#deliberately not using the word support here

[kimbureh]

spoilers for Furiosa ahead

Perhaps I shouldn't be as surprised as I am about how popular Preatorian Jack seems to be among fandom, and especially how popular he is as a love interest for Furiosa.

To me, Jack's character is positioned in that gap between mentor and peer. He's explicitly introduced as a faux father figure when he cites Dementus's first words to Furiosa: "Listen, it's been a tough day for you." (paraphrasing here), but other than Dementus, Jack doesn't catastrophically fail in supporting her. The forehead touch scene between Jack and Furiosa mirrors the one between Furiosa and her mother: it starts one-sided by Furiosa. Jack then reciprocates, which perhaps has romantic implications for *him*, but the text doesn't introduce this gesture as romantic in nature. The forehead touch is about family in general.

I think media has us conditioned to parse any relationship a young woman has to a man, even if he's much older, as primarily romantic, even if the text puts more complexity to it. To me, Jack is positioned in that uncanny valley between father figure and love interest, and very deliberately so. This is the wasteland, the culture and customs are different from those of the so-called "cultural west".

If you ship or don't ship, either way, there are no clear cut relationships in the wasteland, and that's part of what makes the Mad Max universe so interesting to me.

[I'll probably write more Furiosa meta, and this is the placeholder where I'll link to it]

[dotthings]

"This is one of the great things about the show and I think the relationships and some of these characters is that they're open for interpretation. If you find identity in a character because of whatever reason, fantastic! Great!...That's one of the beautiful things about what we do is that we get to encourage people on a variety of levels"

--Jensen Ackles, Dencon, October 2021

This is all the receipts I need for what I'm going to say here. But note there are plenty of others, and stories from fan encounters, where Jensen has shown his support for queer readings, including wrt bi Dean.

When people continue to try to assign Jensen as their straight Dean king and their anti bi-Dean crusade leader, when they continue to project into him their own biases, their own simplistic hard binary thinking, and their own desperate need to box Dean in to being absolutely straight, without the slightest possibility of anything else, they are using him.

I'm not condoning Destiel shippers who turn on him just for not speaking in the way they demand, but the self-righteous Karens of standom are not actually better as they insist that Jensen absolutely slammed the door on the fingers of bi Dean interpretation over and over and over and threw away the key.

He did not.

Or insist that he never uses carefully chosen open-ended language for a reason.

He does.

And these self-righteous Karens using Jensen in this way, some of whom claim to be Jensen's biggest stans, never stop to think that it's not just the Destiel lane ripping his arms off. It's them too.

It never occurs to them for even a moment what would happen to Jensen if he ever, someday, decided to be more candid on the full range of his views on Dean's sexuality and entertained the idea that Dean is bi.

All this talk of "respect Jensen" would evaporate fast.

Treating Jensen's words as if he speaks in absolute terms and the weaponization to attack and shut down queer readings goes completely contrary to how Jensen actually wants to run things.

They respect him so long as they can project onto him that he's their straight Dean king.

My point is that the potential for backlash targeting from the anti bi-Dean and the straight Dean evangelizers crowd is very real and just as likely as the backlash Jensen gets from the Destiel side.

Jensen continues to get his arms yanked off by the straight Dean evangelizers and none of these self-righteous Karens care. They only care about "blame the hellers" and refuse to look in the mirror.

And it's cynical, and it's horrendous, and it's hard to witness.

spn fandom is not a safe space for queer readings or for any creative, be it writers or actors, who speak about creative intention on gay Cas or bi Dean or how Destiel was woven into the canon. The queer coding was very very real and deliberate, and had to be queer coding due to corporate queer censorship. That is a real thing. Gaslighting about it and boot stomping around isn't going to make it go away or make it so that wasn't creative intent.

bi Dean is part of the canon, as queer coding. Unless you throw away spn canon itself, there's no escaping it and fans are free to notice it.

And Jensen is not the one telling us we can't. Or we shouldn't. Or that we have to shut up.

That would be the self-righteous Karens who keep deigning to speak on his behalf.

PLEASE NOTE: my support of Jensen doesn't hinge on his open support of bi Dean and I really appreciate his support of queer readings. What I am acknowledging is there is another side to this and it's not pretty, and I do not trust the way Jensen is used as a shield for people who are disgusted by the idea of bi Dean or who need bi Dean to be shut out of acknowledgment for their own fandom agendas.

[ao3commentoftheday]

I don't know if you've seen the latest iteration of "tumblr is dying" but if you haven't, Automattic (owners of tumblr) have decided they will put the site into maintenance mode. This doesn't mean that tumblr will disappear, it just means that they'll keep the lights on and that's about it. They're taking the staff who have been working hard to try to make the site a success, and they're relocating those folks to other projects. A skeleton crew will remain on tumblr, keeping the site alive.

If we want tumblr to thrive, however, then we need to do something to support it - and that something is financial.

If you're someone who enjoys your time on tumblr and you're someone who has an entertainment budget, then consider visiting the TumblrMart and buying yourself a badge. Go ad-free. Choose the new option that I just discovered which is "Support tumblr" - that's the shiny t badge I now have that will change colour over time for the longer I subscribe.

This doesn't require every single user to pay for tumblr. Far from it. Just look at AO3 as the example. Time after time, they hit their fundraising goals and beyond, and I don't think they've ever had more than 10K individual donors for a userbase of something like 5 million.

I've been on this site for a decade. It's the only social media I actually like. I think the internet would be worse off if tumblr wasn't around. I'm going to pay what I can to keep this community around, and I'm going to encourage others to do the same.

If that's something you don't want to see, then feel free to block the tag subsidize tumblr that I'll use on posts like that. If you're open to the idea, then expect the occasional post from me on the subject.

Fandom has lost enough homes in my lifetime. If I can do anything to keep this one around, I will.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft. 

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex. 

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea." 

"They are." 

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked. 

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch. 

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable. 

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late. 

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby. 

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours. 

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon. 

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar. 

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration. 

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do. 

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight. 

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world. 

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear. 

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that. 

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?" 

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that. 

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts. 

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…? 

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting. 

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave. 

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal. 

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want. 

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing. 

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force. 

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…" 

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped. 

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes. 

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come– 

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!" 

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears. 

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor. 

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two. 

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

[luckybyler]

This was a reply to someone else, but I'm making this its own post because so many people are being so evil right now re: Noah Schnapp.

You can find other, longer explanations with history and all, but all the places I've seen more or less agree with this:

So you're all calling people to cancel Noah because he's in favor of a Jewish nation in what is today Israel. Which is a perfectly reasonable, decent and educated opinion to have, especially when you, to use a trendy term, "educate yourself" and find out why the state of Israel was created.

11000 dead Palestinians, half of them children

According to Hamas. Don't forget that, ever. They're the current, official government of Gaza, thus they're the ones who give numbers. This means that the real number could be 10, 1 million, anything in between. What I've read is that they probably give more of less accurate total numbers. What they fail to do, however, is distinguish between Hamas militants and civilians, and beteween civilians killed by IDF strikes, civilians killed by failed Hamas or Palestininan Islamic Jihad's rockets (which happens a lot), and Palestinians murdered by Hamas/PIJ (which also happens, a whole damn lot). They also don't specify how many civilians they have prevented or tried to prevent from evacuating or receiving aid.

11k dead people is a horrible number. Even 1 dead person is a horrible number. However, urban warfare in such a densely populated area is its own kind of hell, especially when the other side is fond of using civilians as human shields in every way possible. The fact that the number is 11k and not 50k, 100k, and so on, indicates that the IDF have indeed done a lot to minimize deaths. You don't genocide people by doing roof knocks, opening evacuation lines, dropping guided bombs, putting up an Iron Dome to deal with rockets while avoiding escalation, etc. simply because actual genocide, while a lot worse, is also cheaper, easier and faster than what they're doing. This is important because caling every act of war genocide dilutes the word, and there are actual genocides happening around the world. Also, there is a difference between striking military targets and causing civilian deaths as a side effect (what the IDF is doing) and planning and carrying out a massacre deliberately targeting civilians and inflicting as much pain and humilliation as possible on them. And there is a difference between doing so by breaking a ceasefire (which is what Hamas did), and defending your country because if you don't do that a terrorist group will anhilate you (which is what the IDF is doing).

Back to Noah. So far, these are the things that people have tried to cancel him for:

Traveling to Israel (a completely normal thing)

Having Israeli friends (another completely normal thing)

Condemning Hamas' horrible attack on October 7th (the decent thing to do)

Posting a statement saying he feels unsafe as a Jewish person in the US (which, given the rise of antisemitic acts in the world, including the US, including where he lives and where he studies, is a valid feeling to have)

Signing a letter, along with Shawn Levy, Brett Gelman, Ross Duffer and I think Cara Buono, asking Biden to press for the liberation of every hostage by Hamas. This especially shows the utter ignorance of the cancellers because, as it turns out, caring about every hostage implies a slowdown of IDF's actions (and, at the time, a delay of a ground invasion).

Supporting the existence and preservation of the state of Israel (once again, a completely normal thing). The fact that people are turning against him for these things says to me that the real reason you are all hating Noah is beacuse:

He's Jewish. Like, really really Jewish.

And the fact that this all comes from a place of antisemitism isn't hidden at all: I've seen y'all on here, on Twitter, Reddit, every other social media calling him slurs (such as "cunt"), censoring his name, pretending he's not part of the cast, asking the Duffers/Netflix to fire him, wishing him failure, doxxing him, calling on his classmates to physically assault him, etc. He doesn't need to educate himself: you guys are already teaching him a great lesson on why a Jewish state is necessary. If that's the treament he gets from his own "fans", what can he expect from the world at large?

[morallyinept]

I don't rant very often - it's negative energy that I don't want or need in my life - but I feel that as a fan of Pedro Pascal, I'd like to take a moment to highlight what being a fan actually means.

As clearly, some people, some "fans", have demonstrated having a hard time grasping that concept...

Being a fan of Pedro Pascal means I enjoy his career, his portfolio of works.

Sure, I enjoy his physical looks too; the man is certainly as handsome as they come, let's be real here. Yes, I find him attractive.

More importantly, I enjoy what Pedro stands for; his beliefs, his passions. He stands up for injustice, he is an LGBTQIA+ advocate and friend. He is a feminist. He is politcal. He's proud of his heritage.

Is Pedro perfect? Do I believe the sun shines out of his ass? No, he's human and has flaws and off days like the rest of us.

Ain't no-one that is perfect, babe. That's delusion talking if you truly believe that.

I enjoy that Pedro inspires me to be a better human being.

Being a true fan, to me, means only positive things.

It means respect.

It means respecting Pedro's boundaries, be that in person, or online.

It means respecting Pedro's privacy. He has the right, just like any one of us, to a personal life seperate from his career.

Pedro doesn't have to answer to you, me, or anyone else about his private life.

You are not entitled to him, or his time, just because he is a celebrity. (God, I fucking hate that word.) He does not owe you anything, and nor should he be expected to.

Pedro Pascal is a human being.

As a fan of Pedro, I will not write fanfic about him. Only his characters, because his characters are primarily the reason why I admire Pedro. His characters are how I discovered Pedro to begin with.

He can make me laugh, cry, fall in love, wince when he loses an arm, gasp when he double crosses the protagonist. I can survive a fungal apocalypse with his characters by my side.

That's an incredible testament to his talent as an actor that no matter what role he plays, I don't see Pedro on the screen. I only see his characters.

It's his job and he enjoys it. As a fan, I enjoy his craft.

If you do write about Pedro, that's up to you and I am not going to judge, but for me personally, it's a hard no. And I won't be reading any of it either, sorry.

As a fan of Pedro, I can draw the line between fantasy and reality. Meaning, I would never go out of my way to invite, devise, plant myself in deliberately, or exploit a situation where Pedro is in my personal space, or I in his.

Firstly, I'm a realist. And secondly if I ever met the guy, chances are I'd walk right past him and not even notice. (It's happened a lot, not with Pedro but with other actors etc... I live in the capital, there are a lot of them here.)

And thirdly, I am not a stalker.

I would never intentionally track him down in another country whilst he is working or vacationing, and then post about how slighted I am on IG that he told me to politely leave him alone because I was too persistent in getting too close. I would never relocate and uproot my life just to live near him in the hopes we bump into one another and fall desperately in love. 🙄

This is real life people, not a movie.

