short amount of time before you had to force yourself to pull yourself from Matthew’s hold and bed and go home. There was only a reasonable time you could get home where Theodore didn’t ask questions (and you wouldn’t ask questions when he did the same). As of late, though, you’ve been pushing how late for a while. Every time you were cuddled into Matthew’s chest on his couch or in his bed, it took more and more out of you to escape his warmth and head home. His apartment exuded warmth, and when you went back to your apartment, it was as if you were stepping into a freezer. You tried to recreate that warmth, but the only way to do it was to have Matthew there. He was the warmth in your life and the only constant source of light.

You didn’t want to ever leave him, but unfortunately, life had demands, and you had to return to them.

“Are you awake?” Matthew murmurs, his voice and eyes groggy with sleep.

“Yeah,” you admit, tightening your hold on Matthew.

“I always try to wake up earlier because I know you’re up early, but I can never do it.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but if I’m asleep, then it means we spend less time together, and I want to squeeze in as much time with you as possible,” Matthew answers, his heart racing. There were three words that he was heavily implying, but he wasn’t going to be the first one to say them. He couldn’t. Matthew couldn’t be the one to say them. Because of the extenuating circumstances of your relationship, Matthew is always careful to guard his heart. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing that ruins it or exposes you. Matthew couldn’t offer you much because he got to love you in the shadows, but if he could offer you anything, it was the promise he’d protect your reputation because that’s all you could offer him. By coming to his apartment every few nights, you were putting your reputation and honor at risk, and while to some it may not mean that much, Matthew knows it’s absolutely everything. You’re giving Matthew absolutely everything to be with him, and he can’t ruin that, mostly because he doesn’t want to lose you.

“Every moment we’re together, whether it be asleep or awake, means everything to me, Matthew,” you answer, a nervousness in your voice. “It doesn’t matter because I love you.”

Matthew’s breath hitches in his throat. He didn’t think you’d ever say it. Matthew got to love you, but he only got to love you from the comfort of his apartment.

He didn’t respond for quite a few seconds, and you instantly started to pull away. “I understand if it’s not the way you feel and if this is just a physical thing for you. I’m sorry if I made things awkward.” Matthew doesn’t register your words until you rip yourself from his embrace and climb out of his bed; you’re changing out of his sweats and t-shirt before Matthew realizes just what happened. He lurches from the bed and rushes over to you.

“I love you, of course, I love you,” Matthew tells you wholeheartedly. “There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t love.”

He really shouldn’t have told you. It was all in secret. Matthew wanted so much more to a relationship with you than you could give, and while he’ll take the clandestine meetings every few days when he wasn’t on the road, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. When you weren’t around, Matthew was a shell of himself; you were the light of his life and the one that kept all the colors shining bright in his life. But he loves you. Of course, he loves you. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t love you.

The smile that overcomes your face is enough for Matthew to know he did the right thing. He chooses to push away any thoughts that you couldn’t give him the future he wanted and chooses to pretend that the minute you get into your car, you’re going to put your flashy engagement ring on. He chooses to pretend that he’s never going to be able to build a future with you.

“Don’t ever doubt that I don’t love you, okay?” Matthew continues. “There’s been this empty part of my heart that’s been throbbing for years to be filled, and I never knew what was supposed to fill that hole, and then I met you. Then, I kissed you. Then, I had you in my arm. That’s when I knew that you were that empty piece. You’re the one who fills that hole. I love you forever and ever, okay?”

“Okay” you murmur before connecting your lips with his. Oh, what he’d do to be able to kiss you in front of everyone he knows.

He only wishes he could tell you and everyone he knows that he loves you.

Leave the perfume on the shelf That you picked out just for him So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

More often than not, you initiated a meeting between you and Matthew. It worked better that way because it was easier to keep things a secret. You know that Matthew hated this system, but he knew how much was at stake for you if it was found out that you were having an affair. An affair was truly a kind word for it because you and Theodore were barely together. You two were engaged, but when it came down to it, all the relationship was a ring on your finger. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was having his own affair; you wouldn’t blame him.

