#something...........about devotion maybe??

[mlobsters]

jared padalecki and jensen ackles spn dc con 2024 - main panel (youtube)

Q: In season 5 episode Dark Side of the Moon, Sam and Dean found out that they were soulmates and it was never really addressed after that, so what did they think when they found that out? Jared: I think they knew.

[ddejavvu]

Mean!Logan who fucks you dumb to the point all you know is how good he feels instead of Scott Summers 🤭🤭🤭

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, dumbification, dacryphilia, don't like, don't read.

"What's his name?" Logan asks thoughtfully, lips pursed as he waits for your response. You're quite unable to give him one at the moment- at least a coherent one, while his hips piston forward and back, driving his thick cock into you.

"Go on, tell me." Logan prods, bumping his nose into your temple. He's going at an impressive pace, grunting with each hefty thrust, "Do you even remember it?"

A cry escapes your lips as Logan pushes you over the edge, unceremoniously, mercilessly, and you claw at his biceps as you're thrust into your climax. Your brain shorts out with white hot pleasure, something like pain but sweeter searing in your belly as you unconsciously curl your hips up to meet Logan's cock easier. There's no point- he can't possibly go deeper - but your body moves instinctively. He feels so good that you need more.

"Cyclops ring a bell?" He asks, but your ears ring too loud for his voice to get through. Either that or your brain muffles it like wet cement is drowning your thoughts, and the only name etched into the thick sludge is Logan, Logan, Logan.

"Dickhead, maybe? Laser-brain, Goggles, One-Eye..." Logan lists his most frequently used nicknames for the mutant he'd caught cornering you in the kitchen, but all you can do is muffle your moans into the sweat-soaked fabric of Logan's wifebeater.

"Who did this to you?" He feigns concern, like he's interrogating you after a beatdown, his nose now trailing over the apple of your cheek as his lips ghost your own.

"I-aah! Logan," You whimper, now oversensitive to penetration.

"Yeah? Who?"

"Logan," You breathe, eyes bleary with tears as you breathe him in- the sight of his face, hard-set and firm. His smell- sweat and musk and sex all rolled into one. His touch, the constant pressure between your legs as he keeps his dick buried in your cunt, no longer moving his hips. His eyes- they're staring at you, drinking in the repeated moans of his name that come pouring from your mouth like blood from a wound.

"Smart girl." He says, and you're so out of your mind that you don't read the cruel sarcasm in it- the way he's teasing you as Scott's name has fled your near-vacant brain.

"Who else? Got another man in there?" Logan taps the side of your head, where your spinning brain works overtime, "No? What about in here?"

He places a hand on your pelvis, pressing down gently so that you feel the imprint of his dick inside of you clearer, harsher, more intense.

"Anyone else in here?" He asks, keeping steady pressure on your cunt until you squirm in penance, begging for mercy from his teasing.

"That's right. Keep it that way." He snarls, letting up on your pelvis and using the hand to cup your cheek, relishing in the way you thoughtlessly lean into it, so trusting, so devoted, "Mine's the only name you need to be sayin', sweetheart. Say his again and I'll make you wash your mouth out with my fuckin' dick 'till it's all you can taste for a week."

[crystalizedcryolite]

Woah woah woah what's this I'm hearing about Green hate?? Is this true? Probably not, but this is a great opportunity to explain character flaws! :D (I was saving this analysis for when the entire arc is done but whatever)

A perfect, flawless character is a boring character. What fun will there be if your character did everything right in the world, no mistakes to let them grow or problems they can learn from? This helps create conflict, which helps expand on a character and develop them further.

Green's ego problem, his whole attention and fame-obsession thing, is a part of his character for a reason. Flaws in a character makes them more realistic and relatable, you feel me?

Green is actually a really complex character, and that's something I love most about him. That's why he's my favourite.

He can be kind, he can be a cocky jerk, he can be selfish, he can be selfless, he loves his friends, he doesn't understand what he's doing to them, all of it. His character flaws make him feel real.

His wanting for a bigger taste of fame, his slowly losing himself to the world of content creation? It's realistic. It happens everyday.

I, of course, hate what he's doing to his friends, hell, I've been there before, but that's simply necessary for his character arc. When he realises his mistake, he's going to grow from it. He's going to become a better person, I just know it.

How do I know? Because we've seen it time and time and time again.

Green showing off when he wins every build battle, Green getting cocky when dodging Red’s pranks, his anger when he loses? Those flaws have been established since day one.

Except he's still a good person.

He remained loyal to his friends, genuinely loves and cares about them so very much, and most definitely the type to drop everything for them.

(I hope, if my analysing skills are any good..)