This kind of behaviour from Pedro's so-called fans is questionable, and frankly concerning to anyone with a sane mind.

I would also never bully or belittle anyone because their fan account is more popular than mine. I would never actively enforce or seek to enforce the deliberate closure of any fan accounts because I am petty or jealous.

Unfortunately this has happened and I am sorry to have heard about those who were affected by it - you did not deserve that.

Sadly, all these things have happened. For real. And it's utterly gross behaviour from, in most cases, fully grown women who are old enough to know better.

We are all here to enjoy and support Pedro, so why is that such a hard concept to grasp? Why does fandom have a toxic corner?

I'll tell you why.

Because thanks to social media, and platforms like Tumblr, it's all too easy to sit faceless behind a keyboard and do and say whatever you want, without any real consequence.

There are always a few bad eggs, in any fandom, who feel they are superior, that they know everything. That because they found a new image or a clip first that they are entitled to police everything. That they are entitled to dictate how fandom should be run.

I've got news for you; you're not.

Fandom is inclusive, sharing, a creative hub for ideas, inspiration. A place to forge friendships, relationships because you have common ground. The coming together of like-minded individuals to celebrate and endorse their admiration for their idol in a safe, non-threatening place.

A place for creativity to flow, for confidence in yourself to grow. To create original stories from canon, to create unique head canon because we don't want these lovable characters to die. To paint amazing pictures. To get excited over Pedro's new projects and discuss your favourites.

That's fandom. That's being a fan.

Being a fan doesn't mean creating, spreading, peddling or posting harmful material that 1) is frankly abhorrently disgusting and is not only insulting to Pedro, but also his family, his friends etc... and 2) could also be potentially damaging to his career.

I am referring to the vile deepfake of Pedro currently doing the rounds now on Tumblr because some idiot thought it was funny to clog up our timelines with it.

I don't want, or need, to see that, thanks.

And whoever created it originally should be fucking ashamed of themselves. I would wholly encourage you to report and block any accounts that have done this.

Imagine how you would feel if your face, your image was used and violated in that way.

You'd be outraged, right? Hurt? Sickened?

This kind of manipulation of AI is exactly what the WGA and SAG-AFTRA are concerned about and were/are striking for.

What Pedro is striking for, and then someone has the gall to pull this sickening stunt.

It's what artists are concerned about. What writers are concerned about. AI wasn't created to be abused in this way.

So, what makes you think that all this behaviour is acceptable to do to a man, who is nothing but generous and kind?

A man who would give you help, no questions asked, if he ran into you, in his own words:

And you have the audacity to call yourselves fans?

A man who, if he knew, what his "fans" do, I'm certain he would be absolutely disgusted and not condone any of it.

☝🏻Let me make it abundantly clear:

If you have looked for, deliberately searched for, posted, jerked off to, liked or shared that vile deepfake clip, video, pic - whatever the fuck it is - in any way then, YOU ARE NO FAN OF PEDRO PASCAL.

And I am certainly no fan of yours.

Do better. Don't be a dick.

[bogleech]

Guess I have to make a main thread about this. Someone decided to fight with me in the notes on this post just yesterday about Gaza and made select responses of mine into a callout thread here, where they say my anger towards the IDF is all a cover for antisemitism. This didn't make any sense, because they said they were also against the IDF killing civilians, and I repeatedly said that Jewish people aren't to blame for the IDF or represented by the IDF in any way, putting us supposedly both on the exact same page. What gerry leaves out of their own screenshots, and I'd actually forgotten, is that at first they came at me from an angle that I was disrespecting the victims in Gaza.

So this implies they feel gaza is being subjected to a genocide, and a pretty big one, since they're upset my language made it sound "smaller and tamer." When it becomes obvious that I do in fact consider it a serious genocide, that's when they switch over to saying that my criticism of Netanyahu or the IDF is inherently an attack on Jewish people.

Notice I never actually said "zionists" in this screenshot, even, but that I defined "regular humans" as humans who don't want to kill innocent families. That would automatically include Jewish people since they overall do not wish to kill anyone, but have in fact spent quite a lot more time trying not to get killed. I believe there may be entire books about this fact! I think there's even whole museums about it, if I'm not mistaken?!

So then they pivot to saying I'm an antisemite because I said the IDF and its supporters can "burn in hell," and they say "invoking hell" is an antisemitic dogwhistle, which is definitely news to me?!

So I tried to clarify, again, that I'm only angry at the people who are themselves killing civilians and the "pro-genocide maniacs" who defend the killing of civilians, which they responded to as if I had "lumped them in" with those. You can just see right there that I didn't make any assumption that they were a part of that at all. Thanks to their earlier comments I still thought I was speaking to someone 100% against the IDF's actions, but every time I said that the killers and their advocates alone are bad, they've framed it in some new way as me just not liking anyone Jewish. So now that you have that context:

...In a response to an ask, they finally just say they hated me to begin with and set out with the intention to "bait and sealion" me (their own words!!) into saying something they hoped would be antisemitic, which they believe was successful despite me never saying anything about Jews other than "this isn't their fault." They saw what they admittedly wanted to, so strongly, that they show me saying "this isn't the fault of Jews" as evidence that I blame Jews. But speaking of people "going mask off"

In multiple more recent posts and asks, this person appears to say that they simply do not believe the IDF is really targeting children or ambulances or relief aid, that "none of those are true," and the deliberate targeting of any children is supposedly just a conspiracy theory??? So I guess they did successfully troll me and I feel like a real gullible dumbass, because the only reason I continued responding to this person in the first place was that they said they were in fact against the ongoing massacre. Instead, these comments sound like they think the IDF is being unfairly vilified by dishonest propagandists, and that's why they hated me enough to try and fish for callout fuel. That's the nastiest fucking thing anyone's yet pulled on me about this and it's not one that I'm just going to ignore. I should have smelled a troll early on and just blocked them, but it's SO hard for me to suspect ulterior motives. I always go in thinking people mean well, and that there's just a miscommunication we can work out. I almost feel like this individual noticed that and tried to exploit it?!? Unfortunately I'm sure this kind of thing will happen again simply because I don't intend to obediently shut up about what's being done to Gaza. It's not logistically possible for the death and destruction to all just be accidental collateral damage. Don't let anybody ever fool you into thinking the IDF is the face of the Jewish community or vice-versa, just as you can't let anyone fool you into thinking Hamas represents all Palestinians. Especially don't engage this person, stop doing so if you have been, and block them.

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

congrats on the 2k!! ❤️❤️ can i request meleys #26 for daemon pls? 🫶🫶🫶

DON‘T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME.

Part 2

CEO!Daemon Targaryen x female Reader

“i wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it”

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTACT—MINORS DNI; p in v, (semi) public sex, modern AU

WORDS: 1 K

NOTES: I really said "a very short drabble" lmfao and here I am giving you 1K words. The end is abrupt, but this would have been 5K words long if I hadn't stopped. I won't beta these drabbles!

Let's celebrate my milestone!

Daemon might have undone the zipper at the back of your short, black dress, but he hasn’t lowered it more than having the top of it pool around your waist. He hasn’t bothered opening your bra, and has merely tugged the flimsy fabric down to allow your breasts to spill over the black lace. 

“Want to fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it, bunny,” he rasps into your ear, pressing his chest flush against your back to pin you to the floor-to-ceiling window of his office that overlooks the busy financial district of King’s Landing. 

Though the gold glass hitting your exposed breasts has you gasping at first, you can't deny the thrill of excitement darting up your spine. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you hum, biting your bottom lip as you feel his large hands push the skirt of your dress up. 

“Is that so?” he drawls, the amused tint in his voice prompting you to huff. 

The sound of him loosening the zipper in the front of his slacks is drowned out by how loud your heart beats in your ears, and you’re merely reminded that he’s done so as you feel his calloused fingers tug your panties to the side to align his hard cock with your pussy. 

“Have you–” The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue with his thick cock breaching your tightness, the words replaced by a wanton moan. 

You feel his forehead resting against the side of your head, but with your cheek pressing against the window, you’re immobilized and can’t even catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder, only feeling his hot breath caress your skin.

It’s good he doesn’t pound into you straight away, his heavy breathing and trembling hips indicating he needs a short moment to adjust just as much as you, because it gives you the chance to voice what hasn’t left your lips before. 

You take in a deliberate breath, pressing your lips into a thin line before they part again. “Have you locked the door?”

Though he’s buzzing with arousal, enjoying the feeling of you clenching around him, his mind is still very much clear and not as hazy as yours, allowing him to scoff and mock your attempt to maintain decorum. “Didn’t I say I want everyone to know?” he hums, bringing both paws to your hips to keep you steady and still. “That also applies to my employees.”

There’s no chance for you to reply, because the moment he snaps his hips up into yours, every coherent thought flies straight out the window with his cock brushing your sweet spot.

Your palms are pressed flush against the glass, and you completely rely on him to keep you upright and supported. “God, fuck,” you pant, screwing your eyes shut. 

He squeezes your hips tight enough to surely leave some bruises in the following hours, and it’s clear as day that he’s merely using you as a means to an end, to satisfy the desperate need of having something he alone could control. 

It’s the fact that even after his older brother has conceded the executive chair to him, Viserys still gets involved to the point his younger brother truly doubts his leadership qualities. 

And if this is one way for him to cope with it, you certainly won’t complain. 

“Such a good, little slut for me,” he grunts, each thrust pushing you up against the window. “Taking me so fucking well. Getting all worked up just thinking about someone seeing us, mh, seeing how good I’m fucking you.”

Releasing a shaky whimper, you arch your back and start to grind your hips back and forth, meeting him halfways. 

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, and you meekly shake your head despite the truth in his words. It does turn you on. “N-No,” you pant, closing your eyes as you feel the flush blossoming on your cheeks. 

Daemon scoffs yet again, and serves a harsh slap to your ass that catches you by surprise. “You’re dripping, bunny,” he mocks, the lilt of confidence and authority in his voice sending a new wave of arousal to ooze out of your cunt and trickle down his cock and heavy balls. Since he has lowered them barely enough to free himself, most of your essence is caught by the dark fabric. “I’m afraid my assistant will have to get me a new pair of pants once I’m done with you.”

He proceeds to snake his hand between your body and the glass, rubbing your clit with his nimble index and middle fingers. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, sweet thing?” He presses his chest against your back again, and dips his head forward to capture your earlobe between his teeth. It’s a grazing touch, but still has goosebumps prickling on your skin. “Daddy wants to fuck you on his desk next.”

The coil inside of you tightens quickly with all sensations hitting you at once, and you’re once again surprised by how well Daemon knows your body, strumming it like a fiddle and always getting what he wants. 

You convulse all over him with a mewl, the grinding of your hips stopping as the white, hot pleasure becomes too much. But his thrusts don’t stutter or slow down, keeping the intensity to the point you’re losing your mind. 

“That’s it,” he coos through gritted teeth. “Show everyone the pretty face you always make when you’re soaking my cock.” You’re not sure whether it’s his fingers still toying with your clit, his cock still snapping in and out of you, or if his praise alone is enough to prolong your orgasm, but you feel yourself keening at his words. 

With a few more thrusts, bringing you to the point of overstimulation, he reaches his own release, twitching cock spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. And while you thought he’s done, considering he’s panting behind you like a mad man, you’re surprised when he pulls out and turns you on your heels. 

“Clothes off, and on the desk,” he rasps, taking a step back to allow you to move while he loosens his tie. When you don’t comply quick enough, he raises his brow. “Or do you want me to do it for you, bunny? But then you’ll have to go home naked.”

Daemon Taglist: @barbiedragon @schniiipsel

Small Taglist: @heimtathurs @valeskafics @black-dread @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @hypocritic-trash-baby @connorsui @moonlightfoxx @snowystark @fan-goddess @lovelykhaleesiii

[nmjoo-n]

FADE INTO YOU ☕️ jeon jungkook.

pair. barista! jungkook x f. reader | genre. friends with benefits, romance, jealousy, angst | warnings. possessiveness, profanity, pet names, unprotected sex, slight toxic behavior, degradation kink, zenophilia, oral sex, edging, spit kink, exhibitionism, smoking | word count. 4.7k

synopsis. “oh angel, for how fucking adorable you are, you sure don’t use that pretty little brain of yours much,” or jungkook has no limits when it comes to you. you’re his, he’s gonna get it through your head, eventually.

