#i mean we all love an evil time lord

[companion-showdown]

Which villain would you most like to see as a companion?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[mythvoiced]

-. bro... i'm... bro this draft thing is actually working BRO- hehe~

[weareuniqueandimportant]

WE WATCHED HIGHSPEED ETOILE EPISODE 11... DAMN QUEEN IS GETTING HER ASS KICKED WHILE KING'S IS SQUEAKY CLEAN... AT THE SAME TIME THAT MIGHT BE THEY'RE GOING TO PULL SOMETHING REALLY IMPORTANT TO HER CHARACTER NEXT EPISODE... AND SHE MIGHT END UP MORE COMPLEX AND INTERESTING THAN THE KING IS... BTW HER REACTION TO RIN PASSING HER IS VERY CUTE AND FUNNY... COULD THIS BE... WLW X CAR RACE ATTRACTION PARAPHILIA REPRESENTATION...?!?! THAT WOULD BE FLAMES... INFACT I ALREADY DECIDED THIS... IF THERE'LL BE MORE SEASONS THERE COULD BE ALOT MORE SUCH CONTENT TBH... FIRE TO BE HONEST... SPY KYOUSHITSU GOT MUCH BETTER WITH SEASON 2... COULD THIS BE JUST ANOTHER SLOW STARTING BANGER...? COULD BE COULD BE... THEN... ALL THOSE OTHER SERIES COULD BE THE SAME... ALL OF THEM TBH... THAT WOULD BE FLAMES TBH...

[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

[sareeen]

Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

[sour-leminies]

My little Fairy

Pairing: Hook x Fairy F!Reader

Summary: Coming to Merlin Acadamy you grew very close to the pirate with a hook. Everyone had declared you Hook's pirate Fairy. Truth be told, most people couldn't believe how loyal and caring you were to the pirate. So, when you finally snap, for the first time in a long time James didn't have you by his side, and all he knew was he wanted you back. Now.

Warnings: None I can think of, but let me know otherwise.

Taglist: @astrynyx @snixx2088 @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm Just ask to be tagged!

Navigation — other works!

I watched as Bridget and her friends all danced around the court yard - singing and dancing. It was sickening, they were so sweet and yet I couldn't help the part of me that yearned for that kind of friendship.

My only friend was Captain Hook, and if given the chance I'm positive he would have ditched me long ago if not for my help with things. Whenever he wasn't prepared for a test, I'd skip my own class to be in my smaller form tucked away in his shirt - telling him the answers. Or whoever he wanted me to spy on one of his victims he terrorized, I'd do so. Or when he wanted pixie dust, etc. The point was, I'd give my soul for Captain James Hook, and I don't even think he sees me as a friend.

Snapping out of my haze I landed on James's shoulder, whispering in his ear - telling him how Bridget was in the courtyard being all happy. A message he hurried to tell Uliana, before he made his way to the spot. I was still on his shoulder as he entered the courtyard with a dramatic flair.

I remained on his shoulder as he sang and danced, until Uliana turned into a flamingo. Something I couldn't help but smile at. Part of me was jealous of Uliana, and her relationship with James. It looked more intimate than his with Maleficent.

I pulled James through a different door, Maleficent following after us - and we cut the girls off. I now rested on Maleficent Horns. I let out a gasp, that came out like a jingle.

The Vk's all retreated once Uliana ran away - screaming and soaking wet. At least she was no longer a flamingo.

Once everyone cooled down, I was now in my human form laying on my bed, dressed in a nice pretty black dress. My makeup and hair had been done and all I had to do was wait for Hook to get here so we could go to that birthday dinner he promised me.

"Still no Hook?" Maleficent - who was also my roommate asked me. "No, you would think he'd show by now. I mean he's twenty minutes late." I praised the lord that my voice didn't come out as jingles when in my human form. Annoyingly so, only other Faires and James could understand me when I was in my smaller size.

"I hate to say this," my roommate spoke as she sat onto my bed with me. "But maybe he forgot."

I quickly shook my head. No way - he promised me. He had promised. He wouldn't forget me.

Slowly the hours ticked by and by the time it struck eight, two hours after the time we agreed on, Maleficent forced me up, and her hand Hades took me to dinner.

I wanted to cry, but how could I? Just because I love him, doesn't mean he loves me. At that very moment I accept that cold hard truth.

So as Maleficent rubbed my arm, and Hades even pat my head - I had decided that I would stop trying with Hook, it'll never happen anyways.

—

Over the next few days you ignored Hook. You hadn't made the first move to talk to him, and it seemed he had nothing he wanted you to do for him.

When the third day of you ignoring him he grew antsy. He didn't know what the sudden change in you was, but for some very odd reason - he didn't like it.

He walked out of detention - Something he had gotten when he was caught breaking in Merlin's office. His very first thought was that you weren't there. Typically, when he'd get detention - if you didn't sit in there with him in his jacket, then you'd always greet him with a hug once he walked out the doors.

"Yo, Mali." He called out to the mistress of evil. "You heading to your room?"

The dark fairy nodded her head silently, and James took that as an invitation to walk her to her room. Even though he would never admit it, the real reason was so he could check on his little fairy. The one he was now growing worried about.

—

You jumped at the sound of the door opening. Looking up from the books you were reading on your bed, you were surprised to see Maleficent, but also James.

"Hook." You spoke, but kept your voice neutral.

The man couldn't help but flinch at the name you used. You never called him that, you always either used Captain or James. Now he knew somethings wrong.

"We need to talk." Came his short reply, but you weren't dumb, you could see the slow anger bubbling up in his eyes.

You slowly got off your bed, and walked out into the hallway with him. "What's the problem?" You were honestly he hadn't already listed things he wanted done, but you were sure he'd start soon.

"The problem? You tell me. You suddenly ignore me, I haven't seen you in three days - but I know good and well Hades has. So you fucking tell me the problem." His voice was slowly growing louder and louder.

"Hey calm down." You tried to keep your guy's voice quiet - but that only set him off more.

"Calm down?! How can I be calm when you vanished. You were gone." Suddenly both of you stopped. You both could hear the hurt, the insecurity, but most importantly the fear laced in his tone. His chest breathed up and down heavily as he realized just how much he bloody missed you.

"Listen, Hook." "James."

He took a step closer to you, slightly pushing you into the wall as he pushed into you, leaning down to breath you in.

Fuck he felt like an addict who needed a hit, and finally scratched that itch under their skin.

"You call me James." His breath fanned over your face, as he slightly leaned up to get a look at your face.

Part of you loved this, as you placed your hands onto his chest, the open part of his shirt so you both could feel the skin to skin contact.

For James it was like your touch awakened something in him. Something that called for your name. Something in him burned for you.

He leaned down, his breath fanning over your lips. Making you close your eyes in anticipation. Hook didn't was a single second. He dropped his hook from his hand, and placed it onto your cheek, while his other hand grabbed a hold of the back of your neck.

You in this moment couldn't deny you loved this - the feel of his lips on yours, the feel of his wanting you. But it was too late.

He had made it clear that you weren't a priority. And even though bread crumbs of his affection felt like a feast - it wasn't enough. You hand to stand up, You deserve better. Something that Captain hook couldn't give you.

You built your strength and pushed him away. "No."

Hook looked at you confused, did you not just feel what happened between the two of you? Because he was more than happy to give a repeat.

"I deserve better than you." You pushed him again, finally letting the tears out. Letting the tears out of a woman who wanted nothing more than the man she was crying over. "I deserve so much more than what you give me." Which was nothing. You pushed him again and this time he grabbed both your hand and pulled you into him, letting you hit him over and over until you were drained - but never letting go of you.

"You done?" You glared up and him through your pretty wet eyelashes. "Good. Now listen. You will have no one other than me. There will be no other man, woman, I don't give a fuck. Your my little fairy." You went to shake you head. No - maybe once you were his but not anymore.

"You don't even make a priority - how can you say that?" Your voice was horse from the mini break down you had while punching him.

"You are my priority." How could you say you weren't? Even when he though nothing of you, from the first moment he met you he had put you as a priority on his list.

"Ask me about how I spent my birthday three days ago." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

You could see the panic cross his face. The regret and self loathing as well. And maybe once upon a time that would be enough, but not anymore.

You pulled yourself away from him and hurried into your room, locking the door.

He banged a couple time before he spoke through the wood.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry. Sorry can't even explain, let me make it up to you." When he got no response from he, he continued on. "I am sorry about this but we will move past it. Just remember you may think you are free of me, but your are not. I will haunt you, beg for your forgiveness. You want better - I'll be better."

You silently cried while Hook poured everything he had from his heart into his next words.

"I'll be so much fucking better for you, my little fairy. So better."

—

The rest of the entire week, Hook would try his best; he'd bring flowers to you in the morning, he'd always walk you to class - despite how much you told him to leave you alone.

James knew he screwed up, and he hated himself for it. He didn't know what he had and he took it for granted.

He would scowl at Hades and Maleficent when you all were hanging out at the black lagoon.

Just because you and hook were on shaky ground didn't mean you were no less a Vk. Something that the crew grew to respect about you.

Every time you walked past him - not giving him a glance, he felt his chest tighten. He miss how you would cling to him. How you would rest on your shoulder when you felt over stimulated. The way you would accidently spray him with pixie dust, causing him to float.

He missed teaching you sword fighting, and all the basics. He missed you.

"Y/N!" He called out to you, desprate to get your attention. For the first time, since that kiss you didn't glare at him - nor push him away.

Instead it was worse. He felt his stomach grow cold at the neutral and emotionless look in your eyes. At least when you hated him you still cared. Now he didn't know. Your walls were up so high - it's shadow could darken a valley.

"Yes Hook?" He closed his eyes, shaking off the feeling he had.

"First, it's James. Second, will you go to dinner with me." You opened your mouth to disagree but he covered it before you could make a sound.

"Don't say no." He could hear his heart pounding in his head. "Just come. Meet me at Dip and Go dinner tonight at eight."

He dropped his hand from your mouth, and he found his courage to speak his next words.

"If you don't come I'll leave you alone." He would not, but he needed to know that deep down he still had a chance. And if he didn't have one then he would spend the rest of his life fighting for one.

He walked away, nervous for the reality check that he would soon face tonight.

—

The clock on your dorm wall ticked, and ticked. Each second growing closer to eight. The diner was an hour away and if you were to make it in time you should be leaving now.

But you just couldn't. You were too afraid. You weren't a fool, you could tell James was sorry, and regretful, but you didn't know if you could trust him.

He had unknowingly held your heart - and then crushed it. What would he do if he had known how much you cared for him? Would he treat you different?

"You should go." You looked over to the dark fairy, you had thought she was out with Hades.

"I'm scared." You had once thought James was your only friend, but Maleficent and even her boyfriend proved me wrong. "That's what makes it worth it."