And who's the one who comforted Purple after all he's done to them?

Green.

He's still including his friends, albeit a lot, lot less. He still cares about them, he's still trying to give them some spotlight, but he doesn't understand that they don't want that. Doesn't understand yet, anyway.

Sure, he's losing himself to the taste of fame, sure he's currently filled with an ego-driven, attention-seeking drive right now, but he'll learn soon.

That's what makes a character arc so darn good. Sometimes the problem isn't an outside force, or an enemy to battle, or something to stop.

Sometimes the problem is yourself, and it's something that needs to be changed.

Maybe the whole point of this fame-chasing arc is to let Green learn more about humility, in all it's glory, and the dangers of devoting your life to giving content to a bunch of strangers.

Or maybe not, who knows? There's still two episodes for the influencer arc, after all.

I can't wait to see how Green's character arc goes for it :D

(I don't mean any malice towards anyone, by the way! This is just me analysing Green's character :>

[adayumantium]

HEYO!! I AM LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND YOUR WORK, sorry that i’m yelling 😔 IM JUST SO EXCITED 🤩🤩

okay anyways umm i was listening to ariana grandes unreleased song ‘fantasize’ and i just imagined logan 😩 yk what i meannn? 😮‍💨 anyways do you think that possibly, maybe, you could make a fic that was inspired by it 😣

please, i love you muah 😍

- 🎶

Fantasize

Logan x gn! Reader 

a/n: this ended up being angsty and I am a little bit sorry,,,,if you WANT maybe ill do a happier part where we actually GIVE IT TO HIM 9 to 5, 5 to 9 yk..... banner by moosgraphics

Summary: when the guy you want is smitten with someone else, you're left to fantasize

W/C: 400ish

tags/warnings: gender neutral reader, jealous reader, pining and longing, crazy levels of Jean hating i won't lie, a little suggestive, a little bit angsty and too real if ur in love with a fictional character….

You definitely need something stronger. Your fingernails tap the neck of a cold soda bottle, desperate to keep your mind occupied. What does Logan see in her? Yes, Jean is gorgeous. Smart, and suave. She is also taken. You’ve watched her string Logan along, letting him fall in love with her. Scott is so devoted to her, too. There’s nothing to like about her, especially the way she’s wrapped Logan around her pinky finger. 

Now, you watch the two of them laugh, magnetized by each other's lips as they take swigs of their bottles. Your knees buckle seeing Logan’s gaze linger on the rim, Jean’s lipstick left behind. With a roll of your eyes, you go to find somewhere else to sit so that you don’t have to endure their display. Plopping on the couch, you hope that root beer can drown sorrows just as effectively.

Ping! 

Your phone goes off, and you check it hesitantly- the only person you want to hear from is glued to someone else. 

Dan (bar trivia): hey! I had a really good time the other night. Do you want to-

You shut off your cell with a groan, not even gracing the rest of the text with a read. Guys like Dan are the problem, kind and considerate and totally into you.

You want raunchy, rough, and unavailable. 

You want Logan. 

You decide to retire for the night, exchanging courteous goodbyes to the people around you; shooting a glance toward Logan, you’re not even sure he notices, so entranced by Jean's facade. 

Your mind starts to wander, as it often did watching him do menial tasks around the mansion. You would give him anything. Everything. You’d let his hands do whatever they wanted, let his mouth go wherever it pleased. He had to know how desperate you were for him. 

Crawling under your sheets, you’re consumed by the desire to kiss him goodnight, drawing circles on the sprawling canvas that was his back. You would wake up next to him, his hips pressed against your ass and the pillows smelling like sandalwood. 

It’s just not real.

[homey-worshiper]

low energy devotion acts for lady hestia

{something i do when i either feel very bad or just don't have much energy}

sometimes veiling takes a tool on me, being judged and whispered about when im in public, so in times when it's really hard i just get my hair in a bun, out of my face

slow down when eating, i have a habbit of forgetting to eat and when i actually eat i do it in seconds, but when i catch myself i try to simply slow down, give thanks to lady hestia

have a pinterest boars dedicated to decor you want to have, want to make

and also a pinterest boards dedicated to food you like or want to make, cozy hobbies you want to try, maybe crafts that you already know how to make, i feel so connected to lady hestia every time i find a new craft i can make {and use as decor later}

journaling, even if i just write one sentence in a week, maybe i don't write at all i just open my journal and take in the energy i already put in it

i feel like lady hestia likes when you write for her, no matter what it is, poetry, short stories, journals, prayer, tumblr post, everything

setting my phone aside and not looking at the time, slowing down, taking as much time as i need, letting my body clock decide when to pick up work and when to do have cozy time

nap, sleep, staying in bed for those additional 5 minutes

treating drinking my morning coffee as a ritual, even if im doing something while drinking, it's like every sip of my hit beverage is a step in the ritual

wearing jewellery that reminds me of her, i try to keep the ring dedicated to her on the altar so everything i need to pick it up ismts full of her gentle energy

letting myself be bored and not do anything, instead of stressing what to do next just to do something