You dared bring another fucking guy in his work place.

Was it deliberate? God knows you love your little fucking mind games, especially if Jungkook’s on the receiving end. Oh, he was beyond furious. He had half a mind o spit in the fuckers coffee and smugly watch as he drinks that shit, completely unaware as he desperately tries to shove his tongue down your throat after that, one date in.

But you’d know. You were always better at reading him, deciphering the different expressions on his face. He ought to bruise your fucking ass for this, spank you till you’re dripping wet for him, and then shove his cock in your mouth, facefuck you until your stupid hole is sore, and your cunt is clenching for no one but him.

What a pathetic loser. What the fuck did you see in this clown?

“Dude, you’re shaking. You okay?” Jimin nudges him with his elbow, raising a questioning eyebrow, black hair falling in his curious eyes.

Jungkook shakes his head, and removes his apron angrily, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and phone with him. He knows he’s being unreasonable; you’re single, and beautiful, God so fucking beautiful it physically hurts him, and he’s just the lucky guy that gets to fuck you whenever you’re up for it, nothing more, nothing less. A supporting character. Fuck, he knows. But his feelings are for him, they’re private, and right now they’re out of fucking control.

The urge to punch your date in the throat is driving him up a wall. He needs to get the fuck away from here—away from you and your innocent, ignorant ways. Deep breaths, deep fucking breaths Jeon, she hasn’t fucked him yet, and don’t you dare picture that, don’t be a fucking dick, walk away, walk away now.

“I’m going on break,” he announces, but he’s already on the other side of the counter, going for the door, hands busy with the lighter you gifted him on his birthday.

You’ve said your hello’s, you exchanged the necessary, polite words you do every time you see each other in public so there’s nothing else to say. He doesn’t look at you as he passes by, can’t bear to. There’s nothing else you could possibly want with him, not unless it’s after hours, behind closed bedroom doors. Or bathroom ones—or rooftops, staircases, couches, balconies, the beach that one time, his car, the steering wheel digging into your lower back, just last week—no.

Not fucking going there.

Sitting on the ledge right outside the shop, he puts the cig in his mouth, bringing that silver lighter close to it, lighting the edge of it. Taking an inhale of the stick between his fingers, he feels the harmful calm it produces overtake him for the first time that day. He needed nicotine like he needed your pussy pressed against his face, especially since you walked in with that lame looking motherfucker after you told him you’d call.

You never did.

Jungkook doesn’t want to be this way; he never used to curse this much, smoke this much, not before he met you. You’ve tested him in every possible way a man can be tested, have haunted his every waking thought, have wrapped him around your pretty fucking finger and are twirling him around in a never ending, whiplash inducing dance out of which there’s no escape. He’d do anything for you, be anything for you, god he already has, but you couldn’t care less. There was no love in you for him—not the kind he has for you.

Trust him, he wishes he could cut all ties with you, forget you. Stop loving you so goddamn much. But there’s no button for that, no way he can get out of his own body, discard his heart.

Goddamn him, his fucking dick is hard just with the proximity of you. Knowing you were near, having smelled your perfume earlier, the sweetness of your scent mixed with vanilla and something floral, something he’s only smelled on you, and that cursed mini skirt, fuck him, with those legs of yours… legs he’s had wrapped around his torso, over his shoulders, legs he’s kissed a thousand times over, has run his hands over, has worshipped.

No, you couldn’t do this to him. This is the last time you fuck him over, the last time he lets you—he’s going to put you in your fucking place, he decides. He’s going to have to show you who’s been there for you, who fucks you dumb, senseless—who’s cock you’ve been screaming for over and over again, who’s cum you’re craving down your throat almost every night.

Who you belong to. Because fuck anyone that dares so much as think they can have you. You’re his. He just has to get it through that thick head of yours, once and for all. Before he goes fucking insane.

Finishing his smoke, he ties his hair back and away from his face, getting off your Instagram page at once. Look at him, obsessing over your whereabouts, the tags on your pictures, who you’re with when he’s not with you. In you. Fucking ridiculous.

He goes to your last text conversation, a curt message from you two days ago at three in the morning. His eyes skim over it, reading it in your drunk voice, that delicious slur of your tongue, the way you must’ve slowly blinked at his texting you so late in the night. He wants you to think of him always, all goddamn day. As much as he does.

He wants you as obsessed as him.

[03:21am] just came home.

[03:22am] it’s late (y/n). go to sleep.

He decides to text you, then. Make sure you know he’s not going to let this go, that you’re taking it too far coming there, dressed like that, and with another man when his seed is still inside of you.

[19:07pm] is this my replacement? disappointed in you sweetheart.

If Jungkook’s good at anything—he knows how to get a good rise out of you. All that’s left is to sit patiently and wait. You’ll come to him, eventually. You always do.

A half an hour later, you’re standing in front of him, manicured nails digging into your crossed arms in barely contained anger.

He wipes his hands with a rug, giving Jimin the drinks he’d just made, completely ignoring your thunderous glaring. He feels those eyes pierce through his soul, though. How can he not—he’s never been very good at pretending, and God knows you demand all of his attention.

“Replacement? Really, Jungkook?”

Jimin looks between the two of you, sensing the tension. He’s always suspected there’s something going on, but that just confirmed it. Failing to hide his smirk, he balances the tray in one palm and fucks off to the last remaining table for the day.

“Am I wrong?” Jungkook stares at your mouth, the dark stain of your lips, the curve of your jaw, those ample cheeks of yours—you’ve such a cute fuckable face, it’s one of his worst weaknesses.

He can never stay mad at you for long.

“You are.”

“My apologies, angel.”

The sarcasm doesn’t escape you.

You sigh, leaning against the counter, extending both hands towards him. He blinks at them, his own morphing into fists at his sides. He wouldn’t cave in, not this time. You needed to be taught a lesson. You needed to stop refusing him, treating him like second choice.

“Can we talk about this later?” You say in that velvet voice of yours, the one that never fails to hypnotize him into submission. “He’s waiting for me outside.”

Jungkook let’s out a dry laugh, nodding his head bitterly at your words. There’s no magic behind them today, no spell. “We wouldn’t want him to wait,” he deadpans.

“Jungkook.”

“(Y/N).”

You huff, and remove yourself from the bar completely. His body instinctively moves closer, but his mind is set. A terrible fucking jealousy is eating him alive, setting him aflame.

“You’re acting childish.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not the one two-timing people,” he retorts as calmly as possible, wanting to hurt you a little. Nothing like how you’ve hurt him. “Does he know how filthy you like getting fucked? How there’s another man that knows his way around your body like the palm of his fucking hand?”

You step back, face betraying guilt. “Stop it.”

He shrugs, and winks at you, proud of himself. “It’s the truth, angel. Don’t bring him into this if you don’t want him getting hurt.”

“You’re such an asshole, Jeon Jungkook,” you snapped, eyes glittering with tears. Jungkook looked away at once, his jaw clenching in annoyance.

Are you really taking that fuckers side? How long have you known him? Maybe a fucking week, if he had to guess. Jungkook has had you for years.

“Don’t ruin this for me,” you demanded, stomping your foot like a little kid.

Jimin had returned to his post next to his friend, and was witnessing your amusing temper tantrum. He also noticed the younger man’s struggle, the effort it took to stay put in that place of his.

“Ruin?” He mused over the word out loud, then laughed wholeheartedly, with his entire chest. It was an empty sound, a patronizing thing. “If you want to go with him, be my fucking guest baby girl. But if you do,” he warns, forearm resting on the wood in front of him. “you better forget about me. I’m not fucking sharing you.”

You stood hurt, a sour expression curving those perfect lips downwards, weighing your options. This was the moment Jungkook would finally see if you truly thought anything of him, if he mattered enough for you. Or at least if he was more important than a random guy you picked off a club. And God he hoped, for your sake, you picked him. Otherwise he would not be responsible for the Hell he’d give you afterwards.

Who he’d become if you dropped him. He’s scared of himself.

“What’s it going to be?” He presses, pinning you in place with those dark orbs. “Don’t make me become someone I don’t want to be, honey. You and I both know you’ll regret it.”

“Fuck you.”

Jungkook smiles at you, all charm and danger. “It’d be my pleasure.”

When you sulkily sit on the bar stool, and start typing on your phone, your decision sets in him. You chose him. His chest swells, his cock straining against his pants. He’d take you right then and there if he could; lift you on top of the counter, and fuck into you until all you know is his name, until all other men pale in comparison to him. What he does instead—he pulls your face in for a bruising kiss, his big hand cupping your jaw tightly, his tongue forcing your lips open.

“Get a room, Jesus,” he hears Jimin mutter, but he could give less of a fuck. He’s waited way too long for this. Let them watch, I know how to put on a fucking show.

You melt under his touch, letting him consume you. He growls low, and bites down on your bottom lip. You moan, and everything blurs—you’re alone. He craves nothing but you, needs to have you before insanity renders him incapable of fucking you properly.

“I’m getting off early,” he hesitantly pulls back and slaps Jimin’s chest, apron coming off in a blink of an eye.

“Sure, yeah, cause you can do that,” his friend sarcastically replies, but lets him go anyway.

“Don’t be too mad at him,” you add, smiling sweetly. Jimin smiles back, can’t help it. Jungkook glares, messenger bag over his shoulder, and jumps over the wooden top in one swift move.

“Stop fucking staring, Park,” he wraps an arm around your waist protectively, and takes you away. “I’m off!”

You barely made it to the car, before Jungkook turned you around, locking you between the passenger door and his muscled chest. His knee pushed between your legs, your hands on his sides squeezing the skin there. His head dipped to your ear, voice soothing you open, receptive. When his fingers disappeared beneath your skirt, a gasp tore through your throat, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You wanted him too, your pussy told him so. Your panties were all creamed up, thighs begging to be rubbed together to provide any sort of friction. He gave it to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your clit. You were throbbing—fuck how much he loved this.

“Tell me baby girl, were you going to keep him around for me to watch while you get fucked? You know you only have to ask,” he whispered, teasing you with those long fucking fingers of his.

In plain sight, for everyone to see. Christ.

“Like Hell you would,” you retort, breathless. “You’re a selfish man, Jungkook.”

He smirks at that, clicks his tongue against his teeth, and chuckles darkly. “You’re right on that,” he pulls you on him and rubs his erection against your clothed cunt. “Can’t let no one touch what is mine.”

“I’m not yours.” A weak remark, as your hips moved with his. He ignored it entirely.

He saw your naked neck, the way you swallowed, and attacked the sensitive skin there, grazing it with his teeth, sucking harshly on it. You hissed at the sensation, yet wanted more. What a contradiction of a woman, Jungkook thought, pulling me in but pushing me away. Unfortunately, for what he was planning on doing to you, he couldn’t be seen.

“Oh, but you are,” he whispers against your cheek, cuffing both of your wrists in one hand behind your back, slowly opening the car door for you to get in. “Oh angel, for how fucking adorable you are, you sure don’t use that pretty little brain of yours much.”

He lowered his head to be on eye level with you. He couldn’t possibly make it any clearer, not unless he bought a ring and put some babies in you.

“I own you.”

Your eyes told him so. The musk on his fingers guaranteed it. He smacked the door shut, licking your juices clean off. You tasted like fucking paradise.

He’d fucking destroy you.

Jungkook loved your neck, how easily it could turn purple, how perfect his hand fit around it, almost like it was made for him. He wouldn’t doubt it for a fucking second—the rest of you molded all over him, every nook and cranny.

Lifting you up the kitchen table, he felt like taking you raw, just like that; pushing your skirt up and burying himself in your folds. His thumb hooked between your lips, pressed down to open your mouth, your gaze following his movements closely. Pudding in his hands, to do whatever he pleased. Every time.

“Look at my little slut,” he admired, pushing his thumb in his second favorite hole of yours. “Suck, baby, show me what that mouth does best.” You did, your tongue swiping all around, over and under, wetting and sucking dry, repeating again and again, until Jungkook was satisfied.

He never was. If he could, he’d fucking snort you up, have you run through his bloodstream for the rest of time. His perfect fucking girl, the one that refuses to give into him, the one that drives him mad.

“Are you thinking about him?” He asks you, the same jealousy nibbling at him. It never left—it never leaves. “How his fingers taste, how they’d curl inside that cunt of yours? It’s fucking morphine, did you know, sweetheart? Why do you think you got me on my knees for you?”

