#i felt i was plenty unhinged

[wisteriarain]

God I love the end of disco elysium where Kim and Harry get married. Peak video game moment right there

[demonslayerunhinged]

*cw: this theory deals with child sexual abuse and has mentions of suicidal ideation and eating disorders.

*If you or anyone you know is going through this, you can find resources here, here and here as well as a list of international hotlines.

Obanai is probably the second most hated character in the fandom, and just like Sanemi, he’s one of the most misunderstood. I think the hate he gets from the fandom is unwarranted; he’s accused of being a dick, a horrible person, a simp and a character who only exists to be Mitsuri’s love interest. All of which is unfair, sure he’s prickly and unapproachable, but he’s not as bad as the fandom makes him out to be.

So, in my quest to draft a defense for our favorite snek boy, I reread his backstory and in doing so, I realized something sad

Unhinged theory

Obanai is a sexual abuse survivor

Let me explain:

Obanai’s backstory and aspects of his character mirrors that of someone who’s been through sexual trauma. The evidence I'm going to present is a combination of my own knowledge about these matters and information I got from forums and websites for male survivors of sexual abuse. So let's examine them...um spoilers

The snake demon

I believe that the snake demon is a metaphor for a sexual predator. Her inclusion in the family could also be a metaphor for how these predators insert themselves into family units-or most of the time are family members themselves-and abuse the children for years and even generations. Obanai's relatives sacrificing their babies to her could signify the real life actions of families who are unaware or, turn a blind eye to, or sometimes actively participate in the abuse of their children.

The sacrifice in exchange for wealth speaks of how families in real life ignore the abuse of their children to maintain the wealth and status they obtain from being related to and associated with the abuser.

Even her decision to wait, ordering the cutting of his mouth so he would look like her, could be interpreted as her 'grooming' him in a sense.

Even her design has a certain sexual, predatory aspect to it that's different from the other demons.

His relatives

Obanai describes his family members as being 'disgustingly' affectionate and bringing him lots of 'greasy' food that made him sick. Food in media is often used to depict love, affection, connection and sex, and Demon Slayer is no different.

There are plenty of instances where food and the giving of food has been used to denote friendship (Tanjiro giving Zenitsu, Inosuke and Genya meals in an attempt to bond with them), connection (Giyuu wanting to give Sanemi ohagi), love (Tanjiro's love of cooking and the satisfaction he shows when his meals are enjoyed by others) and pleasure (Mitsuri's large appetite). I'll make a post about this later.

With this context, we can interpret their bringing of rich foods, their overbearing attention and affections as them objectifying and even being sexually inappropriate with him.

The sexual abuse

Non-physical.

The first instance of abuse is non-physical, but that doesn't make it any less important. Being constantly visited by the snake demon in his room at night, Obanai described his feelings of terror, being paralyzed and watched. His body would break out in a sweat, and he would be unable to fall asleep.

His descriptions of the experience and his body's reaction to it reminded me of some survivors' stories I read, where they talked about how in the initial stages of the abuse or when the abuser was first introduced into their lives, their abuser would give them unwanted attention, would stare at them in a way that felt creepy, gross and wrong.

Some had their abusers come in to their rooms, maybe under the guise of 'checking in on them'. They described feeling terrified, freezing up with the hopes that the attacker would leave. Some would take measures such as sleeping with the door locked or with a heavy object against it, sleeping with a sibling or parent, sleeping in a hiding spot that the attacker knows nothing about or not sleeping at all.

Physical.

The specific age that the snake demon plans to 'eat' Obanai is never stated, but from what we've seen so far and in the sexual context, we can assume that she's waiting until he hits puberty. Some studies state that the average age of victims of female sex offenders usually falls around 14 years, but there are cases where the female predator waited until their victim reached sexual maturity before they carried out their abuse, like in the case of Mary Kay Letourneau. Here's a video that breaks down an interview she did before her death.

Obanai was 12 when he was dragged out of his cell to be subjected to what I believe is the first physical abuse. He had his mouth slit from ear to ear, with the blood collected and fed to her. The snake demon decided to have him live a little longer, which again, fits into my theory of her wanting to wait until he reached puberty.

Bodily violation, violence and blood are common allegories for sexual assault used in media and in Obanai's backstory we see it being used when his relatives drag him from his cell, literally pin him down, cut his mouth and feed his blood to the snake demon. The act of feeding on his blood could also be a metaphor for the snake demon sexually abusing him.

His escape and the resulting fallout

Obanai managed to escape, and although he was tracked down by the snake demon, he was saved by Shinjuro Kengoku before she could kill him. His cousin's response was to blame him for all that happened, asked why he ran away, and said that he should have 'allowed' the demon to eat him.

This could represent how some victims are rejected, ostracized and criticized for speaking out against their attacker, exposing the abuse to the public and getting help. Their families would say 'you should have just let it happen', 'you destroyed the family', 'why did you run away, tell people?' and place the blame on the victim.

Obanai's reaction

There are three aspects of his characterization that are similar to the common reactions noticed in adult survivors of sexual assault, especially male survivors.

His appearance.

His behavior.

His beliefs.

His appearance

Obanai has a small frame that he hides with his baggy uniform and haori. I can tell it's baggy compared to that of the other slayers because of the width of his pants vs the width of his lower legs. Desexualization or hypo-sexualization is a common response among some survivors of sexual trauma, this usually involves wearing clothes and taking measures to make themselves look 'unattractive'.

'But this side feels more comfortable for me, like the baggy clothes I wear, which hide my body, and the long sleeves which reach past my wrists. I promised myself no man would ever touch me again, and whether it was a moment of triumph, or a moment of defeat, I still don't know.'

'I'm thin, shy. I seem easy to dominate. I've grown a beard. That's helped a little. I dress in baggy clothes, covering as much of my skin as possible. That makes me feel safe.'

This not only helps regain a sense of control and power over their body but also serves as a protective measure against sexual advances so they don't get abused again.

In Obanai, given his history of receiving unwanted, suffocating and 'disgusting' attention from his female relatives, it would make sense that he would want to dress in a way that makes him unapproachable and hides his body from the opposite sex. We can see his attempts to desexualize himself in the picture below:

His behavior

'Iguro has difficulty with girls. Due to his experiences growing up, he was unable to conquer his fear and animosity. Plus, the firls who joined the Demon Slayer Corps often put on brave faces because of their sad backgrounds, so he felt sorry for them, making him uncomfortable in a different way.' - Taisho Whispers, official English translation.

'Iguro-san isn't good with women. Due to his upbringing he has a fear and disgust towards women. (I couldn't overcome it easily. The women who joined the Demon Slayer Corps have painful stories of determination. I felt sorry for them and I didn't get along with them in a way that was different from the way I got along with my family)' - Taisho Whispers, direct-sort-of-shitty translation via Google Translate.

Male survivors who were victims of childhood abuse by female perpetrators often talk about how the abuse greatly affected their relationships with women or lack thereof. Some going so far as to say that they became afraid of women, being around them and how sometimes being touched by women would trigger panic attacks and remind them of the trauma.

Here are some quotes posted in a thread on the Male Survivor forum. Full thread here.

'Once that happened, my genophobia became more intense. I couldn't ware short trousers in summer, could never go swimming, got paranoid if I touched a woman's arm or even brushed against one, would always stand at a distance from female friends, and would literally leave the room if anything explicit was discussed.'

'I have started to have strange, deep discomforting feelings as I remember some of the assaults and I have gotten to a place where touch from a woman makes my hair stand up, makes me nauseous, and gives me chills and feelings of dread.'

Obanai has similar responses when he finds himself in proximity to women. We're only told about it in the main manga, but it's shown in the Gakuen. I know the Gakuen takes place in an alternate universe, but aside from the events, the behaviors of the characters are based on their actual personalities in the main manga, so we can safely say the reactions he displays in the Gakuen is canon to his character.

His beliefs

Adult survivors of sexual abuse often struggle with feelings of guilt, rage, and shame. In the manga, Obanai talks about being held back by the decaying hands of his family members, which could represent the long-lasting effects of sexual abuse and how some survivors carry these burdens all through adulthood or throughout their lives.

There's also the thoughts about himself that echo the heartbreaking thoughts shared by some male survivors.

Guilt:

"As the member of a filthy family, I too was corrupt. My sins were deep, so I could not live a normal life"

Rage:

"With no other outlet, I turned all my rage on demons in a grudge of intense hatred. By risking my life for others, I felt as if I could in some way become a slightly better person."

Shame:

"Unless I die and come back in a different body in which this filthy blood does not flow, I have no right to be with you."

Suicidal ideation(mild):

"By risking my life for others, I felt as if I could in some way become a slightly better person."

"I want to die defeating Muzan." (He's the only character that I know of that outright says this.)

He also kind-of expresses his feelings of being weak during the fight with Muzan:

"I've accomplished less in this battle than anyone! I wish I could deliver a more effective attack."

While this quote isn't exactly definite, a feeling of being weak, or being 'less of a man' is also a common experience shared by male sexual assault survivors.

The scar and It's symbolism

The scar is a physical manifestation of the lifelong effect that sexual abuse has on its victims and the stigma it carries. For Obanai, it's not just a painful reminder of the trauma he suffered at the hands of his family, but also a reminder to him that he's like his attacker, the snake demon. The bandages he wraps around his mouth symbolizes not just his attempts to hide his trauma, but also his inability to talk about it due to shame and fear, which is unfortunately an all too common experience of male survivors.

Another struggle survivors often experience is with intimacy, romantic relationships and sex. For Obanai, I believe that this struggle is represented by his eating disorder. The link between food and sex is a well established belief in many cultures, people with large appetites can be seen as having equally high sex drives while people with small appetites have little or no sex drive.

As he grows older, his little appetite is basically him curbing his growing sexual desire, which he sees as ugly, like the scar on his mouth. But the thing is Obanai wants love, he wants to love and be loved, to be intimate with another person, but he feels he doesn't deserve it, after all he's filthy, shameful and probably a predator just like the snake demon. So he starves himself, suffering in silence with the belief that he was disgusting, that no one would ever love him, that he was destined to and deserved to be alone.

Then he met Mitsuri.

In Conclusion, Obanai is way more complex than the KnY fandom gives him credit for. This is a man that went through immense suffering, and it's really sad to see people hate on him because he isn't 'nice'.

Well, that's just how life is. Trauma doesn't exactly make nice people. We can't all be like Giyuu or Tanjiro(bestest boy ❤), a lot of us are like Obanai, Sanemi, and even Shinobu, a lot of us are angry, and why shouldn't we be?

...

*Phew, ok so this one has been in the drafts for a while because I was scared to post such a dark subject matter and also I needed to be really sure I wasn't just talking out of my ass but after rereading his backstory and analyzing aspects of his character, I'm more confident about this.

[hermajestyimher]

This Is How We Will Own 2023:

We're less than a month away from the New Year, and as such, it is important that we begin to set the foundations and plans we have to not only succeed, but make 2023 a memorable year.

Regardless of how 2022 went for you, regardless of how many goals you were able to achieve, a new year marks a new beginning. Do not beat yourself over how things went, focus on how you can improve them moving forward.

In 2023 we're:

Spending less time being passive scrollers online. The pandemic is over, the world is back in action and so must we. It's time to stop letting our minds be consumed by the opinions of thousands of people on the internet. More often than not, the things we read online come from the psyche of mentally unwell individuals, and given social media's tendency to prompt out the voices of the most unhinged, it gives people that shouldn't have a platform a false sense of authority. In 2023 we're getting off the grid as much as we can and reconnecting with the real world. We will not allow this online façade to swallow us into its void any longer.

Spending more time learning and engaging in high-end activities and hobbies that can elevate our social circle and our taste. Things like polo matches, pilates, ballet, opera, piano classes, poetry, political forums, martial arts, and high-intensity sports, among other things. It is crucial to cultivate a persona that engages in a variety of fulfilling activities that can bring us joy but also help us grow as individuals.

Prioritizing our health and fitness. No more excuses, it's time to cut down on added sugar and refined carbs, time to eat more nutrient-dense whole foods, drink plenty of water daily, invest in vitamin injections every other month, take supplements to improve our body's collagen production, and overcome feelings of laziness by pushing ourselves through fitness goals. 2023 we will make of the gym our sanctuary.

Living below our budget and investing as much as we can. If you haven't already, get a financial advisor, develop long and short-term financial goals and get organized with your income. It doesn't matter if in the past you've felt like your financial habits have not been the most adequate, it's never too late to take control of them and be responsible. We owe to ourselves to spend wisely to have the peace of mind financial security brings. Never go broke trying to impress others.

We're no longer entertaining inadequate men. I must admit I'm guilty of this myself. After years of not dating, getting back into the dating scene has felt extremely disappointing and tiring. Most prospects are simply not up to par with the standards I have and what I want out of my life partner. Sometimes we allow ourselves to become desperate to build these types of romantic relationships that we begin to overlook the things that we really want deep down. In 2023, we're refocusing our attention on living our best lives and being as active as possible in real-life events as touched upon previously, and trust that the right dating prospects will present themselves when we least expect. We attract, we don't chase.

Finally, we're overcoming negative self-talk patterns that hinder our growth. We're investing in therapy, we're unlearning the limiting beliefs that keep us in bondage to people, routines, and views of the world that are not good for us. We have to put an end to the insidious lie of the scarcity mindset, overcome past traumas, and look forward to the good things that are yet to come.

There are many more things I could add to this list, but for now, these are the things I and I know many of you will find helpful on improving on for the year to come. These lists can come out as intimidating to some people, but we have to remember that we are not expected to become the ideal version of ourselves overnight. Growth is a marathon, not a sprint, and it requires consistency. Each day that you wake up and choose to do one or two things differently you're making stride towards that better you. No improvement is ever too little.

Let's make 2023 a memorable year, and every year afterwards.

Daphne.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Hii can I request a Dom seungmin and jeongin fic (threesome) plzplz? Could be anything but pls I've been very thirsty for Dom vocalracha lately after reading this one fic of them on Tumblr having a foursome with reader+Felix and I very much died reading it

Plz make it extra rough but lots of praise, could be any scenario, just Dom seungmin and jeongin 🥰

Also unrelated ask but r u comfy with writing fics where reader is transgender? Ftm or mtf? Just asking, it's unrelated to the req dw

Have a good one 🎂

It’s a Jeongin and Seungmin story today 🤗

Not my usual characters, but it seems so many of you after-darklings (not sure what I should call you: suggestions are open) are getting really wet and/or hard for this pair. So I feel I must feed you all the goodness that is vocalracha.

Also, re ftm / mtf, absolutely open to this, but I don’t feel knowledgeable enough just yet.

MDNI // SMUT

CW: threesome m x f x m, rough penetration, oral sex (m rec.), collar and leash, choking, blindfolds, squirting, praise, pet names, creampie, pussy slapping, face slapping, spanking, hair pulling, overstimulation.

You knew when you received the voice message from Jeongin you were fucked. Well, going to be fucked. Rough, according to his message.

“You’re in a lot of trouble my sweet little girl. Avoiding me all week like that. Meet me at the hotel. You know what’s going to happen.”

You gulped. The hotel usually meant an extra level of unhinged, and oftentimes he’d bring Seungmin to play with punish you.

You put on your best pair of lace panties and matching bra, high heels and a short little dress and took a cab into the outer city where the hotel was located.

They were already there. Waiting for you.

Seungmin answered the door. “Pretty little pup.” He whispered, cupping your jaw and swiping his thumb along your bottom lip and smearing your freshly applied lipstick.

You allowed your lips to part slightly, an opportunity Seungmin immediately took. He hooked his thumb in your mouth forcefully and chuckled to himself. “I’ve missed you. Missed owning you.”

He spun you around and pushed you up against the door and nipped at your neck. You could feel his erection pressing against you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He whispered against your neck. His hands peeled your dress up and squeezed the flesh of your ass. One hand remained there while the other quickly unbuckled his belt.

Anticipation flooded your body, your cunt aching for his cock. He squeezed his length between your thighs so it slid against your pussy.

“Fucking wet already, hmm? Panties are soaked.” He kissed your neck passionately. “A filthy little whore. A perfect little pup.”

“Seungmin.” A stern voice came from the bed. “You’re not going to fuck her in the first five minutes. She needs to be a begging mess before she deserves our cocks.”

You whimpered. You wanted Seungmin to sink into you right then and there.

“Jeongin, needs for you to beg for it, princess. I need you to be a really good girl for me. You want my cock don’t you?” He nipped your earlobe.

“Y-yes… cock. Need your cock.” You choked.

“I know you do. All you need to do is exactly what we say, and I promise we’ll let you come.”

You nodded. “Yes. I’ll be a good pup.”

“Crawl to me.” Jeongin demanded in a cold tone. You swallowed hard as Seungmin backed away and you turned and dropped onto all fours.

You met Jeongin’s gaze as you slowly crawled across the floor, the hotel carpet rough on your knees. Better than a hardwood floor, you supposed. You knelt between his knees and waited.

Seungmin came up behind you and attached your favourite collar and leash, handing the chain to Jeongin.

“Stand.” He tugged the chain and you obeyed. “Take off your clothes. Leave your heels on.”

The two men watched you with hungry eyes as you pulled your dress down and stepped out of it. Then your panties and bra. They’d seen you naked plenty of times, but you still felt yourself blush a little, when their expressions were as though it was their first time seeing your naked form.

“Now undress us.” Seungmin commanded as he drifted his hand down your back and over the curve of your ass.