When Matthew texted you saying he had to meet you immediately, you quickly brushed out an excuse, saying you were going for a run or maybe to the gym, and rushed into your car to get to Matthew’s. Your heart was racing as you thought about why he urgently needed to speak to you. Hopefully, nothing was the matter.

Once you reached Matthew’s apartment, you let yourself into his building, using the key he gave to you. Whenever you saw someone in movies aggressively push the elevator button, thinking it would arrive faster, you’d roll your eyes. That standard, however, was blown out the window as you kept pressing the elevator button. You had to get to Matthew’s side. It was impossible going the two or three days you don’t see him, but based on the nature of his text, it felt like something was off.

“Hey,” you breathe out by the time Matthew opens the door to his apartment. He roughly pulls you inside, anger fuming in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“No, everything’s not okay,” Matthew yells before shooting you an apologetic look when he sees you flinch. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” you ask. Without saying anything, Matthew pushes the wedding invitation across his kitchen island in your direction. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

You hummed and hawed on sending this invitation to Matthew. Obviously, considering the nature of your feelings for him and the extent of your relationship, you weren’t sure if it was appropriate for him to be there or if he’d want to be there. You weren’t even sure if you wanted him there considering the man who you were marrying is not the man you love. Ultimately, though, you ended up inviting Matthew because your family’s company was a major part of the ownership of the Florida Panthers, and this wedding was more so for business than it was for any union of love.

“Matthew,” you whisper, gingerly holding the wedding invitations.

“Why did you send this to me?” He’s justifiably getting angry again.

“You and I both know I don’t have much control over the guest list,” you pivot. While that’s true, you were given the ability to veto any options you weren’t particularly fond of.

Matthew just glares at you. “Is that so? You mean to tell me that you have no control over what happens at this wedding?”

“I mean, maybe a little bit, but Matthew—”

“Do you really expect me to go to your wedding? Do you expect me to go to your wedding and watch you marry someone else? This prick?”

“No, but—”

“Do you really, truly expect me to go to a wedding and watch you marry someone else when you should be marrying me?”

You have no response to that. You’ve never thought about marrying Matthew only because it was never an option. Whatever you and Matthew was a way for you to escape and feel love. It was a way for you to fall in love and be happy when your life’s constraints didn’t allow for it.

“I knew from the start what being with you meant and what we could and couldn’t do,” Matthew admits. “I knew I’d never be able to tell my parents that I met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because they’d want to me you and you won’t ever be able to meet them. I knew I’d never be able to bring a date home to my siblings’ weddings because you and I can’t be together romantically outside of these walls. I knew I’d never truly get all of what I’ve ever wanted for my future because of the nature of us and your life. I knew all this, and I never asked for anything I knew you couldn’t give me. I’ve given up so much to be with you—and I know you have to—but did you really think I could give up so, so much of my happiness and watch you marry someone else?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. His words are a spear through your heart.

“We’ve never talked about what happens when you’re officially married. Was this going to continue after you got married and had kids with this guy, or are we over the minute you get onto your parents’ private plane and leave for your honeymoon?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat. You started this relationship with Matthew because he made you feel so great and so happy and so loved. It completed your life. Now, though, it was just about to shatter to pieces.

“Was there ever the option that you and I were going to be together outside of the shadows?” he asks, a deep vulnerability in his tone. “I used to pretend that maybe you’d be able to fight back and it’d be you and me, but I have to know, did you ever think about that, too?”

“I thought about it, but it was never going to be an option,” you admit. “I thought about it when I’d fall asleep next to Theodore.”

“Don’t say his name,” Matthew spits out.

“I thought about it all the time, but I knew it’d never happen, and I’m sorry about that.”

“I think you should leave,” Matthew finally says, wiping away tears.

“Matthew—”

“This was bound to end eventually, so I guess it’s now or never, right?”