He removes his digit, and decides playtime is over. He’s been lenient enough. You notice exactly when the change takes place, when his eyes darken, and your breathing quickens, fear replacing exhilaration. This was the cruel man that could make you come just with his filthy words. As much as you fucking loved it, he was ruthless—absolutely brutal.

“No,” you mumble, shaking your head. “No, Kook, no, I never—”

Not your coffee boy, but the one that uses a belt to teach you lessons. The one that always knows just how far you’re willing to go.

“Shut the fuck up. You knew what you were doing.”

Jungkook spits in your open mouth, squeezing your throat submissive. You struggle to breathe, but you take it, tightening your thighs around his hips in shameful arousal. He watches you swallow, tongue coming out to show him, just as he likes. He rewards you with a suffocating kiss, before he does it again.

“I bet you wondered how his dick would feel against those velvet fucking walls of yours,” he continued his verbal torture, his other hand pushing your panties to the side, feeling your slick, lapping it with his index, before shoving three fingers inside you at once. You hissed, nails digging holes on his shoulders.

“Yeah?” He fucks you with his entire hand, palm rubbing against your clit. You can’t think of nothing else but getting filled to the brim. “Your mouth works doesn’t it, honey?”

“No one’s fucked me but you in two years,” you confess in a haze, looking at him through your eyelids. Silver shone on his lip and eyebrow under the hidden lighting of his apartment. A shadow draped in gold.

You saw the movement of his jaw, the way his mouth became a thin line. He obviously enjoyed hearing that. But was it enough? Fuck no.

“But they’ve touched you,” he bitterly concludes. “They’ve tasted my pussy, my lips… haven’t they?” He sounded so miserable, so resentful. Your heart ached for him.

You loved this man, but he would never believe you, and you can’t blame him. You loved him in a different way, the only way you knew how. And he did the same. You met and crashed like waves. Your silence was answer enough.

The next moment struck like lightning. All you felt was pain, as he pushed you down on your elbows and ripped your panties off you in one movement. You weren’t even able to scream, the action barely registering in your brain.

“Unbutton my shirt,” he instructed you, no part of him touching you whatsoever. A shudder rippled through you, and down to your unclothed pussy. You scrambled to do as told, afraid of the consequences, hands shaking.

Jungkook groaned impatiently. “Stupid fucking whore, can’t even do something as simple as this,” he snarled at your face, every ounce of affection gone. “D’you need help, sweetheart? Perhaps a manual? None of this is helping your case, you know.”

“I’m—I’m sorry, please,” you whimper, hurrying to undo the stubborn buttons.

He cocked an eyebrow, gaze vicious. Hateful. Something kicked inside of you, a horrifying feeling—you were losing him. He was going to leave you after this. All he’s ever wanted, all you very much were aware of that he craved most—to have you all to himself, to call you his. You never gave it to him, always held back, and for what you’ve no idea. But this, having your body, pleasuring the both of you, it was the one thing if not the only part he had, the one thing he could do, he was allowed.

“Please,” he repeated, the word seemingly unfamiliar to him. “Please, what? Are you sorry at all, baby girl? Do you want me to go easy on you?”

You shake your head again, pushing the shirt off him, bulky muscle now exposed, the chiseled chest you so loved running your tongue over, and the V disappearing beneath his boxers, inviting, nearly a threat.

“Fuck me,” you pleaded, reaching a hand out to touch him, his most private part. “Please. I know I’ve hurt you, I’m sorry, please set me straight, fuck it out of me, I want only you, I promise, only you.”

“Lies,” he shouts, and lunges at you, pinning you down by your waist, skirt pulled roughly from your body. You’re met with the ceiling, but won’t dare move, won’t make a sound unless he tells you to. It’s a thin fucking line you’re walking on, one you haven’t experienced a whole lot.

You hear a shuffling of sorts, before a thud and then you feel it—his hot breath on your cold folds. Those veiny hands on your hips again, before he devours you. The vibration of his growling sends you into a frenzy, and you clench around nothing. Your clit between his sinful lips he sucks painfully at first, wanting to hurt you, but gently afterwards, after your cries settle and you’ve accepted your fate.

You’re at his mercy, and you better behave.

“Used fucking pussy,” he spits on it, fingers working together with his mouth to get you ready for his bulging cock. “What am I supposed to do with a second hand slut like you, huh? Begging to be filled with dick, dripping over my kitchen table…” he tsk’s, tongue flat against your wetness. “You don’t fucking need me, right, I’m just another naive guy wrapped around your goddamn finger, you could have me replaced at any time.”

“That’s not true!” you cry out immediately, hand getting lost in his thick brown locks. “Fuck!” A slap cuts the air—on your pussy. And he does it again, smacks the sensitive area until it’s red and throbbing and licking all over his chin.

“Quiet,” he snaps. “I can make it hurt like never before, honey, don’t fucking test me.”

You’re certain you’re losing your mind by that point, the ache between your legs overwhelming everything else, the thought of needing his cock like you need oxygen the only reasonable solution to making the pain go away. You’re coming before you know it, and Jungkook is a starving man, he licks it all up, licks you dry, marveling at the way your body responds to him, always has.

If only your heart would do the same. If only there was something he could do to make it beat only for him, as his does for you.

“No one will make you come like I do, sweetheart, God my fucking witness. No one knows their way around this pussy like I do, no one will fucking take the time.”

You go to sit up, pull him into you, needing comfort, needing your friend back, the one that made you feel good because you asked, not the half mad one, the obsession, the misshapen thing—for once you need his warm love, the one he’s been talking about, the one hiding behind the heartbreak. You don’t care how awful that is, how selfish you sound.

His palm presses down on your stomach as he towers over you, taking all light with him, flushed cock standing proudly between you, inches away from where you need it most. If he would just move closer, if perhaps you could wiggle further down the table…

“Do not fucking move, angel,” he warns, kissing your sobs silent. With a flick of his wrist, your breasts are in full view, his fingers pinching the erect nipples, calloused palms slapping the plump skin, abusing it.

Every touch vibrates directly in your cunt. You’ve become a blubbering mess, needing nothing but that long stick between his legs. A whore, as he said, a whore with no other purpose than taking dick, his dick, only his, because he’s the only one you want, the only one you need, the only one touching you like this, pushing your limits, driving you over the edge—

“Look at you, my beautiful mess,” he kisses your lips again and again, yet refuses to touch your core. Endless torture, when will it end, when will it end! “Do you understand now? This is what it feels having you under me every night, yet not having you at all,” he shushes your gut wrenching cries, removes your hands from your face, forces you to look at him. “My baby, my love…” he coo’s tenderly, caressing all the way down your body, before his arms hook under your thighs.

He positions you just at the edge of the round table, and quickly leans to lap at your cunt one last time. Christ, fucking Heaven in a woman; it’s alright sweetheart, it’s over, shhh, no more crying, I got you where I want you, I’ll take care of you now, no more crying, fuck if you could see yourself right now, so goddamn hot, a fucking vision just for me, just for your man, you perfect angel, you perfect fucking thing, all for me, all this for me—

You couldn’t describe the tidal wave of relief that washed over you as soon as he buried himself inside you. Both hands on your waist, he slammed you down onto his rock hard cock, his pace fast, relentless, absolutely everything you could’ve ever asked for.

“Harder, fuck, fucking kill me! Don’t stop, please, please, please, please…” incoherent thoughts jumbled together in a string of words, yet Jungkook understood perfectly.

Of course he did.

“Fucking slut…only way you deserve to be fucked…I’m gonna flip this cunt inside out, sweetheart, so no one will be able to screw you. You’re taking my cock so well, baby girl, fuck I want to tear you apart, I want to write my name in this pussy, mark it,” he growled in your ear, manhandling you like a goddamn lifeless doll, pistoling into you with incredible force, so much so you’d think he’d bruise you from the inside, but you couldn’t stop begging him to do so, all of it feeling oh so fucking good.

You want me to mark you, don’t you, you want me drilling into you all fucking day, I know you do, you insatiable goddamn pain in the ass, let me hear you, scream for me, baby, let me know who’s fucking you—say my name, he tightens his grip on your throat, his eyes insane with lust.

“Say my fucking name.”

“Jungkook,” you moan into his hair, nails scratching down his back.

“That’s right, baby. Again.”

“Jungkook!”

I fucking love you, sweetheart, I don’t give a fuck if you never love me back, just give me this pussy, let me drown in it, let me get lost and hide forever in your folds, yeah baby? Come for me now, cream on my dick sweet thing, c’mon, one two three—you scream at the top of your lungs, holding onto him for fear life as your body convulses violently, his own release spurting in thick white strips on your stomach as he barely manages to pull out, and everything goes black. He keeps you on him until you calm down, his pace slow and steady, fucking you both back down to reality.

Your breathing is incredibly labored, hair sticking on your forehead. You look so fucking beautiful to him, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. His pretty girl. He kisses your forehead overtaken by the strange feeling in his chest.

“God—I love you, you know?” You mumble against his chin, suddenly very shy.

Jungkook stills, his entire world pausing its spinning. “What did you just say?”

You try to cover your face, but to no avail. He’s much stronger than you, much more determined to look into those eyes that could never lie to him. You could make him the happiest man on earth or send him down to the darkest pits of Hell with just three words.

“I love you,” you repeat hesitantly, looking up at him. His expression crumbles. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, that I’m late and you probably want nothing more to do with me after this, but—”

His palm slams your mouth shut. Your eyes widen in surprise.

Jungkook then, still inside you, looks at you with the fondest look on his face, his body weight pressing down on you in the most delicious way.

“You’ve no idea what the fuck you’re saying right now, sweetheart, so I’ll forgive you,” he blinks, bewildered, in disbelief. “I never said I’m leaving you. It’s never crossed my mind.”

You furrow your eyebrows, but your words are muffled. He seems to comprehend perfectly well, anyway.

“You could kill me if you wanted, and I’d willingly die by your hand, (Y/N). Have you any idea what it means to love you?”

When he kisses you again, you think you can begin to understand.

[codenamesazanka]

last words

Spinner's name means "someone/something who spins". In the original Japanese, his name is just the romanization of the English word 'spinner' - 「スピナー」 (supinaa).

When characters in the manga define it, they often use 「紡ぐ者」 (tsumugumono) lit. 'a person who spins'. 「紡」 is the key character here, meaning spin, in the way one spins yarn, or spins a story.

Spinner deliberately choose this name because he wanted to 'spin' Stain's dream into reality.

Later, when he abandons following Stain to follow Shigaraki, All For One takes notes of his meaning of his name, to tell him that he'll be helping Shigaraki to 'spin' his goal [into reality]. (Viz translates this as "support Shigaraki Tomura in his crusade and do justice to your name... as one who spins this tale.")

This is appropriate, because during and since the MVA arc, Spinner has been doing everything he can to support Shigaraki's dream of destruction - to achieve their goal of 'that beautiful horizon'. Throughout the third act, Spinner's still trying to spin that dream into being.

And it is their goal - it was Shigaraki who first talked about the 'horizon' in his speech to Ujiko, the speech that affected Spinner so much he started down the path of devotion to Shigaraki; so that Spinner would be the only one out of everyone in the League to see Shigaraki's horizon in Deika (the prettiest thing he has ever seen). Somehow, Shigaraki figures this out, so that much later, when Shigaraki is preparing to decay Mt. Fuji, he dedicates this destruction to Spinner - to "build the horizon... that Spinner's been looking forward to."

But-- Shigaraki fails. Deku stops him, and Shigaraki seemingly dies. He dies without having built that horizon, without having destroying anything.

In Shigaraki's final moments, Deku tells him, "I wanted to stop you. I wanted you to stop yourself. To keep that grief and misery from spreading any further."

In Japanese, when Deku talks about this 'cycle of sadness', he says he wants it to 'stop spinning' - 「紡がれない」 (tsumugarenai). His line uses the same character meaning 'spin' as the one I talked about above - 「紡」

lit. 'so the sadness won't spin'

Shigaraki listens to Deku's words, and after a moment, says to him:

"If Spinner is alive... tell him Shigaraki Tomura fought to destroy to the bitter end."