You took your time undressing them, marinating in the anticipation that had taken over your body. You were wet from just the thought of what was unfolding, your cunt ached knowing it was going to be abused shortly.

Jeongin settled on the bed. Head resting on the pillows, long, hard erection lying against his taut abs. Fucking scrumptious.

Slowly, you climbed up onto the bed and he grasped the chain dangling from your collar and tugged you so your face was hovering over his cock. He patted your head gently and smiled kindly.

Then his entire demeanour changed in a millisecond. His shy eyes turned deranged, his smile turned into a crazed grin.

Seungmin was quickly behind you bullying his cock into your cunt. You gasped at the stretch and then the depth as he slammed in the entire way.

“We’re not going to go easy on you. But we know you’re a good girl. We know you’re going to take everything we give you.” He grunts as he sets a brutal pace.

“Choke on my cock, pretty angel.” Jeongin whispered.

You took him in a hand and teased him with your tongue. You licked up the underside of the shaft and then slapped it against the flat of your tongue.

“Tsk tsk… that’s not choking on it, sweetheart.” Jeongin pushed the back of your head down over his length.

Seungmin snapped his hips hard, every impact of his pelvis against your ass pushed you further onto Jeongin’s length. You made a loud choking sound, and the two men chuckled.

“That’s our good girl. Pretty sounds.” Jeongin purred as you struggled to take him.

Suddenly, your arms were ripped from underneath you where you had been supporting yourself, and were held securely behind your back by Seungmin. With no way to support your upper body, you fell entirely over Jeongin’s cock, choking you even more. Your lips met his pubic bone and your eyes widened with fear.

Seungmin grunted and pinned you down by pushing on your arms where he had them in his tight grip.

Jeongin started to thrust his hips up to fuck your face. Your vision blurred as your eyes filled with tears and your mascara smeared on your cheeks.

You felt someone tug on the chain, lifting you up enough to catch your breath and then you were pushed back down.

Harder and harder they fucked you from both ends, you without any control over what was happening. They let you up for air, then pushed you back down to deep throat Jeongin. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to do this. You could hardly catch your breath before your throat was being stretched with his dick again.

“So perfect. Look at you. Such a good little slut for us.” Jeongin stroked your hair affectionately. “Taking cock so fucking well.”

Without warning, Seungmin pulled out of your dripping cunt and yanked you off of Jeongin.

“I’ve got a fun game I wanna play with you pup.” He fetched the swivel chair from the desk in the the corner of the room and positioned it in the middle of the floor.

“Come. Kneel on this.” He directed you. Pulling the leash. You knelt on the seat of the chair with your arms resting on the backrest.

A blindfold was placed around your eyes and fingers were shoved into your mouth. At the same time a cock pushed its way into your needy cunt.

You could tell it was Seungmin’s fingers and Jeongin’s cock by how aggressive the hips were slamming into you and how rough the fingers were.

Your orgasm was building, your walls tightening. Yes. Yes. This felt so fucking amazing.

Then, you were empty and being spun on the chair, only to be penetrated again. They fucked you for some time before repeating the process. Again and again and again.

You became so fucked out that you lost track of who was in your pussy and who was in your mouth. All you knew was that you were in some sort of filthy heaven. A little cockslut for your favourite men.

They pulled and tugged your hair, their fingers were rough and unforgiving in your mouth. They fucked you for their own pleasure, not caring how deep they were hitting you. Not caring if it hurt. They slapped your ass, dug their fingers in. They even slapped your face every so often, which made your cunt clench.

You loved it when they were rough with you. You were so close, on the verge of shattering, when you found yourself empty once more. The blindfold was ripped off and you were laid on your back at the edge of the bed.

“Hold your fucking legs up, sweetheart.”

“Please…I need to come. Please…been good…please!” You were sobbing and begging for relief.

“Shhh… pup. We’ve got you.” Seungmin cooed.

He rubbed lyour pussy frantically, almost violently, slapping your pussy every now and then. Jeongin held his cock close as he spurted thick ropes of cum on your entrance. He pushed your legs back, pinning them in place while Seungmin relentlessly assaulted your pussy.

“Take it. You wanna come. Be a good girl.” He taunted.

You squirmed and writhed underneath them, your clit was too sensitive. But the pressure inside continued to build until—

“Fuck!!!!!!!! Nghhh!!!! Coming!!” You cried as liquid spurted from your core.

“Yes…make a mess…I know you have more.” Growled Jeongin and he pushed two long fingers inside you to attack your g spot.

It was too much. You had lost control of your voice, your thoughts - everything, and with what could only be described as a wild, primal scream you squirted more, spilling your juices all over yourself. You broke down, crying and shaking.

But they weren’t finished with you. Jeongin rubbed your juices and his cum all over your stomach and up to your breasts, massaging them in a rough way. Seungmin quickly pushed his cock back inside you and fucked your sensitive and used pussy some more.

“Gonna fill you up, pup.” He panted.

Jeongin’s hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed as Seungmin emptied himself against your cervix. Feeling Seungmin’s final thrusts whilst being choked had you seeing stars one more time.

You were addicted to this, and you made a mental note to be a brat this coming week. You wanted to see how far you could push them, what kind of games they’d want to subject you to.

But for now, the three of you were spent, taking your time to shower and dress, and eventually go out for a meal.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni

[justalittleficsideblog]

Your fics of the obey me boys protecting mc from a creep are so amazing!!

If it's okay, could you write a similar one for Barb and Sol please?<3

anon I see you’ve been sitting in my inbox for a millennia, but I feel like I’ve finally now can write this fic! Barbatos in my mind is a bit unhinged, so like TW for those undertones! This went on longer than I intended, I hope you enjoy !

Barbatos

I could see this happening in the later hours of a ball that his king decided to host, caught unawares with a human he decided to invite had inevitably gotten lost in his crowd.

Considering that your usual guard dogs were preoccupied with their official business, Barbatos took it upon himself to keep a keen eye on you as you made your introductions.

Some of the demons lingered longer than necessary, but the majority quickly moved on due to the presence of the brothers all together somewhere in the room. Despite that, one particular demon cozied up to you a bit more than he found himself caring for.

“That’s very flattering thank you, but I think I’ve had plenty this evening,” you waved your hand towards the demon, gesturing politely in refusal of his offer to a drink.

You weren’t stupid, taking drinks from strangers in the human world was hardly safe, the devildom was no exception.

The demons mouth curved down slightly on the side, but he quickly recovered as he sauntered closer to you. Your back now against the pillar, your eyes scanned the crowd for an escape.

“Those brothers must be boring such a thing like you.” An elongated finger dragged lazily along your temple as he pushed a stray hair out of your face.

“The brothers are wonderful, now if you’d excuse me—“ you grimaced as the demon side stepped your attempt to skirt around him. Now pushed farther back, your irritation was plain across your face.

“C’mon. Hear me out here—“

“I do believe the lady has kindly rejected you multiple times.”

The snarl startled you, a familiar back facing you as Barbatos stepped in between you and the demon. He held a serving tray in his arm, the other arm was across his chest as he politely angled his body towards the male in front of him.

His tail gently urged you to his left, its length curling protectively around your frame.

The formerly mentioned demon scoffed, clearly irritated about the kings servent interrupting him.

“Listen Barbatos,” the demon grabbed a wad of somthing from his lined pocket, placing it discreetly in his hand. “Look the other way with the kings pet, and keep this between us.”

The chill that descended the ballroom was near paralyzing.

You didn’t dare breathe.

“Out of respect for Diavolo,” Barbatos spat, rising to his full height, his back shifting into a lethal calm. “I will not cause a scene because of this disgusting conversation. You must be unwell, considering your intellect is so skewed that you believed I could be bought out for such an act.”

The demon tensed, his foot sliding back slightly.

You’d never seen Barbatos so eerily calm. He could be unnerving in his role, but the aura he was giving off was that of a predator.

“Lord Diavolo will see to you later,” a swish of his wrist and the demon was transported instantly.

The rush and noise of the crowd and music came back immediately, and Barbatos turned to face you, bowing deeply.

“Are you harmed?”

“Uh… no. No not at all, thank you Barbatos.” Your hand reached out to take his out and make him rise.

You were at a loss for words, the lethality you had felt from him was gone, replaced with a relaxed atmosphere.

This guy gave you whiplash.

Extending his arm, he offered, “Come. Let’s get some fresh air.”

All you could do was nod.

Solomon

Honestly, the reason that you hadn’t encountered any suspicious demons was because this wizard watched you very closely. When he determined the brothers were around, he tended to let off.

But, anytime you were without one of them and he was around, he tended to ward off many a demon (he may had cast a sort of mirage around you if any ill-intended demons looked to long).

Deciding to have a bit of fun without the brothers, you had begged him to check out a new club scene that had opened up. All the students were talking about it! I’ll go anyway even if you aren’t with me!

Leaving you unprotected wasn’t an option, but he decided to play coy and tag along.

Solomon immediately disliked the air of the nightclub. The thick haze and skewed magic surrounding it instantly made him on edge. Seeing you so excited to be there, seeking out some friends from class, made him bite his tongue.

The crowd itself made him uneasy, some demons lingering looks made him grind his teeth as he steered you towards a booth to get a break.

“This place is kind of… dense.” He ground out.

“I think this’ll be fun! Oh! Let me go to the bathroom quick, one of the girls from our sorcery course needs some help fixing her look.”

You skirted off quickly. Solomon reassured himself it was fine, you had a trace of his magic he could track. He reached out to feel the tug, only—

There was nothing there.

————-

Having fixed up your friends hair, you made your way back to Solomon. Unfortunately you were intercepted, a large demon glancing down at you with wide eyes.

“So you’re the human they’ve been talking about.”

You attempted to move around him, huffing when the press of bodies halted you from doing so.

This demon was clearly intoxicated, his uneven gate and slight sway told you that much.

A grip on your arm made you flinch, moving quickly to detach the large hand from your bicep.

“Let me go, man.”

The demon flung his arms up in surrender. “Are you here by yourself? You know, this place is full of creatures that would—“

“I’m with my friends, now if you’ll excuse me.” You shouldered your way past him, ignoring his intimidating height. You looked around for the booth that Solomon and you were at previously.

Your heart thundered, where the hell was it?

“Are you a bit lost?” A grin split across his face as he leaned down, the smell of demonous reaching your nostrils. “I could help you find your friends…”

The look in his eyes told you something entirely different. Panic began to work its way up your chest and the noise and flickering lights made it hard to see against the crowd.

Suddenly, a heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders. Jolting from the contact, you looked up to see Solomon, staring down the demon in front of you.

“I do hope that you weren’t giving my human any trouble here.”

Realizing who was in front of him, the demon blanched, leaning back into a few others that were crowded behind him.

“N-not at all man, just trying to help them out is all.” He waved his claws in front of his face, eager to turn and part the crowd as he made his exit.

Satisfied, Solomon looked to you.

“What happened to that bracelet you always wear?”

Furrowing your brows you spoke. “What are you talking about? It’s right here—“

You grabbed your empty wrist in alarm. Shit! You must’ve undone it when you were helping your friend.

“It’s probably in the bathroom, here, let me go grab it quick!”

Solomon grabbed your shoulder and spun you in close to him.

“Forget the bracelet.”

“But that was a gift! I’m sure it was expensive.”

You saw his jaw tick. “I’ll get you another, you’re not leaving my sight after that.”

Clasping your hand in his, he made his way to the exit.

“How do you feel about takeout?”

A smile burst across your face.

“As long as you’re the one paying.”

Solomon laughed, grasping your hand a bit tighter.

[yanderes-galore]

Ah yes, today’s the day

I’m thinking a Yandere concept for Kakyoin as I could see some Yandere potential

Ah yes, one of my favorite SDC characters >:D Here you go!

Yandere! Noriaki Kakyoin Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Theft, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Threats, Violence, Murder, Blood, Isolation, Clingy behavior, Kidnapping, Dubious relationship.

First of all, Kakyoin would be obsessed with a fellow Crusader in this concept.

That would allow an easier way for his obsession to grow and you two to bond.

Although an alternative is you were originally classmates before becoming Crusaders (It would be an AU).

It's canon that Kakyoin wants to feel calm and at ease with a partner.

In that case I imagine he'd start as friends with his obsession, but fall for them when he realizes you soothe him.

He formally meets you when Jotaro removes the flesh bud from his head.

You no doubt have a Stand due to being a Crusader and are nice to him even after the flesh bud incident.

Jotaro may hold a grudge against him for a bit but you are a bit more understanding of the new threat.

For the most part Kakyoin is depicted as honorable, respectful, polite, prideful, yet loyal.

He isn't that bad to talk to and genuinely cares for the companions he has in the Crusaders.

Although he is cruel and ruthless towards opponents... It's a bit unnerving, actually.

Kakyoin's obsession would develop as Part 3 goes on.

Which leads to plenty of interaction with all the Crusaders.

Kakyoin gets used to all of the Crusaders, especially you.

He's close to all of them but you're the only one who has managed to believe in him and make him feel... relaxed despite the situation.

Which would make him realize his crush on you.

Like most/all of Stand Users, he'd use his Stand to keep track of his obsession.

It would be easier if you couldn't see Stands, yet he just needs to be more careful since you can.

I can see Kakyoin using Hierophant Green to keep an eye on you.

Like, at first he's using it to keep an eye on Stand Users in the area.

He just wants to make sure the crew stays safe on your journey and likes to look after you if the others can't.

Although eventually he may be more... sinister with his Stand.

Despite his personality I like to think Kakyoin is an unhinged yandere.

It starts with just wanting to be loyal and protect a friend.

But then he just gets... worse.

He's easily jealous and possessive with you, his Stand often acting as a spy more than a guardian.

He seems like he'd steal small objects from you or use Hierophant Green to stalk you if he can't.

Kakyoin seems like he's polite and honorable, right up until he falls into his obsession.

Now he's delusional and overly obsessive.

To the point I imagine he's almost like the classic yandere.

Things like daydreaming about you, giggling at the idea of being with you alone.

He tries to pretend he's still his usual self.

He's not... he lost that since he fell for you.

Due to how ruthless Kakyoin is with foes, rivals or those who "get in the way" are met with... brutality.

He doesn't have a problem, they don't understand his love.

I can see Kakyoin being terrifying if someone got in his way.

He may use Hierophant Green to threaten someone into staying away from you.

His gaze is cold the whole time, if that doesn't work...

Well, I wouldn't be too surprised if Kakyoin snapped and killed someone for you.

He'd hide it and pretend it never happened.

But his smile seems off and his eyes are... dark.

Kakyoin would be highly manipulative and convince you and the others that things are fine.

He'd most likely not hurt the other Crusaders, not unless he felt cornered.

Which may happen considering how close he is with you.

It's eerie how he's never away from you.

The others often suggest you don't share a room with him, Kakyoin often objects.

Even if the others are suspicious, Kakyoin is thankful you're open-minded.

Although you are concerned that he's been... a bit too attentive?

Oh I can just imagine Kakyoin's rage during the Yellow Temperance portion.

The moment he finds out someone was pretending to be him and was near you?

It would be a miracle if Kakyoin didn't kill him.

Kakyoin may also be physically affectionate.

He feels at ease in your arms, often asking you to not mind the others....

He's just stressed.

He lives for your touch and comfort.

Worried about the blood he forgot to clean?

Oh... It was just an enemy Stand User-

Question him? He remains stern and tells you not to worry about it.

Kakyoin seems like a master manipulator.

If the others confront him on his obsession, he may break the mask he puts on.

Who are they to say he can't have you?

If the others tried to separate you from Kakyoin, he'd put up a fight.

The only one I think can successfully subdue Kakyoin is probably Jotaro.

After all, clearly something is wrong with Kakyoin.

It's unhealthy to be so obsessive and possessive.

Yet Kakyoin doesn't seem to care.

He's killed for you... He can use Hierophant Green to keep you... The others can't keep you away from him.

He'll be beside you no matter what it takes.

Not only is he clingy and ruthless, he's delusional.

He thinks you're so nice to him because you love him.

In reality, you just care for all of the Crusaders.

But to Kakyoin... It means you're meant to be.

I don't think it's too far-fetched for him to defect from the Crusaders if he feels they'll take you from him.

One night you wake up no longer in your hotel room...

It's just you and him... His stand tightly wrapped around you.

Kakyoin may do anything to be with you, including kidnap you.

After defeating DIO, he plans to properly date and maybe even marry you.

The others can try to stop him... But push too far and he may just get rid of them too.

"You love me too, don't you? Don't worry... I'll make you happy, I promise. You'll never be alone when you have me... I won't let anyone else touch you...!"

[babygorewhore]

Permission

Konig x fem! virgin reader

You finally get into Konigs bedroom and make the move you’ve always wanted to.

Hi so this is pure filth. No plot. Lowkey self indulgent because I’m horny for him and I’m unhinged.

Warnings! Kinda perv reader! Mentions of female masterbation! Oral! Both receiving! Unprotected sex! Degrading! Choking! And not proofread

Sneaking into Konigs room wasn’t the smartest idea in your life but you were so desperate for the big, muscular man that you were willing to do anything. Anything to feel his touch. Anything to have him.

The age gap between you both wasn’t horrible but it was a gap. Ten years. He had plenty of experiences. Girlfriends. Even an engagement broke off six months ago when you got to the base and you’d been head of heels ever since. His personality, looks and everything drew you in. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him or keep yourself from toying with your pussy alone in your room at night at the thought of him.

