#suddenly the feminism has left my body

[infinite-orangepeel]

me: man spreading is rude, men need to learn to take up less space and—

*sees joe quinn & joe keery do it*

me: y’know on second thought…

[rodolfoparras]

The art of tardiness

Pairing: Unspecified Male Character x Male reader

cw: 18+, possessiveness, anal fingering, anal sex, top male reader, bottom male character, age gap, morning sex, writing on skin, feminization (hole referred to as cunt)

Synopsis: sometimes calling him yours just isn’t enough

There were times you were sure that your boyfriend was dating two different people.

One was the young man who’d swiftly tuck his tail between his legs at the smallest comment made about his relationship. That man could admit that he lacked experience compared to his much older partner, could admit he probably wasn’t his partner’s ideal type with his scrawny frame and short height, and he knew that even if his boyfriend were to look past those things, the people around them would never do it.

Then there was the rabid dog in the shape of a young man, that barks and bites at any potential threat, such as hostile comments made about his relationship. He’d look you straight in the eye and tell you not to make comments about a relationship you know nothing off, hell he’d get in a physical altercation if you provoked him enough.

And then of course there was the desire to bite the hand that feeds him, devour his person down to the bone so he wouldn’t have to share him with the world. He or rather you were pretty good at keeping this desire at bay but sometimes you just couldn’t contain it especially early in the mornings, when he looks like a sight to behold with his lazy smile bleary eyes, thin white sheet doing nothing to cover up his naked body.

You want to keep him in bed, mark him up, make him cum over and over again til all he can remember is the feeling of your cock

Unfortunately things aren’t that easy, especially when he has to get ready for work in half an hour, but stubborn as you are, you don’t let him go, dead set on marking him up as much as possible.

At first he’s too lost in bliss to notice what you’re doing, letting you suck and nip on the sensetive skin while desperately clinging onto your body, that is til you bite down hard enough to draw blood and the man jerks in place, wide eyed and suddenly too aware of what you’re doing.

“No marks” he says, even goes as far as to scruff your neck, as if you’re nothing but a disobedient dog to him “I have work, remember?”

“Please?” and you know that you must sound rather pathetic but honestly you couldn’t care less, especially not when you notice that a couple of marks have already started to bloom on his skin.

“So goddamn possessive what am I gonna do with you huh?” He says, while keeping a vice like grip on your neck “Should I let you write your damn name on my forehead? Would that make you happy hm?” He says gaze much softer as his thumb strokes your neck.

Even though he hadn’t intend to do so, his words gave you an idea and you immediately find yourself reaching for the night stand, hand blindly rummaging through the drawer.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He says, brow raised but it doesn’t take long before realization strikes him “Absolutely not,”

You turn to the other man , practically giving puppy eyes. This time you do feel a tad bit of embarrassment but not enough to give up on this battle.

“I can’t go out like that,”

“You won’t,” you immediately say “I’ll do it somewhere you can cover it,”

“Jesus Christ kid,” he sighs out and pinches his brows but despite his words you know that his resolve has crumbled.

You’re quick to grab the first best pen before straddling his waist, the late night escapade having left him in nothing but a thin white sheet covering the most sensitive part of him but you can still feel you cock head rubbing upon the cleft of his ass as you settle down.

“Cheeky bastard” he breathes out, fully aware of where your mind’s gone to.

You only hush him response, muttering how you have to be focused before you attempt to put the marker to his arm.

But before you can do that he grabs ahold of your egg wrist, a firm look painted on his face “promise me it’ll wash off,”

“Promise,” you say with a shit eating grin on your face.

And as you proceed to put the marker to his skin, you realize that you’re at loss of ideas on what you could write on him. It’s like you wanted to do so much when the idea first struck your head but sitting here you almost feel overwhelmed by all the options that you have.

You play it safe at first, writing out your name just below his pec, a move that has the man squirming beneath you.

“Tickles,”

“Sorry,” you say, not an ounce of sincerity in your tone as you draw another scribble on his forearm. It’s you and him- well it’s supposed to be but your artistic skills only allow you to draw two stick figures holding hands.