She walked over to your bed, sitting down beside me before she carried on. "If you even have a chance for love then it's worth it to fight. And if you decide that he's not worth it, then at the very least you owe it to yourself to find closure." Maybe she was right.

—

Hook glanced at the clock on the wall of the diner, it said eight forty, and he knew that she wasn't going to show. He blew his shot. He wanted to throw the glass Infront of him, the one where he poured rum into it.

He had decided to dress nicely, wore his best clothing, even left his hook at home. He wanted to look his best for you - to show you he could be a good guy for you.

He had already paid for his drink, so he left a twenty bill on the table and walked out. He would wait longer, but he could tell the employees had wanted him out.

He felt like he couldn't breathe as he walked down the path, he wanted to take you on. The trees lit up with beautiful fireflies at night, and it was a view he wanted to share with you.

His vision blurred, and his chest breathed up and down, as his heart ached, pounded. He had no problems with ripping his heart out for you, but fuck, all he needed was you. He felt like a fool - not because you didn't show, but because he was too self-absorbed and if he had opened his eyes from the beginning thing would be different.

He was a villain, and villains don't get happy endings. He knew that he could never have you, simply because you were his happy ending.

He stopped walking, as he tried to calm his heart with his shaking hands. Was he having a panic attack?

"James!" He heard your voice scream out his name, as you started to run to him. Fuck, he didn't care if he was dying as he ran to you with all the speed he could muster.

Once you were at arm's length you jumped into him, and he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could. Loving the smell that invaded his senses with open arms.

You were late, he didn't know why, nor did he care. You were here with him. That single thought caused him to break. He couldn't hold onto his sobs anymore.

He thought he lost you because of himself. He thought he would spend his entire life alone - longing for the feel of you. He thought that truly lost you. Every part of him rejected that. He couldn't live with that.

He felt his knees start to weaken as he fell to the ground, you still in his arms and he clanged to you crying. You felt your heart break once again - and all you wanted was for your pirate to feel better. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing his back as he let all his fears out, all his emotions.

"I... I love you so so so much." He heaved out, his breath making him repeat. "And I'm... I'm sorry." He was and even you knew that. You were tired as well.

You pulled his face away from your neck, and for a moment he fought you - thinking you were once again going to push him away. You rubbed you thumb across his cheek as you looked into his beautiful eyes. His brown eyes were bloodshot red from the crying, and his eyeliner had started to smidge. His eyelashes soaking together, his lips trembling as he tried to get himself together.

"I forgive you." You whispered out, before pushing your lips against his soft, and wet ones. It was a small, and short kiss, but it was full of the love you had for him. The love he felt like he no longer deserved.

"I'm sorry." His voice came out like a while as more tears dropped from his eyes.

"I forgive you." You whispered once again, and this time he initiated the kiss. Soft, craving, and you could feel his sorrow. Despite the fact he was kissing you, you could still feel him begging for forgiveness.

"I love you." You told him, and while that's all he wanted to hear. He no longer felt like that was the case. How could you love him when he hated everything about himself? How could you forgive him, when he's still kicking his own ass.

"I love you two, my little fairy." Fuck his voice broke again as he rested his forehead against yours. You also couldn't help but cry as well.

—

James kept his promise. He did become better for you, and only you. He was still a villain, but he was a gentleman to you. He kissed you every time he saw you, gave you flowers every month when your old ones would die.

He did everything he could to become a good enough person for you, and while daily you'd reassure him how happy you are - he couldn't get your heartbroken face out of his mind.

He'd have nightmares of you leaving him all alone. You loved him, and he didn't feel worthy of it, but he'd be damned of someone else had it. He was still a villain.

The first moment where he finally felt okay to breath was when you told him the future you wanted with him. You had wanted a future with him. Him.

You wanted three kids, three girls, and you would love to watch him become a father as you all lived on his ship.

When you were all banished to the Isle of the lost, he hated himself for getting you stuck there, but you'd remind him you'd rather be with him then in some land without him.

When you first got pregnant, he couldn't help but be so joyous of the boy in your stomach. He never told you he wanted a son, but you knew so you also felt happy.

You had named him Harry, after James repeatedly told you he couldn't think of one. The second born was a girl, and you demanded he named her. So, he stole your idea and named her Harriet. Then on the final and last born, you told him he couldn't name your baby girl after he just stole Harry's name and gave it to his sister.

You, James, Harry, Harriet, and CJ lived on hook's ship. And despite the living conditions, you loved your family no less.

—

A/N: Hiii, if you see this and sent me an Elsa reader x Hook request I promise I am working on that!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How to shatter the class solidarity of the ruling class

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me WEDNESDAY (Apr 11) at UCLA, then Chicago (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Audre Lorde counsels us that "The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House," while MLK said "the law cannot make a man love me, but it can restrain him from lynching me." Somewhere between replacing the system and using the system lies a pragmatic – if easily derailed – course.

Lorde is telling us that a rotten system can't be redeemed by using its own chosen reform mechanisms. King's telling us that unless we live, we can't fight – so anything within the system that makes it easier for your comrades to fight on can hasten the end of the system.

Take the problems of journalism. One old model of journalism funding involved wealthy newspaper families profiting handsomely by selling local appliance store owners the right to reach the townspeople who wanted to read sports-scores. These families expressed their patrician love of their town by peeling off some of those profits to pay reporters to sit through municipal council meetings or even travel overseas and get shot at.

In retrospect, this wasn't ever going to be a stable arrangement. It relied on both the inconstant generosity of newspaper barons and the absence of a superior way to show washing-machine ads to people who might want to buy washing machines. Neither of these were good long-term bets. Not only were newspaper barons easily distracted from their sense of patrician duty (especially when their own power was called into question), but there were lots of better ways to connect buyers and sellers lurking in potentia.

All of this was grossly exacerbated by tech monopolies. Tech barons aren't smarter or more evil than newspaper barons, but they have better tools, and so now they take 51 cents out of every ad dollar and 30 cents out of ever subscriber dollar and they refuse to deliver the news to users who explicitly requested it, unless the news company pays them a bribe to "boost" their posts:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/saving-news-big-tech

The news is important, and people sign up to make, digest, and discuss the news for many non-economic reasons, which means that the news continues to struggle along, despite all the economic impediments and the vulture capitalists and tech monopolists who fight one another for which one will get to take the biggest bite out of the press. We've got outstanding nonprofit news outlets like Propublica, journalist-owned outlets like 404 Media, and crowdfunded reporters like Molly White (and winner-take-all outlets like the New York Times).

But as Hamilton Nolan points out, "that pot of money…is only large enough to produce a small fraction of the journalism that was being produced in past generations":

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/what-will-replace-advertising-revenue

For Nolan, "public funding of journalism is the only way to fix this…If we accept that journalism is not just a business or a form of entertainment but a public good, then funding it with public money makes perfect sense":

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/public-funding-of-journalism-is-the

Having grown up in Canada – under the CBC – and then lived for a quarter of my life in the UK – under the BBC – I am very enthusiastic about Nolan's solution. There are obvious problems with publicly funded journalism, like the politicization of news coverage:

https://www.theguardian.com/media/2023/jan/24/panel-approving-richard-sharp-as-bbc-chair-included-tory-party-donor

And the transformation of the funding into a cheap political football:

https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/poilievre-defund-cbc-change-law-1.6810434

But the worst version of those problems is still better than the best version of the private-equity-funded model of news production.

But Nolan notes the emergence of a new form of hedge fund news, one that is awfully promising, and also terribly fraught: Hunterbrook Media, an investigative news outlet owned by short-sellers who pay journalists to research and publish damning reports on companies they hold a short position on:

https://hntrbrk.com/

For those of you who are blissfully distant from the machinations of the financial markets, "short selling" is a wager that a company's stock price will go down. A gambler who takes a short position on a company's stock can make a lot of money if the company stumbles or fails altogether (but if the company does well, the short can suffer literally unlimited losses).

Shorts have historically paid analysts to dig into companies and uncover the sins hidden on their balance-sheets, but as Matt Levine points out, journalists work for a fraction of the price of analysts and are at least as good at uncovering dirt as MBAs are:

https://www.bloomberg.com/opinion/articles/2024-04-02/a-hedge-fund-that-s-also-a-newspaper

What's more, shorts who discover dirt on a company still need to convince journalists to publicize their findings and trigger the sell-off that makes their short position pay off. Shorts who own a muckraking journalistic operation can skip this step: they are the journalists.

There's a way in which this is sheer genius. Well-funded shorts who don't care about the news per se can still be motivated into funding freely available, high-quality investigative journalism about corporate malfeasance (notoriously, one of the least attractive forms of journalism for advertisers). They can pay journalists top dollar – even bid against each other for the most talented journalists – and supply them with all the tools they need to ply their trade. A short won't ever try the kind of bullshit the owners of Vice pulled, paying themselves millions while their journalists lose access to Lexisnexis or the PACER database:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/24/anti-posse/#when-you-absolutely-positively-dont-give-a-solitary-single-fuck

The shorts whose journalists are best equipped stand to make the most money. What's not to like?

Well, the issue here is whether the ruling class's sense of solidarity is stronger than its greed. The wealthy have historically oscillated between real solidarity (think of the ultrawealthy lobbying to support bipartisan votes for tax cuts and bailouts) and "war of all against all" (as when wealthy colonizers dragged their countries into WWI after the supply of countries to steal ran out).

After all, the reason companies engage in the scams that shorts reveal is that they are profitable. "Behind every great fortune is a great crime," and that's just great. You don't win the game when you get into heaven, you win it when you get into the Forbes Rich List.

Take monopolies: investors like the upside of backing an upstart company that gobbles up some staid industry's margins – Amazon vs publishing, say, or Uber vs taxis. But while there's a lot of upside in that move, there's also a lot of risk: most companies that set out to "disrupt" an industry sink, taking their investors' capital down with them.

Contrast that with monopolies: backing a company that merges with its rivals and buys every small company that might someday grow large is a sure thing. Shriven of "wasteful competition," a company can lower quality, raise prices, capture its regulators, screw its workers and suppliers and laugh all the way to Davos. A big enough company can ignore the complaints of those workers, customers and regulators. They're not just too big to fail. They're not just too big to jail. They're too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

Would-be monopolists are stuck in a high-stakes Prisoner's Dilemma. If they cooperate, they can screw over everyone else and get unimaginably rich. But if one party defects, they can raid the monopolist's margins, short its stock, and snitch to its regulators.