You saw his bare chest rising and falling as he slept. His mask was off. He didn’t wear it constantly but it was still jarring to see his real face. Handsome. A very small amount of gray in his hair. You bite your lip and pick up his shirt, with the other one you stole in your empty hand. Tossing it over your body which was comically long on you. Your socks felt cold as you walked over to where he laid. Your breath shuddered as you reached to touch him before faltering. You wanted him to want it just as badly. You weren’t above begging.

You’ve never slept with a man. You’ve kissed a couple of friends at sleepovers but you’ve never gone all the way. No one seemed worthy, especially with Konig around. Just looking at his parted lips making your core clench. You saved yourself for him. Only him.

“Sir?” You whispered. Trying to wake him but nothing happened. “Sir.” You said a little louder. He stirred. “Konig?” You spoke and he jolted awake.

He rose to his elbows and you realized from his bare pelvis peeking out of the blankets he was naked. You groaned at the sight and his eyes widened in the dark. He said your name with a shocked tone and you licked your sudden dry lips. Konig pulled the blanket higher when he saw you holding one of his shirts that you stole. “I took this earlier. I used it to make myself cum. I need you so bad. I want your cum. I need to fuck you.”

He gasped as your cold fingers gently brushed against his tattoos on his right arm but he gripped your elbow and lightly shook you. “You can’t. We can’t. I’m ten years older. And you-” But you shook your head immediately and moved forward. You pressed your lips against his and you moaned as you opened your mouth. He instantly kissed you back, he grabbed your hips and swung you over his lap. Your soaked panties leaked over his bare cock that he rolled against you and you whimpered when his large fingers slipped down and snapped the band. Your hands encircled his neck and you lightly choked him. Not hard enough to hurt but enough that you felt his dick twitch underneath you and you grinded down. Your wetness smeared against the fabric as his own hand slid down to your ass and he slapped it.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” He said against your mouth, you both were a harsh mixture of teeth and he sucked your tongue as you dig your nails into his skin before you ripped away. Konig’s eyes flashed as he may have suspected you were having regrets but then he saw you start to kneel on the floor and he took a deep breath as you removed the blanket.

His cock was big, thick and the tip glistened with precum in the moonlight that shined through the window and you separated your knees to get comfortable on the ground. “I want it so badly, wanna taste you.” Konig’s hand wrapped around the base of your throat and made you pause and look at him with wide eyes.

“Liebling, you don’t have to. Fuck, god knows I want you to-” Konig tried to sound reasonable as he was struggling to keep his eyes open as your thumb swiped the lube that he naturally provided. You leaned forward and licked the side of the vein. Your tongue flat and lewd as you dragged it up to his balls before you sucked. You’d never blown a guy in your life but you watched enough porn and talked to plenty of friends to understand how it worked. And your own nightly fantasies that kept your fingers busy with his shirt underneath you on your own bed. Konig spoke a number of words in German as you kitten licked his tip while holding some of the weight of his shaft on your hands as you rubbed up and down. His head lulled to the side as he moaned lowly and his fingers tangled in your hair. His strength was so intense you almost hissed in pain as he tugged but you hollow your cheeks and sucked past his tip like a lollipop. You then rolled your tongue to taste anything that he gave you as your pussy throbbed from how turned on you were watching him struggle to control himself.

“Fuck, liebling, i’m going to-little love you’re going to make me cum too fast.” Konig growled before pulling you off, drool pooled from the corners of your lips as you swallowed and whined.

“I wanted you to, I don’t even care about me right now. Please, let cum on me, in me or wherever you want. I’ll do anything.”

Konig reached down and grabbed you by your waist, hauled you from the ground and threw you on your back. You shrieked as he ripped off your underwear, the material ripping as he tore off your shirt and exposed your breasts that were swollen. He leaned down, his breath hot as he licked a stripe from your neck down to your tit before enveloping the nub between his lips. Your back arched but his other hand came and slapped your cunt. “Dont. Move.” He growled as he sucked your nipple. He pulled off and looked at you with a dark expression. “You want to act like a dirty whore, you’ll get treated like one.”

Your pussy clenched as he returned to his pattern of licking, sucking and then gently dragging his teeth along your nipples and breasts, leaving marks no doubt. But you craved any sort of trophy from fucking him as his cock slapped against his stomach as he started shoving your legs apart.

“For a virgin you’re such a fucking slut. Bet you taste sweeter than you are.” Konig spoke above your center before he laid his flat and in one smooth motion licked across your clit.

You weren’t able to move from his strength pinning you down but your eyes squeezed shut as he lapped at your cunt, fully savoring everything you gave him, every single drop that dripped out of you as you whimpered. Konigs hips were rolling against the bed and you never would have imagined this moment feeling this good as Konig shoved his tongue in your entrance while his thumb spread the sticky substance across your pussy. You breathed heavily so that your stomach coiled and couldn’t relax as your legs tried keeping him in one place.

The familiar rise of orgasm was approaching you. “Thank you for tasting me, sir.” Your eyes leaked with tears as you struggled to speak.

Konig pulled away and crawled above you, his legs in between yours as his arms encircled your knees. He lowered himself and you felt the outline of his heavy cock against you, brushing against your sensitive bundle and you looked at him with wide eyes as he pried your lips apart. He spits inside your mouth, you taste yourself on him as kisses you hard and roughly. “I’m gonna give you want you want. I’m gonna make you mine and you’re never going to be touched by anyone else. Understand?” He husikly said against your mouth and you nod weakly.

Konig gently lined his cock to your opening, teasing it with his tip and you were just a little nervous. You knew you could take it. You wanted to take it more than anything. But…still. Konig must have sensed the very small amount of anxiety by the way he tenderly ran a hand down your thigh. “You’re being a good girl. You wanted this so bad, hm? Wanted me to fuck you. Don't be nervous now.”

He pressed the bulbous tip inside, giving you a slightly uncomfortable stretch as your nose scrunched a little but his fingers went to your clit, stimulating the twitching electric shocks that reminded you how close you were. You both were.

“That’s it…such a good little bitch. That’s what you want right? You want me to tell you how pathetic you are? For wanting me to fuck you so badly? Come on, little love. You can admit it.” Konig mocked you as you moaned as he pushed deeper, his own noise escaping his throat as your fingers found his hair.

“I’m so pathetic-pathetic for you.” You said between his movements as he brought himself to the hilt, your greedy pussy taking him better than you though and his balls slapped against you. It was messy, precum making it slippery as you both breathed in each other.

“Mhm, you’re so fucking pretty like this. Taking me like a champion.” Konig pulled out before slamming back in with a hard thrust, and you hummed loudly with a sob and the burn in your stomach grew in the pit. You wouldn’t last long which was embarrassing but Konig wrapped his hand around your neck.

“No, no, don’t act shy now. You were so eager to blow me and now you look nervous? You’re gonna cum as many times as I make you.” He growled against you and pulled your lower lip with his teeth.

You blinked at his aggression and your throat was sore as he squeezed but you humped into him as he slammed you against the bed with his movements.

He was so big that it was difficult to not fall off the mattress but his hand kept you pinned. His swollen cock filled you to the brim and you were already closer than you imagine and your stomach released all the pent up adrenaline and pleasure. You spill ropes of cum all over his cock, an echoing sob came through a garbled sound from him choking you as you clung to him. The waves hit you in waves and you jerked in aftershock.

“Look at you, pretty baby. You’re such a good little girl.” Konig cooed and stroked your cheek. And that’s when you realized he was pulling out.

“What-wait no I want you to cum-“

“Did you ask me nicely?” His question made you understand you actually didn’t ask him. You never did. “You want me to cum? Then I get to play this little game. Sneak into your room. Take one of your shirts and wake you up. Maybe then. You get to make me cum.”

And with that, Konig started putting on the shirt you stole.

It wouldn’t be that easy to get what you want, would it?

@marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @xxhellfirebunnyxx

[muntitled]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

Lukas Matsson x Fem!Reader | Kendall Roy x Fem!reader

Summary: Kendall had always been a competent, steady boyfriend, but there is always, always room for improvement.

Warnings: Language, Politics, Business, Cheating, Mentions of murder, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, CNC, Rough Sex, choking, degradation, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamics. Roman as his own warning.

I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.

Due to your perilous schedule as a political and public figure, arguing with your lover had never really made it past scheduling in the smorgasbord of your career. Perhaps that is why Kendall decided to pick unnecessary fights in the middle of a Swedish trip. He felt, and rightfully so, infinitesimally insignificant when compared to the hellscape that is your established career in the American political sphere.

You can see it in the way his broad shoulders hunch slightly, the way his larger lower lip protrudes into a petulant pout.

You're appalled.

"Kendall, you can't be fucking serious," Your first night on Matsson's retreat was scheduled to be filled with myriad orgasms in myriad uncanny positions. You and Kendall should be christening this luxury suite, but, instead you find your voice has climbed to ungodly octaves to a point that you feared you may shatter the glass wall that displayed the quiet Norwegian woods.

You couldn't give even half a shit as to whether others housed in adjoining tree-house suites might hear your furious bickering.

"You're a fucking child," he says lowly, desperately trying to regain control over the situation but only fumbling it by the second, "Do you know that?"

"No!" You exclaim, "Iverson and Sophie are!" He turns his back to you. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, "Those are your actual children, yeah!? When was the last fucking time you called them!? You're too busy measuring your dick against the Swedes- you're too busy to give Rava a fucking call."

"I have met plenty of selfish sociopaths in my day, Kendall, but this is unfathomable." His shadow falls over you like a second cloud in the already darkened suite's interior.

"Did she put you up to this?" He asks in that manic state of his with his hand pointed outward in condemnation of his most recent enemy.

"Are you aware that you have children together? You will know her for the rest of your life, are you aware of that?"

Kendall is quick to deflect, "Fuck! I can't catch a fucking break. Of course you run to my ex and- and- what? You fucking-meet up at Tasha's. Fucking talking about Kendall's cock-rings over your croissants."

You withhold the urge to laugh by letting a wave of fury wash over you anew. "You didn't even tell them their grandfather died before you dragged us out to fucking Norway, Kendall! That's unhinged! You're unhinged!"

"I'm perfectly hinged!" He says, turning away from you, pyjama pants billowing as he grabs his keys and a pack of cigarettes, "I'm like the doors on fucking Downing street, motherfucker," He speaks lowly. Voice simmering. "I'm fucking hinged."

The door slams with finality, leaving you clinging to your robe in front of a backdrop full of trees.

There's a deeply sated sigh that leaves your throat as you haul yourself over the Egyptian linen sheets. Fighting with Kendall had always been an impossible feat- something akin to yelling obscenities at a brick wall smeared with cocaine, but it always left you marginally satisfied after. A part of you felt like you might be saving him.

There is a frown, slight and not at all visible in the low evening light, drifting across your face as you stare down at yourself with disappointment and a hint of disapproval. Kendall was supposed to rip this robe right off you the second you got out of the shower. But, instead, you find yourself turning on your side, staring at the pines beyond the glass.

The sound of the door clicking open, ruins the serenity that had begun to settle.

"I for sure thought you'd gone and blown your head off for real this time, Ken." You mumble monotonously while staring ahead at the glass.

"While all these hungry vultures at my retreat does make me lean into the sound of suicide, I quite enjoy living."

You're quick to pull your unravelled rope across your frame as you sit up against the oak headboard.

"Not Kendall." He says.

Matsson towers enough to hunch slightly and disrupt the flow of the sleek, vertical finishes.

"Why are you here?"

"Well it is my retreat."

He smiles. Or at least you believe that he believes he is smiling. Sharks can't smile, you don't think.

"My house."

Lukas shoves his hands in pockets as he continues to stare at you. His disciplined eyes never stray or drift across your exposed legs, they never gloss over your deadly grip on the tightened robe digging into the plushness across your middle.

He's staring at you. Eyes boring into eyes.

"I've come to deliver a noise complaint."

"Consider it delivered."

He does not leave. Instead, he delves deeper into your space, the space shared with your boyfriend. You watch carefully as Matsson plants himself on the edge of the bed. There is an air of nervousness that bristles throughout the Norwegian woods as he brings one leg up to cross the other. You watch, entranced by how the soft Tom Ford sweatpants crease slightly under his fluid movements. His beige Balenciaga shirt sits comfortably and it elicits a sense of control as he makes himself comfortable in front of you.

The one thing you could never allow yourself to be was intimidated, and intimidation is all you heard from the mouths that affirmed this man. However, the subtle yet suffocating label whoring, the designer sandals…

He was just another man, suffocated by the weight of his own money. He had everything to prove. That gave you control.

"I didn't know when Kendall brought me on this trip that I was to be subjected to an invasion of privacy,"

"I heard you the first time," He says, chuckling in complete condescension, "I am aware you're here with Kendall. You don't have to bring him up the whole fucking time."

"Are you here under work pretences then? I'm not involved in the hellscape that is ATN, nor the Nazi wonderland that is Waystar so I would make a lousy spy."

"I know who you are," his eyes dart away, giving you enough time to break slightly, take heavier breaths and compose yourself, "I've seen the work you are… attempting to accomplish in that flaccid dick of a country," His gaze is back on you, "And while I do applaud you, politics bores me. You're all fucked anyway, I just came here to enquire if you would like to have sex with me?"

The manner in which he says those words, so calmly and succinctly, has you praying for another moment of regeneration while he darts his eyes away.

"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"

"In addition to the noise complaint, I would like to sleep with you, yes."

You're practically suffocted with the over abundance of choice. Matsson would be a fun and interesting side project for you to sink your claws into and manipulate with the added advantage of sex.

But there is a darkness lurking behind this man's gaze that promises far too much risk with little to no reward.

"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for stopping by, Lukas. It was certainly not a pleasure talking to you-"

You speak calmly, shuffling off the bed so you can escort him to the door. "Please find yourself outside of my personal and habitual space kindly and quickly-" but the axis tilts, and he does a daring thing by encircling a strong grip on your forearm. You try to lurch your arm out of his iron grip but it's fucking sealed around you like a constricting python. The darkness seems so incredibly poignant. God, all this man holds is darkness.

"I did not ask for myself." He says with a hint of condescension, "I asked for you." Matsson has you locked between his spindly legs while your robe billows open. Your face warms as you feel coolness settle against your exposed stomach but Lukas' eyes never leave your own.

From this angle, there is no chance to look away. Everything is maximised, from the wrinkles running like river channels underneath his bright blue eyes to the slight overbite in his teeth, perhaps his only external flaw.

What a dangerous individual.

"They're Roys." Lukas says, "He's a Roy," You suddenly feel juvenile and bashful, as you take the scolding, "You should know better,"

You're only vaguely aware that the distance between you two has been lessening because the air feels warmer. His breath is mixing with yours and his hand is doing a funny little dance along your forearm. "You should know better," He says.

And perhaps you should have closed the distance, perhaps you should have chased him away. You certainly should not have waited for a pair of irregular footsteps approaching to finally push the lumbering man away from you. Thankfully, he kindly obliged although Matsson's hand stalled, still rubbing against your elbow when Kendall stumbles in.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is he doing here?" Kendall's eyes are tired and bloodshot and you step away from Lukas' gravitational pull as you curl into Kendall's side. Kendall's suede Versace jacket is cool but his skin is warm as you burrow into the side of his neck. Your guilt worsens as you feel Kendall's arm curl around your waist.

You speak into Kendall's ear, loud enough for Lukas to hear, "Matsson is still trying to rape your company, I'm afraid. " You say with a lazy smile.

"Already raped," Says Lukas, shuffling passed the two of you, "Logan was the decision maker, remember?"

Before the man finds himself over the threshold, Kendall speaks up.

"Hey, no more private visits, yeah? Not cool."

You watch with bated breath as Matsson only cracks a toothy lopsided grin before tapping the wood of the doorframe and disappearing.

That evening had ended, like most of the evenings to come, with angry, jealousy-fueled sex. There had always been a distinct animosity between Kendall and Matsson but whatever had been in the air seemed to triple. Kendall kept you close during the entire experience. He kept you under Kremlin-level surveillance but he couldn't be with you all the time. In the moments you found yourself without Kendall, Matsson would appear from out of the shadows like a demon, slinking behind you with a hand ghosting your hip. He watched you from above the rim of whiskey-filled tumblers and even asked for your input whenever conversation within the group got a little political. One such conversation had the unfortunate interjection of one Roman Roy, who saw you as another toy in his toy box.

"What do you need two assistants for anyway?" The grinding of your teeth come to a deafening halt as you turn your head to face the youngest Roy. The smile on your face is amicable, some might even call it polite, but it is a well enough facade veneering the tempest brewing beneath.

"What- does Jess hold your balls while you tell knock-off Maya Angelou here" He points to you, "-to bend her head and suck?"

There were a number of things you simply allowed when it came to your courtship with Kendall Roy. You would even shame yourself into admitting that you might have found Kendall's overall emotional incompetence and dysfunctional family quite endearing in the beginning. But, like every magnificent, spine curling orgasm, the magic ebbed away quickly and soon, you were left with nothing but the wetness of his cum, cooling between your thighs.

That is what Kendall and his siblings were like most times.

Cooling, diabolical cum.

"Rome, come on." And therein lay Kendall's consistent, valeant response, of which he chose to defend you.

Rome. Come on.

Simply hearing those words leave his brother's mouth with even the faintest hint of disapproval sent Roman into a frenzy (you could see his pupils dilating and his cock hardening from your spot on a couch adjacent to Roman and Shiv). Matsson's entire foyer was set alight with amicable, drunken murmurs, of which Greg's nervous whimpers were occasionally heard peppered in.