[finniestoncrane]

💗 with penguin? from the batman

Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 750 mmmmmmm yes please anon!! this old romantic??? he'd be aching to tell his partner how he felt about them, but he's a shy boy at heart!! little bit of ozzie losing his calm exterior and accidentally spilling the beans about his devotion while he's balls deep in you coming right up!! 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, sweetheart/baby used, daddy!kink, reader has vagina, confessions of love, eeny weeny bit of dirty talk

Any and all fears that you had about what you meant to Oswald seemed pointless in that moment. The worry that you meant nothing more to him than a good, easy fuck at the end of a long day quickly dissipated when his cock was buried inside of you, his large hands holding your body as he rutted into you. You could do a lot worse. And if that was all you were to him, then you were grateful for it.

Who would turn down such a lucrative opportunity? Spoiled when he could, or when you let him. Fucked with the kind of feral attitude you might only find in someone trying to prove something. Given an insight into what life was like for the true rulers in Gotham. Importantly, though, you were also offered respect and care. A little bit of affection when he let his facade drop. The gold glinting grin would slip just a moment every so often, and his eyes would soften as he watched you put your clothes back on, or when you left his office at the lounge.

Sometimes, you let yourself believe that there were words behind the warm smile he offered you. A deeper meaning. You weren't willing to push him though, so you kept your questions to yourself. It was easy enough to do when your lips only opened to take in his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or to let out moans of pleasure and groans of sweet, delicious pain.

Oswald did most of the talking between you both, socially and sexually. As he pummelled into your hips, you watched his lips form the lust-driven rambling from your position on top of his desk. His hands skimmed down your thighs, tracing over the sides of your torso as he spoke.

"Fuck baby, that's it, that's the stuff right there... Let daddy show you... You gonna take it good?... Yeah you know what to do... Cos you're a good girl... My good girl... You're amazing baby doll... God, I-... I uh..."

The sudden pause, the way he almost stuttered, wasn't something you'd seen in him before. He was unsure of himself, of his words, of his intentions. And Oswald was always prepared. Given that the pace had slowed, you caught your breath and used the brief moment of reprieve to check on him.

"Ozzie? You ok?"

"Nah, I'm fine baby, don't worry about it."

He could tell the mood had shifted though. You had a distinct look of concern in your eyes, and he realised that if he held back from you now that he might lose a little bit of trust from you.

The brief pause was over though, and he realised he'd missed the moment. It was too late to say it now, so he tried to bring his focus back to the present, how you felt against him, around him. Maybe now was the time. Maybe he could feel vulnerable, open, honest. Your eyes, staring up at him, concern, genuine feeling behind them, only confirmed to him that this was the right thing to do.

Oswald's finger and thumb gripped at either side of your chin, holding your head in his palm as he redirected your attention to him. It felt like an eternity, his eyes gazing into yours, focused and intense, his cock buried up to the hilt, throbbing against your clenching walls.

"God... I love you, sweetheart."

He couldn't keep it too sweet though. You'd find out how soft he was soon enough, for now, he could be honest, but he felt like he had to remain sexy and confident. So he kept going, hoping that you wouldn't linger too long on his sentiments, trying to lull you back into dazed arousal before you criticised him for his confession.

"I love your skin. I love your mouth."

His pace picked back up, and you could only moan in response to each declaration of affection.

"I love your hands, your body."

You could feel your body tensing, giving way to the control of your orgasm as he continued.

"I love that warm, wet cunt of yours too. Love the way it makes me feel."

Oswald groaned as he let the last world trail out, his fingers digging into your skin where he held you, pulling you down onto his cock. His length pushed into you, bottoming out, up to the hilt, each thrust pressing against your limit as he emphasised each word with the branding of your walls with his cock.

"I. Love. You."

[belovedivies]

syndrome ft. thaddeus

cw: minor spoiler, pining.

Thaddeus eluded you.

The same way people did him, honestly.

But then there was you again, and you had just kind of been there; standing by Raphael’s side like a loyal dog since day one. Never frowning, never raising your voice. And he didn’t think he minded it, not really. He liked that your serenity balanced out the semi-man-child whom Thaddeus now called his new boss. You were soft, gentle, benevolent. Maybe only at times. Greeting him whenever he passed by you in the hallway. Laughing at his stupid jokes. Humming a foreign song under your breath that the Apostle didn’t recognize.