It's true that there's a clear incentive for hedge-fund managers to fund investigative journalism into other hedge-fund managers' portfolio companies. But it would be even more profitable for both of those hedgies to join forces and collude to screw the rest of us over. So long as they mistrust each other, we might see some benefit from that adversarial relationship. But the point of the 0.1% is that there aren't very many of them. The Aspen Institute can rent a hall that will hold an appreciable fraction of that crowd. They buy their private jets and bespoke suits and powdered rhino horn from the same exclusive sellers. Their kids go to the same elite schools. They know each other, and they have every opportunity to get drunk together at a charity ball or a society wedding and cook up a plan to join forces.

This is the problem at the core of "mechanism design" grounded in "rational self-interest." If you try to create a system where people do the right thing because they're selfish assholes, you normalize being a selfish asshole. Eventually, the selfish assholes form a cozy little League of Selfish Assholes and turn on the rest of us.

Appeals to morality don't work on unethical people, but appeals to immorality crowds out ethics. Take the ancient split between "free software" (software that is designed to maximize the freedom of the people who use it) and "open source software" (identical to free software, but promoted as a better way to make robust code through transparency and peer review).

Over the years, open source – an appeal to your own selfish need for better code – triumphed over free software, and its appeal to the ethics of a world of "software freedom." But it turns out that while the difference between "open" and "free" was once mere semantics, it's fully possible to decouple the two. Today, we have lots of "open source": you can see the code that Google, Microsoft, Apple and Facebook uses, and even contribute your labor to it for free. But you can't actually decide how the software you write works, because it all takes a loop through Google, Microsoft, Apple or Facebook's servers, and only those trillion-dollar tech monopolists have the software freedom to determine how those servers work:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/04/which-side-are-you-on/#tivoization-and-beyond

That's ruling class solidarity. The Big Tech firms have hidden a myriad of sins beneath their bafflegab and balance-sheets. These (as yet) undiscovered scams constitute a "bezzle," which JK Galbraith defined as "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it."

The purpose of Hunterbrook is to discover and destroy bezzles, hastening the moment of realization that the wealth we all feel in a world of seemingly orderly technology is really an illusion. Hunterbrook certainly has its pick of bezzles to choose from, because we are living in a Golden Age of the Bezzle.

Which is why I titled my new novel The Bezzle. It's a tale of high-tech finance scams, starring my two-fisted forensic accountant Marty Hench, and in this volume, Hench is called upon to unwind a predatory prison-tech scam that victimizes the most vulnerable people in America – our army of prisoners – and their families:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

The scheme I fictionalize in The Bezzle is very real. Prison-tech monopolists like Securus and Viapath bribe prison officials to abolish calls, in-person visits, mail and parcels, then they supply prisoners with "free" tablets where they pay hugely inflated rates to receive mail, speak to their families, and access ebooks, distance education and other electronic media:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

But a group of activists have cornered these high-tech predators, run them to ground and driven them to the brink of extinction, and they've done it using "the master's tools" – with appeals to regulators and the finance sector itself.

Writing for The Appeal, Dana Floberg and Morgan Duckett describe the campaign they waged with Worth Rises to bankrupt the prison-tech sector:

https://theappeal.org/securus-bankruptcy-prison-telecom-industry/

Here's the headline figure: Securus is $1.8 billion in debt, and it has eight months to find a financier or it will go bust. What's more, all the creditors it might reasonably approach have rejected its overtures, and its bonds have been downrated to junk status. It's a dead duck.

Even better is how this happened. Securus's debt problems started with its acquisition, a leveraged buyout by Platinum Equity, who borrowed heavily against the firm and then looted it with bogus "management fees" that meant that the debt continued to grow, despite Securus's $700m in annual revenue from America's prisoners. Platinum was just the last in a long line of PE companies that loaded up Securus with debt and merged it with its competitors, who were also mortgaged to make profits for other private equity funds.

For years, Securus and Platinum were able to service their debt and roll it over when it came due. But after Worth Rises got NYC to pass a law making jail calls free, creditors started to back away from Securus. It's one thing for Securus to charge $18 for a local call from a prison when it's splitting the money with the city jail system. But when that $18 needs to be paid by the city, they're going to demand much lower prices. To make things worse for Securus, prison reformers got similar laws passed in San Francisco and in Connecticut.

Securus tried to outrun its problems by gobbling up one of its major rivals, Icsolutions, but Worth Rises and its coalition convinced regulators at the FCC to block the merger. Securus abandoned the deal:

https://worthrises.org/blogpost/securusmerger

Then, Worth Rises targeted Platinum Equity, going after the pension funds and other investors whose capital Platinum used to keep Securus going. The massive negative press campaign led to eight-figure disinvestments:

https://www.latimes.com/business/story/2019-09-05/la-fi-tom-gores-securus-prison-phone-mass-incarceration

Now, Securus's debt became "distressed," trading at $0.47 on the dollar. A brief, covid-fueled reprieve gave Securus a temporary lifeline, as prisoners' families were barred from in-person visits and had to pay Securus's rates to talk to their incarcerated loved ones. But after lockdown, Securus's troubles picked up right where they left off.

They targeted Platinum's founder, Tom Gores, who papered over his bloody fortune by styling himself as a philanthropist and sports-team owner. After a campaign by Worth Rises and Color of Change, Gores was kicked off the Los Angeles County Museum of Art board. When Gores tried to flip Securus to a SPAC – the same scam Trump pulled with Truth Social – the negative publicity about Securus's unsound morals and financials killed the deal:

https://twitter.com/WorthRises/status/1578034977828384769

Meanwhile, more states and cities are making prisoners' communications free, further worsening Securus's finances:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Congress passed the Martha Wright-Reed Just and Reasonable Communications Act, giving the FCC the power to regulate the price of federal prisoners' communications. Securus's debt prices tumbled further:

https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/117/s1541

Securus's debts were coming due: it owes $1.3b in 2024, and hundreds of millions more in 2025. Platinum has promised a $400m cash infusion, but that didn't sway S&P Global, a bond-rating agency that re-rated Securus's bonds as "CCC" (compare with "AAA"). Moody's concurred. Now, Securus is stuck selling junk-bonds:

https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/117/s1541

The company's creditors have given Securus an eight-month runway to find a new lender before they force it into bankruptcy. The company's debt is trading at $0.08 on the dollar.

Securus's major competitor is Viapath (prison tech is a duopoly). Viapath is also debt-burdened and desperate, thanks to a parallel campaign by Worth Rises, and has tried all of Securus's tricks, and failed:

https://pestakeholder.org/news/american-securities-fails-to-sell-prison-telecom-company-viapath/

Viapath's debts are due next year, and if Securus tanks, no one in their right mind will give Viapath a dime. They're the walking dead.

Worth Rise's brilliant guerrilla warfare against prison-tech and its private equity backers are a master class in using the master's tools to dismantle the master's house. The finance sector isn't a friend of justice or working people, but sometimes it can be used tactically against financialization itself. To paraphrase MLK, "finance can't make a corporation love you, but it can stop a corporation from destroying you."

Yes, the ruling class finds solidarity at the most unexpected moments, and yes, it's easy for appeals to greed to institutionalize greediness. But whether it's funding unbezzling journalism through short selling, or freeing prisons by brandishing their cooked balance-sheets in the faces of bond-rating agencies, there's a lot of good we can do on the way to dismantling the system.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/08/money-talks/#bullshit-walks

Image: KMJ (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Boerse_01_KMJ.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[bitterkarella]

Poe: tonight, Lord Dunsany is going to tell a story Lovecraft: Lord Dunsany!? Lovecraft: Lord Dunsany is here?!? Lovecraft: no no i'm not ready, i can't meet lord dunsany! Poe: you'll be fine, howard Lovecraft: do i look ok? how's my hair? Poe: it's fine, howard Lord Dunsany: submitted for the approval of Lovecraft: Lord Dunsany! I'm your biggest fan! Dunsany: thank you. submitted for Lovecraft: did you get those letters i sent? King: oh yeah howard's really big on sending letters King: he just loves it Lovecraft: gosh Lord Dunsany it's so great to finally meet you! Lovecraft: i think we'll get along great! we could be friends, maybe? Lovecraft: best friends even? August Derleth: b-but howard...! Derleth: i thought WE were best friends! Lovecraft: Lovecaft: oh this is awkward

Lord Dunsany: submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this the tale of the hashish man Fitz James O'Brien: [appearing suddenly] somebody call me?

Dunsany: so i was at this party and this guy is all "hey i saw that article you wrote about the ancient and mysterious city of bethmoora" Dunsany: "you know, i myself have visited bethmoora many a time" Dunsany: "in my mind, after smoking weed"

Dunsany: now let me tell you Dunsany: when you're at a party and some guy just starts telling you about how he saw some crazy shit right after smoking weed Dunsany: you sit up and take notice

Dunsany: this guy astral projects to the court of the evil emperor Thuba Mleen Dunsany: who sics his torture goons on him Dunsany: and that is why you should never take more than you can handle and always know your dealer

Aleister Crowley: wait, this story doesn't conflate traveling in time and traveling in space! Crowley: have you ever even DONE hashish?? Dunsany: you got me, i only drink tea Crowley: Crowley: haha i love this guy! Crowley: THE GREAT BEAST! Crowley: DO WHAT THOU WILT!

Dunsany: ok sure i haven't done hashish but boy you don't know me on tea Dunsany: i can get pretty crazy if you know i mean Dunsany: i get pretty hyper on tea Crowley: oh yeah? Dunsany: oh yeah i've been known to get a little bit Dunsany: random

Dunsany: [drinks tea] hi every1 im new!!!!!!! holds up spork my name is lord dunsany but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol…as u can see im very random!!!!^_^ L0ve and waffles!!!!! Crowley: haha no more tea for this guy!

[borninwinter81]

William Blake - an introduction for Good Omens fans

I have sent @neil-gaiman an ask regarding his feelings toward the poet/artist William Blake a couple of times, but no doubt due to the size of the poor man's inbox I haven't received a response. So I did a Google search to see if he's spoken about Blake before, and it did indeed come up with a fair few hits. I think you might enjoy seeing this Twitter post if you haven't already, the painting is from William Blake's illustrations to Paradise Lost.

It's not surprising that an author like Neil Gaiman might have an interest in Blake. A visionary from a young age, his imagination was such that he was surrounded by angels made visible in his mind's eye, and he interpreted these visions through poetry, painting and engraving, and self-printed and published many of his own works. This gave him complete freedom to say exactly what he wanted.

Though he had a passionate faith in God, he also had a deep distrust of the church as an institution, and disliked the use of religion as a means of control. This poem from "Songs of Experience" perhaps summarises his feelings best:

"I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;

So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore. 

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys & desires."

In his poetry there is often an incongruity with the generally accepted religious ideas of what is good and evil, Angel and Demon. In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (there's a title that should make any GO fan sit up and pay attention) he tells us that "in the book of Job, Milton's Messiah is called Satan", signifying that he feels it is Lucifer/the devil who is the true Messiah of Paradise Lost.