For a moment there are no words exchanged as you continue draw on his skin. You do a couple of doodles here and there, some ridiculous other more scandalous. You even write some words on his skin- some being your name others being lewd quotes, everything done within range where he’d be able to hide it beneath his clothes.

“This enough for you kid?” He says, when the majority of his chest is covered in little scribbles.

He probably didn’t mean anything by those words. But the ugly monster residing inside couldn’t help but take this as a challenge especially when he says that as he lays naked in your shared bed, soft smile on his face, the scribbles of your name clearly showing under the rays of sunlight protruding through the bedroom window.

Instead of responding to him you grab ahold of his wrist, black marker writing out the letter M on his skin, bold and big, just within the range of where he can pull on a shirt if he wishes to hide the word. The letters I N E are soon added in place, big bold and curling around his underarm.

The word mine now lays written on his forearm.

But you don’t stop there, eyes flicking over to his furry stomach that looks awfully bare before you take a marker to it and start writing your initials all over it. This time around the skin isn’t as forgiving, straight lines turning jagged from coarse hair and faded scar. Not that you mind and neither does the little monster residing inside.

You continue writing on him, covering as much skin as he allows but truth be told you don’t know how his clothes will be able to cover up some scribbles, not that you plan on telling him that right now.

And he doesn’t seem to care that much as his gaze carefully follows your movements, breathing growing heavier and heavier with each second that passes.

At some point you feel the need to get closer to him even though you’re practically sitting ontop of him, swiftly shuffling around til you’re slotted between his thighs, carefully drawing a line from the crevice of his knee down to the groove of his left thigh.

He continues to watch you with attentive eyes, as you add a triangle to the end of line, the marker reaching dangerously to where his balls lay hanging between his thighs and from where you sit you can smell his musk hitting your nostrils, can feel his thighs clench beneath your fingertips , can now see the way the black arrow is humorously pointing straight to the furley ring of muscles.

It’s impossible not to reach out to the spot between his legs, a curious finger swiping over his sensitive skin and pulling a gasp out of him“Hah!”

Your eyes flicker up, cock twitching at the sight of the man who already looks so wrecked before looking back to the marker in your hand, moving it back and forth til the line on his thigh grows in size, doing anything just to busy your mind because you’re supposed to draw on him not fuck him, remember that?

But it’s not long before your attention is back onto his burning heat, a glob of spit landing onto the sensitive skin before your finger circles his now wet rim.

“What are you-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you slip the tip of your finger inside, watching the way he jerks in surprise, the sudden movement jacking up the straight marker line, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Jesus Christ kid,” he breathes, voice dripping with both arousal and amusement as you continue to sink your finger inside of him.

“This alright?” You ask, and push til you’re knuckles deep before giving an experimental curl of your finger.

Another gasp escapes his mouth, hips bucking up into your touch “ hah -now you ask?” He says, but despite his words the man nods at your question.

That’s all it takes for you to work a second finger inside, this time coaxing a hiss out of him,“easy there kid going to break me,”

You can’t help but chuckle at that”Think you’re giving me too much credit pretty,” you say but decide to move your fingers at a much slower pace, watching the way his body once again relax onto the sheets as contented hums escape his lips.

You continue curling your fingers inside while drawing onto the man; circling birth marks and scars you find pretty, drawing arrows across every inch of skin while watching the way he twists and turns in the sheets with every brush of your fingertips “so fucking pretty like this drives me crazy “

At some point you stop drawing on his skin, turning all your focus to the fingers buried inside him.

You don’t even notice the way tears have started to gather at his eyes, nor the begs and please continuously escaping his mouth, too entranced with the sight of his hungry hole practically swallowing up your hand.

It’s only when he grabs ahold of your wrist that you snap back into the present moment, now noticing how you’ve left the pen to bled out on the white sheets, and how the ink on his skin has already started to smear.

The gruesome monster inside tells you that you need to find another way to mark the man.

Within moments you’re grabbing ahold of his legs, pushing his knees up to his chest til his cunt is on full display, not wasting another second to line your cockhead up with his entrance before pushing inside him.