One less eggshell to walk on, yet two ticking bombs remained.

He liked your eyes too. Shining, dazzling, so unlike Raphael’s. The redhead only felt that familiar twinge of annoyance when you gazed up at the man you called your little brother with so much love and care. Like you were willing to hang the moon and stars for him. And Thaddeus wasn’t jealous, not really. Raphael was your flesh and blood; it’s only natural that devotion would dig deeper than any shovel or sword could.

But you only had that impenetrable smile on these days. Moving with grace and gold. Keeping your distance. He couldn’t even hold a conversation for longer than one minute before you excused yourself out of the room, not sparing him another glance.

—

Your indifference bothered him.

Made him feel like he was a snot-nosed brat all over again, struggling to survive in that dog-eat-dog shithole he reluctantly called a family. Years ago, when you took the knife out of Raphael’s hands and dug the blade into Father Gabriel’s heart for him, Thaddeus was stuck kicking his legs somewhere far away until his limbs were bent at an inhuman angle, his lungs burning for air. But he pushed through the pain, the tears, the blood early on. He had to become the strongest.

For what, a six-year-old him once pondered.

Sitting by the pond in the garden and swinging his legs in a pair of dojo shoes he had soon outgrown. Martial Arts is about the body and the mind. Integrity, courage, respect. He never intended to frighten others and should have never been considered a weapon of destruction either. But then came the power. The control. The entire continent soon bowed to the King of Kowloon, and Thaddeus was nothing short of elastic.

As much as he hated to admit it, the fight with your little brother knocked some sense into his thick skull. The Apostle didn’t even have time to process his defeat before Raphael wrapped him up in a white body suit that made him look like a goddamn psych ward patient, heavy chains bidding his legs together and keeping him suspended in the air. Thaddeus refused to yield then, gritting his teeth and cursing out strings of profanity that he wasn’t taught before. He fussed, yet Raphael was barely fazed. The punishment didn’t come right away.

It was the days after that.

Days when he was all alone in the base with nothing but his thoughts for company. Thaddeus kept his head hung low and just stared blankly. He felt like a slab of meat. Static noises played on repeat inside his head; and he was okay with that, really. He didn’t want to think anymore.

The hours were so long that he stopped counting. Only then did sleep eventually claim him—a stuffy, dreamless slumber.

—

The redhead didn’t know how long he had been unconscious. But when he woke up, he found himself on the ground; the chains and ridiculous costume miraculously all gone. He was resting his head on something soft too. Thaddeus’ mind tutted its alarm late, but when it did, his body shot up as if struck by lightning and muttered up whatever little strength was left to put some space between him and this unfamiliar presence. Yet the second he attempted to move, his vision started spinning. A stabbing discomfort gnawed on his nape, and Thaddeus realized he was hit with the worst neck pain ever.

He was going to fall at this point. Crashing face-down on the ground like a pathetic loser. The Apostle’s legs wobbled like overcooked noodles as he braced himself for the fall that never came. Instead, he found himself on his back once more, wondering if his body had even moved an inch in the first place.

But there was you, staring down at Thaddeus with a smile.

“Welcome back,” he hadn’t heard any voice in days, much less one as pleasant as yours. The way your hands cradle his face felt like a hug on a winter day. When you shifted, Thaddeus’ stomach did a weird twist.

You didn’t seem to mind him gaping at you like a dead fish, tilting forward with that same mysterious quirk on your lips. Your hair falls around him in soft curtains, blocking the flicking lightbulb ahead that was starting to hurt his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Your fingers weaved through Thaddeus’ hair. And it felt good, so good he thought he could fall asleep again right here, with his head on your lap. The stinging pain at the back of his nape went away almost instantly when the tips of your digits grazed through the spot.

He opened his mouth, trying to get the words out. It’s useless; his throat was so parched. Thaddeus guzzled the bottled water you handed him in less than two seconds, not caring if his whole face was drenched too in the process. He heard a giggle from you, sounding like mist drops on leaf dripping down a pond.

You came here by yourself.

That much he collected when you pat his face dry with a handkerchief, the silver cross embroidery at the edge tickling his jawline. The movement was still nothing but gentle, yet Thaddeus noticed the corner of your smile turning icy. You came alone, but not without purpose.

“What do you want?”

It might be a little too late, but his inquiry came out nonetheless. Thaddeus tried propping himself up with his elbows but soon realized they were shaking.

At the question, your head tilted to the side ever so slightly. Legs tucked under your thighs in a too-expensive dress. Not a single wrinkle or hair out of the place. Unfeeling. Unmoving. Pupils blown wide like a doll’s.