He gives us The Voice of the Devil and Proverbs of Hell, and has Angels being transformed into Demons through enlightenment. He tells us that Jesus broke all of the 10 commandments, yet was still virtuous because he acted according to his own morality rather than rules.

The god-figure of his later works, Urizen, generally comes across as malevolent, seeking to bind and control, whilst Los, the Satan/Messiah figure represents freedom, imagination and creativity.

"Restraining desire" and acting contrary to your own nature seem to be the only real evils for Blake.

He expressed his faith through a love of the world and the beauty in it, summed up in this quote:

"When the Sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea? O no no I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty".

He saw "God" in everything, in all the wonders we have around us, and considered writers/poets and religious prophets as essentially the same, since they both have a connection to the divine, and express it through stories.

It's quite ironic that probably his most famous poem, Jerusalem (the one that starts "and did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green"), was made into a very popular church hymn, yet it is supposed to be satirical in nature. The poem recounts the myth that Jesus may have visited England in his boyhood, and Blake is expressing his disbelief at that notion and the unworthiness of England.

Did I have a point to all this? Mostly to show my hand as a massive Blake nerd, but also to hopefully demonstrate that there's a lot of common ground between his ideas and those expressed in a show/book like Good Omens, and hopefully to inspire some of you who may not be familiar with Blake to seek him out. In particular I'd recommend The Marriage of Heaven and Hell to any and all.

EDIT: I should have thought to include this, here's Michael Sheen reading a Blake poem. I have the CD this is from, he reads several by Blake, as well as other poets I love ❤️ 😍

[dingodad]

please god i need to know what U think of the whole “jadebloods are all female!” thing because i got into homestuck in 2019 around the time of friendsim and (retching) Lanque so i always assumed they were explicitly intended to be an all-female caste. however, re-reading the comic this year, i couldnt find a mention of it other than virgo and the Space aspect being really feminine, but i think kanayas journey with motherhood is more kanaya-centric than All-Jadebloods centric??

on one hand, it makes sense given that alternia has very real gendered oppression, so what’s better for that than CATHOLICISM?? on the other hand, i always saw kanaya as being transfem coded, because it connects so well with roxy yknow.. homestuck fans love to insist that certain characters just have to be cis women (kanaya, jade, roxy)

(as an aside; was “long hair was butch on alternia” a one off joke? i like speculation about alternia’s fashion opposing earth, lol)

most all of our basis for explicitly gendered interpretation of Alternia comes from act 6 intermission 3, where Aranea tells us that "jade 8loods were also an almost exclusively female caste". so the door has always been open for there to be "some male jadebloods". but it's a mistake to view this as having anything to do with any kind of "biological sex". the whole idea of biological sex among trolls is a smoke screen. the jadebloods' assigned gender at birth is "jadeblood". this is what makes them a feminised caste.

Caliborn doesn't have a clue what biological sex is. Aranea will tell you that there are boy cherubs and girl cherubs, but for your own sanity you need to cast this idea out of your mind: cherub sex takes place between good and evil cherubs - which is determined by their blood - and anything else is just roleplay. Caliborn's attitude toward sexing is that the ones he likes are boys - that's all the thought that goes into it. and that's the mindset we need to be aware of when we delve into understanding troll gender. there are some trolls who have breast tissue and some who don't, but they aren't "mammaries" in any sense, so there's no reason to believe they're actually sexual characteristics of any kind; maybe this is what Lord English chose to base his gender schema on, but the idea that this means there must be "male trolls" and "female trolls" is completely imagined for the narrative convenience of the human reader.

when we read that there are "male-dominated" highblood castes and therefore by implication female-populated lowblood castes, it's not by some coincidence of biology: the highblood castes are male-dominated BECAUSE they are highblood castes. each caste has a role to play in Caliborn's Alternia, and just as the highblooded roles are those of patriarchal domination, the lower castes must take on roles of feminised submission; and in the case of the jades in particular, this means breeding duties. the fact that this also comes with the expectation to wear makeup and pretty clothes is just more roleplay.

so tl;dr what i think of "the all jadebloods are female thing" is that it is very obviously true but in a way more 5 dimensional gender studies way than anyone else tends to mean when they say it

my pet "long hair was butch on alternia" headcanon - which is a joke but in the way all headcanons about alternia should be jokes of some kind - actually kind of relates to this lol. bc i figure that if gendered expectations of female trolls includes working in disgusting underground caverns filled with genetic material, it's going to be practical to keep your hair close to your head where it won't get dirty, in much the same way the feminist image of the short-haired woman became popular in the west during and after world war 2, wherein a lot of women had to start wearing their hair close to their heads to avoid scalping themselves in the factory machinery they suddenly had to start working with. hence kanaya dedicated to her assigned feminine role and wearing her hair short vs. porrim rebelling against it for feminist reasons and thus wearing her hair at a length that would be totally impractical for wading through gene pools.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.  

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man­. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

[mamashenanigans]

People: AFO killed Yoichi without hesitation or remorse! Yoichi was just a toy! He never really cared about him! He was born evil! So GLAD we finally have an evil villain that is just evil and doesn’t have a meaning!

AFO: spends 100+ years blaming Kudo for Yoichi’s death, heavily projecting to the point he kills all of Kudo’s family.

Embalms and carries around Yoichi’s hand for 100+ years. (He also refers to the hand as Yoichi in the present)

“Talks” to Yoichi in his head(this happens multiple times). Says he “needs”/“it’s all for nothing” without Yoichi.

Admits he hates thinking back on when Kudo snidely told him he killed Yoichi because it brings back all of the terrible memories(which would include Yoichi’s death and their horrible childhood. Also, see the last image for that too).

Says that all color has left the world after he heard Yoichi breaking into pieces; only a gaping hole of loss remains.

Screams at Deku not to look at him (though all he keeps saying is how he wants everyone to look at him) when Deku realizes he’s not a monster beyond understanding, not a demon lord, but just a very lonely man.

Begs to see Yoichi’s eyes, his face—you can’t go! Screams at Yoichi that he loves him more than anything, he’s hopeless without him—he’s nothing.

Horikoshi’s own words from the Da Vinci Magazine interview:

“By stripping away the things that the diabolical villain wears, I find that there are parts of him that I can empathize with as a human being. I’m going to look for it to see if it exists”

People: …nuh…nuh-uh!

[dahliamalfoy97]

FEAST - Upper Moons, Muzan x Y/N reader

MuzanxKokushiboxDoumaxReader

Synopsis: Muzan calls for a meeting with the 3 Upper Moons and his wife is just s little greedy and Muzan decides to share her.

Warning: SMUT 18+ explicit content, slight dub con, group sex, rough sex, threesomes, choking, slapping, spanking, degradation kink, praise kink, slight blood kink, masochism, voyeurism? Monster kink, size kink, oral sex, mentions of kidnapping, murder,violence. So much going on in this.

A/N: first time writing a big group sex thing so it’s probably a bit cringey at times and it’s not edited so there’s probably lots of errors. I am such a simp for these four and have been trying to put them together the best I could. Anyways, hope you enjoy and don’t say I didn’t warn ya 😏

Word count: 7,102

"Y/N," Master Muzan calls from the dining hall, "please bring some of that wine out here."

You hurriedly, grab the bottle and a glass from the cabinet and rush out to the dining room. You freeze for a moment when you arrive. Noticing the Master isn't alone- there's 2 Upper Moon demons siting at the table, your master at the center while one of them sits at his left and the other at his right.

Moonstruck, you cautiously, approach the table, taking in all  the guests in a mixture of awe and fear. These two were the real deal. demons after Muzan himself. They were all sitting in one room and you feel the powerful aura that emanated from each of them.

"I'm so sorry, Master, " you stutter, "I didn't realize we had guests, or I would have gotten more glasses."

"It's alright, little dove," Those crimson eyes meet your nervous ones, searing into your soul as usual, making you feel all sorts of flustered.

Master Muzan was the King of Demons. The one that commanded them all to do his bidding. He held the most power. He was also the Devil incarnate because he was able to create demons and to become more powerful he fed on humans. He had an unrivaled bloodlust and was cold to everyone around him. He was cunning, vicious and evil. To everyone but you.

You had been just a human girl, on the brink of starvation when he took you in. He originally was going to fatten you up to kill you, but he ended up finding comfort in your presence and ended up falling for you instead. Because most humans would have been disgusted and terrified of him. But you were willing to do anything to please him. Most demons like him - emotions capable of emotions like love. But you had made him feel much more powerful than his demon army could.

Naturally, you too had fallen in love with the Devil who had saved you. Call it Stockholm Syndrome if you will- but you willingly stayed after learning what he really was. After seeing the blood he shed and the lives he destroyed. You fell in love with the monster anyways.

"Well isn't she a delight?" One of the upper moons cooes, he was ethereal. Like an demon in angel's clothing. This was the vibe the demon gave. He had friendly and inviting smile on his face, but something in those rainbow irises told you it was probably just a mask of the true intent that hid underneath. The one that was full of malice and all things evil. He made you shiver at how someone demonic could look so heavenly. He had pale porcelain skin, and long locks of silvery blonde hair, that swept in all kinds of different directions.

"This is my wife, Y/N," Your Master, replies. "Little dove, this is Douma, he's Upper Rank 2."

You bow your head in respect, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"my my and she knows her manners too," he kisses your hand with his lips, his touch cold yet shivers automatically shoot down your spine. Something about this demon intrigued you and you wanted so desperately to know the devil underneath those rainbow eyes.

"Lord Douma, if you could please keep your hands to yourself," Muzan warns.

"But I mean she just looks so exquisite- it's shame she's your wife. I'd claim her for myself in an instant."

"You're disgusting," another Upper Moon mumbles to the left of Douma. "Have some fucking respect."

This demon had a more serious aura about him, he seemed more pissed off that he was here. He had hair the color of magenta and eyes like seemed to glow like the sun. His skin was a cool gray hue that had blue lines marking his skin and the rest of his body. He was well defined, as had an open purple vest that exposed his torso. You so desperately wanted to trace all those lines on his chest to see how deep they ran.

"Oh calm down, Pink Head, I'm just paying the lovely lady with some compliments."

"You never have genuine compliments," The Pink haired Upper Moon hisses. "or genuine intentions."

You can't help but giggle at their little banter. All three pairs of eyes focusing on you when you do. You can't help but feel a little shy being at the focus of all these powerful demons. Handsome ones at that.

"She giggled," The Pink Haired Demon says, sounding surprised. "Has she no fear of being around us?"

Muzan looks at you with adoration, "no, my little dove is quite fearless."

"Amazing," Douma wonders, "and she's so fûcking cute too."