“Ah fuck! Insatiable dog,” he barks out, not having expected you to do that but that doesn’t stop him from practically clamping onto you as you bottom out: heels digging into your ass and nails digging into your back as you start driving up into his hungry cunt.”mpf fuck just like that keep going kid“

Who’s insatiable now? You think to yourself, a strangled chuckle escaping your lips as you continue to thrust into his tight wet heat.

It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a steady pace, thrusting so erratically he’s practically choking up on the moans that are trying to escape his lips, bed frame frantically rocking against the wall every thrust of your hips.

“Ah! Fuck! Going to - hah going to kill me,” he says through choked sobs, hands madly clawing at your back as if he’s losing his footing on this world.

And as you look down at the beautiful mess he makes, you can’t help but notice the shadow of a bulge showing on his stomach, right below the spot where your initials lay.

Once again you feel the zealous monster within you take the steering wheel, hand pushing his legs past his ears, before drilling into him.

“Say it “ you grunt out, hands keeping a vice like grip on his thighs, pushing his legs so far back you’re sure you’ll split him in half if you keep it up “Come on come on say you’re mine”

At first he’s at a loss for words, barely even able to catch his breath with the way you’re erratically thrusting into him but eventually he manages to respond to you.

“Yours yours all yours fucking fuck I’m cum-“ he splutters out, hole erratically clenching down onto your cock before he cums in hot thick white streaks, across both his and yours abondmen “‘m sorry ‘m sorry” he slurs out, while he continues to shamelessly fuck himself back onto your cock.

Something about that sight is enough to triggering your own orgasm

“Fuck!” You cry out, eyes squeezing shut before youre hit with hot blinding pleasure.

The world around you blurs out, ears ringing loud as you continue to ride out your high before you eventually slump down beside the man.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, ears still ringing loud, world barely coming into focus. “That was-“ you begin but trail off once you can’t seem to find the right word for it.

A laugh rumbles through the older man’s chest, his big hand cradling the back of your neck before he says “got that right kid,”

You look up at him only to be left speechless at the sight.

See people always said that a relationship with someone so much younger than him would ruin him. You’d hear it over and over again while eavesdropping on whatever conversation he was having about this “sudden” relationship.

You never really understood what they meant until you saw him sprawled out on your bed, gaping hole stuffed full with your cum, and every inch of his skin covered in your initials.

At least they knew he was yours to ruin.

Yours

Yours.

Yours.

That little insatiable monster that can't seem to find rest rises to life again, coaxes you to slot your lips against the older man’s, tongue slipping into his mouth and licking along every nook and crevice, leaving the taste of you behind for anyone that would dare kiss him.

It takes one more kiss before he prys himself away from you, and walks over to the bathroom on shaky steps, the sight of his inked ass is the last thing you see before the door closes behind him.

You slump back into bed with a smile on your face, the taste of him still lingers on your lips, the previous string of events practically burned into your iris and for a second it all feels like a dream that is before you hear your name being shouted behind the bathroom door followed by a string of angry words “why won’t this shit wash off,”

Oh well…

[yunnimilk]

,, ! 𑁍ࠬ ܓ | ; AMAB ! Osamu Dazai x Bot ! AMAB ! Reader !

𝜗𝜚 kinks / tags ! ; creampie, overstimulation, belly bulge, teasing, oral sex [ dazai receiving ], thigh riding [ just for a bit ], slight degradation and a lot of praise, light feminization [ I call readers underwear "panties" ONCE and Dazai calls them princess ]

𝜗𝜚 . . | ; short oneshot / : cw ; none actually, just the fact that Dazai is probably OOC since I was really focusing on the smut part and that you both are drunk , reader has no masculine or feminine pronouns but they have AMAB language

ᥫ᭡. SUMMARY ; you and dazai are at a beach house, next to a glistening body of water. It was your honeymoon, suddenly, you guys had too much wine on the beach, leading you two having a fruitful night ~

NSFW UNDER THE CUT !!