“I came to check up on you!” You sing-song, beaming too bright, too superficial he had to stop himself from cringing outwardly. “Sit up.”

The command barely registered in his weary mind when Thaddeus felt his body moving on its own, and he was sitting face-to-face with you.

The smile you gave him was nothing short of satisfactory. Eyes glinting with mirth. Like he was a puppy and just did something endearing.

“Here,” something warm slipped down his throat; soup? Thaddeus blinked in awe, feeling the herb soothing his deserted taste bud. He hadn’t eaten anything for a whole week, “how does it taste?”

“G-Good.” His response came immediately this time, albeit rasped and still shaky. But you didn’t mind, feeding him another spoonful of dumpling that he eagerly bit into. Thaddeus was left starved, and he was gonna rot here to death if you didn’t come.

You were technically his savior.

And you looked pleased too, letting him have the rest of the bowl until it was empty. Wiping his mouth clean. Guiding him to lie back on your lap. You were warm, so perfect. Thaddeus wondered why he wanted to get away in the first place.

“It will get better,” you hum, running your hands through his hair, “once you move in with us.”

Thaddeus perked up at the last part, meeting your eyes. Your gentle smile remained as your fingers slipped underneath his bangs, resting on his forehead. “Have you thought about what he said?”

He did.

More than he begrudged to relent. Between the endless hours hooked up to the ceiling and nasty bug bites bruising his skin, Thaddeus didn’t have much of a choice. If he somehow walked out of here alive, he would be dragging his feet until the friction scoured the heel of his shoes. Bitter. Humiliated. He didn’t want to be reduced back to the disappointment he was back then.

He needed to be strong.

“Good boy.”

Taking his silence as an answer, you giggled and ruffled his hair. For once, he was sure he had made the right choice.

—

Thaddeus was all over you. In the hallway, in the garden, in between those meetings he rarely ever showed up. Always saying your name with an ear-splitting grin. Always have something to say. A stupid joke to tell.

You never seemed to mind it. You never even liked him to begin with. But he felt comforted when you were there, passing him by like an invisible wall. Thaddeus remembered the way your hands felt on his skin that day. He wondered just what he had to do to have you close again, looking at him like he was precious. Like he meant something.

Raphael was so gonna kill him.

♡dividers credit: @strangergraphics-archive♡ ♡masterlist♡

[satellite-evans]

Benedict Bridgerton with pregnant wife reader. With "Oh honey, come here!" and"One more kiss, please!". Fluff and maybe a little spicey👀 Thanks!! :))

One more kiss

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict can't keep his hands ( or his mouth ) to himself :)

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: fluff, kissing, teasing

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The air in the room seemed to hum, not with silence but with the fullness of life. You were a vessel of creation, the curve of your belly like the swelling of the moon—round, heavy, radiant in its own right. But like the moon pulling the tides, your body pulled at you, each movement a slow dance between discomfort and love.

Your hand rested instinctively over the swell of your abdomen, fingers tracing patterns over the stretched skin, a gentle reminder that life pulsed within you, even as you grew weary under its weight. You had crossed the line from glowing to aching, from grace to a slower, heavier presence. Every breath you took felt deeper, fuller, and yet… your patience was stretched as thin as the fabric that clung to your body.

Benedict had been watching you for some time now, his gaze heavy with the kind of awe that made you both feel powerful and vulnerable all at once. He stood by the door, taking in the sight of you—the woman he adored, carrying the child you had made together. And though you felt cumbersome, ungainly, he seemed to see only beauty, a force of nature incarnate.

The tension in his stare hadn’t gone unnoticed. It had been growing for weeks, ever since your belly had become unmistakable proof of his devotion to you, of his claim over you. He was never far from you now—his hands always reaching, always craving. It was as though the sight of you so full, so pregnant with his child, ignited something primal in him.

"Oh honey, come here," Benedict’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and filled with that familiar hunger. It wasn’t a question—it was a plea. His eyes were dark, focused, as if the weight of his desire was something he could barely contain.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching into the faintest smile. You knew this game by now. Ever since you’d started showing, Benedict had been… insatiable. It was as though seeing you pregnant with his child sparked something primal in him. His touch had become needier, his kisses hungrier. And while you adored his attention—most of the time—there were moments, like now, when the exhaustion outweighed your desire to entertain him.

“Benedict,” you sighed, shifting slightly in your seat, trying in vain to ease the pressure in your lower back. “I can’t… I can’t move right now. This baby feels like a boulder.”