Suddenly the doors to the dining room burst open, and the air shifts. As if it was a sunny day and the thunder decided to roll in. This is power this demon had. He had the most intimidating presence of all. He was very tall and muscular, taller than the rest of the demons here. His hair fell into black luscious waves, the ends dipped in a deep red.  But it was his eyes that made you tremble. Six pairs of eyes the color of the moon- his scleras a deep red that matched the tips of his hair. He was beautiful in such an intimidating way. If you weren't currently married to Muzan, you'd be falling in your knees in an instant for this man.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Douma taunts, earning a cold glare from the demon.

Something inside you quivered which each step he took. His purple and black checkered kimono billows behind him.

"Kokushibo, you're late," Muzan adds.

"I was busy," the demon finally replies and oh his voice is enough to make you press your thighs together.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You were married to the most powerful demon of all and yet you were craving these demons just as much.

The newcomer- Kokushibo. Who you knew from the character that was stained on his iris- that he was the Upper Rank One, took a seat the other end of the table.

"Well now that everyone is here, we can finally start this meeting, little dove, do you mind getting some more glasses ? "

"Of course, Master," when you looked in those crimson eyes there was a knowing smirk there and you exit the dining room in a flash.

While you're in the kitchen, you can't help but sneak a hand underneath the folds of your skirt, past your panties and feel your arousal dripping.

The amount of power in that dining room had you soaked to the core, flustered and embarrassed at the lewd images that filled your head, you hastily pull your skirt back down and grab the glasses from the cabinet.

Being a little short, you struggle to reach some of them, you try to climb the cabinet but a hand snakes around your waist, pining you between the counter and his backside. "Careful, little one, you're going to injure yourself." He reaches up to grab the glasses for you and places them in your hands, his pale large veiny hands covering your small ones completely.

"Thank you, Lord Douma," you say, a little breathless at the way he was holding you. You could feel something against your backside.

"No problem, little one, I'd be happy to help you in any way," He whispers seductively in your ear, his voice is soft and melodic but the way he speaks, has your nipples straining against the fabric of the  flimsy gown you wore.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the meeting?" You murmur as you feel a hand creep under your skirt.

"I am but I excused myself for the bathroom, sometimes a man has needs to attend to," his hand traces circles along your thigh before reaching the outline of your panties. "I know your Muzan's, but fuck, I can't keep my eyes off you. I want to devour you so badly but my curiosity for you and what you'd feel like around my cock, overshadows that and I want nothing more than to have a little taste of you," he tugs your ear between his teeth causing you you whine softly, his fingers dip into your panties and begin to rub your clit. "Did you know all of us demons have a heightened sense of smell, so I can smell your sweetness from across the room. And I just gotta have it."

"But I'm Muzan's," you protest lamely, arching your back as the circles on your clit quicken.

He laughs into your ear, "that's not what your sopping cunt says right now. Akaza was right. I'm not a man with good intentions. I take what I want, when I want."

With a wicked glint in his, he inserts a finger into your hole, he groans lightly at the way your finger just sinks him in, "so fucking wet for pussy that belongs to someone else."

You shamelessly begin to grind yourself againt him as he begins to fuck you his finger.

"Look at you, grinding on me like a needy slut," Douma cooes, while adding a second finger, scissoring them to stretch out your gummy walls. Soon a third finger is added, and you're a sopping mess as he curls them upward immediately finding the spot that makes you scream. "Careful now, don't want your husband to hear you, or maybe you do."

All you can do is whine as he fucks you brutally with his fingers, you hear some rustling, and then your panties are being ripped down, and something hard is poking at your entrance. As soon as it pierces your walls, you let out a wail. The stretch burns and Douma gives you no chance to adjust to his curved long cock as he brutally pistons into you. Your still wedged between him and the counter so there's no room for you to move. Your completely trapped and helpless against his assault on your body.

"Fuck. So. Damn. Tight," he moans in your ear.

You could feel every scrape and every vein of his throbbing cock hammering into you, he was much longer than Muzan was and seemed to reach places deeper, and perhaps it was the precarious position you were in but all you could feel was him.

"Don't stop," you cry, you knew it was wrong for letting Douma fuck you, but it felt too good that you couldn't resist submitting to his control.

"Don't worry, Dollface," he pulls your ass out so it's angled and you have more room to move. You finally can glance down at where your connected, his balls slapping against your skin, that you knew would leave bruises with how hard they were slapping. His thrusts were relentless, animalistic. The counter's edges dig into your skin with each thrust.

Muzan has his rough tendencies, but this was another level, and you were overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure.

Douma's hands travel to your covered breasts and he cups them in his large hands giving time a squeeze.

"You keep clenching around me and I'm going to cum sooner than we both want. Although maybe I should use you for my own personal cum dump, and just take what I want from you."

You're so incoherent at this point that all the comes out of your mouth is strangled garbles, which turns into a whimper when he wraps a hand around you throat to cut off your airway.

"But unfortunately we can't take as long as we want, because your husband is probably wondering where we are," he just continues to babble in your ear.

The possible reminder of Muzan catching you with Douma, made you even more aroused than it should. You clamp around his cock at the thought, which causes him to fuck you harder. You could feel your stomach coiling he continued to pound into that one spot. He kept playing with your airway, with each thrust of his cock he would squeeze and then let go.

"Fuck, Douma, I'm close," you cry, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"So am I, your pussy is amazing, I want to kidnap you and keep you for my own. Muzan is a lucky motherfucker."

His thrusts become slower more torturous as if to draw out your agonizing orgasm, which was desperate for release.  You were about to lose it if you didn't cum soon. The ache was too much. Too overwhelming.

"Please Douma, let me cum," you beg.

He laughs, "You can beg better than that."

you pout, but that instantly changes when his speed picks up again, rocking your body with his, "FUCK DOUMA LET ME CUM PLEASE."

He cackles, his rainbow irises bright with amusement, "if Muzan comes in here because of that we are both dead."

"I don't care," you hiss, pushing yourself back on his cock trying to get more.

"Well go ahead then, cum slut, make a mess on my cock," Douma encourages. "If you're the desperate to. I think you're just too drunk on my cock to not care about anything else."

His mocking tone along with his greedy thrusts, has you coming undone.

"That's it, make a mess for Douma," he grins madly, before thrusting a few more times before exploding inside you. You both watch in satisfaction as his cum fills you up. "Looks so pretty with my cum." He grabs something behind him and shoves it into your pussy, making sure his cum doesn't leak out.

"Shit Douma, what if Muzan sees?"

The haze of sex has lifted and you're reminded of what you had just done. But there's no shame or remorse on Douma's face and you sure don't regret a single thing.

"Well if Muzan finds out we're both dead, but it was worth it. Come let's go back to the meeting I'm sure he's wondering where both of us went."

Douma leaves you and you hastily follow after. Arriving at the dining room.

"Sorry, Master Muzan i must have had an upset stomach, one of the girls I ate today before coming here must have messed me up," his rainbow irises have disappeared into crescent moons as he takes his seat next to Akaza.

How could he act like nothing happened just now? Meanwhile, you could feel his cum still inside you, and your cheeks were probably flushed. You had no idea how you looked right now.

As soon as Muzan's scarlet cat eyes land on you, you see that familiar glint in them, and you know he knows.

He was the Demon King after all, he knew everything.

"Little dove, did you forget the glasses as I asked for you to get for our guests?"

His tone is calm, but there's an underlying of a mocking tone.

Shivers immediately go done your spine as you bow in a frenzy, "I'm so sorry, Master I- I don't know how I could have forgotten. I'll go back and get them."

"What a bad girl," Muzan tsks. "You forgot something so simple? I wonder why that is."

"Muzan- I-"

"Y/N come here."

You freeze he never uses your actual name unless it's for a punishment. Ashamed you walk over to where Muzan is sitting, but it's a little hard to with Douma's cock nearly damaging you just moments ago. Whom had a smug grin on his face.

"Muzan-"

"Shut the fuck up and turn around," you shiver at cold and calm his tone was. But you obey nonetheless.

Muzan pushes you against the table, your front side digging into the edge. He pushes up the hem of your skirt and your cheeks immediately heat. All of the demons in this room could see your naked ass. But before you could look to see what their reactions are like, a hand comes down on your ass hard, you jolt at the sudden harsh sting. You look back at those scorching scarlet orbs that seemed to burn into you. Fingers graze your swollen pussy, that's stuffed with your underwear."

"Looks like you've been having too much fun with one of my demons," Muzan states, flashing a glare at Douma before glaring at you again. He tugs the cloth out for your pussy and you cry feeling the liquid drip out of you.

"Douma you just can't control yourself can you?" Akaza scolds and you hear a sudden slash. You turn to see Douma's head being split in half. Akaza's hand covered in his blood. You grimace at the sudden violence but a slap against your ass steals your attention.

"Of course he couldn't," Muzan chastises, "how could he resist such a slutty pussy? Especially when it belongs to me?"

"Because it's fûcking paradise, that pussy is," Douma's melodic voice is back and you see that he's regenerated looking as bright as ever.

"Did he fuck you good?" Muzan inquiries, ignoring the Upper 2, his focus entirely on you and your flushed cheeks and the way Douma's cum oozes out of your glistening cunt. "Looks like he did if you let him cum in you."

You're at a loss for words.

He suddenly grips your throat yanking your had back, choking you slightly, making you look at only him, "fucking answer me, slut!"

"Y-yes," you sob, "He fucked me really good."

He chuckles darkly, "perhaps I should let them all fuck you. Huh? Would you like that? Because you're such a slut my cock isn't enough to satisfy you? So you must have them all."

"Muzan-" you try to plead but suddenly your mouth is being stuffed with something wet. Your arousal pools when you realize it's your panties that's wet with yours and Douma's cum. The stench of sex fills your nostrils.

"Shut the fuck up and get on the fucking table."

Trembling out of embarrassment and arousal you climb on the table, your legs shaking.

Before you can situate yourself, Muzan is flipping you over on your back, and drags your head over the edge, letting it hang. Your legs are spread wide letting all the upper moons getting a view of your exposed cunt.The panties in your mouth are being yanked out and replaced with something hot, thick and heavy. Before you have a chance to process, it's being rammed down your throat without any warning.

Muzan looks at you with a sadistic grin as he plows his cock into your mouth. You could feel the blood rushing to your head making you light headed in this position. But he didn't care to stop at your precarious situation. For Muzan wasn't a kind man when he had to punish. His punishments were cruel and brutal. But never to you. That's why you were so shocked but aroused at his sudden cruelty. Saliva and his precum coated your tongue and dripped out of your mouth, as his balls slapped against your chin.

"What a pathetic little cock whore you are," Muzan mocks, as his cock continues tearing into your throat constantly hitting the back of it. "Who wants a turn with my whore's pussy first?"