Wine glasses clasping together for "cheers" the alcoholic liquid inside almost spilt from the motion. Dazai wouldn't consider wine to be one of his favorite drinks, but it was nice to sit back and relax while his newly-wedded spouse was next to him. The honeymoon was simple yet very beautiful, getting closer to your new husband for about a week, cherishing these little moments for him ,

Sipping from the wine glass, the beverage tasted amazing, it was most likely fertilized from the 1800's, better as the years went by. Your fingers interlock with Dazai's as you both talk the night away, you got more tipsy, but Dazai didn't feel anything yet, he was more of a heavyweight after all .

The sun was setting, your skin was kissed by the sun from the yellow-orangish hue, it complimented it well, making the undertone a warmer orange. The water reflected a string of light because of the peachy sun, the waves crashing apon the high rocks you and Dazai were sitting on, turning nothing into little sudsy bubbles as they retracted from the stone walls. It was quite the sight, barely anyone comes to this part of the sea, it's perfect ,

After a while, you couldn't keep up with Dazai, he only startes becoming a bit drunk, you were almost completely intoxicated. You clung onto his body, panting like a dog .

"mm.. when did you get so drunk, sweetheart,, ?"

"shh...shu..shuddup.. mm.."

When you tried to speak, it came out as babbles, even when you were coherent it was just slurred speech. Dazai can't help but tease you !

Dazai stroked your hair, having a false sense of empathy for you, degrading you like it was funny ,

"you've only had a glass of wine, are you getting tipsy this easily? aww my poor baby.. ~"

He has his leg in-between your thighs, you couldn't take it, his limb slightly grazing your hardening cock and simulating your balls, grinding on it, basically riding it. It feels so good, your dick was drooling on Dazai's pants, forming a wet spot on it. To Dazai, this was the best view♡

"a..- ahh! ~ fuhh.. fuuhhck.. ~"

Dazai started to bounce his leg up and down, you accidentally fell foward from the intense pleasure. Your hole started clenching on nothing, it felt like it was leaking, you were so close to coming. It was like electricity coursing through your veins, you moaned like a pornstar, thankfully, no one was around .

Your cock was twitching uncontrollably, Dazai could felt it rutting against his leg. you wrapped your arms around Dazai's neck, moaning in his ear, he would've been lying if that didn't make him rock hard. grabbing your hips, making you go faster while you let out the loudest and breathless moans, tears streaming down your cheeks as you felt your hole tightening up and you came unrestrainedly, soiling your panties ,

You collapsed on top of Dazai, puffing out little moans as you tried to recover from the aftershocks .

"we're still not done, I still haven't came yet, and you left me all hard, princess.. ~"

He's quick to remove your underwear, seeing a sticky white slime connecting from your cock to your undergarments. the cool air hitting your dick, making you shiver, you can feel your cum traveling down your balls to your quivering hole, ahh you just looked so pathetically adorable in his eyes ~

"ouhh.. look at that, you've stained yourself, your so unbelievably messy, princess. You couldn't even control yourself ~"

You let out a painful whine, he chuckled at the noise. he reached down to kiss your neck and suck on it until it turned a deep purple, tingles went to your dick as he bit down on your shoulder, and your hips jerked up ,

"ah ah ah.. easy there, I'll fuck you in a second"

"puh..- puhlease!~ ah, nghh ~"

Dazai arose his head up, he enjoying how pitiful you looked. Too bad that you were going to look more fucked out as he drives his meaty cock inside of you ♡

Fortunately, he decided to have mercy, he unzipped his pants. You perked up as you heard the sound, he giggles at your reaction. He pulls down his underwear to only spring out his hard, wet, cock out. You were salivating while looking at his meat slab, you were basically like a bear viewing cow beef .

He rested his cock on your hip, right next to your dick. Dazai looked through his coat pocket to find lube, it was strawberry scented !