He didn’t miss a beat, crossing the room with swift determination. “Then I’ll come to you.” There was a soft chuckle beneath his words, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of feral as he knelt in front of you. His hands, warm and slightly calloused, slid up your thighs with an almost worshipful care, his thumbs brushing circles over the fabric of your dress.

Your body responded in spite of itself, a shiver running down your spine. Despite your weariness, there was something about the way he looked at you—as though he was starved for you—that made it hard to stay indifferent.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with awe. His hands moved to cradle your belly, his fingers spreading wide across the expanse of your rounded abdomen. "You’re… God, you’re perfect."

“Perfect?” you huffed, shifting again in your seat. “I feel like a whale.”

Benedict's eyes flickered up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth tugging into a roguish grin. “A beautiful, glowing goddess, then. One that happens to be carrying my child." There was a possessiveness in his tone, but not in the way that felt suffocating. It was full of adoration, of reverence. He was proud of you—proud of what your body was doing, what the two of you had created together.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your belly, and you could feel the warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of your dress. It sent a ripple of warmth through you, despite your fatigue. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles over your skin, his touch reverent and loving, but the heat in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Benedict,” you warned, but there was no real bite to it. You were tired, yes, but the way he touched you, the way he looked at you—it stirred something deep inside, something that made it hard to resist him entirely.

“Just one kiss,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough, filled with a need that made your skin prickle. He pressed another kiss to your belly, then moved upward, trailing his lips along your skin, over the curve of your breast, up to your neck. “One more kiss. Please.”

You let out a soft groan, both from the ache in your back and the ache building between your legs. “Benedict, I’m exhausted.”

He smiled against your skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “I know, darling. I know. But I can’t help it. I need you.” His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you down toward him, his eyes pleading, full of unspoken desire. “Please,” he murmured, his voice softer now, desperate. “Oh honey, come here.”

Despite yourself, despite the weariness in your bones, you leaned in, letting your lips meet his. The kiss was slow at first, but it deepened quickly, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His mouth moved against yours with the same hunger you’d felt simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

You moaned softly, feeling his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, caressing your skin with an urgency that made your heart race. His touch was firm, but careful, mindful of the life you carried, yet undeniably full of desire.

"Benedict," you murmured against his lips, half-heartedly trying to pull away. "I’m… tired."

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he took a breath, his fingers still gently stroking your belly. “I know. I’ll be gentle. Just... stay with me for a little longer.” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes full of longing. “Please. I need to feel you, love. Just one more kiss.”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. "You're insatiable, Benedict."

He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to yours again, this time slower, softer, but no less passionate. “Only for you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Only ever for you.”

And as his hands continued to caress you, as his kisses deepened, you let yourself melt into him, letting the exhaustion fall away, if only for a little while. Because even though you were tired, there was something about the way he touched you—like you were the center of his world—that made you feel alive, loved, cherished. And in that moment, you gave yourself over to him, one more time.

“Fine,” you whispered against his lips. “But just… one more.”

[qiu-yan]

2 and 21 for mdzs please?

sorry for the wait!

choose violence ask game

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

in terms of "compelling" arguments, i've got nothing. in terms of bullshit arguments i pulled out of my ass, though....

of course, the easy way out is to argue that jiang cheng is asexual and therefore would never come into sexual contact with anyone. an equally easy way out is to argue that jiang cheng is so rizzless that, even if he wanted to top or bottom, no one would do it with him....that's the easy way out of this question, though.

my own opinion is that, if jiang cheng were attracted to men and/or had a partner who was into pegging, he would have way too much internalized homophobia to give bottoming a try. even if he somehow got over himself enough to admit that he was into men (already impossible), he would still buy into the ancient-greek school of thought on homosexuality, wherein "ackshually it's only gay if you're on the bottom." he would be fully convinced that, if he were to bottom - and worse, if he were to enjoy it - he would become Less Man on an existential level. this would absolutely kill him inside, would make him actively more homophobic than if he were just straight or asexual, and would make him a nightmare for any other man to hook up with.

but of course, the more you adamantly refuse to even consider something - the more you fear something, in other words - the more you end up obsessing over it. if jiang cheng were actually hooking up with men in this scenario (entirely possible because he's like 6ft tall and probably can host because he's rich, which makes him a prime catch in the eyes of like 90% of grindr), he would adamantly refuse to bottom. he'd declare himself a hard top. but would he actually enjoy himself? or would he, as he topped in a lackluster manner whichever men were unfortunate enough to give him a chance, imagine himself in their position - first with disgust, as he told himself he was different than them; then with terror, as he feared that he might one day end up in their position; and then with something else?