"Don't mind if I do," you hear Douma say from somewhere, but your mind is too fuzzy. If you were human, you would have died from getting throatfucked in this position with how hard Muzan was abusing it. You wouldn't be able to talk after this for awhile or ever again if he continued. Suddenly, you feel hands spreading your legs apart, a cold breath hits your aching cunt and when the first flick of a tongue meets your folds, you buck your hips at feeling causing Muzan's cock to hit the back of your throat harshly. A chuckle sounding like Douma's tickles your dripping hole, causing you to flutter. You lose it when that tongue begins swirling your clit. Despite his cold breath Douma's tongue was hot and consuming against your pussy lips sending you into immediate overdrive with the urgent yet hungry way he eats you out. He holds your hips with his hands to keep you from squirming. Becoming a prisoner to his delicious assault. His fingers splay your wet lips open, making it easier to that sweet spot. His slurping noises have you screaming . You weave your fingers into those silky, soft silver locks and push him in as deep as can go.

"You taste so fucking sweet, Doll," Douma hums against your folds. His feasting on you is relentless. The way he swirls and sucks on your clit has you falling apart within seconds. But he doesn't stop when you've cum on his face already he just keeps going. Your thighs shaking as he guides you through another orgasm.

Meanwhile, Muzan is still violently fucking your throat, you could feel every vein of his hard cock as he repeatedly slams into you. It grows heavier against your throat and you knew he was close by the low-yet strained grunts coming from the Demon King above, but before you get the chance to feel his seed down your throat. He's yanking your head off and hot cum sprays your face instead. When you whine in protest, he interrupts, "coming down your throat would be a reward for you. I'm not sure you deserve the reward yet."

Douma, removes himself from your pussy, he guides you up into a sitting position, his face is soaked in your juices, you your lips at the sight.

"So delicious," he praises, before pulling you forward, he reaches for you face and brings you into a hungry, demanding kiss. His lips cold yet, hot at the same time. Tasting your arousal his tongue as he swirls it with yours. You shamelessly lock your arms around him bringing him closer so that you're in his lap, straddling him. You grind yourself on his clothed erection, causing him to coo in your ear. "Such a messy girl, you're making such a mess on my pants. Does it drive you crazy knowing that the four most powerful demons are watching you make a mess on me? Watching you turn into a dirty, greedy, little whore? Hmm?"

You  turn into mush at his soft voice that's filled with such lewd words, you continue grinding on him, feeling his massive length under you.

"Yes, Douma."

He chuckles, leaning back lazily watching you fall apart in his lap, while he was doing nothing to help you. 

"Look at your girl becoming a slut for another," Douma smirks at a glowering Muzan. You blink your eyes open and meet those scorching scarlet ones. Making you even more turned on. He was currently sitting in his chair, leaned back while stroking himself. His black curls sticking to his face from sweat. A feline, predatory look in the way he stares at you, while you're getting yourself off in another man's lap has you become more frantic- more bold. More needy. 

"Yes because that's all she is. Is a good little whore for us demons to ruin."

You moan, gripping Douma's neck,  glancing around the room at the others. Akaza was looking disgusted and aroused at the same time. As if fighting an eternal storm in his brain. But the noticeably large tent in his  pants said otherwise. His golden eyes meet yours and you beckon him with your finger.

"Come join us, Akaza," you plead. Kokushibo on the other hand was much harder to read. He gave nothing away in those moon colored orbs  as those six eyes stared at you with an intensity so strong but it was cold and indifferent at the same time.

"Yeah Koku and Akaza, am I only one going to indulge in this sweet pussy or are you guys going to join?"

"I have no interest," Koku hisses, but his eyes never shift from yours.

"I don't want to share with you," Akaza bites back. "I fucking  hate you, rainbow child. "

"But it's not for me, it's for her."

"Plus it's my orders to get to know what's mine," Muzan adds. "And what you'll never get to experience again after this."

"More the reason for me not to join," Koku growls. "Why would I join if I can't keep her all to myself?"

"Because I want you too, Daddy," you plead.

Something in those six eyes flashes, something dangerous that coils in your gut, you come on Douma's lap making a mess, "good job, little one."

"You have no idea what you're asking of me," Koku warns.

"He's a coward then," Douma taunts, flashing the Upper One a charming smile, as he sheds out of his clothes, your jaw dropping as his body was revealed. Douma had a well toned physique his muscles were exquisite and smooth, broad shoulders and a slim waist. Your eyes traveled this cock that you hasn't been able to see before when he was fucking you with it in the kitchen. It was massively long with a slight curve. A good ten inches. You bet. And it stood red and angry against his taut stomach as crisscrossed his legs and brought you back into his lap, not wasting a moment guiding his long shaft into your awaiting heat. You wrap your legs around him, this position was new something you'd never done with Muzan. Every part of Douma was flushed with you. Your tits slapped against his bare chest you rode him in this position. Every inch of his cock was deep and snug against your slick walls. He lets out a strangled moan when you take your nails down his back. There was no telling where you ended and where he started. And you both loved it. He dug his sharp nails into your hips, trying to pull you in deeper.

"Fuck," you both moan, you throw your head back, in pure utter bliss. Reveling in the way he dug into your hole, how every vein and every crevice seemed to scrape along yours. You were sure he was all the way in your stomach.

"You feel so snug and warm against me Doll," Douma praises, his nails digging in deeper. Drawing a little blood causing you to arch into him. "Those idiots don't know what they're missing out on."

A low growl comes from Koku.

"Your blood is just a pretty as you are," Douma grins manically, he brings one of his hands that's covered in your blood. Before bringing it to his mouth. Those usually bright eyes instantly darken and turn feral, the sight of him tasting your blood has you sobbing in pure pleasure. He shoves one into your mouth causing you to choke around his fingers. You instantly taste the metallic taste on your tongue. "Don't you taste divine, little one? Fuck, I might just steal you away from Muzan. I'm too fucking addicted to everything about you. You are so fucking perfect for me. The perfect little doll who takes whatever I give you. don't you all want a taste?"

His words and his actions send you into a frenzy mess and it's not long before your spasming around him, clamping down on him as your orgasm takes over.

"Fuck Douma," you scream.

"I love it when you scream my name," Douma says ever so softly.

Before you have a chance to breathe, you're being pulled off of Douma's cock, you cry at the sudden emptiness. But strong arms whip you around, and without warning a new cock it's a little shorter than Douma's but it is thick, and it's girth is ravenous as it enters you, your head is being pushed down on Douma's lap. His still hard cock being shoved in your face, he just smirks and lifts your head.

"Took you long enough to join us, Pink Head."

"Shut the fuck up, Rainbow Shit," Akaza seethes as he rams into you from behind. His marked hands grip your hips, as he rocks forward into you. Your whole body is jerking at the sudden abruptness. "It's my fucking turn. So let me fuck the bitch."

"Ohmygodohmygod," you cry, "Akazaaaa, you feel incredible."

His cock split you open perfectly. You eagerly took his length in.

"Damn, who pissed you off pinky?"  Douma teases, looking at you with a mischievous grin. His long fingers grip your chin and pries your mouth open, his other hand strokes his cock. He smacks teases your half opened  lips with the tip, smearing precum on your face. "Open your mouth, little one."

You open up wide, he dutifully shoves your head down on his cock, you hollow your cheeks and slacken your jaw to help take him in. But he didn't really you a chance to adjust as he forced your head up and down his long shaft.  Akaza's harsh thrusts causing for Douma's cock to bump down your throat even deeper. Everything felt so good. You'd never felt so used in your life and you were loving every inch of it.

"Now there's a good slut," Douma taunts, "my own personal cocksleeve. Is there anything you can't do?"

"How are you feeling  little dove ?" Muzan suddenly calls out, sounding amused. "You're looking quite stuffed there."

To be honest, with the other two demons currently using you for their pleasure you had forgotten about your husband.

"Her mouth is too stuffed with my cock, Muzan, she's not going to answer you," Douma chants.

"Douma you talk too fucking much!" Akaza snaps, his hips snapping in response and then everything falls silent.

Except for skin on skin, and the lewd moans and slurping sounds that filled the room.  The three of you were way to into this situation.

"That's it, bitch," Akaza growls as you begin to spasm around his cock. "Squeeze me just like that."

Meanwhile Kokushibo was as silent as ever. His moon colored eyes watching with unnerving intensity. He didn't know what he wanted. He knew he wanted you. But he hated everyone else in this room and didn't like the idea of having to share you with any of them. His cock was painfully hard under his kimono. His knuckles where white and gripping the edge of his seat. But watching how the mess the other demons turned you in, listening to your sweet moans and listening to how wet you were, it was driving him mad.

"Fuck,"' you managed in between having Douma's cock down your throat. "Don't fucking stop. Please Akaza."

"Don't worry, I won't stop  until your leaking full of my cum."

Fuck. You were so overwhelmed. The pleasure was unbearable.

You came in white waves, just as Douma's load shot in your mouth.

"Good girl," Douma grins when you swallow all of it.

Not long after Akaza releases in your sensitive  cunt with a low grunt, milking it all the way through til the last drop til he pulls out.

You fall into a heap on the table, completely covered in cum. Your whole body ached.

"If you truly want me to fuck you, Princess," Kokushibo suddenly speaks up, "you better crawl to me. And I'm not sharing you with anyone. You're all mine to fuck alone. Understood?"

Douma chuckles, "I don't think she can move, Koku."

"I understand, Daddy."

He chuckles deep and low, sending shivers down your spine.

"Now come to me," he orders.

Slowly, you sit up and get on your hands and knees. Your whole body aches, your drenched in come. But you want nothing more than to be  fucked by the Upper 1. Ever since he walked through those doors. There was something about him that made you want to kneel before him and do whatever he asked of you. So you crawl.  You feel the others watching you in silence. Even Douma is silent. Kokushibo's eyes never leave yours as you finally reach his end.

He stands up, and fuck, is he tall. He towers over everyone here, he grips your chin with his hands, making you look at only him. Those six eyes burn into every inch of you, "you better pray that you can handle everything I give you. Because I won't hold back. None of these idiots can compare to how I'll make you feel. Not even Muzan. I'll sweep you off your feet," he whispers so no one else but you can hear him. He glances up in the direction of Muzan, as he removes his clothes.

And holy shit is he built by the gods. Now not built by the gods. He is a god. Made of pure muscle. Pure power and pure dominance radiated from this demon. As if he was carved from stone. Not a single inch of him was flawed. You  wanted to lick those abs. The flame pattern that he had on his face went down to his chest. Making him look even more exquisite.  Your eyes shamelessly rake down to his rock hard cock. Or could you even call it that. It was bigger than anyone else's here. And it was thick. Long, thick and you knew it was going to break you.