While you couldn’t expect Matthew to love you in secret for the rest of your lives, you still wanted to ask. You couldn’t justifiably ask Matthew to sacrifice everything he’s ever wanted just so you could have moments of happiness, but you still wanted to. You still wanted to try even though somewhere down the line it wouldn’t work out. Someone would end up with their hearts being shattered to pieces.

“Thank you for making these past years of my life some of my best years,” you say, walking to the door. “I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

Matthew watches the door close and doesn’t say anything. He just watched the love of his life walk out the door and out of his life, and he didn’t even bother to fight. He didn’t have it in himself to fight for you because as much as he wants to be with you for the rest of his life, he can’t take the secrecy of it anymore. He wants to shout from the rooftops how much he loves you. He wants to take you back to St. Louis; he wants you to meet his family, and he wants you to sit on the couch with his sister and brother and mom and look through the old baby albums that will embarrass him, but it won’t matter because it’s you. He wants to kiss you after a successful win, and he wants to land in your arms after a tough loss. He wants to buy a home in the suburbs with you and argue over which car should be parked in the garage. He wants everything with you, and the way he’s had you isn’t enough anymore. Matthew thought it’d be enough because he’d have you, but it’s not enough anymore.

His love for you isn’t enough to keep him staying.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A million little times

He ended up RSVPing to the wedding. He knew he shouldn’t have said yes to going, but he knew he had to. Matthew knew (after talking to his mom) that he had to go. As much as he wanted to be the one standing at the head of the aisle as you walked down the aisle in a white dress, Matthew knows that will never happen. If he gets to see you in a white dress at least once in his life, then he’ll be content.

By the time Matthew got to the venue, the majority of the seats were taken, so he had to sit in an aisle seat. He, preferably, wanted to snag a seat somewhere in the middle back where you’d completely miss him. He didn’t want to ruin this day for you. Even though he knows you don’t want to marry Theodore (he fucking hates that name now), you still want the magic that a beautiful wedding will have. It’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life, and while it might be the complete opposite, seeing your illicit lover in the crowd isn’t going to be what ruins the day for you.

When the Bridal March starts echoing through the venue, everyone gets to their feet and turns to face the aisle where you’re walking down the aisle. You’re on your own. You’re not being “given away” and you’re not being “offered” like this arranged marriage is signifying. Matthew can’t help but smile at the sentiment you walking down the aisle on your own represents.

He also can’t help smiling at how beautiful you look in your dress. In all his fantasies of you and him getting married, this was the type of dress he always imagined you wearing. As much as he wants to pretend that you picked it for him, he refrains from that thought. He also chooses to ignore the pain swimming through his veins as he realizes this will be the last time he’ll ever see you.

He’s watching you intently, and you haven’t noticed him. Your eyes go from the people sitting in the crowd to Theodore. As if sensing Matthew’s intense look, your eyes quickly scan set on his. Your smile immediately widens. For the first part of the aisle, before you saw Matthew, you were wearing your “delicate, socialite” smile that will look appealing in photos. When you see Matthew, however, your smile widens, and Matthew knows it’s a smile reserved for him only.

Based on the surprise on your face, you must not have known that Matthew said yes to attending. If that was the last surprise that Matthew ever gave you, then it was one damn good surprise.

Your eyes never leave his as you continue up the altar.

“I’m yours forever,” Matthew mouths to you, and based on how quickly your chest starts moving after he says it, Matthew knows you understood it clearly. That was a much better goodbye than six months ago at his apartment.

Your eyes only leave Matthew’s once you pass him and continue making your way up to Theodore. The next ten minutes fly by as Matthew plans his escape. He won’t be going to the reception. That would hurt way too much. It would hurt watching you have the first dance with Theodore when you should be dancing with Matthew. It would hurt watching you and Theodore kiss every time the guests clinked their glasses, and it would hurt watching you and Theodore get into the limo knowing that you’d be spending the rest of your life with Theodore.

The officiant is asking for the rings to be brought up when the door to the ballroom is kicked open.

“Everybody, freeze,” someone yells. When Matthew turns back, he can see the yellow FBI written across his jacket. The FBI team rushes up the aisle to Theodore with a few breaking formations to head to a few of Theodore’s buddies and groomsmen.