"ah! there it is! ~"

He took out the lube and squirted it everywhere on your lower body, rubbing it sensually, making you get worked up and already producing pre-cum. Dazai was getting extremely horny, and didn't prep you, but he wouldn't immediately thrust into you, as he'd hurt you in doing so ,

He jerked himself a bit before actually entering you, but when he did, it felt so good. Your tightness was gripping the head of Dazai's cock, he was groaning in your neck. It took so much to not plunge himself in and out of your slick heat. You started to grind onto his cock, feeling it touch your prostate, which also sent lighting shocks in your body .

"mnh..~ that fast..?~ ah..h..~ alright, I'll give you what you want ~"

He started to piston himself in and out of your squelching hole. He saw the belly bulge poking out of your stomach, he pressed on that spot, your back immediately arching, screaming out his name. the force of his thrusts brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. you push back onto him, Dazai couldn't stop ramming his cock into your velvety walls ,

He was humping you like a bunny, you felt your prostate kept getting abused, trying to milk you dry. His fat dick was filling you up so well, you can feel how good he was fucking you, rearranging your guts. Your soft hole clenching and unclenching, squeezing Dazai's cock until he cums inside of you .

You were reaching your climax, and Dazai knew that, so he went faster and faster until the only movement you did was rapidly moving up and down his meaty cock, getting more desperate to squirt out your cum ,

"A..AH! ~ FUCK! 'SAMU, I- I'M GOING TO! -"

"mng! agh! fuck! me too! ~"

You came like a waterfall leaked out of your cock, strings of cum accidentally landed on your face. Dazai didn't stop, he was so close, he almost came just from the feeling of your walls clamping down on his dick. He felt his balls tighting and his cock twitching inside your convulsing heat .

"I think you can handle one more round, right, princess?"

"wh- angh! ~"

plap, plap, plap

how long has it been? it feels like he's been doing this forever

You couldn't come anymore, the times that you 'came' didn't let you gush out your sticky liquid. You officially had a dry orgasm, multiple times, and Dazai kept covering you with cum and filling you up with cum ,

"Dazaim... puhlease! I canmt cum anymowe! ~"

"ah- ahh.. s-sorry! I just can't..! ~"

Dazai started cumming again but kept thrusting, not letting go of your hip. strings of your cum and his trying to connect your ass cheek to his hips when he retracts his cock. Your balls were so sore, along with your asshole. You could tell that Dazai was getting tired, his thrusting has gotten slower .

"just one more time, mnh! please? ~"

Even though he asked you, he still kept on burying his dick in your hole, stretching it and imprinting his shape in your guts. Your legs were shaking, they were going completely numb !

You felt his fat cock spasming again, he made sure to be super rough when he finished his last orgasm, making you cum for the 6th time this night. Your teary, red eyes rolled back while you stuck your tongue out, you gave one last arch when Dazai stroked your dick ,

"angh! fuhck! fuckfuck itfeelssofuckinggood! ~"

Dazai released his seed in you once again, his cum trailed down your hole and your thighs, it took courage for him not to fuck you again. Although, he got hard again, seeing your cockdrunk expression did a number on him .

"hey, how 'bout you suck me off? pleaseee!! "

You sat up, with the help of Dazai since you were struggling through the pain. Little grunts left your mouth as you were face with Dazai's cock, your hot breath made his dick fully stand up. Experimenting with it by giving the head tiny kitten licks then fully deepthroating him, gargling sounds and Dazai's moaning could be heard from a 12 mile radius. Gripping your hair then forcefully moving you up and down like a sex doll ,

"agh, baby! you're doing so.. good! ah! ~"

He pushed your head directly infront of his pubic hair, the moans that you let out sent vibrations on Dazai's cock, you could smell the sweat collecting on it, and you can taste the salty cum intruding your throat. The man above you pats your head .