Tom had retired to bed, (whether that would be in the same suite as Shiv, would be a satisfactory cup of tea you would divulge with your girlfriends later.) Matsson and his followers sat in their own private harem in a corner beside you.

"What?" Roman cries, slamming back a handful of ground nuts (an admittedly clever substitute for Swedish alcohol) "I was just asking a question. I know your people like to claim reparations for a lot of shit these days but I'm sure enquiring about the girl my big brother's fucking doesn't equate to slavery."

Although you hated the little demon with every bright blue blood cell running through your arteries, you did admire the sure-fire way he would spit his hateful vitriol.

"I appreciate the faux-concern, Roman." You keep it curt, cute and even forgiving, hoping he might take the win and leave you to down the last of your Hennessey in peace.

"That's your cue," Kendall announces, "Drop it."

"Look at how wet she's getting from my rich white brother finally using his voice to defend her for once." The conversation between the Swedes had long since ceased and your throat clogs as the music tins through hidden speakers. "Kenny so clearly has a type," Says Roman, now facing his brother with his elbows steepled on his knee. "I bet you couldn't wait to dive into that plethora of liberal pussy, could you, big brother?"

Your patience had long since snapped and your words are flying before you could stop them, "Considering you couldn't even get pussy without catching a rape charge or an incredibly disappointed prostitute, I'll assume this pseudo-incest interest you have in Kendall's sex life is normal,"

Roman only laughs, "No amount of sick burns is going to release you from the fact that your fucking a crackhead. Maybe it's the money," he taps the bottom of chin in a flamboyant display of consideration, "Although if it's raping our company that's your main goal, the Swedes might have you beat." Matsson straightens in your periphery, not by a lot but by enough to have a stoney smile cracking across your face.

"ATN is not my vice. Racist Propaganda doesn't get me as wet as it gets you, Roman."

"How convenient. I thought all Leftys held special orgys dedicated to besmirching racist propoganda."

Your response was already loaded in the back of your throat, aimed and ready to fire at Roman with reckless abandon. If it weren't for Lukas' interjection, you would have hoped to leave the little man bleeding all over Matsson's marble floors.

"You let him talk to your woman like that?" The rest of the party had left this specific ring of people behind, but that seemed okay. Everyone within the circle, the important people, were silent as Matsson turned his attention to a floundering Kendall.

"Maybe worry about your situation over there and I'll worry about mine."

"I'm not worried." Says Lukas, with a fierce stoicism that was so unique to him. Your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly as the couch groans while Lukas begins to rise. His friends each hold knowing smiles. Hungry smiles.

"Would you like to know why I'm not worried?" Asks Lukas, advancing with a slow gait. You turn your head just in time to watch Kendall's Adam's apple against his throat. He was speechless as per usual when the discussion didn't involve drugs or stock prices.

"Ask." Says Lukas as he advances. "Ask me why I'm not worried."

Upon you first meeting, you had found Lukas' height to be quite rude and unbecoming. You expected him to duck down, almost out of courtesy for the rest of the world laying low underneath him. As his shadow falls over you and Kendall, you find yourself grateful for this giant man making your boyfriend feel small for once- almost as small as you were made to feel around the Roys.

"Why aren't you worried?" Kendall's voice is still masked with confidence as he peers up at Matsson.

Matsson, who's teeth glint in the low evening light, like a hungry shark. He bends down low. You move slightly out of the way as he whispers into Kendall's ear.

"Because I'm gonna fuck her, okay?"

Absolute silence grows pregnant between the two and you're left to do nothing but watch as the exchange unfolds and Kendall's perceived control over everything and everyone unravels. His mouth opens and closes slightly while Matsson watches with a sadistic sort of pleasure in his eye…

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing," Says Lukas, having returned to his full height. "I didn't say anything. I just asked your-" His blue eyes darts to you and back, "-friend, if she'd like to see my bookshelf in the living room. I saw her reading Bronte earlier," Matsson shrugs, "Thought I might extend the invitation."

Lukas is not one to wait for confirmation, nor is he a man that waits for validation. He shuffles out his foyer, quite comfortably leaving present company behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. No rebuttal from Kendall needed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? What are you doing?" You lift yourself from the couch, ironing out the invisible creases on your plaid Chanel skirt as your eyes dart to Roman, now in idle conversation with Siobhan.

"They're just books, Kendall." You sigh softly. "You can't honestly believe I'd be any safer here." You deliver one final gaze at his lesser appealing siblings before following Matsson out of the foyer. The amount of people congesting the dark corridors lessen as you venture further into Matsson's abode. The walls are built with a dark, heavily sanded stone. Something casting a very ominous, yet unmistakably earthy glow throughout the corridor as the mouth spills into a large and defining living room. The colours are dark. The coal walls are all encompassing and Matsson stands beside a low leather couch, waiting rather awkwardly for your arrival.

"There is no library or bookshelf." He says with his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his sweats.

"I figured. You strike me as someone that would keep all their books stored on some gadget."

"Technology and leisure are the two civilizers of man," He says, watching you with bated breath as you slink around his living room, eyeing but never once prodding his things.

"Don't misquote Disraeli, it's not very attractive."

Matsson seems to relax at that, opting to take a step closer to you as he speaks, "I'll misquote Disraeli as much as I want. The 'increased means and increased leisure' part seems a little far-fetched." Your heart begins to hammer in your chance at the advancing man and you turn, whether out of cowardice or bashfulness, choosing rather to examine the sculpture along his mantle.

Your back begins to straightens as warmth radiates from him. He does not move but he cages you in. You would not be able to leave his sphere even if you wanted to.

"We don't have to fuck, obviously. It just didn't seem safe for you to stay in that situation."

You turn slowly and you find yourself slightly jarred by Matsson's proximity. His turtleneck hugs a string and definite build and the hunger in his eyes melts all inhibitions.

"I don't need saving."

"I'm talking about the little angry man." He says, referring to Roman. "I've seen your debates. It's the little nugget of American politics I find myself quite entertained by and I have no desire to wipe a Roy's blood off my floors this evening."

His words end up snapping any and all inhibition as you're throwing yourself quite mercilessly at him. The kiss is silent but so inexplicably charged allowing you to bump into various pieces of furniture in the process of pushing you up against the nearest stone wall. A wall that is cold to the touch, eliciting a surprised gasp which fuels Lukas all the more. He displays wet slobbering kisses down the nape of your neck as he murmurs drunkenly in your ear.

"I like seeing you like this. I like seeing you among my things." The conviction present in his gravelly vibrato has a pool of wetness gathering in between your legs. Your arm circles around his broad back until your pulling, rather roughly at the blonde hair curling at the nape of neck. This had consequently been a morbid mistake because his grip travels to your throat lightning fast, compressing a dangerous weight on your oesophagus as he rips his lips away from your throat.

"You don't get to do that," he says far too casually. "You don't get to assume control when you are here in my house with my things."

Matsson keeps his eye trained on you but your focus in compounded, solely, on his wandering hand tracing the hem of your skirt. "Hey, hey, hey." As you strive to keep watch of his wandering hand, Matsson moves his head into your line of vision.

"My things. Yeah? You're apart of that now."

As his hand inches underneath your skirt you're suddenly flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotions - fear being the most poignant and defining one.

"I don't want to do this anymore-" You're not sure whether you mean it or not but you're quite certain that Matsson doesn't care. You're suddenly truly aware that you had released something you don't really know how to control.

"Bullshit, you don't want to do this anymore." You finally feel his hand sliding into your panties and your legs wavers underneath you, "Your words say stupid shit," Sings Lukas as his fingers ghost over your swollen clothes, "But your cunt just can't seem to lie." His grip on your throat tightens before relaxing as he brings your head up to his lips. "You're fucking soaked."

"I'll fucking sue you," Although you're unable to assume a single confident tone as his fingers begin to play with your cunt, "I'll fucking take you to court for fucking assault, motherfucker."

"You wanna call Kendall for assistance?" He asks, slyly pushing his middle finger deep inside you with no regard for your strangled gasp. "Here, let's call him together. Say 'Kendall!'"

The only thing able to leave your mouth is a straggled moan as Matsson keeps you pinned to the wall by the throat. The sound of your voice - so incoherent and helpless has him evading any sliver of decency he might have had. "Fuck, you're so perfect." He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before spinning you around until he is sandwiched between your body and the wall. "I have to fuck you."

"Watch the door for me," he says, pulling your hips right up against the bulge in his pants. "Watch just in case Kendall, shows up. Right, sweet girl?"

You're nodding dumbly as Lukas hunches his tall frame while grinding his bulge into your backside. He has your skirt lifted, and his shadow casted over you as he murmurs diabolical things into your ear.

"God, you're a fucking slut, you're such a fucking slut." He keeps a grip on your throat while the unoccupied hand reaches around to lift your shirt haphazardly, "No amount of smart ass comments will ever hide the fact that you're just another whore." The casual air with which he degrades has you simultaneously humping the air while you push back against his bulge. It is in that moment when he finally decides to release his aching cock from his sweatpants dotted with precum.

"Jesus Christ, feel how hard you made me. Feel how fucking turned on I am just because you decided to be a stupid slut." You can feel the head of his cock pressing into you until you're unable to hold in the desperation.

"Jesus- Lukas!"

"What? You want me to fuck you? I think you want me to fuck you but I'm not sure." You're unsure of what he's asking, too blinded by the possibility of a carefully curated orgasm.

"Go on." He says, "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck your pussy while your boyfriend waits just downstairs."

There are tears pooling in your eyes at the sheer lewdness and the unapologetic quality of this betrayal, but your mouth opens and soon, you're shakily crying out. "Please just fuck me, Lukas."

His cock rams into you with a surety that leaves you winded. He seems as if his patience had been waning as well, what with the haggard sigh that leaves his throat and the numerous disquiet groans that float in the air. Despite yourself, you do keep a half-lidded gaze on the entrance, not put off, but rather spurred on with the possibility of your boyfriend finding you being railed by his latest rival. The thought alone has you clenching around Lukas' cock with your orgasm cresting.

"Whatever you're thinking about, I'm going to need you to think about it again- you're so fucking tight."

There's an animalistic quality to the sex- being bent over for him while he rests against a wall, a firm grip on your throats and your tits as he rams himself into you again and again.

It's far too much.

You wouldn't think there was something so ruthless hiding underneath such a calm veneer but that's all it is. All it always had been. A veneer.

"You're not with him anymore, do you hear me?"

"Fuck- Lukas I'm gonna cum soon," his grip on your throat tightens until it vacuums out any and all air. Your hand encircles his wrist, begging for release but to no avail.

"Tell me," he says as he continues to fuck mercilessly into you, "Tell me you don't belong to him." He finally gives you lee-way to talk and you're gasping out your response, "I don't. I don't belong to him," he nods slightly, brows firing as he bites into your shoulders.

"Fuck- I didn't plan to cum inside you-"

"I don't fucking care- I'm really close." Lukas nods quickly before releasing your neck to drag your cheek until your faces are pressed together in a smouldering kiss. "Fuck I'm gonna cum inside you-"

His words already have you diving headfirst into a groundbreaking orgasm. You're crying out helplessly, until Matsson has enough sense to cover your mouth with one large hand. He fucks you through it, filling you with cum as he groans just as loudly as you had been.

"Fuck," he chuckles quietly, "Kendall is not going to like that."

"Kendall," You breath heavily, safely contained in Lukas' comforting grip, "Is not my Keeper."

Lukas delivers a chaste kiss on your cheek, his stubble grazing against the side of your face.

"I plan on killing them anyway." He says, simultaneously unaware and aware that he's drifting into pillowtalk.

"Every last one of them."

[chiriwritesstuff]

The New Girl in Tinseltown - Chapter 2 - Devil's Advocate

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist │ Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into Dieter's point of view at the night of our fated trip to Vegas. How does America's favorite Bad Boy™ end up married to America's New Sweetheart™?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dry Humping, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, our loverboy makes a 'Pride and Prejudice reference, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 8K (whoops!)

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW. I promised the release of this chapter weeks ago, but I got struck by the not-covid-but-felt-like-covid virus and managed to get myself into the biggest writing slump. I really do apologize for that, and I want to give a big thank you to everyone who stuck around and showed and shared love and support for the first chapter and this series! I can confidently say that the writing slump has finally passed, and we can finally get this crazy show on the road...

An (almost) year before that night in Vegas.

“Dieter, I'm expecting you to be on your best behavior tonight."

Dieter scowls at his publicist while his groomer diligently applies yet another round of pomade in an attempt to tame his unruly curls. "Define best behavior."

"They're about to launch a new girl into the circuit, some unknown that the studio thinks will become the next girl next door," his publicist responds, tapping away at his MacBook. "She's a genuinely sweet thing, all doe-eyed and untouched by the suits. Apparently, she's so sweet that Feldman-"

“Let me guess,” Dieter deadpans, "Feldman wants to fuck her," he rolls his eyes at that, slightly curious at the prospect of fresh blood. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's not the best part," his publicist quips, his eyes locking with Dieter's over the rim of his laptop. "The studio wants to protect their asset, so much so that they hired-"

"No fucking way, they hired the Shark for this broad? What? Does she have beer-flavored nipples or something?" Dieter exclaims, his curiosity piqued. "Is she really that sweet?"

His publicist's mouth quirks into a small smirk. "The sweetest, most fucking forbidden fruit, my friend. So sweet that the Shark doesn't want you within ten feet of his client."

"Oh yeah?" Dieter replies, his eyes raised.

"Hell yeah. He tried to corner me earlier, warning me to keep my client's - and I quote - Dirty fucking paws off of his Doll-"

"Doll, huh? I bet I could tap that," Dieter challenges, his chest puffed out.

Dieter's publicist chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "Dieter, I know you believe you're God's gift to the masses, but trust me, this Doll? She's a bit out of your league."

Dieter leans back in his chair, a sly grin forming on his face. "Out of my league, huh? That just makes it more interesting. The thrill of the chase, my friend."

His publicist raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Dieter, I've seen you chase plenty, but this Doll is different. She's not like the others. There's an innocence about her that even your charm might struggle to crack."

Dieter smirks, undeterred. "Well, we'll see about that. The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest, doesn't it?"

The publicist lets out a resigned sigh. "Just remember, Dieter, not every fruit is meant to be plucked."

"What is this event even for?" Dieter counters, appraising himself as his stylist smooths the fabric of his suit, a deep emerald green number with a crisp obsidian button-down. He pouts at the mirror, glancing at his publicist and his agent behind him. "It's not the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards again, is it?"

"Why? So you could be caught doing blow off a toilet bowl seat like last year? I'm still doing damage control for that, you know," his agent deadpans. "You're in luck; it's the MTV Movie Awards-"

"... and this is Doll's debut, huh? Is she up for an award or something?"

"Several, actually. Surprisingly, her last film gained quite the following-"

"... let me guess, it's some rom-com," Dieter interjects, a hint of disinterest in his tone. "What are the categories?"

"Three, to be exact." His agent smirks into his cognac. "Best Female Lead, Female Breakout Star, and Best Kiss-"

"Best Kiss? Seriously?" Dieter retorts incredulously, his eyes widening. "What's the name of her movie? I might need to see it for myself-"

"Dieter, level with me. Are you gonna keep your dirty fucking paws off of the Shark's asset?" his publicist sighs, giving him a stern look. "As much as I want to shove my foot up his fucking ass, I don't have the energy to have him breathing down my back the entire fucking night-" he looks off into Dieter's direction, who is currently on your Wikipedia page. He frowns. "Dieter, do you hear me?"

"What?" Dieter snaps, slamming his phone onto his seat.

"Can you manage to be on your best behavior tonight? Stay clear of-"

"No. I mean, sure, fine, whatever-" Dieter interrupts, his tone dismissive.

"Dieter-"

"I heard you! I promise to stay away from her, but the real question is, are you able to keep her away from me?" He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The (not-so meet cute) at the MTV Movie Awards.

"Dieter!" you shout, hastily making your way toward him, clearly a few drinks in. "Surprised to see you here!" you shout excitedly, a little wobble in your step as you approach him. 

You adorn a sleek silver gown, your hair elegantly swept to one side, and your radiant face contrasting vividly with the venue's intense lights. Dieter finds himself momentarily breathless as he gazes at you, captivated by your ethereal presence, akin to an angel descending into the depths of hell. "Fuck me," he murmurs under his breath as you draw near, the collar around his neck suddenly feeling constrictive as he nervously swallows. "What the hell? I never get nervous around women," he mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the entirety of your figure. His pants grow notably tighter, his attention fixated on the hypnotic sway of your hips.

He greets you with a nervous smile as you come face to face, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek. His eyes close momentarily as he savors your delicate scent, a sensation that electrifies his chest and courses through his veins, prompting his hands to instinctively caress the back of your head as he subtly tries to capture another whiff. A subtle sense of pride swells within him as he notices the blush unexpectedly blooming across your skin, its warmth cascading down your cleavage.

Forbidden fucking fruit indeed. 

"Doll," he attempts to say smoothly, a hint of nervousness lacing his voice. "I've heard so much about you. Congrats on your wins tonight; they're truly well-deserved!"

"Really?" you suddenly squeal, and Dieter feels like he could get lost in your energy. It's pure, sweet, and so inherently innocent—the childlike wonder of being thrust into the limelight, untarnished by the sleazy underbelly of Hollywood. He can't help but internally frown, foreseeing the inevitable vultures in suits trying to get a piece of you. Their insatiable hunger for new, sweet flesh is something he knows all too well.