I thought before and still think it's Shigaraki leaving some words of comfort for Spinner. He failed to destroy everything, failed to succeed in reaching his goal (which is Spinner's goal, because it's Shigaraki's goal, because it's the goal Shigaraki made for the League); but he did try his hardest. He died trying to achieve their horizon, because until the very end, he was keeping their promise as best as he could.

Maybe, it's also: don't worry about the failure; all the way until the end of his life, Shigaraki Tomura got to chase after his dream, their dream.

Maybe even, when taking all of the context from above and putting it into these last words of Shigaraki's: but it's stopped. Thus, Spinner doesn't have to spin for him anymore. The sadness has stopped spinning. Maybe: If Spinner stops on his own, Heroes won't have to stop him. If he's still alive, he can stay alive.

And see, the Shigaraki that says these words is the 'same' Shigaraki as the one in Spinner's memories of the two of them talking about games together. You can tell by the visuals:

In the panel right before Shigaraki tells Deku to deliver a message, the lock of hair on Shigaraki's face falls below his nose; and the locks of hair that frames his face falls below his chin.

But in the panel where he gives those very last words, he's wearing a black shirt. His lock of hair on his face does not reach past his nose. The locks of hair framing his face ends at the level of his mouth.

So this is the Shigaraki from Spinner's memories of them being just two gamers. This is the moment they weren't Villains or boss and subordinate; they were just two guys, close in age, (getting along better than Spinner thought, bonding over games and stuff), being friends.

Shigaraki is giving his last words as Spinner's friend; and they are to tell him, i kept our promise. i chased our dream.

[misc-obeyme]

Hello hello!!! I just saw your kink/flufftober post and wondered if I could request “biting” with barbatos? It can be either fluff of nsfw, whichever gets the creative juices flowing more! As always, love the work you do here, thank you!!!!

Hello and thank you I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing! <3

I was doing so well keeping within my word count limit until now. I can't act like I'm surprised, it's Barbatos we're talking about lol. And I decided to use this as a kink prompt because ooooof I love biting. So you know, having two things I very much enjoy as a prompt ended up with something slightly longer than perhaps intended. But I think it turned out okay still!

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Barbatos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: biting, a little bit of blood, oral and penetration (both reader receiving)

You were in the kitchen at the Demon Lord's Castle, helping Barbatos make red velvet cupcakes. Since it was a flavor from the human world, you had agreed to help out with making them, passing final judgment on how they turned out. You were currently mixing the red food coloring into the batter. While the recipe you had used was a classic red velvet recipe, the bright color of the cake still needed that extra vibrancy from the food coloring.

Barbatos was beside you, mixing vanilla into the frosting.

Normally, Barbatos entered a sort of flow when baking. It was almost meditative, the way he moved around the kitchen so easily. But at that moment, you noticed that he seemed a little distracted. Certainly the frosting was looking delicious, but he seemed to be focused elsewhere.

You stopped what you were doing and looked over at him. He froze, meeting your eyes for a moment before flicking his gaze down to your fingers.

You looked down at your hands and saw that they were covered in red food coloring.

You laughed a little. "Sorry," you said. "I'm making a mess, huh? Is that why you're so distracted?"

Barbatos closed his eyes and frowned. "You needn't apologize, MC. I'm afraid seeing that brilliant red on your skin has made me think of things I shouldn't."

You were puzzled by this response. You cocked your head curiously. "Such as…?"

Barbatos opened his eyes and the hunger you saw there made heat run through you. Barbatos put down the spatula he'd been using to mix the vanilla into the frosting and took one of your hands instead. He brought it to his lips and kissed away some of the red. The way it painted his lips was so sensual your knees went weak.

You let out a little gasp as Barbatos circled behind you, putting his red stained lips to your neck. You had to grip the kitchen counter for support as he sucked for a moment, his arms going around your waist.

Barbatos let his teeth scrape gently across your skin as he pulled his lips away. "Forgive me, MC. I am not sure what has come over me."

His arms moved as if he was about to move away from you, but you put both of your hands on them. You didn't care that you were likely getting red food coloring on him. You just wanted to hold him in place. "Don't stop."

Barbatos pressed himself into you and there was no mistaking the erection you felt against you as he put his lips back on your neck.

You moaned as he bit down gently, as though he couldn't resist but he also didn't want to hurt you too much.

You deliberately pushed yourself back against him, making it clear that you knew how turned on he already was.

Barbatos laughed softly against your neck. "What is it you would like from me, MC?"

"I want you to bite harder," you said.

Barbatos put his lips on your ear. "As you wish."

A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of his voice in your ear. He turned you around in his arms, then lifted you bodily. He set you down on the kitchen counter, on a spot that was far away from where you had been attempting to make red velvet cupcakes.

In moments, Barbatos had removed your clothes and put his lips on your inner thighs. Your hands flew to his head, fingers running through his hair. You gasped and tried desperately not to pull when he bit down on the sensitive skin there, harder than before just as you had asked. He worked his way up your thigh, biting the whole time, making you gasp and whine as he did.

When he finally put his tongue between your legs, you cried out his name, your legs squeezing around his head involuntarily. He stayed there for a long time, but he never let you get too close to orgasming.

Barbatos finally stood up, causing you to whine and grip at his arms unhappily. You squirmed on the counter top as you tried to pull him closer to you. He obliged, moving closer to stand between your knees.

Barbatos reached out and put his fingertips to your neck where he had been biting it earlier. He wasn't wearing his gloves, of course, he had taken them off long before you even started baking. Now his fingers were covered in the red food coloring.

"Barbatos," you said as you pulled on his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock. You rubbed it in your hands for a moment before looking at him. "Please."

"Normally I would not allow such a mess to occur on my kitchen counter," Barbatos said quietly, putting his hands on either side of you and leaning in to your neck once again. "But I'm afraid you've awakened something in me, MC."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. You realized that the counter here was a bit lower than it was in most of the other places in the kitchen. Which meant that you were at the perfect height. You smirked a little when you realized that Barbatos knew exactly what he was doing when he placed you here.

The smirk was gone in an instant as Barbatos pressed his cock into you, his teeth leaving marks on your neck at the same time, his hands gripping your hips. You had to hold on because as soon as he was inside you, Barbatos did not hold back. You felt your entire body heat up as he thrust fast and hard, his teeth continuing down your neck. He reached up to pull your top out of the way so he could bite down your shoulder.

The sweetness of his cock inside you mixed with the pleasurable pain of his teeth was almost too much sensation. You couldn't hold still and you couldn't keep quiet. You were already close from when he was using his tongue and it wasn't long before you were crying out, clamping hard around him. You felt his cum inside you only moments later.

When Barbatos pulled away to look at you, the red of the food coloring was still bright against his lips, but there was a slightly darker red next to it now. He leaned back in and kissed the bite marks he had left.

"Your blood is much prettier than this food coloring," he said softly in your ear. "I do hope I did not hurt you too much by drawing it."

You sighed against him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Next time you can add the food coloring to the batter."

Barbatos chuckled, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. Later you would need to wash the red off your hands as well as your lips, cheeks, neck, and thighs.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[heauxvibez]

Read It and Weep

warning: smut (18+), part 2 to Tumblr Troubles

"Put them on my love," Roman's voice purred, his eyes tracing every move you made with a low gaze. He sunk into the loveseat, positioned perfectly to take in every moment that was about to unfold before him.

As you hesitated, his gaze only darkened, making you as nervous as ever. With slow motion, you slid the lace fabric over your skin, feeling the soft caress against your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart raced as his eyes traveled up and down your body.

Roman's fingers trailed lightly over his beard, his lips finding their way between his teeth as he watched you. The air between you buzzed with anticipation.

As you know, Roman is a master of seduction. He likes to make sure that his every move is calculated to keep you on edge. You love that about him though, you couldn't imagine a better partner in the bedroom.

As you finally slipped the panties into place, you felt the vibrator rub against your sensitive bud. You couldn't help but moan at the contact which earned a slight smile from Roman.

"Mmm, come and sit at the edge of the bed for me," his voice, smooth as silk, beckoned you. You obeyed his command, feeling a rush of heat radiating through your whole entire being.

"Slide back a little, sweetheart, and open up those gorgeous legs of yours for me. Butterfly position," the sensual command sent you anywhere but here. Without hesitation you complied, shifting back on the bed and gracefully opened your legs, letting them fall open like delicate petals.

You leaned back and surrendered, your supple form arched slightly as you supported yourself on your outstretched arms, fingers curling against the soft fabric of the bedding. You revealed yourself to him, every curve and contour an offering to his hungry gaze.

Your chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your breath while your exposed breasts damn near called out to him, your nipples standing proudly in the sultry air. If only you knew how bad this man was battling with himself internally. He wanted to take one into his mouth and swirl his tongue around your bud while teasing the other with his rough fingers. But he had something else in store for you.

As you tried to ease into the moment, you noticed Roman holding your phone in his hand, the vibrant pink case contrasting against his bronzed fingers. Confusion flickered across your face, your head tilted slightly as you tried to figure out what this man was planning.

"Baby, why do you have my phone?" you asked. You had no problem with him having it, after all, you had nothing to hide. Yet, him having it in his possession was odd nonetheless.

A soft chuckle danced across his lips before he finally decided to let you in on the fun

"I'm going to give you this phone," he announced, rising slowly from his seat.

"You'll open your Tumblr," he continued, taking purposeful steps toward you.

"You'll pick one of your smut stories about me and read it aloud," his voice a velvety caress as he handed you the device.

"While I," his hand tenderly trailed from the outside of your panties, tracing a tender path up your body until it reached your throat, his grip firm and commanding.

"Use this remote on your sweet pussy.. and you better not cum until I say so," he declared, his words sending a thrill coursing through you as he released his hold. You sat there, mouth slightly agape, as his plan unfolded before you.

"Wait, what?" you stammered, struggling to comprehend what the hell he was saying.

With a knowing smirk, he stepped back, returning to his seat. His fingers dipped into the pockets of his sweatpants, grabbing the remote with a deliberate slowness that made your breath catch in anticipation. His gaze locked with yours, a silent challenge passing between you as he toyed with the control, a wicked gleam dancing in his eyes.

"You heard me, sweetheart. Now, don't keep me waiting," he teased, as you braced yourself for the electrifying journey he had planned.

The idea of reading a Tumblr one shot to him while he held your very pleasure in his hands sent your mind into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Excitement, nervousness, anxiety, embarrassment – a wild blend to say the least.

Questions swirled in your mind. Which story should you choose? Your own? Or maybe one penned by another talented writer? The options seemed endless, each one a nerve-wracking possibility.

Sensing your hesitation, Roman took charge, his sweet voice a small piece of encouragement.

"You're a great writer baby. Let me hear your work.."

A blush crept across your brown cheeks. You were flattered yet embarrassed. It was nice to know that he admired your work but also almost unbelievable that this man tapped into your hidden life.

With trembling hands, you opened your phone, your fingers grazing the screen as you navigated through your trove of drafts, filled with many Roman-centric tales. Roman remembered your Tumblr username and delved into your online persona, something that both surprised and delighted you. What had begun as your secret digital world passion was now blossoming into an intimate connection, one that left you both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Taking a deep breath, you selected a draft that felt suitable for this moment, your pulse quickening as Roman watched you with avid interest. He reached for the glass of wine, a nod to the rituals you often recommended to your readers, and indulged in a sip before settling back into his seat.

With the stage set and anticipation thick in the air, you prepared to bring him into the world of your creation, your voice poised to weave a spellbinding tale that would ignite his senses and leave him yearning for more.

"I trembled as his fingertips pressed into the warmth of my skin, his grasp on my waist tightening with a delicious firmness that sent me into a spiral.

Tonight held a resonance unlike any other night we'd shared before. Sex had been passionate between us but for some reason, this evening held a depth that felt like no other.

Each caress was followed by goosebumps, leaving me yearning for more and every kiss elicited butterflies.

"This pussy feels so good, baby," he groaned, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he thrust relentlessly into me.

I whimpered softly, guiding his hands away from my hips to entwine our fingers together. Roman's head fell back in bliss, his lips capturing his own bottom lip in a bite, as I assumed control of our shared rhythm, each movement creating a deeper connection between uuuussss." you moaned as you felt the intense vibration on your clit.

Your eyes darted towards him, seeking out the remote control that held the power to your body. There it lay, innocently untouched, nestled in Roman's lap. As your eyes followed the path upward, you couldn't help but notice his relaxed posture, his right arm draped casually over the armrest while his hand cradled the wine glass with nonchalant ease.