"you did so well, princess ~"

[90ekz]

BLEED INTO ME!

in which… ony is your vampire boyfriend, and he tends to overfeed, even when you tell him not to. guess you have to teach him a lesson, yeah?

word count: 3.4k (WOAH?)

content. smut + plot, sub!vamp!ony, light angst, nicknames (baby, princess, ma, pa, pretty), dacryphillia, heavy discussion of wounds and injury, established relationship, n-word usage, hematolagnia & blood consumption, black!domfem!reader, overstimulation, handcuffs, light feminization, handjobs, male squirting, dry humping.

syno speaks. i really apologize for the delay on this, but i hope y’all love it! thank you for all the support :) btw, i know some people are squeamish about blood, so if that bothers you in any way you may need to avoid reading this. kk that’s all, love y’all 💋

ony annoys the fuck outta you.

he always has, ever since he came shimmying through your houses’ chimney while you’d fallen asleep on the couch watching your favorite movie. the action hadn’t even registered in your bleary mind until he was poking his sharpened talon against your cheek, silently praying that you’d wake up so he could explain his current situation.

the poachers were running a muck on the town, and they were out to kill any and every vampire they could find.

ony, specifically, had been a prime target, due to him being the only full-breed left in the country. he had been on the run for months now, and whether it was finding caves to sleep in or crashing at his boys’ houses when he could, he’d been keeping his distance between him and the enemy, until now.

he’s suddenly awoken in his cave to the sound of heavy footsteps clammering against floors of the gravel, and he recognized the sound like his own voice. he wasn’t quick enough to move out of their line of sight before he was shot in his stomach and chased through town, only getting away once he saw your house with an easy entrance.

“hey, wake the hell up.” ony complained, his jabs slowly getting softer as he took in the state of your sprawled out body.

your appearance should be the least of his worries right now, but you were so captivating. even with the droop of your plump lips, and the way your blanket was completely kicked off you, revealing only a crop top and shorts. your curves were on full display, and he felt his fingers itch with the need to touch, to mark.

as your eyes blinked open, ony hovered over your frame, drool pooling in his mouth as he patiently waited for your full awakening.

“oh, look who decided to join us.”

silence stretched over the room for an unbearable amount of time as your brain caught up to what exactly you were looking at, and you were scrambling to your feet and behind the couch. you were swift on your feet, and suddenly ony had a knife barreling toward his head that he barely dodged. the knife cemented itself into the wall, a reverberated sound bouncing against both of your ears.

“get the hell out of my house!” you gritted out, trying to keep your voice even. ony’s eyes are wide as he flicks his attention between you and the literal machete in the wall, what just happened?

“can you, uh, let me explain first?” ony presses on as he tried to ignore the way your voice was calling to him like a siren song. something about you was making his knees physically weak, but he would figure that out later when you weren’t ready to chuck another knife at him.

“explain what—you’re a random nigga in my house! how did you even get in here?!”

“the chimney, look can you just calm down—shit.” ony doubled over, as more blood started to leak from his wound. he hadn’t been fed in over a month, and was now losing his own blood. his regeneration isn’t as effective when he’s hungry, but he couldn’t risk going to some hospital to get help either.

you let a gasp slip out as you saw his hand clutches against his stomach, and you warily made your way over to his crumpling form.

“fuck, is that a bullet wound? i’ll um—let me go get some gauze, don’t move.” you rushed into a room outside of ony’s field of vision, and just as suddenly as you left, you were helping him to the couch. ony flopped down, quiet curses falling out of his mouth. you felt your cheeks heat as you removed what was left of his shirt and inspected his wound. it wasn’t too deep, and you were able to pull the bullet out with your tweezers without much effort.

the rest of the process was seamless, and ony was left relatively feeling impressed as he eyed the stained gauze wrapping his stomach. you even handed him a glass of water, and kneeled by him on the floor. you were so caring, and his stomach was in knots at your close proximity.

you kept making eyes at him like you wanted to ask something, until you finally did.

“what the hell happened to you?” your voice was much softer this time around, and ony was definitely a bigger fan of this tone. ony hooked his pointer finger into the corner of his mouth to reveal one of his pearly white fangs, his tongue lolling out involuntarily.

“poachers.”

he really did owe you a better explanation, but his head was much too fuzzy from hunger and blood loss to fully spit out that whole monologue. plus, your cheeks were now stained burgundy with shyness and another emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and you looked way too cute like that.

only now did you finally take a good look at the man before you, and you were embarrassed to realize that this was the man that had been labeled all over the news as “the last living full-breed.”

and he was bloody, shirtless, and sexy right here on your living room couch.