"Well, yeah, Doll, you killed it, as expected. Winning tonight and sweeping all your nominations was a given," he muses, casually leaning against his chair. As he leans towards you, a subconscious desire prompts him to take another whiff of your perfume, desperately trying to commit its essence to memory amid the haze of his coke-induced high. He can't resist burying his nose in your hair, eyes closing as he takes you in once more. 

"Dieter-" you question his sudden boldness, a nervous chuckle escaping you. 

"I'm sorry, baby-" he moans into your neck, his hands traveling down the length of your back. "You must tell me what the name of your perfume is, its divine-"

"Oh," you laugh as Dieter pulls you into him tighter, groaning as his hands travel dangerously close down your hips. "It's 'Missing Person' by-"

"Doll," a voice emerges from behind the two of you, accompanied by a stern clearing of someone's throat. Dieter's expression darkens as he recognizes the owner of the voice, but not before planting one final teasing kiss against your throat. With a smirk playing on his lips, he straightens up and turns to confront the perpetually annoyed yet annoyingly handsome face of the man Hollywood dubs 'The Shark'- also known as the most ruthless of publicists in all of Tinseltown, protecting his clients with an iron fist so strong no one ever thinks of crossing him.

Unless they wanted a cease and desist letter shoved so far up their assholes... without any fucking lube.   

Dieter gets it, though. If he were in his shoes and he had a client like you? All sweet and pure with the face of an angel but a body curated by the Devil himself?

Well, he would fuck your brains out and make you forget your name first, but that's beside the point. The point is, he gets it, he really fucking does.  

"Well well well," Dieter croons as he holds his hand up towards your publicist. "It's been a long time, Shark. Tell me, did you have to call ahead to make sure that some poor bloke's mangled testicles made it onto your plate for tonight, or did you rip someone's balls off fresh on-site?" he snarks with the raise of his eyebrow, shaking his head as your publicist stares at his outstretched hand in greeting. Dieter scoffs as he retreats his hand, placing it on his hip.  

"Bravo," Your publicist grits through clenched teeth as he tries to appear as unbothered as possible. "Aren't you a little old to be here tonight? The rumors aren't true, you know. Fucking girls close to half your age doesn't keep you young, but I suppose it makes sense, considering a woman your age would know better-"

"Shark, I won't tolerate you talking like that in the presence of an actual earth-bound angel. Just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know right from wrong-" Dieter retorts, flashing you a smoldering smile. "... you know how to handle yourself, don't you, Doll? You don't need some uptight prick telling you what you can and cannot do, right?" he winks, a slight puff to his chest.

You visibly shiver at his cheeky insinuation, nodding. "Right," you breathe, taking a hasty gulp of your champagne. "I'm 29 years old, I don't need you defending my 'honor' like I'm some virginal maiden-"

"Well, when my client has far too many drinks in her and doesn't understand the kind of man she's in the presence of-"

"The Devil, right?" Dieter exclaims, pointing to himself. "A no-good washed-up actor who fucks anything with two legs while high off my rocker, who just so happens to be good at what I do with the Oscar in my shitter to prove it? Don't you think she knows all of this? My bare ass isn't on the front page of TMZ weekly because I'm a nobody, baby."

"Oh my god, Dieter," you gush, clapping your hands together. "I loved you in-"

"Doll," your publicist interrupts, a firm hand on your shoulder. "You have that meeting with Favreau at the Beverley Hills in 30 minutes. As much as we would love to stay and chat... we have our jobs to get to, right Doll?" your publicist says to you sweetly, his hand grazing your arm. He clears his throat, nodding at Dieter. "Bravo, it was stimulating, as always," he deadpans with a hint of finality, pulling on your elbow like a lost puppy on a leash. Dieter swallows as he witnesses your light dimming from your face, a small frown on your face as you try to remain cordial, a fake smile etched on your face.  

"It was nice meeting you, Dieter," you almost whisper, pulling him into one last hug. "... maybe we'll just run into each other again soon?" You quickly whisper in his ear, and the thought of the two of you meeting up in secret thrills him to no end. His dick certainly twitches at the prospect. 

Dieter takes one last whiff of your scent, his eyes closing as he wills the time to stand still, not wanting to lose the warmth radiating from your aura. He presses one last kiss on your cheek, his fingers caressing the spot as he gives you a genuine smile.  

"... it wouldn't be soon enough, baby."

He gives The Shark one last salute, flipping him off once his back is toward him. “Fucking asshole cockblock,” he mutters to himself, patting his suit pocket for his little baggie of E. He pinches the baggie between his fingers, looking at its contents in silent contemplation.  I guess if I can't get the girl, at least I can get the high, right?

The morning after.

Dieter is face down on his sofa in his boxers and his robe, groaning from the after-effects of his debauchery just a few hours before. As if his skull is splitting into two, he winces as he turns himself onto his back, staring aimlessly into his ceiling as his iPhone suddenly starts to go off from under him.

Sighing, he blindly reaches for his phone, one eye open as he squints into the tiny, shattered screen.

TMZ NEWS FLASH! Up-and-coming Actress who swept MTV awards show last night being groped by Resident Playboy Dieter Bravo? Her publicist sweeps in to save our New "It" Girl in Tinseltown from the grasp of the Devil himself-

Dieter scoffs as he swipes the notification away, his eyes scanning the next headline.

AP NEWS ALERT: Dieter Bravo seen kissing Rising Actress at MTV Movie Awards last night, is a new romance brewing between the Fresh-Faced Actress and Playboy Lothario Dieter Bravo?

"Dieter," his publicist groans as he walks into the room, picking up a crumpled pair of boxer briefs off the sofa, and throws himself on it, pinching the space between his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "What the hell did I tell you? Stay away from The Shark's client, don't grope her in front of him! Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"It was innocent! I kept my hands at a respectable distance from her ass," Dieter retorts, throwing his phone across the room. "I didn't even make a move—"

"That's not the point, Dieter!" his publicist spits back, pulling out his phone. "Do you realize how much this guy despises you? I'm good at my job, but The Shark? I can't go against a god—"

"You're making him out to be some untouchable—"

"...because he is untouchable, Dieter! Do you even know he's buddies with Feldman? After learning about your stunt last night, he's considering pulling you from the project."

"Please," Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes. "They need me more than I need them! I'm practically doing them a favor, signing on to this fucking movie. They're not going to pull Dieter Bravo from a sinking ship! It's just scare tactics!"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. The pussy is stronger than god, right?" his publicist replies, scrolling through his phone. "Feldman didn't appreciate your hands on his girl, and now he's out for blood. I warned you about this, D. Is some girl worth losing a multi-million dollar contract? Do you want to go back to doing 'surprise guest star' roles on cable TV? I heard they're thinking of rebooting 'Suits', it might be a good fit for you-"

"So what do I need to do then?" Dieter fires back, a joint between his lips. "I assume I'll be needing to make a public statement or some shit? Keep the old bastard happy?"

"It's funny you mention that D. I have an email from The Shark himself, with a list of what he wants you to say in your statement, promising he'll back the fuck off if you promise to not go within ten feet of his asset-"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing People' perfume?" Dieter suddenly asks, taking a hit off his joint, his eyes following the thick plume of smoke as he leans back into the sofa. "Missing... Woman?" he mumbles to himself absentmindedly, licking his lips. "Fuck, what did she say it was? I need to stop going to these things blitzed out of my fucking mind-"

"Dieter, focus. Are we releasing the statement or not?"

"MARCUS!" Dieter calls out for his PA suddenly, ignoring his publicist as he grabs the phone out of his hands. "MARCUS! I NEED YOU!"

"Yes D?" Marcus responds as he rushes into the living room, pulling a fresh pack of Kitkat out of his back pocket. "Did you need a snack?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing Someone' perfume?" he asks once more as he pulls up the Safari app on his publicist's phone.  

"You mean 'Missing Person' by Phlur?" Marcus quips, picking up the stray pieces of discarded clothing strewn randomly around the room. “One of my favorite actresses just became the spokesperson for that perfume, swears by it-“ 

“Missing PERSON, that’s what it was!” Dieter shouts, tossing his publicist's phone back at him. “Marcus, you’re a fucking godsend! I knew there was a reason why I kept you around! Could you do me a small favor?”

"What do you need, D?" Marcus asks eagerly, his hand perched on his hip. 

"I need you to buy me 'Missing People'. A couple of bottles, at least."

"How many is a couple?" Marcus asks with a nervous chuckle. "Five? Are you giving these out as gifts or something?"

"Maybe I could call Chriselle, and tell her you're interested in the company, there are more scents suitable for men, D," his publicist says casually, pulling out his laptop from his messenger bag. "I ran into her at Erewhon the other day, she's a big fan of your work, and couldn't stop talking about Cliff Beasts... Now, about that statement-"

"Fuck asking, just go to Neimans or Sephora or something and buy out their entire stock. Lotions and body wash and candles if it comes in that scent, too, Marcus. Go to all of the fucking Sephoras if you need to."

"... the entire stock? D, what is this for?"

"Do I pay you to ask all of these fucking questions? Don't worry about what I'm going to do with it. Just get it in my hands by the end of the day, do you think you could swing that?"

"... yes?"

Dieter takes another drag out of his joint, nodding aimlessly. "Great. Also, stop by Blicks on your way back. I need an entire arsenal and the biggest canvas they have. New brushes, too! Set up my studio and put the 'Missing People' in my bathroom, and I'll want my usual In n Out order, too."

Flustered, Marcus pulls out his phone and starts typing Dieter's requests on his notes app. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he looks at his boss once more. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get the fuck out of my face and get to work, Marcus. Chop Chop!"

His assistant nods and scrambles out of the living room, tripping on the corner of the area rug on his way out. Dieter's publicist raises his eyebrow at the display, shaking his head as he types away on his laptop. "You know, you could be nicer to him, D. He tries hard to cater to your every fucking whim and fancy... now, are we gonna release that fucking statement or not?"

"What statement?" Dieter asks absentmindedly as he pulls out a small baggie from his robe pocket.  

"The one where you say that you had a little too much to drink and that you didn't mean anything by groping Doll at the Movie Awards, and that you're really sorry and will be donating a couple thousand to a women's shelter-"

"... and this will make The Shark happy? and Feldman off my ass?" he replies, rubbing his gums as he smiles to himself. "I'll be able to stay on the project?"

"You can start packing your bags, yes. Filming starts in a week for the next few months in Europe. It'll give this whole Movie Awards nonsense some time to blow over."

Dieter considers this for a moment. He sticks his tongue out in contemplation, coming to the unsettling realization that he hasn't been in a major studio project in the last few years. He needs this job more than they need him, and deep down, he knows this. He takes one last drag out of his joint, flicking the roach away as he turns towards his publicist.

"Release the fucking statement."

His publicist nods, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Good," he murmurs, genuine relief softening his features. "I can't handle you out of work for another month, not after the fucking pandemic... What's the deal with all that perfume, anyway?"

"What?" Dieter replies absentmindedly, scratching his beard.

"The stuff you made Marcus buy in bulk," his publicist clarifies.

"Forget the perfume. Do you still have those photos I sent you?"

"I've got them, but I haven't checked them out yet. Why?"

Dieter gestures toward the laptop. "Why don't you take a look?"

His publicist eyes him warily, opening the email. His expression shifts to shock as he glimpses the contents. "Is this—"

Dieter nods, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Yep."

"This is huge, Dieter. How did you even get these? They're screwed if this ever goes public—"

"That's why it's payback time. A little warning shot," Dieter interrupts, leaning forward eagerly. "We leak the photos. Anonymously, of course."

"Dieter," his publicist warns, "If they trace it back to you—"

"I'll take the risk. They messed with the wrong guy," Dieter scoffs, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "These amateurs think they can get away with it?" he mutters to himself, then clears his throat. "Remember our motto?"

"Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Dieter leans back on the sofa, nodding. "That's right. Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Six Months later.

"Hi, I'm Carol Cobb!"

"... and I'm Dieter Bravo!"

"And we are doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview!"

"Alright! Is Dieter Bravo..." Carol energetically rips the first sheet of paper off her card, a playful smile spreading across her face as Dieter looks attentively at the camera. "Is Dieter Bravo dead?!" She bursts into laughter, smacking Dieter with the card, who simply shrugs. "Wow! Why would they hit us with that right out of the gate?"

"Not dead yet!" Dieter exclaims, pushing his signature glasses off his face while gazing into the camera. "Got close... several times," he adds with a pointed smirk.

"...and we are very much thankful for that!" Carol shouts. "Shall we move on to the next one?" She tears the next slip of paper, her eyes widening as she reads, “Is Dieter Bravo secretly married?!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I spilled the beans now, would it?” Dieter smiles conspiratorially, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“I can't imagine you ever settling down,” Carol muses with a smirk. "It seems unnatural, like going against the natural order of things, like sea animals on land. Dieter Bravo, settled down with one girl? Hell would have to freeze over before that ever happens," she teases.

"I think it could happen," Dieter says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest as he settles back into his seat.

"What could happen?" Carol asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Settling down. Getting married, perhaps... even starting a family," Dieter replies thoughtfully.

"It would take quite the woman to make 'The Great Lothario' change his ways. Seems like an impossible feat," Carol interrupts, chuckling. "A woman who can stop the great Dieter Bravo from his manwhoring ways? Maybe someone who lives under a rock and doesn't know about your reputation."

"Actually," Dieter interjects, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I think I've met someone recently who's made quite an impression on me."

Carol's eyes widen in surprise. "What do you mean, you think you've met someone? Who is this mysterious girl that's captured your attention, D?"

"Well, she's an actress-"

"Of course," Carol quips with a knowing smirk.

"... she's new. I had the pleasure of meeting her at the MTV Movie-"

"You're not talking about Doll, are you? The woman you groped after meeting her for the first time? Someone even said that they caught you sniffing her! Who does that, Dieter?!"

"I am a connoisseur of all things exquisite and beautiful, ma chérie. She smelled absolutely divine, and I swear her scent lingered on me for days after, I swear, just let me nuzzle my face in between the valley of those luscious tits-"

"God, D. I think they're gonna have to edit this shit out!" Carol mutters, looking embarrassed by Dieter's boldness. She leans towards Dieter. "I thought you signed some embargo with The Shark promising you wouldn't mention her," she whispers in his ears. "Even I wouldn't think to fuck with him-"

"Well, Feldman was my main concern, and now he's facing jail time for all of those underage claims and those leaked photos, so fuck it!" Dieter counters, knowing damn well he worked behind the scenes for it to happen, leaking a few photos he had stored away on his iCloud, kissing himself on the mouth knowing it would come in handy sooner or later.  

AP NEWS ALERT: Hollywood bigshot arrested for leaked inappropriate images from an anonymous source of various actresses, denies all allegations of misconduct.

One asshole down, one Shark to bury next, he thinks to himself, chuckling at the thought. "Besides, I can't get her out of my fucking mind! I've never felt this way about a woman before, Carol, I mean it this time!"

"I mean, she's undeniably beautiful," Carol agrees, "but she's still new to the industry. They've been typecasting her in those romcoms with whatshisname, but I've heard she's pushing for more challenging roles—"

"Cut!" The director's voice slices through the air, his eyes narrowed at them both. "This interview is about promoting Cliff Beasts, not discussing Dieter's love life with some woman."

"Hey, that 'woman'? She's my future wife, so watch your damn mouth," Dieter snaps back, his tone defensive.

"Whoa, D, hold on. Future wife? You barely know her!" Carol interjects, her hand pressed against her chest in disbelief. "Take it easy, baby. Get to know her first, at least."

"It's gonna happen, Carol. I can feel it in my damn bones. I was drawn to her the moment I laid eyes on her," Dieter insists, his confidence unwavering.

"Listen, Casanova, I don't care who you think you're gonna marry, but we're on a tight schedule here!" the director interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. "Stick to the damn questions, and no more talk about your little 'girlfriend.'"

"Fine," Dieter mutters, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water. "But do me a favor—don't cut out the part about her assets. It'll bring in views like crazy. I did you a favor there."

The director waves him off as he storms away. "Remind me why I took this job knowing this idiot would be here," he mutters to himself, heading back behind the camera.

The day of the (not so thought out) wedding.

Dieter is anxiously bouncing his leg, biting his pinky nail as his groomer meticulously applies another layer of concealer under his darkened eyes. "Jeez D, have you been sleeping at all lately?"

"What?" Dieter asks absentmindedly, running a shaky hand through his curls. "Yeah- I've been sleeping, why?"

“Your under-eyes, D. They’re darker than my fucking soul, man. Didn’t I tell you to lay off on the sauce? I’m on my fourth layer of concealer-“

“It’s nothing,” Dieter says dismissively. “Just… have you ever been in love?” 

"Sure I have," his groomer replies, a small smile on their face. "That's why I'm married, silly. Why?"