This man really meant it, he fully intended to allow the vibrator to take control, to send waves of pleasure cascading through you as you obediently read the story for his pleasure.

His brow raised as he took another sip. His tongue, again, licked the remnants from his upper lip.

"Keep going," he whispered. You threw your head back as his words washed over you. With your left arm stretched behind you for support, you arched into the pleasure once more, your body trembling with each vibration.

Each breath was a whispered plea for more, your lips parting as soft gasps escaped. You fought to maintain composure, but the overwhelming ecstasy threatened to consume you entirely. As your head dipped towards your chest, a symphony of restrained moans and muffled whimpers danced between your parted lips.

"B-Baby, I don't think I-I can keep...keep reading,"

You were on the brink of tears, overwhelmed by sensation. Every fiber of your being ached for release. You felt the sweet trickle of your juices down your warm, quivering slit, pooling in your lace panties. Each drop soaked into the fabric.

Roman's groan echoed through the room. His dick strained against his sweats, aching to be set free. With a ragged exhale, he fought to control himself, and you."

"Yes, you can baby girl and you will."

With a longing gaze, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze with hunger, the intensity of the moment urging you to continue the story

"K-kissing my way up h-his neck, I trailed soffftttt, l-lingering kisses along the cuuuurve of his jaw, savoring the ssssssalty-sweet taste of his bronzed skin. Fuck. Each touch of m-my lips earned looooow guttural g-groans from deeeeeep within his chest, his d-dick twitched every car-ress."

Your moans and curses, painted the air as you struggled to read the story. Each stuttered breath, each whispered confession, had Roman swooning. He savored every nuance, every tremble that wracked your body.

He drank in the sight of you. The way your lips trembled with each syllable, the delicate arch of your back as pleasure washed over you, and the glistening trail of your essence seeping through the fabric of your panties.

His dick throbbed almost painfully. Every shift, every twitch of his muscles, threatened to push him over the edge. He tried to stay still as possible, knowing that even the slightest friction against his dick would send him into a blissful release.

"Fuck baby, you look so beautiful when you're reading to me like this," he moaned. His words were like a soft caress to your clit.

"B-baby, if you keep t-talking to me..I-I'm going to cum. S-so just..just hushhh.." you uttered weakly.

The intense hums against your sensitive folds shook you to the core. Each pulse of the toy was met with your wetness. With Roman's voice caressing your ears, you struggled to maintain your focus. His words wrapped around your mind like silk. He didn't want you to cum, but did everything that would push you over the edge?

Roman shook his head with a dark chuckle, "One thing about me baby...I will do what I want and you will do what I say." he took the remote into his hand turning up the intensity.

"Fuuuuuuucccckkkkk," the grip on your phone was almost deadly. You could've sworn the phone was going to break in your hold.

"Now keep reading and like I said..you better not fucking cum until I say so." The torture you felt at the hands of this man had you wanting to get out of your own skin. But you also loved it. You were just as wicked as him for enjoying this, so you kept reading..

"A-as I pressed m-my lips against hiiiiissss, the h-heat between my legs in-intensifiiiiied, and a pl-plethora of gaaasps and...and moans filled the air. Baby..baby I can't..I can't do this. I'm going to cum. I'm sorry..." Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips. The knot in your stomach tightened, nearly having you in shambles.

You awaited his command, expecting him to take control and stop the vibrator at any moment.

But to your surprise, he didn't turn it off. Your breath caught in your throat as Roman's fingers closed around the remote, his grip firm and purposeful. With a mischievous glint in his eyes and a smile on his lips, he cranked up the intensity.

"If you're not going to listen, the least you could do is look daddy in his eyes while you cum." he leaned forward, his head cocked to the side while he watched you unravel.

Your soft brown eyes locked with his. Each breath you took felt like a struggle, your chest rising and falling with uneven rhythm..

You wanted to throw your head back, surrender to the moment, and moan the loudest moan anyone has ever heard. Yet, his eyes held you captive, rooted in place, unable to break free. Your lips parted to moan, but any and all sounds were stuck in the pit of your throat.

Your fingers tightened around the phone, clinging to it as if it were grounding you to the bed.

Unable to hold back any longer, a surge of pleasure washed over you, sending waves of bliss coursing through your veins. Your pussy throbbed and spasmed, releasing sweet juices that soaked anything in it's path.

"That's right my sweet girl, nut for daddy. Mmm, you love when I snatch your soul and make you look at me while I do it, huh baby?.."

He smirked as he watched a single tear trace a path down your flushed cheek. With a subtle nod, you acknowledged him

"You know the deal, use your words baby.." he urged while your orgasm still rumbled through your body.

"Yes daddy," you sobbed as vibrations continued to pulse against your throbbing clit. It was almost unbearable, a delicious agony.

You had an urge to close your legs, in an attempt to run from the feeling, but you knew that any movement would make the feeling consume you even more.

"Okay, o-okay baby. I came, s-stop." You pleaded. You barely had the strength to move, let alone to take the panties off.

Roman settled back into his seat, his fingers reaching for the wine glass once again. With a flick of his thumb, he dialed down the intensity of the remote, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched you struggle.

"Uhn uhn, you know there are consequences when you don't listen to me. You came, I told you not to." you whimpered in protest, your body writhing beneath the relentless assault of the vibrations. But those whimpers fell upon deaf ears.

With a soft smirk, he placed the wine glass back on the table, "But I'm all about giving chances. So you're going to start that story from the beginning, and we're going to try this again, and again..and again until you get it right.."

------------------------------------

YALL, this took me 3 daaaaayyyysssss. So I really hope you like it *ssobbbssssss*

Tags:@harmshake@southerngirl41@spritelucozade@empressdede@alichesmi@kumapassion@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @mzv11 @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jamil Viper - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jamil: As a supporter of the Land of Dawning National Museum of Art's 100th Anniversary Celebration, I've made sure to look into every single exhibit.

Jamil: If I recall, the next exhibit over should have a painting of the Sorcerer of the Sands on display…

???: That's a good look he's got there. Makes sense, though, this captures the moment he got his hands on that Very Rare mat he'd been searching a long time for, so.

Jamil: Idia-senpai, is that you over there…?

Idia: EEK! O-O-Oh, it's Jamil-shi. Don't just suddenly start talking to me like that…

Jamil: My apologies. I didn't expect you to be this startled just by calling out to you.

Jamil: At any rate, this painting is spectacular… It's overwhelming to see the real thing in person like this.

Jamil: He overcame countless ordeals and finally obtained the magic lamp that he had been continuously seeking for many years…

Jamil: This painting perfectly depicts the legendary tale of the Sorcerer of the Sands.

Idia: …He continuously searched for just one thing for countless years, huh. I think I can sympathize with him.

Jamil: Sympathize?

Idia: Ah, no, uh… I just meant that there was something that I wanted to have, no matter how hard I'd have to struggle to get it, is all…

Jamil: Something you wanted to have, no matter how hard you'd have to struggle for it, hm…

Idia: Th-The way you reacted there… W-Was there something that you wanted, Jamil-shi?

Jamil: Yes, I suppose I want…

Jamil: THE POWER TO COMMAND THE UNIVERSE.

Idia: HUH!?!

Idia: N-Never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth, sounds like something a middle schooler would say…

Jamil: I was just trying to mimic a quote that comes from the legends of the Sorcerer of the Sands, but… Looks like you didn't catch the reference.

Idia: Ah, so it was a joke… For a second there I thought we were similar, soz…

Jamil: No, there's no need for you to apologize… We were talking about things we want, right?

Jamil: There are many things I want, but… I suppose my current priority is networking.

Idia: Siiigh, so that's what you went with.

Idia: Still feel like I could relate better with you when you said you wanted "the power to command the universe"…

Jamil: In order to fulfill my deepest desires, I need useful…

Jamil: …I mean, helpful people with whom I can solidify and further my relationships with.

Jamil: After all, they say that the Sorcerer of the Sands also received assistance from many people in order to obtain that magic lamp.

Jamil: That is why I want to network and make human connections, so that I will never miss out on my deepest desires.

Idia: Yeah, I can get wanting to get your hands on a rare item as much as the next guy, but…

Idia: Leaving it to other people means they could end up betraying you. And it'd already be impossible to set up those human relations from the get-go.

Idia: But hey, since the Sorcerer of the Sands held the spirit of deliberation…

Idia: Maybe he was able to work with others the same way you think through things, Jamil-shi. IDK.

Jamil: If there were any similarities in the way the Sorcerer of the Sands and I thought, then I would consider that a high honor.

Jamil: In most legends, he is described as a man who was prepared for any possible circumstance that could arise.

Jamil: That is, in both the country's affairs, and his personal affairs.

Jamil: In order to become someone as great as he was, I will continue to improve myself with care.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jamil: This is a painting of a bird. It seems what's depicted here is the hornbill that served the royal King of Beasts family for generations…

Idia: U-Uh-huh… Looks like it's spouting something of all smug-like.

Jamil: Perhaps he's advising the royal family on something… Or no, maybe he's just lecturing.

Jamil: From what I understand, in addition to being the king's chamberlain, he was also the prince's chaperone as well.

Idia: For him to lecture someone he serves like that, he's either got guts or is unafraid of anything…

Jamil: Well, if the prince was the type to do his own thing, or act without thinking, dragging other people around him into his messes…

Jamil: I think I also would have a few frank words to say to him.

Idia: Jamil-shi, doesn't it seem like you're bringing your own feelings into this?

Jamil: …You must be imagining it.

Jamil: Now that I think of it… I heard that this hornbill was once asked by the King of Beasts to sing lullabies.

Idia: H-He asked his stern chamberlain for lullabies… Sounds like the King of Beasts' courage knew no bounds.

Jamil: Perhaps he got along well with the King of Beasts, let alone the prince.

Idia: My vote is that he'd have him sing lullabies in retaliation for nagging him day in and day out.

Jamil: Haha, that's possible too.

Jamil: But even so… Lullabies, huh. I remember my sister used to pester me for them all the time way back when, too.

Idia: U-Uh-huh… What another lovely memory for you.

Jamil: I don't know what you may be imagining, Idia-senpai… But it absolutely isn't a lovely memory at all.

Idia: Eh, r-really?

Jamil: Yes. Even though I tried my utmost to sing her a lullaby to help her sleep…

Idia: She wouldn't sleep at all?

Jamil: That'd still be a cuter outcome than what would happen.

Jamil: She'd furrow her brow at me and say YOU'RE TERRIBLE AT THIS!

Idia: Gaha! Out of the mouths of babes, as they say!!

Idia: Oh, but you were part of the NRC Tribe, right?

Idia: So that should mean that your singing was good enough to be chosen by that Vil Schoenheit, right?

Jamil: Well, sure… Ever since my sister first made fun of me, I've practiced a lot. I thought I improved enough that I could sing in front of people without embarrassing myself.

Jamil: My sister was also watching the live broadcast of the VDC, so I said to her, "Guess you can't make fun of me for being terrible at singing anymore"…

Jamil: And she responded with, "What are you even talking about?"

Idia: So she didn't even remember she said all that!? H-Heehee… Jamil-shi, that sucks!

Jamil: Right, I felt like an idiot for overthinking it for years.

Jamil: Well, I guess all's end that ends well, since all that practice means that my grades in music class don't suffer.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Idia: Ooh, the painting we can see over there is of the Thorn Fairy. It looks like she's in a bit of a pinch surrounded by a ton of soldiers.

Jamil: Yes but look at her expression. Although there are so many weapons pointed at her, she fears nothing.

Idia: More like the soldiers are the ones who're scared of her. But, how did this situation happen, in the first place?

Jamil: They say that the Thorn Fairy held magical power so great that everyone prostrated themselves before her. That is why she is legendary.

Jamil: However, humans often fear those who have unfathomable power…

Jamil: So I'm sure there were some humans who would attempt to point their weapons at her in this fashion. Foolish, is all I can call them.

Idia: Uh-huuuh, I see. If it were a video game, I can understand getting all excited trying to figure out a way out of throng of people, but…

Idia: If I ever got surrounded by so many people IRL, I'd faint immediately.

Jamil: I'm sure you're just overexaggerating about the faint…

Idia: Overexaggerating!? J-Jamil-shi, are you saying that you could go up against a large group of people like that and stay composed?