“Theodore Carmichael,” the head honcho begins. “You’re under arrest for fraud and insider trading. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to a lawyer. If you can’t afford one, then it will be appointed to you.”

After Theodore is rushed out of the ballroom, many important people at Theodore’s parents’ company and your parents’ company are arrested and ushered out of the ballroom. Everyone who isn’t arrested is standing in place, shocked. When you drop the ring that was supposed to go to Theodore, Matthew hears it hit the marble floor from where he’s standing, and that’s when everything comes to him. He instantly runs up the aisle to you. He rapidly blinks at you to make sure you’re okay.

“I had no idea,” you instantly blurt out, staring straight ahead in shock. “I mean, those are some people who I thought were good people, but then the FBI just arrested them, so now I have no idea about anything.”

“Hey, look at me,” Matthew says, tipping your chin with his thumb to glance at him. “If you don’t know anything, then you should know one thing. You’ll always have me.”

“My father just got arrested,” you whisper, your eyes staring deep into Matthew’s.

“Then my father can be your surrogate father,” Matthew instantly says. “I know he’ll love to be one.”

“Matthew—”

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” your mother interrupts, pulling at your wrist.

“I don’t think so,” Matthew says and pulls you away from the arch and out of the ballroom.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?” you ask when you’re finally sitting in Matthew’s car.

“You look so beautiful,” Matthew responds, ignoring your question.

“Matthew,” you say, sternly. That voice could him to do anything you asked.

“I wanted us to have a better ending than the one in my apartment,” Matthew admits.

“Matthew,” you respond, your voice softening.

“Don’t, okay? It doesn’t matter. I’m glad I was here, okay? I’ll always be here whenever you need me, okay?”

You nod. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do now. All I know is that I love you so much.”

Matthew’s heart lurches and warms. “All I know is that I love you so much, too, and we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, and Matthew starts the car. He exits the parking garage.

If someone were to tell you that you drove out of the parking garage on your wedding day in Matthew’s car instead of Theodore’s, you’d ask if the zombie apocalypse was planned to start once you left for your honeymoon. Now, though, that it’s a reality, you know that it’s only the ending you’d ever want.

And you wanna scream Don't call me "kid" Don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors You know I can't see with anyone else

Epilogue

Let's start with Theodore and your father and everyone else who got arrested. After a way too long trial where the investigators laid out all of the convincing evidence, Theodore and everyone else was each sentenced to 22 years in prison. They all wanted a plea deal, but the state's attorney opted against it and went for a trial-by-jury, and the jury declared them guilty (the State's Attorney was up for reelection and knew a jury trial would boost his ratings).

Your mother wanted you to take over the reins of the company, but you said no. You didn't want anything to do with it, but you also know it would lead to your mother trying to control your life more.

After the trial ended, you stopped speaking to your mother and everyone else in your life at the time.

You moved in with Matthew two hours after the failed wedding. The FBI was already cataloging everything in your apartment, so you went to his apartment and just never left.

Matthew and you fell back in love with each other. In public, this time. You didn't have to hide how much you loved each other, and you were able to hold his hand instead of just brushing his fingers. Everything fell into place, and it all made sense.

Keith very easily said yes to being your surrogate father, and the rest of Matthew's family didn't seem to mind the baggage your life came with, and they didn't seem to mind the extent of your relationship before.

Matthew proposed to you two years after the FBI raided your first wedding. A year later, you and Matthew got married in the Tkachuks' backyard with a small ceremony and reception filled with a few close friends and family. It was the wedding you've always imagined having.

The following fall, you and Matthew bought a house in the suburbs with a two-car garage, so you and Matthew argued over whose car would be parked closest to the door (Matthew never really put up a fight, though).

It was a life that you've always wanted to have, and while it took jumping through many hoops to have it, it was worth it. Matthew changed you in ways unimaginable, and it was unexplainable how excited you were for the rest of your life with him.

And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times

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