"Say you like a girl, and you think that this girl might be interested but then TMZ posts leaked photos of said girl and some beefed up Hollywood hunk "canoodling" with each other while filming their movie together in Canada-"

"This is Doll that we're talking about, correct? The one you groped at the MTV Movie-"

"I DIDN'T GROPE HER!" Dieter exclaims, groaning as he sinks further into his seat. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I was simply giving her a friendly, yet casual hug when she APPROACHED ME-"  He huffs like a petulant child, his arms crossed around his chest in defiance. "Anyway, I thought, after I desperately tried to shoot my shot, let my intentions known in that 'Wired' Interview with Carol, that she would contact me, you know? Maybe slide into my DMs-" 

“Slide into your DMs?” His groomer scoffs, plucking a stray eyebrow hair with their tweezers from his face as he dramatically flinches, narrowing his eyes at them. “You flat out said you wanted to smother your face in the ‘valley of her luscious tits’, I would be surprised if she hasn't filed a restraining order against you yet... Let me give you a bit of advice: Girls want to be romanced, not objectified! ... have you ever had a 'real' girlfriend before, D?"

"Hey! I've had girlfriends, alright?" Dieter groans, frustration evident in his voice as he clenches his fists. "Just because they didn't stick around afterward doesn't mean it was all my fault, okay?"

"The girls you hook up with during your benders and then discard once the high wears off don't exactly qualify as 'real' girlfriends, D! Let's be serious here!"

"That's what I'm trying to be," he whines, "I'm trying SO HARD to be serious for once! I can't get this girl out of my head, and it's been what? Almost a year since I've met her? I can't get my dick hard when I'm with anyone else anymore, I don't want to take drugs, it's like I'm fucking broken or something! ... and now she's off fucking Joe Hollywood over here like I'm not bleeding my fucking heart out for her-"

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're actually sober right now?"

"Well, yeah. The last time I took something was before filming Cliff Beasts, I thought you knew that. Anyway, it doesn't fucking matter. All of that and she doesn't even notice me."

"Well, I would tell you that if you had bothered to read TMZ this morning instead of sulking, you would know that there are split rumors between this girl and Hollywood neanderthal," His groomer retorts, a shit-eating grin on their face. "It was over before it even began. I mean, I've heard for such a massive man, he has quite the tiny di-"

Dieter perks up at that. "Say that again."

"They've broken up. She's back on the market, silly goose."

"So that means-"

"That means that I'm going to groom the shit out of you and help you out by making her realize just what she's missing out on, D." His groomer replies, massaging his scalp as they make eye contact through the mirror in front of them. "You're lucky that I consider myself a hopeless romantic. If you promise not to break her heart, I'll help you get the girl, ok?"

"Shit, do you think she'll like me?" Dieter says nervously, fidgeting in his seat.  

"Obviously," his groomer replies cryptically, a smirk forming on the corner of their mouth. "I may or may not have some intel from another groomer friend of mine about their supposed breakup."

"Oh?" Dieter perks up, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "... and what would that intel be?"

"Oh, you know. Someone might have asked their stylist if they think you'll be attending tonight, how she kept trying to be sly about it."

"Doll asked about me?! Are you serious?" Dieter's excitement is palpable.

"Well, according to my friend, the reason why they broke up was that someone might have moaned your name while being eaten out by 'Joe Hollywood' the other day-"

"No fucking way!"

"She's into you, D! I would say that your little ploy during the 'Wired' interview worked more than you think, bud."

Dieter nods, taking the biggest sigh of relief as he settles in his chair. "One last thing, do you groom just the top half of me, or are you open to grooming other places?"

"What do you mean?" his groomer cocks their head to the side.  

"Shit, well... are you open to grooming my nether regions? It's been a while since I've been with a woman, I'm almost full caveman down there-"

His groomer tsks, pulling out their phone. "Dieter, as much as I love you, I don't love you that much. Let me call someone for that, ok?"

A few hours later, on the red carpet.

"Dieter," his publicist says under his breath as they walk down the red carpet. "The cameras are this way, why are you so distracted?"

"I'm looking for someone," Dieter replies as he winks at the sea of paparazzi, flashing them a peace sign as he walks toward the venue's entrance.

"Well, who are you looking for?" His publicist replies impatiently, looking down the red carpet.

"Doll, obviously. Do you know if she's arrived yet?"

His publicist rolls his eyes, sighing. "She arrived about five minutes ago, don't you see her?"

Dieter inhales deeply, his gaze scanning past the vibrant red carpet until it locks onto yours. His breath catches in his chest, surprised by the unexpected connection. You appear taken aback at first, but swiftly compose yourself, subtly angling your body towards him with a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Holy Shit..." Dieter's mind races with excitement. "She really does want me."

Filled with newfound confidence, he playfully purses his lips in your direction, sending a cheeky kiss your way as his eyebrows wiggle in amusement. A flush of color blooms across your cheeks in response, catching his eye. But as he revels in the moment, he notices The Shark's gaze narrowing in his direction, a whisper passing between him and you.

That's fucking right Shark.  I'm coming for my girl, and there is nothing you can fucking do about it.  

Later, Dieter observes you from across the room as you sit at your table, alone, nursing another glass of champagne. He notices how you try to avoid meeting his gaze, despite catching you stealing glances at him throughout the night when you think he isn't looking. It surprises him to see you being so reserved, so quiet, especially without The Shark hovering around you like a protective dragon guarding its treasure.

What's gotten you so down, babydoll?  he muses, leaning back into his chair. As if you could read his thoughts, your eyes meet from across the room once more, and you quickly look away, smiling to yourself at getting caught looking.

Dieter senses the moment's significance, his heart racing with anticipation. He knows he must seize this opportunity, the perfect moment to step forward and break the barrier between the two of you. With a determined smile, he decides it's time to make his move.

As he rises from his chair, Dieter's confidence swells, fueled by the intensity of the moment. With purposeful strides, he crosses the room, his gaze fixed on you, the anticipation building with each step. This is his chance to bridge the gap, to finally reveal the feelings he's kept hidden for so long.

He draws in another deep breath as he approaches you from behind, mustering his most seductive gaze as he leans in towards your exposed ear, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"I can't help but notice that you've been eye-fucking me the entire night."

He groans softly as he takes a seat in the chair beside yours, hoping to conceal any nerves as he attempts to exude charm. "I guess my little ploy of trying to get your attention with that 'Wired' interview worked out in my favor-"

You respond with a subtle smile, your fingers gracefully tracing the edge of your champagne glass. How does something as simple as that manage to rile me up? he wonders inwardly, returning your smile.

"You know," you say softly, a chuckle escaping you as you shake your head in disbelief, "There are more normal ways to get a girl's attention-"

The longer Dieter spends in your presence, the more he feels himself on edge, the tension mounting with every passing moment. His pulse quickens, and he can't ignore the growing semi in his suit pants. It's astonishing how much you affect him, like a siren calling out for him while lost at sea, lying in wait, ready to bring him to absolute ruin. 

Fuck. Keep it cool, Bravo.

"Ah, but you're America's Sweetheart, and your pitbull of a publicist won't let me near you, I had to let my-" he gulps at the sight of your ample bust, licking his lips in anticipation, "... intentions very clearly known."

"Well," you breathe, chest heaving. "I don't know if it's 'clearly' known," your voice drops to a whisper, like a secret that is shared only between the both of you, two lonely souls amongst a sea of chaos. "I think you're just going to have to spell it out for me."

Dieter, sensing victory, leans back triumphantly, spreading his legs as he subtly encloses you within his space. His dark, smoldering gaze meets your thinly veiled attempt at your best innocent doe eyes... but Dieter sees right through it. He grins widely, reveling in the knowledge that he's the cat about to get all of the cream—your cream.  That's right, babydoll, I've finally caught you, and I'm never going to let you go.

He laughs at the sight of you, his chin motioning to your breasts.  "Do you want to have sex with me, Dollface?"

Your eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes your lips, as you search his gaze, trying to decipher if he's just bullshitting or if he's actually fucking serious.  I'm serious, alright, he chuckles to himself. "If I miscalculated this fucking thing that's going on between us, tell me and I'll fuck off, leave you alone-"

"What if I don't want you to fuck off, and want to tell you that I'm this close to being plastered and that all I kept thinking about tonight is you railing me with that huge cock we both know is aching for me in some deserted hallway-" you challenge, picking your champagne glass for good measure, downing its contents in one swig.  For courage, he thinks. "I would beg to ask you... what's taking you so damn long, Bravo?"

WhatsApp chat between Dieter & Marcus: Dieter: Hey Marcus, are you still in the venue? Marcus: Yes! With your publicist. Did you need something? Dieter: This party blows. Can I borrow your car? Marcus: Oh, did you want me to drive you home? The party just started, Dieter. Dieter: I can drive myself back, stay for the party! Catch a ride with the suits afterward! Get shitfaced, you're officially off the clock! Marcus: Seriously? Do you know how to drive a stick? It's my baby, I don't know if I feel comfortable with you driving it, are you high right now? 🤦‍♂️ Dieter: No, for the last time, I'm fucking clean, man. Just do me a solid and let me borrow your car, I swear I'll give you a fucking raise! What do you want for one night with your baby? Tell me, I'll give you anything! Marcus: Fine. Just tell me what you did with all of that fucking perfume, there"s a bet going on and I would like to shove it in your publicist's face that I know! Dieter: Seriously man? That's all you want? Marcus: Do you want my keys or not, D? Dieter: Fine. I took the fucking perfume, doused my entire bedroom in it, and fucked myself smelling it thinking about Doll. Dieter: Is that enough of an explanation for you? Come the fuck on, man, I need your car! Please! 🙏 Marcus: 🙌 Meet me at the lobby in five. 

"So tell me," Dieter shouts as he peels out of the parking lot, laughing at the delighted squeal that escapes your lips as you throw your head back, your arms raised upward as he turns quickly into the streets of Los Angeles. "How often did you think about me, babydoll?"

You boldly reach over to cup his erection, your small hand wrapping around the tip of it. "As much as I reckon you thought of me, Bravo. Tell me, how often did you come, alone in that massive bed of yours, to the thought of your cock thrusting into my tight pussy?"

"Fuck baby, do you want me to crash this car? It's not mine, you know?"

"Answer the fucking question, Bravo."

"Baby, if you only knew how much I fucking came just thinking about your tits... I don't think you know just what exactly you got yourself into, little girl... but I'll show you just how I thought of you coming on my fat cock, giving me absolutely everything-"

I've been hungry for you, baby, and I'm going to feast on every inch of your body, just you fucking wait-

He cackles like a madman as he peels into the dwindling streets of LA. "Are you hungry, Dollface?" he yells, almost running a red light, his eyes fixed on the glowing In n Out sign in the distance.

"I shouldn't, I have that screen test next week-"

"Fuck the screen test!" he shouts. "The night is young, and you are gorgeous. Let Dieter take care of you, baby... while I still have you in my grasp. I ain't gonna waste a moment I have you in my orbit!"

He pulls into the In n Out parking lot, cutting the engine, and pulls you into his lap, his face immediately diving into the valley between your breasts. "You can suffocate me with these tits and I would die a happy man," he mumbles against your skin, his growl reverberating throughout your entire body like wildfire. "What do you say, Doll? Would you do me the honors?"

"Fuck Dieter," you moan, tipping your head back in pleasure as his tongue teases the edge of your dress covering your breasts. "Grab my tits," you beg, grabbing his hands for good measure. Dieter wastes no time as he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue licking along the seam of your mouth, begging for entrance.  

"Open up for me, baby girl. Let Dieter taste you-" he pleads, and you pull away with him, your hair wrecked and lipstick smeared. Dieter imagines he looks as wrecked as you do, his pupils blown and chest heaving. You pull him into another kiss, sighing into it, your mouth opening slightly. Dieter takes this as a sign to devour you completely, your tongues fighting for dominance as you begin to rock your hot pussy against his thick cock.

"I want to ride you into the sunset, D," you whisper, pulling at his curls harshly. "Are you gonna give me what I want? Or am I going to have to find someone else to do it?"

"Fuck-" Dieter pants, his gaze reaching yours, his mouth agape in awe. "How in the fuck did I get so fucking lucky-"

"Grab my tits, D," you ask once more, moaning and throwing your head back, biting your lower lip as you grind on his throbbing erection. Dieter quickly obliges, his large hands engulfing both of your breasts. His fingertips graze the edge of your dress, the hardness of your nipple pressing into the middle of his palm, and he swears that if he were to be struck down dead right at this moment, he would die a happy man.  

"Shit, I knew that your tits would feel amazing, but you are so fucking soft-"

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "I'm soft in other places, too." You whisper in his ear, and he swears he feels the ghost of your smile as he moves his hands back on your hips, his fingertips squeezing the softness of your ass as he angles his dick where he imagines your clit to be, thrusting into your hot, wet heat. "Fuck, so goddamn soft-" he groans, his tongue licking a wet stripe along the tops of your breasts. "You're fucking everything I never knew I always wanted, baby girl," he praises you honestly, cupping your cheek as he pulls you into another kiss, groaning as your tongue dances with his, leaving him breathless.  

"Am I?" you pant as you wrap your arms around his neck, your pussy dragging along the thick outline of his cock. "You talk like you want to marry me or something-"

"... oh, but I do want to marry you, breed you, keep you locked up in my mansion... you have no idea just how much I've thought about you, these last few months-"

"Dieter! My Man!" someone shouts in the distance. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he yells back, "I'm about to fuck this beautiful woman in an In n Out parking lot, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck, can I take a pic, man?" the fan shouts as he approaches the convertible.  

"Don't you see we're a little preoccupied?" you shout at the fan, flicking him off. "Get the fuck out of here!" you shout.

The fan quickly takes a shot of the both of you with his iPhone, a half-hearted apology mumbled out of his mouth as he quickly runs back inside of the restaurant, probably to the group of men who are completely unaware of the two celebrities dry-humping the fuck out of each other in their wake, eating their double-doubles and sneaking sips out of a cup filled with some cheap ass vodka, fist-bumping the night away.

"Are you gonna come in those Gucci pants of yours, D?" you tease, your pace quickening as you ride his dick relentlessly. "How does it feel having America's Sweetheart getting you to come in your pants, baby?"

"Fuck," Dieter pants, his hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you against the steering wheel, angling the tip of his cock against your clit. "How does it feel to get fucked by The Devil, sweetheart? Your pussy is begging me to just rip those fucking panties off and just claim you, right in front of all of these fucking people-"

You shiver at that, a choked curse and his name out of your mouth as he sees the entirety of your body begin to quiver and shake.  

"Don't fight it, baby, I know you fucking like the attention, I know you want everyone to see how much of a bad fucking girl you are inside... but don't worry, Dieter knows, and I'll help you show them," he pulls you against him harshly, your chest pushed up against his, as his teeth sink at the hollow of your neck. "I'll get the world to see just who you really are, baby. Let me show you the way-"

You scream as he thrusts into you once more as he rips your orgasm out of you violently, crying out into his neck as Dieter explodes into his Gucci trousers, the mixture of your slick and his thick cum making an absolute mess of his loaned suit.  

I guess I'll have to pay for these, Dieter thinks to himself as he cradles your shaking form into his arms, licking away the salty tears running down your face. "You did so good, Doll, don't cry-" he whispers, stroking the back of your head as he tries to get you to calm down. "What do you need, baby?"

You lie quietly against his chest, your breaths falling into rhythm with his, as he assumes you're simply gathering your thoughts. "Baby," he pleads softly, his hands tracing soothing paths along your exposed back. "Please, say something—"

"Marry me," you whisper against his chest, the words barely audible but filled with undeniable certainty.

Dieter freezes, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected words. For a moment, he's speechless, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?" he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment.

You lift your head, meeting Dieter's stunned gaze with unwavering determination. "I said, marry me," you repeat, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Let's take this car and drive it to Vegas, get married by some overweight Elvis impersonator, and book the honeymoon suite at the Cosmo... I don't care how we do it, but let's get fucking married, D!"

Dieter's mind whirls with a mix of emotions—astonishment, disbelief, and a profound sense of joy. He blinks several times, as if trying to confirm that he's not dreaming, before a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Oh, my God," he breathes, his voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."