Jamil: Hm, I would… I would come back another day and request to speak one-on-one with the king who commands those soldiers.

Jamil: Well, that's assuming that they are a king who is willing to have a rational discussion.

Idia: Oh, so you wouldn't be able to handle them like the Thorn Fairy would…

Jamil: Well, isn't she considered one of the Great Seven because she can accomplish things that ordinary people cannot?

Jamil: Not only does she harness great power, but she is also very big-hearted. If it were me, I would probably have retaliated against them.

Idia: Oh, yeah? What kind of revenge would you come up with? Make 'em stub their toe on a desk corner or something?

Jamil: Heh, perhaps.

Idia: Oh, that look in his eyes means he's definitely plotting something…

Idia: I-I just remembered something urgent I need to do, so I'll leave you to it!

[Idia runs away]

Jamil: Something urgent? What else could he possibly have to do here? As supporters we're just here to enjoy the art museum.

Jamil: Well, no matter. I was just thinking I'd like to look at the exhibits quietly without anyone else bothering me.

Jamil: "What kind of revenge would I come up with?"… Hm.

Jamil: Well, if it were me…

Jamil: I would make them feel abject humiliation in every possible way so they could never walk the earth with dignity ever again.

Requested by @bibi-cha.

[estapa-edwards]

WAITING FOR HIM---- N.HISCHIER

paring: nico hischier x fem! reader

word count: 1k

requested? yes - maybe he comes back to your apartment after a loss and you’re asleep and you hear him come in and you wake up and it’s just super fluffy 

warnings: use of y/n.

The living room is dimly lit, the soft glow from a table lamp casting a warm light on the couch where Y/N sits. The clock on the wall ticks away, its hands inching closer to midnight. A hockey game blares from the TV, the commentator's voice echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

Y/N shifts on the couch, her eyes flicking to the clock again. She checks her phone, no new messages. Sighing softly, she wraps herself tighter in the blanket draped over her legs.

"He should be home by now." y/n thought to herself. She rests her head against the back of the couch, her eyes heavy from the long day. She fights to keep them open, wanting to greet Nico when he walks through the door.

The TV's noise becomes a distant hum as Y/N's eyelids grow heavier. Slowly, her breathing deepens, and the rhythmic sound of her soft snores fills the room. 

The room is still dimly lit, the TV now showing the end credits of the hockey game. The front door clicks softly as it opens, revealing Nico, carrying his hockey gear and looking disappointed. He enters cautiously, trying not to disturb the peaceful sleep of Y/N on the couch.Nico tiptoes around the living room, his movements slow and deliberate. He sets his hockey gear down gently near the door and takes a moment to watch Y/N sleep. Her face is relaxed, a soft smile playing on her lips even in her dreams. 

Y/N stirs, her eyelids fluttering open slowly. She looks up to see Nico standing over her, his expression a mix of exhaustion and disappointment.

"Hi Nico, how was the game?"

"Hey, it was... tough. We lost."

Y/n sat up rubbing her eyes “"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

nico takes a seat next to her ‘’Yeah, it was a rough one. But seeing you here when I got home makes it a little better." 

Y/N gives Nico a soft smile, touched by his words. "I'm always here for you, win or lose. Do you want to talk about the game?"

Nico sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, not really. It's frustrating, you know? We practiced so hard, but things just didn't click today."

She reaches out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I understand. Sometimes things just don't go the way we want them to. But you gave it your best, and that's what matters." 

He looks at her, his eyes searching hers.‘Thank you, Schatzi, Your support means everything to me." She leans in, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll always be your biggest fan, Nico." He smiles, the weight on his shoulders seeming to lighten a bit. "I know, and I'm grateful for that."

"Do you want me to cook you dinner?" y/n asked. Nico's eyes light up at the offer, appreciating the gesture of care and comfort from Y/N. "That sounds wonderful, Y/N. Thank you." "i can help if you want." nico exclaimed. Y/N smiles warmly at Nico's offer, touched by his willingness to help. "That would be great, Nico. Cooking together could be fun."

Nico nods, eager to contribute and spend time with Y/N. "Alright, what are we making?"

Y/N thinks for a moment, then suggests, "How about we make some homemade pasta? It's comforting and I know you love it."

Nico grins, "Sounds perfect. Let's do it."

They head into the kitchen together, Y/N taking the lead with the pasta dough while Nico offers to prepare a simple tomato sauce. Working side by side, they quickly fall into a rhythm, laughing and chatting as they cook.

As they finish preparing the meal, Nico looks over at Y/N with a smile. "Thanks for letting me help, Y/N. It was actually really fun."

Y/N smiles back, wiping her hands on a towel. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Cooking together was a nice way to unwind and spend time together."

They plate up the pasta and sauce, sitting down at the dining table to enjoy the meal they've made together. The atmosphere is relaxed and cheerful, the earlier disappointment of the game now a distant memory as they focus on their shared meal and the joy of each other's company. 

After enjoying their meal and cleaning up the kitchen together, Nico and Y/N decide it's time to head to bed. The earlier fatigue from the long day still lingers, and they both look forward to a good night's sleep.

As they enter the bedroom, Y/N begins to change into her pajamas, while Nico takes care of his nightly routine. The atmosphere is calm and comfortable, a stark contrast to the tension of the hockey game earlier.

Once they're both ready for bed, Y/N climbs into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Nico joins her, wrapping his arms around her as they settle into a comfortable position.

"Tonight was really special, Nico," Y/N whispers, her eyes meeting his in the dim light of the bedroom.

Nico smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "It was. Cooking together and spending this quiet time with you was exactly what I needed after today."

Y/N snuggles closer to Nico, feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace. "I'm glad we could make the best of a tough day. I love you, Nico."

Nico tightens his hold around Y/N, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you too, Schatzi. Thank you for always being my rock."

In the stillness of the night, with Y/N in his arms, Nico feels a sense of peace and contentment wash over him. The disappointments of the day fade away as they focus on their shared love and the comfort of each other's presence.

[neo-novaa]

purity

*ੈ✩ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jake sully x na'vi!reader *ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fingering, clit stimulation, overstim? thigh riding? if you squint? not proofread, just raw dogging it fr *ੈ✩ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k *ੈ✩ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is both my First Post on tumblr and the first smut i've written (in over a year) so !! i am so sorry. if this is straight ass. i feel like this is reaaalllyy ooc for jake but...just pretend it's not. just pretend like this is Normal. also, please send reqs ! i rlly need to work off of something other than My Mind,, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :)

The soft moss on your knees is a sharp contrast from the firm grip that Jake has planted on your hips. You’re hovering over him, your hands holding his face as he kisses you, all tooth and tongue. His rough palms run up the bend of your waist down to the curve of your hips. He’s silently begging you for more, begging you for permission.

But, suddenly, he pulls away, his eyes quickly scanning your face as if he was searching for something. 

“What is it?” You ask him, voice dry from the depravity of air. 

“I want to show you something.” He says, his voice sharing the same grate, both of his hands running down your waist. 

“What do you want to show me?” You reply, curiosity inching you closer to him. One of his hands snakes around to support your back as he lays you down on the forest floor, his loose braids tickling your face. 

“Something that I learned back on Earth,” he hovers over you, his lips pressed gently against your skin, the unexpected calm before the storm. “I think you’ll like it.”

“And if I don’t?” You quip, and he pauses his lips against your jaw, sighing gently against it. 

“You’re asking too many questions,” Jake mutters as he pulls away, his eyes darting between yours. From here, you can tell how greatly his dark pupils have dilated, leaving only a fraction of his iris visible. “Besides, you���re a big girl, you can use your words.”

Jake’s words steal your breath, leaving you completely incapacitated. You pride yourself on your ability to be able to keep up with his quips. But now? Now, you’ve got nothing. 

He’s towering over you, leaving strategically placed kisses all over your neck and chest. Your hands are lost in his hair, carefully avoiding his longest braid, but grabbing at everything you can to bring him closer to you. You’re relish in the feeling of his lips dancing over your skin, as his hand trails down your chest, along your waist, towards the apex of your thighs--

“Jake!” You yelp, nails digging into his biceps. The feeling of his calloused thumb along your slit sends shockwaves down your spine, and as he continues to stimulate you, you can’t help but innately buck into his touch.

“Jake,” It’s more of a whine the second time around. He moves his thumb deliberately, almost lazily, running up and down and through your slick-- every time he moves you arch into his touch. The feeling is so foreign, but, oh Eywa, you want this to last forever.  His lips are locked onto your neck, leaving marks that will undoubtedly stay for the upcoming days. 

You can feel him grin into your skin as you wither beneath him. “Yeah?” He responds, his voice raspy. You arch into him once his thumb reaches your clit, rubbing slow circles into you. Your breath is getting caught in your throat, over and over again-- 

It’s a different sensation; instead of a slow heat pooling in your abdomen, it feels like a tightening coil. You buck your hips into his hand, your chest pressing against his, and you can feel how fast his heart is beating. 

“Yeah? ‘S that good? My good girl, doing so well,” he whispers it against your ear, a whimper in the back of his throat making you mewl. He quickens his jagged pace and you keen, your hands on his shoulders pulling him impossibly closer to you.

You nearly shriek when he prods one of his fingers inside of you, your nails digging deep into his shoulders, thighs instinctively clamping around his hand. 

“Ja--Jake! Pleasepleaseplase…” You don’t know what your pleading for, all you know is that even with these simple movements, it’s all too little, yet so, so much.

“What is it?” He’s concerned for a moment, his fingers coming to a stop, and that is when you really scream.

“No! No Jake please don’t stop-- please, please don’t--” You bring your hand down to his wrist, trying desperately to move it in the same way he was. You can feel him chuckle against your chest, and if you weren’t literally on the verge of tears from your sudden lack of stimulation, you would’ve hit him.

“Knew you’d like it.” Jake mutters, and his finger is inside you again. You gasp at the familiar sensation, throwing your head back, relishing in the stimulation. You slip a thigh between his legs, gently pushing up and against him, feeling just how hard he is.

“Gonna put another one in, okay?” With how breathless he is, you’d think Jake was the one getting fucked-out right now. But you barely have time to process that though before he presses another digit inside of you, bringing a moan from the both of you.

When he starts moving again, you can feel that euphoric burn in your abdomen, and you try anything you can to chase that high-- bringing your thighs to his arm and squeezing around it, clawing desperately at his back, anything to get yourself over the edge.

“Jake,” You murmur his name like a prayer. “Please--” “What is it babygirl? C’mon, use your words.” You whine at his response, and from the brief smirk you catch, you know that he knows what you want.

“More,” you whisper, but his silence is an answer enough. “Please, I need more. Jake, I ca-- please!”

“That’s my girl.” Is all he says.

All too suddenly, one of your thighs is up against your chest, bringing in a new angle that has you seeing stars. Before you can even begin to process that, Jake slips a third finger into you, his thumb starting to roll against your clit once again.

You can’t even form words, drowning in the dual stimulation he’s giving you. His forehead is against your chest, and you can hear him whining.

“So good, soso good. You sound so good, you smell fucking incredible too.” His breath tickles your ear, and you can feel him start rutting against your thigh. The thought that just your noises have him this worked up is sending you so, so close to the edge.

“M’close…don’t stop, don’t stop,” You’re whispering, you’re not even sure he can hear you, so it must be a sign from Eywa when he gives you a response.

'Wouldn't dream of it.” He’s whimpering, you can feel how hard he’s grinding against your leg, like an animal in heat. You’re rubbing his thigh against him, and you can feel his fingers stutter for a moment inside of you.

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” He’s kissing the side of your head, his fingers slowly curling inside of you. Any attempts of silence were futile; with the way that you were whining so noisily, and the deep moans spilling out of him-- anyone within a mile of you two would be able to hear.

“Sweet girl, my sweet girl, taking me so well,” He doesn’t stop for a second. His lips move all over your face, your neck, your chest-- nearly every part of his body is showering you with affection, it’s all so overwhelming.

“Jake, I--” You cut yourself off with a mewl as his thumb pushes harder against your clit, pressing firm circles into the bud. His fingers are moving faster inside of you, curling against your walls, sending shockwaves down your spine every time he does.“‘M close, sosososo close please--” Your hands are clamoring, gripping onto anything possible. “C’mon sweet girl,” He says, keeping his slow pace. “Just hold out for a little bit longer, ’m almost there too,” Your back is arching off the ground, thighs squeezing against his hand, a cacophony of whines and moans spilling from you. “I ca-- Jake pleasepl-mghmh, please!!” Tears are spilling from the corners of your eyes. It’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long, but only a few seconds longer of his fingers against your clit, curling inside of you--

“Please--!” You nearly sob, a hand digging into the soil beneath you, the other aimlessly grabbing Jake. 