because jiang cheng's fear - that he might one day bottom and enjoy it - would quickly mutate into a full-on psychosexual obsession with the concept of bottoming itself. because it's repression king jiang cheng we're talking about, said obsession would eventually become one of those things you're so afraid of that your fear ends up wrapping back around and turning into a fetish. because it's jiang cheng we're talking about, this would then lead to him actually bottoming one day. and then, because it's jiang cheng we're talking about and the universe hates him, he would actually end up enjoying it.

does his mindset change? maybe. or maybe he just becomes Worse.

i feel like i've ended up doing the opposite of answer the question.....sorry.....these are my honest thoughts, though.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

i'm going to get killed for this, but that's the purpose of this ask game, so i'll be honest....."lan wangji as Love Interest." of course, by this i do not mean to say "lan wangji himself." rather, what i mean is the way in which lan wangji is a "love interest" first and a "character" second. in my view, the story is only really interested in lan wangji as "the guy who loves wei wuxian and is unquestioningly devoted to him," rather than interested in lan wangji as a character in his own right.

of course, the story spills a lot of ink on how much lan wangji loves wei wuxian, how much lan wangji has sacrificed for wei wuxian, how unquestioningly devoted lan wangji is to wei wuxian, and so on. and while this is all true and good, in my view, there are also several other interesting angles in lan wangji's story worth exploring. however, these angles instead seem rather neglected by the story, which appears to only want to discuss "lan wangji's devotion to his One True Love."

some angles i consider to be interesting, and which i felt like went underexplored in canon:

how much of lan wangji's support of wei wuxian is because he believed wei wuxian was right, and how much of it is because he loves wei wuxian and does not want to lose wei wuxian again? where does lan wangji's personal romantic love end and his moral compass begin? the novel equates [standing with wei wuxian] with [being righteous], but it is exceedingly easy to design a situation where the morally righteous path entails sacrificing wei wuxian in some way - how would lan wangji behave in such a situation? if wei wuxian himself had not protected the wen remnants (due to canon divergence or whatever), would lan wangji have spoken up for the wen remnants?

to what degree does lan wangji agree with wei wuxian's actions and consider said actions to be morally justified? comparatively, to what degree does lan wangji consider wei wuxian's actions to be morally questionable, and simply wants to shoulder wei wuxian's sins with him out of love? does lan wangji know and/or believe that wei wuxian killing jin zixuan was a genuine accident? if he does not know, does he care?

what does lan wangji's relationship with his family look like? on one hand, in his failed bid to save wei wuxian, he injured 33 of his own sect's elders, which under confucian principles is a massive wrongdoing. have the injuries of these elders healed? does lan wangji feel guilty? on the other hand, lan wangji's family betrayed both him and the moral principles they espoused, by first nearly whipping lan wangji to death and then joining the first siege of the burial mounds. does lan wangji resent his family for this? does he resent lan xichen and lan qiren, or does he understand that they had argued the punishment down from execution? is that why, after lan xichen's world shattered at the guanyin temple in yunping, lan wangji was able to immediately leave the premises with wei wuxian in tow, without once checking in on his brother?

what does lan wangji think of his late parents? does he want to know why his mother killed his father's teacher, or would he rather not know? does his family keep the knowledge from him, or does he avoid the knowledge himself? what does he think of his father's actions - to him, is his father someone who fell from the path of duty and righteousness for the sake of love, someone who selfishly abandoned his duties and forced his responsibilities onto his younger brother, and/or someone who imprisoned lan wangji's mother against her will and perhaps even forced himself onto her? does lan wangji know whether or not he was conceived consensually? does this bother him?

given the whole history of lan wangji's parents, how does lan wangji view his own, how should i say, sexual interests? lan wangji did once pin down a struggling wei wuxian and forcibly kiss him; would lan wangji make a connection between the nonconsensual nature of this deed and the imprisonment of his mother? furthermore, wang and xian's relationship postcanon seems to have an element of d/s and noncon roleplay to it (which i'm not judging them for, good for them); would that also remind lan wangji of how his father and his father's sect brought about the imprisonment of his mother? or are these two separate things entirely?

in my view, these are all highly interesting aspects of lan wangji's story - and all of these are implied by details given in canon. however, canon shirks discussing these aspects of lan wangji's character in favor of focusing on him as the Male Lead: rather than explore any of these angles, which would further define lan wangji as a person, canon seems far more interested in single-mindedly focusing on how sad lan wangji was that wei wuxian died, how tragic the loss of his One True Love was, and how wholeheartedly happy lan wangji is now that wei wuxian has come back and returns his feelings.

to me, it feels like this guy got sanded down from a "full individual" to a "love interest." it feels to me like the story gives us some details about lan wangji's own life, but then nonetheless insists on reducing him from a person in his own right to a satellite that revolves around wei wuxian (the story's real favorite). because of this, MDZS the novel read as less the wei wuxian and lan wangji story, and more the Wei Wuxian story starring Wei Wuxian, in which lan wangji is a love interest first and a person second.

i forget if i said this before or if i read it from someone else's blog, but it does feel like, if you want to love lan wangji on his own, you have to do a lot of the heavy lifting yourself. or at the very least scrub all the male lead energy off of him first, so that the individual underneath can be revealed.