Taglist:@yxtkiwiyxt @skysmiller @picketniffler @readingiskeepingmegoing @islacharlotte @drewharrisonwriter

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[haykawas]

what i think would be their go to halloween activities — ft. satoru, suguru, choso.

gojo satoru – trick-or treating & urbex.

trick-or-treating is satoru’s favorite, and it’s quickly become yours as well, though it hasn’t always been this way. of course, you love this holiday. however, you used to think adults should stick to parties at most, and never expected to indulge in such activities past your eighteenth birthday.

but it’s to be expected when you hang around the gojo satoru, because that man just doesn’t care. he’s never felt shame once in his life, does what he wants whenever he wants. he likes to show up in the most ridiculous costumes, too, and you often have to take a break to laugh it all out before you begin trick-or-treating. and he loves the sound of your laugh, he adores it – and some might say your smile is the only reason he tries so hard to come up with the most unhinged fits every year.

and it’s not surprising he loves this holiday so much. you know satoru has a sweet tooth, everyone does. and you do too. so, of course, once you’re done with your little escapades, you get back to his and immediately sit on his living room floor to sort out all the candy you’ve managed to gather, throwing out the bad ones and exchanging a few. 

one thing about satoru is that even though he doesn’t say it, one of his love languages is act of services. you’re not surprised when he tosses a candy to you, complaining about how he hates this one while you catch it with sparkling eyes, because of course, it’s your favorite –  and while he’ll never tell you, it’s his too.

another thing you love to do together is explore abandoned places. since you’re both a little crazy, you follow him in his antics quite easily, and it often seems like you two have one brain for two. before you go out, you both spend hours searching for the perfect spots, weighing the pros and cons of every location and going over the creepy stories of every one of them.

of course, you get to play cameraman, while satoru stands before the lens. you both love to pretend like you’re ghost slayers filming a documentary, and it’s sometimes hard to focus when he makes your sides hurt from the things he comes up with. you fool around and scare each other, and although he’ll never admit it, he’s almost shit himself more than once – because, to his dismay, you might be a little too good at scaring the shit out of him. yet he secretly loves it, the smirk you’re sporting when you manage to make him jump. and maybe it’s the quiet of the night, the soft glow of the moon that illuminates your features ô so beautifully, or even the curve of your lips that his eyes try to not focus on that prompts this sentiment, but he feels a bit funny looking at you that night.

geto suguru – making costumes.

making halloween costumes with suguru is always so much fun. you visit plenty of stores together, and you both have this little tradition that takes the form of a contest where you have to find the most hideous pieces of the store and put them together in order to create the worst fit ever. the downside? the loser has to walk around town wearing the winning costume. and one thing about suguru is he doesn’t play to lose, to your dismay. the bright side is that you always get to remind him of the one time he put together something so awful he managed to startle an old woman so badly she fell over, knocking down an entire aisle. he then spent the next thirty minutes apologizing profusely while you failed to hold back you giggles, his eyes sending daggers at you at the same time.

another thing about suguru is that he loves to help you get ready. yes, this man is an absolute gem. he knows how to do hair beautifully, as he’s used to taking care of his, so you let him handle yours very often. he’s very gentle with it, his slender fingers gliding through your locks as he thinks about the style that would fit you the most.

he helps with your makeup too, and takes it very seriously. he’s deeply focused as he doesn’t want to screw it up, his brows are furrowed in concentration and his lips twisted into a little pout as he applies your mascara. of course, you can’t help but avert your eyes. his gaze is always so intense, it just throws you off balance, but he doesn’t let you do so. instead, he takes your chin between two fingers, his tone firm as he tells you to ‘keep your eyes on him’ while he continues to work on your eyelids. oh, and next up are your lips.

kamo choso – pumpkin carving.

pumpkin carving with choso is so domestic. he invites you over because he knows you love manual crafts. you’re not good, granted, but you love it nonetheless. and it’s not just you two! yuuji’s there too, and the three of you first head out to visit the farmer’s market. there, choso tells you how to choose the perfect pumpkin, and you listen to him intently, your gaze soft as he loses himself in details – you don’t want to cut him off and tell him you’ve actually learned all about it before you came, the way he’s so passionate about the subject making your heart jump in your chest. 

he flushes red in embarrassment when he realizes he’s been rambling, asking why you haven’t interrupted his monologue as you shrug, feigning indifference. and yuuji smiles knowingly, snickering because his brother can be so oblivious sometimes.

and once you finally get to it, knives in hand, he can’t help but hover over you, worried that you’ll cut yourself — and he’s right to, really, with the careless way you hold the knife. so he stands behind you, his hand on yours as he guides you, showing you the safe way to proceed and giving you advice on the best way to shape your monster’s features. he chuckles with pride when you look up at him with a happy grin on your lips after you’ve managed to finish a pumpkin without losing a hand and praises you. he’s so supportive it hurts your cheeks from smiling too much, but you don’t tell him you know he’s just being nice, because you might’ve just carved the most horrendous pumpkin ever known to man. 

[motocorsas]

okay i actually do have a hottake re: marc hater in unhinged confessions. as a marc disliker i think i see where they're coming from but disagree with the delivery. this is gonna be a long one.

they're correct about everything, like from a factual standpoint. marc did win an absurd amount of races in the 2010s, he did push honda to build a bike that favored his style, he did leave for ducati and he does still get tows.

but i think they're overinflating how much those facts affected his career. like, 2013 still happened; that wasn't a bike that favored him and he was riding on tracks he'd never even seen before. he's naturally talented, there's no way around it. and i see how that can be frustrating too -- i started watching motogp in about 2017 and i didn't like marc from the get-go. frankly, no matter how many exciting overtakes or impressive saves there are, if you can predict the outcome of a race before it starts, it's not a very entertaining one, or at least it adds up to a pretty boring season. that's how i felt.

as far as the concept of "overcommitment": this is a very niche term, also called overconformity, used in sports sociology. the idea proposed by some sociologists is that sportsmen subscribe to the ethic of the sport -- the pervasive ideas on what the sport should be, and what it means to be participating in it -- but some take it too far, and it becomes self-sabotage. sociologists jay coakley and robert hughes describe the core tenets of the theory:

overconformity is not just about wanting to win or be superior to other competitors, it's an uncritical belief in the mythology of a given sport.

coakley and hughes' framework was developed to explain deviance, or a deliberate action that breaks the rules or norms of a sport. they use multiple examples, but focus on the use of PEDS.

here's the problem: is marquez deviant?

he's certainly sacrificed his own wellbeing to get ahead. i think this is a functional analysis when looking at marc's injuries, multiple of which have temporarily or permanently disabled him. he internalized the messages of the sport, that winning is the only option and injuries can or even should be sustained to achieve it. but he's not breaking any rules by riding injured, he's doing something glorified as heroic. same thing with hitching tows, which is perhaps closer true deviance; a tactic disliked by many other riders that benefits one participant at the cost of another. a ban on towing would be difficult to enforce, so the practice goes unchecked, even if it is typically outside the boundary of acceptable behaviors. where anon's analysis really falls apart is in his off-track decisions, like choosing to switch from honda to ducati. he made an informed decision to switch manufacturers to improve his performance. that's just the way the game works.

when speaking about the ways he contributed to the development of the modern honda project, my opinions start to get a little messier. because i do think that bike was made with his specific style in mind, and i think that's selfish. but i also think just about every rider is selfish, because that's how the sport works.

there have been outliers, teammates dedicated to the craft, the altruists ready to defend their garage-mate's championship hopes at the price of their own. consider jack miller's defense of pecco bagnaia when they were teammates. but even his opinions changed:

the above quote was published in 2021, just before the misano grand prix, which pecco did end up winning while miller finished fifth. the next year, he had this to say:

not all riders are going to sacrifice their career for another's. that's just not the way it works, especially if, as i discussed above, said rider has fully internalized the sport's ethic. though marc's prowess on the honda did come at the cost of more riders' success than just one teammate -- the independent teams leasing hondas also have to contend with the bike and its quirks, leading to plenty of nasty crashes. marquez himself acknowledges it.

the honda of the mid to late 2010s was the sharpest of the v4s, took a very angular line that required absolutely godlike reflexes in order to turn correctly. you had to know exactly when and where to shift, brake, release the brake, and open the throttle again, and you had to do all of this with milisecond-perfect accuracy. just about only marc was able to make it work. if you disagree, don't listen to me. listen to jorge lorenzo, who said this in an interview with Motorsprint earlier this year:

the exception to this rule was pedrosa, who was able to adapt to the honda build, but still didn't win a championship.

i've spent enough time building my argument. what all of this amounts to is that yes, your honor, marc marquez is guilty of being too good at motorcycle racing. he has sacrificed his body and plenty of other riders' in the name of creating the perfect team, the perfect bike, the perfect career.

it's up to you to choose how to feel about all of this. personally, i don't care for him, but more than that i worry about his safety and his mental state. i think if he sustains another head injury, it may be time to make the executive decision to retire. brain damage is serious, and though he recovered from the vision problems that plagued him in 2021, they have the potential to return if re-injured. i may buy into the villain narrative from time to time, but i recognize that it is just that, a narrative. a story i tell myself to make sense of the sport. we are all in charge of our own interpretations. in summation: marc fans are not "brainless". let's make sure marc doesn't end up that way either.

[theres-a-body-here]

Creep!Reader with Male Survivors (Part 2)

You're one cruel and sick creep, and you plan to let every survivor know that.

Jake Park

He doesn't feel much towards you

To him, you're just another killer he needs to evade

Jake won't let you use his emotions against him

You don't really like to chase him

"Come on! Smile or something"

Your camera is in his face as he just stares at you nonchalantly

You huff and storm away while muttering

"Danny's right; you're a waste of memory space"

Ironically, you don't see his look of confusion

Who the hell was Danny?

Jake never seems to be stressed by the things you put him through

He's as calm and cold as the fog

He rarely ever talks to you

You find that pretty boring

You've resorted to doing the most unhinged shit you can think of to get a reaction out of him

Kiss his cheek while you carry him to hook?

He just keeps wiggling out like normal

Camp and tunnel him?

He avoids your gaze and hangs there silently

It's getting frustrating

Unfortunately for Jake, you have plenty of time for new ideas

You have plenty of time. You have even more when you kill everyone but Jake and leave him slugged.

He was sprawled on the grimy ground, blood oozing from his wounds. You knelt beside him, your demeanor oddly nonchalant for the grim circumstances. Your fingers idly toyed with your whip.

"You gonna say something?" you asked, the curiosity in your tone almost casual, like you were discussing the weather. Your camcorder dangled lazily from your hand, recording the macabre scene.

Yet, Jake remained defiantly silent. His teeth were clenched, and he steadfastly avoided meeting your eyes, determined to deny you even the tiniest shred of satisfaction, refusing to give you the reaction you so desperately craved.

With an impatient sigh, you found the silence dreadfully monotonous. An idea struck you, and you slowly extended your hand, pushing a finger into one of Jake's open wounds.

Jake couldn't contain his agony any longer. He let out a primal scream through gritted teeth, his suffering reminiscent of a wounded animal's cry. It was a satisfying sound, one that you had longed to hear.

A sinister grin crept across your lips as you chuckled softly. "Finally," you remarked in a more casual tone, "I knew you had something fun for me." With a sadistic glint in your eyes, you continued to toy with his wound, and Jake clenched the ground beneath him, his face contorted in pain.

Still, he refused to speak to you. He eventually bled out before you could manage to reach his insides up to your elbow.

Bill Overbeck

Bill is absolutely unnerved by you

You seem to be infatuated with the older male survivors

This doesn't bode well for him

"You run pretty well for a smoker"

He hears your awful laughter as he tries to loop you

Bill grits his teeth as he slams a pallet on you

He smiles a little when he hears your cry of pain

You seem to not handle fakes very well

Bill has slammed almost every pallet on the map on you

He can hear the grinding of your teeth under your wolf mask

"That fucking hurt"

Looks like you getting tilted, Bill smirks

"Remember that pain when you chase me, dumbass"

Bill doesn't stay to see your reaction

But a chill goes through his body when he hears you make a promise

"I'll give you something to remember, forever"

He stays on high alert as he escapes the chase

His mistake was caring for the others

He probably should've realized it was a trap

You hooked Feng and waited close by

When Bill felt you pull him onto your shoulder as he went for the save, his heart sank

He began to wiggle like hell

You don't take him to a hook; you just plop him down on the floor

You knelt beside Bill, your ever-present camcorder continuing to document his pain. The werewolf mask loomed over him as your hand reached out to touch his back, fingers tracing patterns.

Bill's stomach churned, and the urge to vomit threatened to overcome him. He fought desperately to crawl away from you, the taste of dirt and despair mingling in his mouth. But it was a futile struggle. You were a relentless force, like a predatory creature toying with its prey.

With a sickening, calculated grace, you knelt upon his back, your weight crushing him down into the unforgiving ground. Bill's world shrank to a suffocating tunnel of terror. As the unfeeling lens of your camcorder captured every agonizing moment, he couldn't help but wonder who the recordings were for.

As your hand ventured lower and lower towards his ass, Bill's panic surged to a fever pitch. He thrashed about violently, desperately trying to evade your touch, his heart pounding in his chest like a trapped animal. The dread of what might happen next gnawed at his very soul.

But then, like a twisted reprieve, the unmistakable popping of a generator broke through the realm's silence. Your hand withdrew, and you let out an exasperated sigh. The unexpected interruption seemed to momentarily spare Bill from further torment.

"Maybe next time, Pookie bear," you cooed, your tone dripping with a perverse affection that sent shivers down his spine. You rose to your feet and began to walk off towards the main building.

Bill felt unclean.

Ashley Williams

One of the few who tolerated you

He was quite the annoyance sometimes

Fuck Mettle of Man

But you liked him

He was always fun to chase

Witty remarks and flirts back and forth

"Stay still, Handy Manny"

"Sorry kiddo, no can do. Maybe drop your fetish whip and then we'll talk"

It was really refreshing

So much so that you let him have the hatch if he's the last one

Sometimes

The footage you have of him is basically one long blooper reel

Even when you carry him he's pretty chill, even as he wiggles

"Aw come on, throw me a bone will ya?"

"You brought Head On and Flashbang, hell no"

Even if he doesn't hold grudges, don't expect an easy chase

You rarely chase him at the beginning of trials because he's that good

Frustrating, but in an amusing way

It helps that he's pretty smoking

Groovy

"You're really something, Ash," you purred with wicked allure, your werewolf mask hiding the twisted grin that danced on your lips. "I think I want you for my next... film."

Ash couldn't help but chuckle, his voice laced with a playful tone, "Oh, baby, I've seen films like yours at the adult video arcades. You'll have to try harder than that to impress me!"

With a deft leap, he vaulted through a grimy window, your whip striking him with a satisfying snap. But even as pain coursed through his veins, Ash didn't miss a beat, calling back to you, "Nice try, wolfie, but I've had worse dates!"

You hesitate for far too long as you hear him say that. You scoff at your relapse in focus, knowing you probably wouldn't catch up to him now. You record his fleeting form with your camcorder. It wouldn't hurt to have some comedy in your collection.

You wonder if he'll be mad that Ash used his petname for you.

Ghostface, when you told him how your match went:

Bonus~~~~~~~~~~~

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CALLED YOU WOLFIE?!?!?"

Masterlist here

[yandere-wishes]

Hey have you seen the new transformers movie if so what’s your opinion on it😋

OMG I just got back from the theaters and was about to start writing for it!!!

Right off the bat I LOVED IT!! It was definitely an interesting take on the characters with plenty of reference to the older shows/comics. Absolutely LOVED D-16 and Orian Pax's relationship, they were BESTIES and I LOVE THAT !!!!! Bee (sorry badassatron) was so adorable and I kinda love this unhinged version of him. I feel like other continuities have tried to stray from the "Bee is the little brother" trope and have failed. Here they kept Bee as the little brother but just made him a little crazy AND I AM HERE FOR IT!! Elita was interesting definitely liked this take of the character, it made sense plotwise to make her so goal/work oriented. And it was definitely cool to see her being more than just the love interest (although I hear she gets a lot of development in Earthspark and Earthrise)

Megatron's obsession with Megatronus and him getting his cog in the end was honestly my fav part (right next to the race and Megatron standing up to Sentinal) but did anyone else feel like Megatronus looked ALOT like Tarn? Like I get why they did it but it just felt a bit off.

Also, how would the Qunintessions have attacked if the Primes had still been assembled and Quintus Prime was still there? That's the part I'm most confused about.

Also LOVED Megtron's fall, it was so well played out!! Little rushed but still amazing!!

Overall 9/10 movie totally recommed going to see it!! ADORED IT SM!!

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale Seeking Godhood, Path 3 Ending Part VII

Content Warning: Death This is the final path and chapter for Gale Seeking Godhood. Enjoy, sadists. Read on Ao3

“Ah!” An unhinged chuckle fell from Gale’s lips and his hands shot to his head and ran back through his hair. His body tingled with adrenaline and he pushed back from his seat so abruptly his chair fell backwards with a thud. “I’ve done it… I’ve done it…” His eyes searched around the room, eager to share in his excitement with you and he beamed with pride.

Gale’s heart sunk as soon as the realization gripped him. For a moment, he forgot that you were no longer by his side. You had left, asking him to never speak to you again. Tara wasn’t even here to share his delight - the moment felt bittersweet and lonely. After all this time, Gale cracked the final words in the Annals of Karsus, Godhood close enough to taste. Gale needed to find you - needed to share this moment. Perhaps you’d see reason now that he had accomplished what you set out to do. Now that he was on Godhood’s doorstep. You’d want to ascend with him, surely - you’d have infinity together… time to mend what was broken. 

You’d see. You’d have to. 

*** 

It was about a ten-day before Gale found you. Although he had mustered the confidence to seek you out, he watched you from afar, nervous. He hated it - it was a ravenous anxiety, one that clawed at his gut and threatened to rip out his soul. With a heavy sigh, Gale walked towards you. You were sitting on the docks, your legs handing over the side to barely brush the water. 

Gale stood behind you for a moment before the tell-tale creaking of the planks betrayed him and you whipped around, your eyes darkening. You were frozen, your eyes wide and doe-like as Gale approached. His breath caught, surprised by your magnitism even after all of this time. “I knew I’d find you,” Gale breathed and you held up a hand, your expression unreadable. 

“I thought I asked you to leave me alone,” You murmured and Gale’s heart clenched at the sorrow and regret woven into your words.

“I know,” Gale said, he could hardly form a coherent thought, the sound of the blood rushing through his ears drowning out everything. His palms were sweaty and he scoffed a bit, musing at the sensations of being a mortal. He relished in it, knowing it would be the last time he felt such a thing. “But if you would just listen…” 

“No..” You stood, your voice fiery. “I’ve heard enough. I’ve seen enough. If you’ve come all this way just to have me understand… I think you’ll find I understand plenty.” 

“But you don’t!” Gale shouted, exasperated and flung his hands up. “If you did, you wouldn’t foolishly reject this opportunity.. Godhood, ascension! Don’t you understand what that means? What we could accomplish? All we could achieve together?” 