"Fucking hell, Kokushibo, I might even be gay for you," Douma replies.

"Okay everyone out. Except for Y/N and Muzan. The other two I want you gone."

"But-"

"So selfish, don't you know sharing is caring-"

Douma is cut off by Akaza dragging him by the hair.

"From here on out, you're mine. With the permission of Muzan-"

"Oh you really think I'm just going to hand her over to you?" Muzan laughs darkly. "She's mine, she was mine before she was yours."

"Why don't you both just fuck me and stop this overbearing egotistical shit?" I ask. "If you both want me, then you have me."

" I don't share," Kokushibo seethes. "I would literally start a war to make you mine."

"But so would I," Muzan replies.

You roll your eyes.

"Well let's just see who fucks you better," Koku challenges.

"Sure," Muzan replies coldly. "Go ahead and give it your best."

"Lay down and spread those legs for me, Princess," Koku demands.

You immediately obey him, and watch him as he stalks towards you. He bends down and closes the distance between your lips. A wildfire burns through you at the intensity of his lips. The way he seemed to command and consume your lips. You barely could breath. You let out a moan when he nipped your bottom lip. His hands start to roam your body, and yours could barely grip onto his back. You were so small in comparison to him. But you were determined to feel every ridge. He begins to fondle your breasts, playing and kneading  them like dough. You were nothing but putty in his hands. You reach for his cock, but he slaps your hand away.

"Fuck, Koku," you say breathlessly. "I need you now. Please."

"Patience," he hisses, his lips leave yours and starts leaving trailing down your neck. You arch into him when he begins sucking marks into your skin. He continues you mark and map you with his mouth, until he stops just right where you want him. Over your throbbing pussy. Which was still sensitive from the other demons, so you knew he was going to truly ruin you.  He runs a finger along your slick seams and you hitch in a breath. "I love how you're still begging to be used after Douma and Akaza had their way with you. I guess you're not fucked properly enough if you can still crawl to me. Don't worry, Princess I'll fix that little problem for you."

He slowly inserts a long finger, groaning at the way you immediately suck him in. "Even though you've already been fucked by the others, you still need to be prepared to take me. Because I am much bigger than they are."

"Fuck," you whimper.

After prodding you with one finger he adds another and then a third. Scissoring open your gummy walls. He wastes no time curling them upwards and finding your spot. Jabbing them slowly, teasing you.  You arch your back, but something stops you and pins you still. Muzan has joined in. But he's in his true demon form. With his white curly hair, and tentacles sprouting from his back. His tentacles are straining your arms, leaving you utterly immobile.

"You're so greedy fucking all my demons today. What, you want them all? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?"

"Y-you are enough i - I just-" you scramble for words, but you're slapped in the face, Kokushibo's mouth finally descends on your clit. " Lies!" Muzan growls at the same time you scream out  " aww  fuck!"

Kokushibo's tongue delves into every crevice, sucking while he still fucks you on his fingers. You eagerly grind on him, for more friction. Needing and wanting more.

"Koku, don't stop!" You cry.

Muzan leans over you and shoves his cock down your throat again. At the same time you feel yourself being stretched. No- ripped. You scratch the table since your arms are still pinned by Muzan's tentacles. Kokushibo wastes no time hammering his monster cock into you, greedily taking you however he wants. Muzan's cock plunges into your mouth with the same carnal desire.

"Such a good little toy," Muzan says. "Isn't she Kokushibo?"

But he ignores and focuses his attention on where your bodies meet. He could see the outlines of his cock in your stomach. The table was creaking underneath all the weight. Both demons destroyed and ravaged your body in the most inhuman way, none of them caring about how tired battered was becoming. It was a lewd sight. Truly insane. One of Muzan's tentacles curls around your body and down your clit. Sucking on it as Kokushibo's thrusts become harder, deeper.

You mumble incoherent moans around Muzan's cock. Your vision was becoming blurry, your body numb from all the attention it was receiving.

Another tentacle plays at your other entrance, the wet muscle teasing the rim of your opening.

"See you can own her pussy," Muzan states confidently, "but I  own her entire body. Including her soul."

With that the tentacle pushes into your hole. Muzan pulls out of your mouth to let you scream. Choking you with his hands. You come instantly. Your body is being overwhelmed the pleasure was starting to hurt because you've come countless of times tonight, you didn't even know how many. But your body was reaching its limit. But you didn't want them to stop. All your holes are being filled and there wasn't an inch of you that belonged to you anymore. You were theirs. Their plaything.

"Shut the fuck up, Muzan!" Kokushibo warns.

Muzan just laughs, and sobers up when he notices how dizzy you're looking, "you okay, little dove? Do you need us to stop?"

Kokushibo slows a bit, caressing your face, "we'll stop princess, if you need us too."

You shake your head, "no... I'm fine."

Kokushibo picks you up, taking you into his arms, kissing you softly, his length still pounding upwards into you while you cling to him like a koala.

"Please don't stop, koku. I want you to come in me," you whine. Muzan is suddenly at your back. Your sandwiched in between the two most powerful demons, and you couldn't be more at peace.

"Lift her for me," Muzan commands softly. Kokushibo doesn't fight this time, he grips your ass with his massive hands a lifts you up, Muzan's tip nudges your other entrance before easing his way in. You whine at the sudden stretch of both men inside you. Both with big cocks and big egos. They take turns hammering into you. You grab Koku by the neck and pull him in for a sloppy, kiss. Moaning into his mouth. He kisses you back with as much fervor.

“fuck don’t stop you guys,” you plead, before pulling away from Koku. Muzan grabs you by the chin and claims your mouth with his you grip his white silky locks, tugging on them as he devours your mouth possessively.

You could feel your orgasm approaching and by the way both cocks were growing inside you, and hips were starting to stutter, you could tell both demons were close.

“Koku- Muzan - I’m close.”

“Makes a mess, Princess,” Kokushibo encourages gruffly, “make a mess on Daddy’s cock.”

“Little dove, cum for Master,” Muzan growls.

“I want us to come together, fill me up, please.”

“Alright,” Muzan says.

A few more thrusts and clenching around them, you throw your head back onto Muzan’s chest as both men fill both your holes up with cum at the same time.

“Awww fuck,” you all say unison when you’re being pulled off and cum gushes out.

“That is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen,” Muzan says.

But you’re eyes are drifting shut.

“I’ll have make you a mandatory part of our meetings from now on,” Muzan says, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“I hope you understand I’m not letting her go now,” Kokushibo warns. “She’s mine now too.”

Muzan rolls his eyes, lifting you into his arms.

“Well then how about she’s all of ours,” Douma appears with Akaza in tow.

“I don’t share,” Kokushibo snaps, “I will kill you all to have her to myself.”

“And I definitely don’t want to share her with you, Rainbow Shit.”

Douma pouts, “I thought we all just had a bonding moment. We’re friends now you and I.”

In a blink of an eye, Akaza swipes Douma’s head in half.

“You and I will never be friends.”

“How rude,” Douma sighs as he’s once again regenerated. “ I am seriously offended,” he puts a hand over his chest.

“You’re all lucky I let you indulge in MY WIFE,” Muzan reminds them harshly. “Next time I might not be so kind.”

“Guys can you all stop fighting over me?“ you murmur sleepily on Muzan’s lap. Still naked. Kokushibo grabs his kimono and places it over you to cover you up. “What if I want all of you?”

All eyes snap to you, all demons growl. Even Douma is annoyed.

“Sweetheart we are demons, we don’t share with others. We take what we want from others even if that means killing,” Douma explains. “ and us four demons specifically each other’s guts.”

“Fine, then I want none of you then,” you hiss.

“No!” Kokushibo snaps, “ you want all of us? Then fine. We’ll agree to your wishes if it makes you happy. “

“That’s if we don’t kill each other first,” Akaza pipes in.

“No promises,” Douma smirks.

"All right, little dove, you win-“ suddenly Muzan’s head is beheaded falling to the floor with a thud. Kokushibo is standing behind, before stealing you from the demon king, then before anyone can react.

Kokushibo vanishes with you in his arms.

“I believe this will definitely start a war Koku,” you protest.

“I don’t care, we both know the minute I walked through those doors, that you were mine.”

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, but you didn’t mind. He was right he stole you away from Muzan the minute he walked through those doors.

“So where are you taking me, Koku?” Pulling caressing his face softly.

He looks down at you with a warm smile, “I’m taking you home, with me. Where you belong.”

[cod-fishing]

Thinking about Price being possessive over his boys. Not romantically or sexually (he likes to tell himself), but any time Soap starts chatting about some bear he met in a bar during leave, or Gaz mentions a girl who gave him her number, he can feel himself bristle. He tries to bury it, but it only gets worse after Las Almas, their bonds forged in far too much blood, and he struggles to bite down discouragement for any connection outside their little family.

When soap and ghost finally get together, he can’t figure out which of them he wants to throttle, but the sensation is intense nonetheless. Enough that he can’t stop himself from ordering them to his office and dressing them down so meticulously his old drill Sargent would be proud. They both look defiant. At perfect attention, military perfect in their stance, but fire in both of their eyes. It’s only when Soap, jaw clenched, demands if Price is going to transfer them that the Captain falters.

He sits heavy into his chair, and orders his boys at ease.

“I could never let go of either of you,” he finds himself gritting out through cigar smoke and choking emotions, far too unfiltered, “I just don’t want you boys to get hurt.”

He sees them soften, understanding. Not expecting a real answer, Price asks them their intentions with one another. He doesn’t want either of them to hurt the other, and while he knows they both have hearts of gold, they’ve got a lot of thorns as well. But they talk, and Soap is his usual genuine self and Ghost- Simon, really - is more honest and open than Price has seen him be ever, so…

He says okay. But keep me updated, he says. The good and the bad. They nod, and he assumes he’ll have to pry information out of them, and they move on.

Miraculously, they do keep him updated. Soap comes knocking one day, and Price asks about those reports he sent him off with and Soap says, aye, captain, got those for you, but ah…can I tell you something sweet Ghost did for me today? He’s bursting with joy when Price looks at him properly, and how can he say no to that?

Ghost, too, comes in one day, and asks to speak with the captain. Need some advice, sir. Johnny wants to take me home to his family for the holidays and I’m feeling real conflicted, he says. And they talk it out, fingers playing with the rims of their whiskey glasses. Price gets this feeling in his chest, likes he wants to reach out and trace his fingers somewhere else, but he ignores it.

It keeps happening that way, Price getting deeper and deeper in their relationship. He knows everything about the two together - almost everything. Ghost is on a solo mission one day and soap is moping, and so price pulls him into his office with the intention of getting him plastered and making him go to bed.

Instead, Johnny gets talkative. He should have known.