“Okay-- fuck, yeah m’there-- I’m there--” His hips stutter against your leg, and when you can feel him finish against your thigh, you let out a true, deep sob of relief. “Come on baby, finish for me, make me happy.” 

Your vision goes black as you finally release all over his fingers, your back lifting from the ground, and your ears are ringing so loudly that you can’t even hear the obscene noises you’re making. 

Just as you’re regaining your vision, you can see (and only partially feel) Jake pull his fingers out of you, and with your blurry vision, you can see him slowly run them over his tongue, sighing deliriously at the taste of you. 

Once Jake locks eyes with you, his hands are immediately cupping your jaw, spreading soft kisses all over your face. 

“You did so well,” He praises, smoothing your hair away from your face.“I didn’t go too hard on you, did I?”

“You did… a little bit,” Now the worry sets in, with his ears folded against his head. “But,” you quickly add. “I liked it. A lot, a lot.”

Jake keeps smoothing down your hair, his thumb running over to brush the tears from your cheeks.

He can’t help but laugh. “That good, huh?”

You noticeably look down at your thigh, noting the glistening spot right above your knee, slipping down your thigh. When your eyes return back to him, his ears are pinned against his head.

“That good, hm?” You mimic, as he gently pushes your face away from his, muttering quietly.

“Nga skxawng.”

[aspoonofsugar]

Hi! Do you think Alastor and Lucifer are foils?

Hi!

Yes, of course they are!

Alastor and Lucifer's foiling starts in Dad Beats Dad (obviously), where they fight over Charlie's affection. They might seem as opposites throughout the episode, but they are actually the same, as they both try to impress Charlie with their powers:

[ALASTOR:] They say, when you're looking for assistance It's smart to pick the path of least resistance [LUCIFER:] Others say, that in your needy hour There's no substitute for pure angelic power!

Still, Charlie doesn't care and all she wants is for her parental figures to support her:

Charlie: How come he can have faith in me, but my own father can't?

In short, Alastor and Lucifer find pride in their abilities, but need to let go of it, in order to show their love for Charlie. By the end of the episode, they both accomplish this. However, they succeed in slightly different ways, that fit their shared motif of shadow and light. In particular:

Alastor is linked to shadows, as his abilities let him manipulate shadows

Lucifer is linked to light, as his name means morningstar and his powers manifest in light-beams

As a result:

Alastor's development happens in the shadows, whereas Lucifer's in the light - This is true also on a meta-level, as Alastor's arc is the secondary plot-line of the episode, whereas Lucifer's is the main one

Alastor acts as Lucifer's jungian shadow and becomes a catalyst for him to change. Similarly, Alastor himself is challenged to grow by his own jungian shadow, aka Husk

What is the jungian shadow? It is the repressed part of a person. In stories, a character might meet another one, who embodies this hidden part of the self. By integrating with the shadow, the character evolves. In other words, Alastor represents a repressed part of Lucifer and Husk a repressed part of Alastor. Let's see how it all plays out.

ALASTOR, HUSK AND MIMZY

Alastor and Mimzy's bond is unhealthy, as they both enable negative sides of the other. On the one hand Alastor keeps covering for Mimzy, no matter what she does. On the other hand Mimzy feeds Alastor's ego by praising his power and abilities.

So, Mimzy never faces the consequences of her actions:

Mimzy: Thanks for helpin' lil' old me out of a though spot. You're always such a pal.

And Alastor feels respected and appreciated:

Alastor: It's nothing I can't handle. Don't worry Husker. Who in their right mind would cross me?

However, the reality is that Mimzy is using Alastor and Husk points this out:

Husk: You and I both know Mimzy only shows up, when she needs something. That bitch is trouble and who knows what kinda demon she fucked with to come running to you this time?

Not only that, but he openly calls Alastor out on his pride:

Husk: Big talk for someone, who's also on a leash.

Which results in Alastor reacting in anger:

That said, Husk is proven right. It turns out Mimzy has willingly brought chaos to the hotel, so that Alastor could solve things for her. Because of this, Alastor finally cuts ties with her:

Alastor: You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess. I can't have that here.

This choice is important and it shows how the people around him are slowly impacting Alastor. On the one hand the Radio Demon listens to one of his subjects' advice. On the other hand he acts to protect the hotel. As a matter of fact the moment Alastor steps up as the Host of the Hotel isn't when he sings to Charlie in Hell's Greatest Dad nor when he transforms into a giant and fights. It is when he sends Mimzy away and sacrifices a little bit of his pride to do so. interestingly, this happens as nobody is looking at him, so he isn't really trying to impress nor to trick the others. He acts selflessly in the shadows.

LUCIFER, ALASTOR AND CHARLIE

Lucifer and Charlie's bond is strained:

Charlie: We just have never been close. After he and mom split, he never really wanted to see me. He calls... sometimes, but only if he's bored or like, needs me to do something.

At the root of this conflict there is Lucifer's inability to show his daughter how much he cares. He struggles to express his feelings and hides them behind a prideful persona:

Charlie: I told you when you called me five months ago. Or did you not listen? Lucifer: No, no, no, no. Just, you know, I just forgot. I've just been really busy, ya know with um... important things.

Instead of openly admitting his depression and sadness he prefers to look cold and uninterested. Even dismissive and condescending, like when he arrives at the Hazbin Hotel:

Lucifer: Wow, this place sure looks, uh... Uh-uh. Yeah. Uh-uh. It's got a lot of character!

Lucifer is initially too focused on what he cares about - meeting his daughter - rather than on what Charlie wants - for him to help her with the hotel. He happily hugs Charlie and then immediately moves on to pet Keekee, Razzle and Dazzle, who are his own creations. Only later he considers the welcome Charlie and the others have prepared for him. Even then, he still misses the point and tries to buy Charlie's love by showing off his magical powers:

Haha, looks like you could use some help From the big boss of Hell himself

Except that what Charlie wants from him aren't champaigne fountains or caviar mountains, but an appointment with Heaven, which he negates her. Not only that, but instead of being honest about his fears, he deflects everything on Charlie herself, by dismissing her plan:

Lucifer: Alright, listen, I love that you want to see the best in people, but these sinners... You know, they're just the worst. I, I don't know how much you can realistically expect from them in Heaven.

Luckily, the Radio Demon is closeby, as he forces Lucifer to show his true self.

On the one hand Alastor brings out Lucifer's insecurity and fears:

I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond You're like the child that I wish that I had I care for you, just like a daughter I spawned It's a little funny, you could almost call me dad

He juxtaposes moments of everyday life and affirmations of affection to Lucifer's materialistic and fancy promises. In this way Alastor highlights the faults of Lucifer, as a father. He points out that Lucifer is never there for Charlie.

On the other hand Alastor embodies the kind of sinner Lucifer despises:

Lucifer: Ya see? What I tell ya? Charlie, sinners are violent psychopaths, hell bent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There's really no point in trying.

And yet, such a violent psychopath is more willing to help Charlie than Lucifer himself:

Charlie: Dad, stop! He's defending this hotel. It may be a bit more sadistic than I'd hoped. But he's doing it for me!

This realization leads to a confrontation between father and daughter and to an admission on Lucifer's part:

Lucifer: I just don't want you to be crushed by them like... like I was.

The problem isn't Charlie, but Lucifer himself. It is not that Charlie's dream is silly, but that Lucifer's one has been destroyed. This revelation is important because Lucifer's mask comes off and he shows Charlie his weakest and most broken self. He swallows his pride and has Charlie see who her father really his. In all his mistakes and his hurt. And to his surprise Charlie accepts him. Not only that, but she admires him:

So in the end, it's the view I had of you That showed me dreams can be worth fighting for

Symbolically the song More than Anything starts with Lucifer and Charlie in the shadows:

They are repressing a lot and have no idea who the other is. Still, as the song goes on, they get to understand each other:

All that I'm hopin', now that my eyes are open Is that we can start again, not be pulled apart again 'Cause in the end, you are part of who I am

And they end the song surrounded by light:

What is initially in the shadow comes to light in three different ways:

Lucifer shows Charlie his true self

Lucifer sees Charlie for who she is

Lucifer exhibits his weakness in front of the whole Hazbin Hotel. He lets the sinners he dislikes so much witness the mess that he is.

His fragility is in full display. It is in the light for everyone to see.

PHENOMENAL COSMIC POWERS! ITTY BITTY LIVING SPACE!

Another similarity Alastor and Lucifer share is that they are two powerful beings that give much importance to free will:

Alastor: You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate.

Charlie: Together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity.

And yet, they are both trapped:

Alastor: I'm hungry for freedom like never before The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor Once I figure out how to unclip my wings Guess who will be pulling all the strings?

Charlie: As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he had created, never allowing him to see the good that came from humanity, only the cruel and the wicked.

On the one hand Alastor controls many souls, but his own is owned by someone else. On the other hand Lucifer is the strongest being in all of Hell, but he is regarded as a disgrace by other angels.

Moreover, they both project their unhappiness on others. Specifically, Lucifer blames sinners like Alastor:

Lucifer: Our "people", Charlie, are awful! They got gifted free will and look what they did with it! Everything's terrible!

While Alastor lashes out on his prisoners, like Husk:

Alastor: If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful wretch who dares to question me.

Still, the point is that Lucifer is exactly like Alastor. He is a gifted creature, who messed up royally and cursed humanity. Alastor instead is exactly like Husk, a powerful overlord, who still finds himself chained. Lucifer is the most hated being in all of creation and Alastor is on a leash. They are both lonely and desperate, but too proud to admit it. In other words, they are both losers:

Husk: There was a time I thought no one could relate To the gruesome ways in which I'm damaged But lettin' walls down, it can sometimes set you straight! We're all livin' in the same shit-sandwich

Just like everyone in Hell. And yet, this is not bad per se. Even if you hit rock bottom, you can still climb back up, as long as you let go of self-importance and start to earnestly empathize with others. As a matter of fact it is only through community and bonds that a person can be redeemed and heal:

Out for love Love Think of who you care about Protect them and be out For love Love You're gonna fight without gloves Long as you're out for love

This is what Alastor and Lucifer are learning through Charlie.

TWO DADS, ONE DAUGHTER

Season 1 sets up Alastor and Lucifer as two mentor figures to Charlie. They share this role in a way, which makes them almost perfect mirrors. Some examples:

Lucifer gives Charlie the hotel building and Alastor calls it Hazbin Hotel

Alastor helps repair the Hotel in the beginning, while Lucifer assists Charlie in building it anew by the end

Lucifer guides Charlie to Heaven, as he sets up her meeting with Sera and Emily. Alastor instead guides Charlie in Hell as he introduces her to Rosie and helps her inspire the cannibals

Both Alastor and Lucifer believe in Charlie, when she is at her lowest. Alastor does so before the final battle, whereas Lucifer after the fight

Alastor and Lucifer fight Adam (another foil of theirs) in the final episode. Moreover, both belittle his abilities and highlight how he is strong, but unskilled:

Alastor: You lack discipline, control and worst, you are sloppy!

Lucifer: So, this is what you've been up to since Eden? Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy.

In particular, Alastor is the one supposed to take Adam down, but fails and Lucifer steps in by the end. This is just like in the beginning Lucifer is supposed to support and help Charlie with her project. Still, he is absent and Alastor fills the spot.

In other words, Alastor and Lucifer are unwillingly complementary and so far one has appeared when the other has been incapacitated. We'll see if this pattern continues. As for now, they are clearly framed as key to Charlie's development, so it is possible they will come to embody different sides of her:

Alastor represents the sinners Charlie wants to reach and all their pain and complexity. He is also linked to fear and the unknown. He is the ally she finds by herself. He is the found family Charlie chooses.

Lucifer represents the angels Charlie wants to communicate with. He is also linked to dreams and ideals. He is the legacy she inherits. He is the biological family Charlie wants to re-connect with.

In short, they are both parts of who Charlie is and she needs them to grow into herself. Just like they need her to mature and find redemption and happiness.