[slotumn]

One thing about Claude is that as much as he's not a religious guy, I get the impression that it's a personality thing more than "actually deeply opposed to the idea of religion or religious institutions itself on principle/ideology"

You know how the opposite of love isn't hate but disinterest? It's that. On a personal level his brain is just not wired for deep investment into religion/faith, whether that's for or against.

Like yeah he doesn't like the Church due to encouraging myopia for the sake of maintaining isolationism, but he'd dislike anything that encourages those actions/policies, even if it's not on a religious basis. And in VW, he's perfectly willing to ally with the Church and use Byleth's clout as a religious figure for his own goals.

He does acknowledge that maybe there is such thing as divine force on some level certain conversations, but he's not devoted to any particular interpretations of it. He's "not religious," rather than "against religion" from something like religious trauma. He's the kind of guy who'd go to religious events because it's fun and the guy who gets interested in theology how nerds get interested in fictional settings and worldbuildings. And at the end of all that his own personal stance is "well the food's delicious and I think they have interesting things to say but I'm not religious lol"

So if you throw him next to Edelgard, Dimitri, and Rhea having a fierce debate about religion/theology from the perspective of individuals (note that I say individuals, not rulers/authorities, bc that's a different story) who actually genuinely hold religious faith and/or are otherwise deeply personally invested on the subject matter, I think he would basically react to it how normies would react to fandom discourse. Funnily enough I think the two other MC/lord level characters who would also have that reaction would be Byleth (dragon Buddha Jesus) and Shez (homunculus Mara Antichrist) so that's something.

Tl;dr on a personal level when it comes to religion

"[182919 page jargon-filled essay full of arguments and counter-arguments]": Edelgard, Dimitri, Rhea

"Hey guys how's it going": Claude, Byleth, Shez

[wings-of-ink]

Hiii, how are you?? I was re reading all again and I was about to choose what my new MC is going to study and then I questioned myself, what would be the best or favourite professions for each Ro? For example, would Deri like an archer MC who knows how to hunt (it would be epic to see MC hunting with a fricking giant wolf next to them, but also I don't think they like the hunters a lot lmao) or would they prefer a cook who shows them the best human cooking? Maybe someone who knows about medicine to try to heal the animals (even when animals and humans are super different to treat, I know) Would Oswin like a MC more inclined to numbers and letters, for example a merchant (Merc X merchant ship lol) or someone with whom to train the sword? I feel like choosing the cook profession to give them all the food in the world to Zahn, but I also see that he could relax with another archer or even a doctor.

Hello dear! I am doing well and I hope you are too!

This is a very good question, and it's a bit difficult for me to settle on something for each RO. Duri is probably the main one that would have a stronger draw to healer MCs because their mother was a devoted healer. But really, I can see each RO valuing any profession or hobby in different ways. Oswin isn't great with numbers, so a book-smart merchant MC would be a good balance. Then again, he could duel with an MC who has combat training. Like you mentioned, cooks and Zahn are a good mix too. Rune would have no preference in profession, but a singing hobby would be fun. ??? has something to love about each possible profession as well (which may come up especially if you try to woo him.)

There's lots of possibilities here either way you slice it.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Something something the Janeway/Chakotay/Tuvok dynamic when it comes to religion, mysticism, spirituality and science.

[cicada-candy]

just a couple of guys having a good time and nothing bad happens to them ever!!

little mid-artfight doodle,, I'm being so serious when I say think about them weekly. my favourite Achilles/Patroclus parallel ever they make me sickkkkkk

[nyoomfruits]

i wish i knew more about max f because the possibility of lando/oscar/max f is... compelling to me

[boo-gutzz]

Lots of ranting here lately ik but I've been thinking about limited life Scott so much. There's something about his almost desperation for Jimmy to love him again that gets me

[alluralater]

[lightly kicking a dented soda can on the ground. shrugging without looking up] idk. maybe i like people that are possessive and obsessive. maybe i am fucked in the head. maybe i want them writing me love letters telling me they fuck themselves to the thought of us kissing. idk. hey do you think whoever left this soda here is happy now?