You scoffed, your voice acrid, “Listen to yourself! You’re so blind, knee-deep in your own self-absorbed thirst for power, that you are unable to comprehend, even for a moment, that this is not what I want.” Your voice was steely and cold, “This is what you want. You’ve lusted after this power long before me. I see that clearly now. So, if you’re intent on this ill-advised suicide mission I will not stop you - I would rather live a thousand more miserable mortal lives than spend eternity with you as a God.” 

Gale groaned, running his hand over his face and felt sick. “You don’t mean that. What can’t you see? I’m offering you eternity - eternity. Surely you must…” 

But he was interrupted by a low, sadistic cackling as the earth split open and a figure emerged from a chaotic roil of red and sulfur. The entire earth seemed to quake and he instinctively reached his hand out to hold onto you, to ensure your safety. You did not recoil.  

“Gale Dekarios. Gale of Waterdeep. Soon to be Dekarios the Divine.”

“Raphael.” Gale hissed, a frown pulling at his mouth. 

“Raphael….?” You whisper, the color drained from your face. 

“What do you want?” Gale spat, his words laced with venom. 

Raphael’s slow, menacing laugh throttled them and Gale pulled you closer to him to stand in front of you. “For someone so clever, you can be awfully dense at times.” Raphael snapped his fingers and Gale cried out, a hand gripping his chest as magnificent pain swept through his body.

“Stop!” You shout, arm wrapped around Gale’s shoulder as he crumpled before you. 

Gale gritted his teeth and he stood. His eyes narrowed and swimming with blackness. “You’re an alluring figure, Raphael.” Gale began, stepping towards him and began to circle him like a shark. “I confess, I took a liking to you the moment we met. We have something in common after all - ambition.” Gale smirked and wagged a finger at Raphael, “But here’s where we differ: you have lofty goals and the Crown is the key to them. You’re desperate to get your claws on it. Ambition is your bread and bloody butter - but it’s more than that to me. It will be my domain.” The air around Gale began to crackle, coming alive, “And... I think in your case, I’ll bend the rules and make things a little more interesting for both of us.” Gale flicked his wrist elegantly, manipulating the Weave with such agile grace as he hurled a spell at Raphael. 

He was met with a cold laugh as Raphael expertly countered it. “Ah, the folly of mortals… how delicious. It’s a pity… you should have ascended while you had the chance. Perhaps I’ll be able to satisfy my own ambitions after all…” and Raphael transformed, taking on his demonic avatar. 

It all happened in a blur. Gale had committed the incantations, the flourishes from the tome to memory and as Raphael threw one attack after another, Gale deflected each as he focused on harnessing the power of the Crown. 

“Gale what are you doing?!” You yelled, gripping his arm but Gale’s eyes were full of an unfamiliar emptiness. You were caught in the crossfires, desperate to survive, desperate to preserve Gale’s life. 

“A danger for anyone imprudent enough to trust you,” Raphael sneered, “Tell me, Gale Dekarios, what is the price you’re willing to pay for Godhood?” Gale saw Raphael’s eyes flick to you, an eager, hungry grin curling his lips. He intended to focus his attack to you. “Do not toy with me, Wizard.” 

“I thought you liked playing games, Raphael. You can have the crown. But you’ll have to come and collect it from my realm.” 

Although it was a fraction of a second, the moment would be frozen into Gale’s mind for the remainder of his existence. Long after he lost track of time in mortal terms, long after the lingerings of his mortality diminished entirely. 

In that instant, Raphael directed his attention to you and you barely deflected him. Gale could taste your terror, see the wild fear in your eyes. While Gale uttered the final incantation that would grant him immortality - elevate him to Godhood - he tossed a brutal, ruthless spell at Raphael. 

Disintegrate. Dolor. 

Except he had been distracted. The moment Gale ascended to Godhood, the last word falling from his lips to claim absolute control, the power and sensations devouring his mortality in encompassing, extraordinary expansion - would also be the memory of you. 

Before his eyes, you disintegrated into dust. The look of shock, pain, and repulsion evident as the winds brushed away your being, sweeping you into another plane. The visceral yell that erupted from Gale’s lips could be heard across the celestial planes, across Faerûn. His once mortal hands clutched at the pieces, the dust of you as your remains filtered and swirling in the breeze as if nothing. Gone. 

Gale felt undone. His body no longer a body but an essence, an ethereal intangibility despite appearing mortal. There was no emotion that he knew that could compare to the sensation that he had now, if you could call it a feeling at all. He felt wrong. Soiled. Emotions felt foreign, incomprehensible. Yet, Gale was filled with a feeling of profound discomfort, as if the core of his being was unbalanced. It was a sensation of things being starkly out of order. It was more uncomfortable than anything he’d ever experienced. 

It was not supposed to happen this way.

***

How much time had passed? A month? A year? A century? 

Gale measured time in eons and eternities now, and space was a matter of infinities overlapping impossibly in the dreams of the divine. But the bond he felt with you still had meaning and weighed on him, tugged at the fabric of his new celestial form and kept him in a state of unending instability. The scales would never balance. 

Mystra had told Gale as much when he met her in the astral plane, moments after your death. Raphael had vanished as unexpectedly as he arrived, knowing when he’d been bested and - Gale had no doubt - relishing in the bitter justice as he saw Gale kill the one person he loved, the person who had tried to love him to the best of their ability. 

Gale had ascended to the heavens almost instantly after, greeted by the mistress of Magic who was prepared to fight for her domain. Yet, that was not Gale’s goal. He told her he intended to claim the domain of ambition, of strife, and Mystra’s smug response ensured that in the future, Gale would challenge her. He would take the Weave from her. 

Eventually. 

“You took a mortal life at the moment you claimed Godhood,” Mystra’s tone was thick with condescension, with an almost haughty conviction. “You will never feel truly balanced. Gods are not meant to take mortal lives. It is the ugly cost you chose to pay - and it has cost you dearly.” 

Time was irrelevant now, but Gale held you with such reverence that even his followers knew the tragic truth, the perils and cost that ambition took on Dekarios the Divine. It became engrained in his doctrine. 

Ah, Ambition. A delicious sin for an immortal to wield, indeed. 

[docholligay]

A relevant question was asked by @tallangrycockatiel about my love of Interview With the Vampire: "Um, why are you into something that is all about dudes, all the time? Is this us not being a bitch's bitch?" Only, she is English so she said it in a more polite, suggested sort of way.

A very fair question! It is extremely true that, by and large, a thing with men only is less interesting to me by far and it takes a lot more for me to get into it. But she was not put off by this, for she had developed a theory:

My two initial theories are that either it hit you early enough that that hadn't become such a strong preference, or that it has something to do with the fact that despite being 95% men the entire cast seems to be having what I can only describe as dyke drama the entire time.

She both knows me and is smart, so there we are. The answer is basically: YES.

I started reading the Vampire Chronicles when I was something around 13, and so I didn't really have an idea that it was kind of fucked up that men we treated as the only default interesting people on earth. I pretty much took it as an implicit truth, where I never would have SAID that, but, I was very much in what can only be described as a 'masculinity k-hole' where of course I wanted to be a 'tomboy' and the only way for a girl to be tough and cool was if she was 'just like a boy' and this whole idea that men and masculinity were superior vomit vomit vomit whatever I am perfectly capable of beating someone's ass in red lipstick but that line of thinking did not occur to me at the time.

So I had NO sensitivity to the idea that stories whose ENTIRE UNIVERSES centered around men might be even, annoying. Anne Rice straight up does not care about or like women, and it is absolutely reflected in the way she writes her female characters. I cannot IMAGINE someone reading these as a fully grown adult who thinks women are neat, actually, and not coming away going, "My god, what is happening in these books?" But when you grow up with something, it changes with you, and the ways you think of it aren't COMING from adult you, they are, at least in part, coming from YOUNG you. And, in much the same way A Song of Ice and Fire, which I read at a similar time, gave me what I wanted from fantasy and wasn't getting, this did as well. I did not know that it would have been what is now called urban fantasy, and I didn't know that was a thing I liked (I very much know that now) all I knew was, I liked it. It was batshit and felt dangerous and it was unhinged and very gothic, though, again, not a way I could have expressed it.

So I'm carrying all that --I'll say baggage even though that has a negative connotation--when I come to the work. I already pre-like it.

This can of course backfire, but it didn't, so, I'm not gonna get into that.

NUMBER TWO: The 'all dudes' thing is not insurmountable. It's a quality issue. I love Dan Simmons' work and his women are basically nonexistent. There are plenty of things I like that don't center women. But, the bar to entry is MUCH higher. I would never in my life willingly watch something like "sailor moon but boys though."

What Interview has, that I love, is a very rare thing: Well written, EXPLICITLY gay, and everyone is fucking terrible. It is an adult show for grown-ass adults where people fuck and murder and abuse each other. Armand is the physical manifestation of gaslight gatekeep girlboss. Louis rewrites an entire personal history to make himself look better and emotionally manipulates everyone he comes into contact with. Lestat is a hot tempered, vain dilettante who does shit without thinking and then has the audacity to go, "Oh no, the quencies!" Everyone sucks, everyone is abusive in one way or another, all the fucking exes overlap, and I LOVE IT. Anyone looking for a hero or victim is watching the wrong fucking show and I am SO HAPPY ABOUT IT.

I'll close with my response when we were talking about how fucking great Sarah Waters is, in relation to the above:

it took me forever to realize that I didn't actually want recommendations for lesbian fic, what I was actually asking is: So who is doing it like Sarah Waters? Which unfortunately is no one. The woman is my own personal oasis in the desert.

And God, it has taken me YEARS to convince people that I care so much less about whether or not something is gay than if it is GOOD. Does it say something TRUE, you know? Is it messy? Is it sometimes uncomfortable? I would fucking LOVE if it could be gay on top of these things, but I'll real here:

l'll read a good straight thing versus a bad and especially a fluffy gay thing

I LOVE that shit like REd, White and Royal Blue or coffee shop Aus or whatever exist for people who want them, but I am out for blood ahaha

I have a happy, boring, domestic gay life, i do not need to imagine what a life where your biggest argument is about the quantity and variety of fucking breakfast cereal (We have EIGHT. BOXES.)

[maisonaime]

Ilithyia's Blessings

I got Covid-19 as a college graduation/early Christmas present :) enjoy the fruits of me being stuck in my parent's basement.

Summary: Rewrite of Feyre's reaction to finding out about the risks of her pregnancy! I (like many) hated how this was dealt with, and would personally love to see her rip the entire IC a new one for that bullshit. Diverges from canon the moment Nesta leaves the townhouse. Heavy angst and hurt for all, BUT a happy ending! Please note that I am atrocious at writing dialogue so forgive me.

Warnings: Pregnancy complications, family dysfunction, mentions of past trauma, emotionally abusive & generally unhinged behavior from all!

Part 1:

As the last of Nesta’s burning fury trailed out of the door after her, Feyre’s eyes once again met Amren’s. The tears there had turned sharp as glass shards. Power imbued with the abundance of life nestled in the High Lady choked the air of the townhouse, damp and salty and so very wrong. They had been so very wrong. 

Amren did not falter, but her stance was one of false ease. She had never wished so badly to be well-versed in the nuances of emoting and made a note to herself to observe her peers' reactions more closely; that she might glean some useful mimicry for a similar situation in the future. A creature of preternatural stillnesses and pregnant silences, Amren waited until Feyre spoke in a voice so deep it may have been derived from the pits of the Mountains themselves. 

“How long have you all known?” 

“You should really ask your ma–” bared teeth cut her off.

“I asked you Amren. How long?” Feyre snarled.

It was becoming uncomfortable to breathe, reminiscent of the cloistered air of the Prison. Amren was struck with the sudden realization that her powers were no match for her High Lady, not anymore.  

“Too long” she admitted unflinchingly. “I will apologize for my part in it, but Rhysand had his reasons and I saw the practicality of it. As your friend, I know it was wrong. You must understand Feyre, I have to be the one person who can separate emotion from decisions in this Court, it’s my first nature and my duty as Rhys’ second.”

Feyre just stood there, eyes wide, breathing hard. Her tattooed hands still clutching her stomach as though the babe would rip its way into the world for all the horror she felt in that moment.

“Has it ever once occurred to you…” – her voice burned through the condensed ether like the birth of a star, Amren winced – “has it ever once occurred to any of you, that when Rhys made me High Lady, he made me High Lady of this Court, not just his High Lady. I am High Lady of the Night Court, I am your damn High Lady. And if you Amren are his second, then you are also mine.”

Tiny ancient one be damned, she needed backup for this. She only prayed Varian had the good sense to bring Elain back to the townhouse, no one else would do any good for this moment. 

And to think I was lecturing Nesta on respect.” she seethed. “To think that I’ve put up with this ridiculous sequestering of my family by my family. Elain and Nesta are flailing as they grapple with bodies and lives they were born and bred to fear, just as I did. We treat Elain like a vapid flower as if she is not burdened to see between fucking worlds. And you all act as though Nesta’s viciousness will tear chunks out of me but you forget she is my sister. I have known her my whole life and she has not torn my throat out yet. Vicious she may be, but at least she’s godsdamn honest.”

“No one is denying this Feyre but I don’t see–” 

“What this has to do with me? With my child? There’s plenty you lot are failing to fucking grapple with right now. The very basic premises of duty and friendship to start with. What about the principle of allowing a female control over her own life, her own body?” there was a jagged edge of panic making its way into her tone, the air grew impossibly tighter. 

At that moment the door banged open once again and Amren winced again as Morrigan pushed her way into the room against the wave of unyielding magic pulsing from Feyre. She silently cursed Varian.

“Feyre, I’m so sorry. If we had thought there was any other way to keep you and the babe safe–” she began before she was cut off by a dark wave of Feyre’s magic. Not the same magic that silenced Tamlin’s voice at the meeting of the High Lords, but a plume of magic that quite literally took the place of the air in Mor’s lungs, bringing her swiftly, silently to her knees.

“Surely you aren’t going to tell me you knew what was best for my womb Morrigan, you couldn’t even protect your own from desecration.” Feyre spat down at her.

Amren stood frozen in horror, watching Mor claw at her neck, eyes bulging and mouth agape like a fish out of water. The spell lasted only moments before air rushed back into her purpling face with a harsh gasp, but both Fae were still frozen in place before their High Lady. 

“You all seem to have forgotten, that I live and breathe the powers of all the Courts of Prythian. That I am Made, my sisters and I. We are creatures to be feared and served before we are loved. You’ve failed me, and in doing so you’ve failed this Court. Make sure you let Rhysand see me say that when he looks into your mind.”

Mor blanched, “Feyre you can’t leave now, Rhys and Madja are so close to finding an answer.” Where the hell was Rhys, how had he not yet sensed the chaos threatening to level the entire block of buildings the townhouse occupied?

“I can and I will. I am not safe here, nor is my child. I will seek refuge where I can find healers and friends who will allow me the dignity of deciding what I do with my body, my child. That I would put my life in the hands of a healer who answers to my mate over me, a husband who seeks to deceive me and involve my entire family in doing so? No, I would be a fool to give away my life so passively.” she paced before them frantically, power collecting into thick bands that coiled around Feyre in a churning, horrid shield. 

No longer their friend, no longer their family. A mother and a female burning with primal rage and fear for the safety of her child, guaranteed only by her ability to protect it. Protect it from the world, and in these agonized moments, protect it from her family. A family that could no longer be trusted.

“He will rip apart the world to find you and the babe Feyre, this won’t do any good.” Amren spoke as bluntly as usual, but the edge in her tone betrayed her wariness. 

“Let him try. I’ve never had the chance to test my powers against him, have never needed to until now. I confess I’m curious to see if I can inspire the fear in him that he’s attributed to my name.” The crazed glint in Feyre’s watery eyes was wholly unnerving. 

“Feyre, I’m begging you, don’t do this. We all lived with the fear of losing each other during the war– you and Rhys actually did. Don’t let this tear us all apart again.” Mor was practically weeping, still draped at Feyre’s feet in submission.

“Mor, it’s not my decisions that have led us here. I’ll leave it to you all to decide how to proceed; this Court seems to conceive of its most coordinated efforts without my knowledge.” Feyre had stopped pacing and closed her eyes, all of that asphyxiating power rushing from the room back into those bands of black power coalescing around her. The hair on the back of Amren’s neck stood tall.

“Will you return girl?” she asked quietly, refusing to look away from the fierce specter of power they had so woefully forsaken. Accepting that there was little they could do to stop the events that had been set in motion.

Feyre’s head snapped to her, eyes black with rage, looking every bit the Made Fae that could undo curses and courts. 

“I will return when I have proven to you all that I can give birth to my son without your duplicitous interference. I will return when I have a Court and friends and a mate that I trust to bend the knee, not bring me to my own.” she said with finality. 

The vortex of power around Feyre crackled and snapped as Rhys’ careful warding of Feyre’s body collapsed under her iron will. A new source of power, alarmed and frenetic and reeking of Rhys, swept through Velaris and into the townhouse. It crashed into the whorls of Feyre’s might with a piercing screech. The windows shattered sending glass through the air. Amren and Mor curled into themselves to avoid the spray.

When the chimes of falling glass had stopped and Mor and Amren could uncover their eyes, Feyre was gone. Where her scent, her power, her body had overwhelmed the room, there was absolutely nothing left to indicate that the High Lady of Night had ever stepped foot in the townhouse. 

Somewhere in the distance, mountains rumbled, birds took flight and the citizens of Velaris cowered as Rhysand let out an unearthly roar.