“God, Price, you wouldn’t believe the things he can do with his mouth. His fingers, too, lord knows where he learned it, but it’s like he took a fucking class on making me cum just from the teasing alone.”

“You’ve heard his voice captain, I mean no wonder I was creaming my pants to be with him so bad, and boy was I right. Downright evil how good it sounds during and early morning shag.”

And, even worse than all that, somehow…

“Well you know me, I like to be the best. So I told him we should start training my throat, so I can actually take his monster cock, the bastard. Did pass out the first time but we’ve been taking it slowly but surely ever since.”

And Price just…he should shut him up, but instead, he just takes it. Just lets the lad ramble about his love, like some lass back at home pinning for her deployed soldier. He hates it, he hates it, he tells himself. But he takes it for Johnny, and for Simon, and for the trust they have put in him.

And when he fists his cock in his quarters later that night, aching from being hard for so long, he can’t help but picture all those filthy things Soap told him.

Maybe, all this time, he was just jealous.

[shadowqueenjude]

Who pulls the most bitches?

So I saw someone do something like this and I kind of wanted to do my own version with sjm characters. They get no bitches (besides that one girl who's a sucker for losers): Tamlin, Hunt, Ithan, Declan (only bc he's gay not for lack of game; he pulls ALL the men), Tarquin They get more than none but less bitches than you'd expect: Fenrys (bc he's with Maeve, poor boyo), Tharion (bc he's stuck with the river queen's daughter, oof), Aedion, Mor (because she has to hide her sexuality, rip) Now let's rank the remaining: Rhysand: for the supposedly most powerful fae guy to ever exist, he gets a surprisingly low amount of bitches. Perhaps it is due to his creepy evil reputation and the hatred for him within his own court: turns out a pretty face a male does NOT make. Even gold-diggers have standards! Cassian: I turned this over in my mind many times, but I realized Cassian pulls less bitches than Azriel after the line "I don't need to resort to poetry." He gets plenty of bitches because he's a bigass dude with muscles, but his shitty poetry is a turn-off to most eligible ladies. Azriel: he doesn't need to resort to poetry; he's a pretty boy with a cut body, but points have to be deducted for lack of game and pining over Mor for 500 years and being obsessed with having a mate (yuck). Dorian Havilliard: Come on, guys! He's a hot prince! Of course, he gets all the bitches. He's a little immature but he grows out of it! I mean he pulled the fucking man-eater, for God's sake. Points deducted for falling for Celaena wayyyy too fast (and getting rejected) and for his healer girl getting decapitated (rip Sorscha). Rowan: we KNOW this guy gets aaaaaaaalllll the bitches. Come on, he's Rowan-rutting-Whitethorn! Points were deducted for the whole Lyria thing AND serving Maeve for so long. Lorcan Salvaterre: He gets even more bitches than Rowan because... "Battles, riches, females- Lorcan always won, at any cost." And it's even said Rowan often allowed him to win. So yeah, he pulls a lot of bitches and participates in crazy orgies with his homie Rowan. Points deducted for being Stockholmed by Maeve (poor Lolo). Ruhn Danaan: I mean we already know the man's got game (evidence: CC2 chapter 3 plus all ruhnlidia chapters). He's also a young (by Fae standards) prince who lives in a fucking frat-boy house. And that sad-boy thing he's got going on? Girls love that. Eat it up. All the bitches wanna sit on him to take away his sorrow. Points deducted for crushing on a lesbian (oops). Tristan Flynn: Man gets even more bitches than Ruhn because he's just hornier and he's obsessed with his hair. Also, did you see the fire sprites becoming his cheerleaders? King shit. Points deducted for failing to rizz up Ariadne. Eris Vanserra: Come on, he's an Autumn Court male. Plus he's a Vanserra! It's practically in his blood! Points deducted for being rejected by Mor and Nesta tho. Chaol Westfall: Man gets a shockingly high number of bitches despite being a human character who until Dorian became king had a pretty lowly position. I mean, there was a literal PRINCE and his cousin hanging out and the girls were all drooling over Chaol. When he had a disability (which unfortunately due to prejudices that exist, often make you "undesirable" in the eyes of many) and he rizzed all those women, including Yrene, harder than Kashin. EVERY. GIRL. CHOSE. CHAOL. OVER. A. LITERAL. PRINCE. Both in Adarlan AND the southern continent. You're telling me he doesn't have the rizz??? A half a point deducted for being too hung up over Celaena (I don't blame him but still). But still, he pulls sooooo many bitches. Lucien (Vanserra? Spell-Cleaver? Cunt-Server?): Come on. Is there anyone else fitting to be number 1???? Man's got EVERYTHING Chaol has, PLUS he's the son of a High Lord and he's got that Vanserra rizz. Fuck it, he wouldn't stop at bitches. He'll pull every mfer to ever exist. If it breathes, it's into Lucien Vanserra. He is THAT guy.

[fancyfeathers]

zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

omg but imagine william's potential darling to be like agatha christie? a mystery writer whose mysteries are almost impossible to solve. whether or not they are as smart as the masterminds or detectives in her books, her stories do come close to confusing even sherlock or william a bit. if you've read her "and then there were none" SPOILERS its about a judge killing people for being evil and that is so william coded. anyways i'm straying far what I mean is william could be a quiet fan, and as the lord of crime, even replicate some of her stories as part of his crimes. watching his darling's face pale at the unknown criminal doing such a thing.....ASDKSHD an when he finally does officially meet her, he wonders if she'l ever base a character off him. a hero, or perhaps a villain?

For some reason this isn’t showing up in my tumblr inbox but thank god for my email cause this is a gem! Thank you @zainiscompletelydone333 for this!

Okay I love Agatha Christie, an actual icon! Fun fact she actually faked her own disappearance in 1926 and the police couldn’t find her for over a week and she just took a vacation to London after her husband threatened to leave her and she said fuck it and decided to treat herself. Then also Arthur Conan Doyle the author of Sherlock Holmes was hired to find her.

Anyway I am getting so off track but I love this lady so much so here we go!!!

But yes William would absolutely adore a darling like her. Imagine him first finding her works for the first time, perhaps one of his brothers or Sebastian or Fred was reading her work and just out of curiosity he picks up one of her books and is just immediately enthralled. Whenever he is not busy he is reading or even rereading one of her books and even begins to be teased by others for his slight addiction to her works.

Then when he and Sherlock is on the train investigating the murder that is when he gets an idea from both this and one of her books.

Weeks later an aristocrat who had been acting as a loan shark was found dead on a train in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside, just like a murder from one of her most famous book…

But what William did not know is that she was on that same train…

And of course she found the body…

As William was making his way back to his seat to join his brothers, he hears a blood curdling scream and he simply chalks it up to someone finding the body. Then the panicked woman is brought to her seat by the staff and she looks a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down her face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body.

She is being asked questions when she finally calms down enough and William’s ears prick up as he hears words he never thought he would hear…

“Oh god… this is my fault…”

He turns his head to the booth next to him and sees her in absolute terror as she speaks to the train conductor.

She is right next to him…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

After everything from that incident had settled and she is off at home, trying to work on her next work for the life of her but being horrified by what she just witnessed…

Then more deaths come to surface all with the same pattern…

They are based on her books…

The author is absolutely horrified, she is loosing sleep, not eating as she should, and has rarely left her house in weeks…

Then she gets a knock on her door from a certain detective who was hired to look into one of the deaths, Sherlock Holmes. While he may like her books, he has noticed the pattern like she has and has one request for her…

“I want to help you to solve these cases. Who better to solve murders based on books better than the author herself?”

At first she refuses and dismisses him, but then when she is laying in bed that night she realizes he was right.

Her drawing room becomes a mess of her old notes that she had tucked away from when she wrote her book, copies of her her books with dozens bookmarks in them, newspaper clippings all around, and evidence she had Sherlock get access to with his connections that she doesn’t have.

After days of pure investigation and nights of no sleep she finally was able to figure out where the next murder will be, just by what books are left…

But that’s the thing…

There is not a single work of hers left that this murderer has not take inspiration from…

The only thing left is the author, and she can only assume that she is the next target. So without telling Sherlock, she packs up her bags and fakes her own disappearance, to fool both the police and the murderer.

She spends so much time in the shadows, watching and waiting to see who looks into her disappearance, seeing how people react to it, but nothing, not a thing…

It frustrates her even further…

Then she finally decides to return home, feeling like a failure. Her house if just how she left it, even the papers in the drawing room that look like the work of a madman that she will have to clean up after her failure so she can go back to what she is good at, fictional murders not really ones…

No she can’t do that, that would only give the murderer ideas…

So she quits.

No one hears from her for months as she nods herself taking up a librarian position at a local library, at least she is doing something with her literature. She says goodbye to Mr. Holmes and tucks away all her old books and works in progress that will never be finished on the shelves to collect dust for the rest of her life.

At her time working there she gets a frequent visitor at the library, a Mr. William James Moriarty. He had a fascination with murder mystery novels and the two form a quick friendship over their shared love of them. Everything feels like a new start, a clean slate but then he had to ask…

“Will you ever write again?”

That question has her heart hurt because she adores writing, but to sacrifice lives just for what she enjoys, she would never. She shuts down his question quickly and excuses herself, but then avoids the scarlet eyed man as to not be asked that question again.

But as she is laying in bed one night…

She hears the sound of footsteps in her study downstairs…

She feels her heart stop…

She closes her eyes and prays whoever is there will just go away, but they do not. So she musters whatever courage she has left and slips out of bed to see who is there in her study that has been collecting dust for almost a year…

And she approaches the closed door she realizes whoever is behind them must be the person behind the murders that gave plagued her and-

“William?”

The pangs of shock she feels in her chest when she sees the face of William Jane Moriarty looking through her unfinished works that she shelved away what felt like years ago. She must have looked like a deer in headlights as the Lord of Crime looking up at her with a smile, his red eyes staring into her soul…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

“Your unfinished work, will it have an ending? Or perhaps will we have to write one ourselves? What do you think, darling?”

The weeks go by and the next time the author is seen in public again she has an engagement ring on her finger and the announcement is being made about their upcoming wedding. The talk of the aristocracy says that she finally has a husband who is willing to deal with her crazied ideas that ended up killing so many people, not knowing that she is on the arm of the man who killed them…

Just for her.

(I could kinda imagine it ending up as a situation like the book Misery by Stephen King where he has her finish her work even if she doesn’t want to, but what differs is that while he doesn’t necessarily keep her locked up physically he does mentally. Sure go run off, he isn’t going to stop his darling, but just watch the bodies stack up pin ways she imagined, he is using her own mind against her which is the most terrifying of prisons. Then soon fear turns into dependency, she becomes terrified of him leaving her because now she has no where else to go but him so he has no need to hide her away when she clings to his arm like a terrified and wounded animal.)