“y-you’re…”

“the last living full-breed vampire? yeah, something like that.” ony rolled his eyes, his hand waving in a nonchalant manner as if he wasn’t the most wanted… thing walking right now. you’d built up an impressive saved folder of videos, blog articles, and news headlines about him and his whereabouts, and you’d always felt so bad for him.

a bout of shame washed over you at your previous actions. you’d attacked him and screamed at him without even realizing that this was the same man you’d been pitying for months now, and now that he’s here, you have a strange urge to protect him.

“i, uh…i’m sorry for all the knife-throwing and stuff,” you mumble into the arm of the couch. “i didn’t realize it was you.” ony huffs, clearly amused with your response.“i did break into your house to be fair. i wouldn’t sweat it.” he shifts in his seat on the couch, still unable to fully sit up without the pain spreading. fuck; he really needs to eat soon.

comfortable silence sits in the room with the two of you, the same thing on both of your minds.

“so, what’re you gonna do now?”

“no clue. i can’t go back to my cave, and most of my homeboys live in the old city i was staying in, so i can’t go to any of them. probably just gonna skip town. again.” ony mentions sadly. he was tired of always having to run from people, and it was getting lonely without any of his friends or family around anymore. it was a constant battle, and he was tired of fighting for it.

you him to affirm him, but can’t shake the ridiculous idea you have brewing on the back of your tongue. it should be out of the question, but you wanted to protect him, and he needed somewhere to stay. what’s the worst that could happen?

ony sighed, and as he went to stand up, you grabbed his wrist firmly.

“why don’t…why don’t you just stay here?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“onyankopon, i’m not boutta play wit you all night.”

“please baby, im so hungry.” ony presses his cheek against the innard of your thigh while you diligently finish on the outline of your english literature essay and pouts.

fuck you and your dedication to a masters degree, hmph.

he’d been teasing you for hours now so you could feed him, but you wouldn’t take the bait. you just roll your eyes in response as he grips onto the fat of your thigh, licking and sucking at the bite mark from 2 days ago that hadn't faded all the way yet.

this only spurred ony further, his instincts just telling him to ruin your thighs for any one else, to just drain you of everything you had.

so he did.

“o-ony! what did i just say?!” your thigh trembles against his lips as he digs his fangs in, his eyes low and cloudy from your taste. this, this right here, was his personal heaven—desperate whines slipping from your lips, your fingers gripping his hair, your sweet stream hitting his tongue as he sloppily drinks you alive.

ony groaned deep in his chest as his pants began to feel far too tight all of the sudden. this happens often, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. it isn’t uncommon for him to come completely undone just by feeling your sweetness flow down his throat and pool into his stomach. your blood was his weakness; it made him stronger, faster, and healthier than he’d ever felt or been, and you protected him.

you the first—and the only—to not cast him out, and for that reason, he fell deep for you. deeper than he ever thought possible.

and even now, ony craved more of you.

you shakily pressed three taps to the side of his biceps, your sign that you needed him to stop. he whined loudly, but pulled away nonetheless. he knows that restraint is very important when it comes to this, but he’s still so hungry. you feel your cheeks heat up as you brush a thumb of his now trembling lips, and take in just how wrecked he looks.

his eyes are watering tinted and watery, and his hair was ruffled from the way you’d pulled on it. ony was a complete mess of himself, and you felt your pride swell at how easily your blood can do that to him.

“mmm, fuck ma, tastes so fucking good—‘m so hard fr’m it…”

you smile down at him, loving how quickly he fell under your spell. ony’s your obsession, but he had disobeyed you, and you couldn’t let that slide. as much as you wanted to just give into him and let him take what he needs from you, you had to remind him who was boss.

“uh huh.” you shrugged, simply going back to your paper. you wanted to make him even more needy than he already was.

“‘fuck you mean, uh huh? make me nut already.” ony licks over the freshly punctured bite as a little blood rushes out. he expects you to do something, anything in response, but you just huff and continue to work on your paper. you’re basically done with it already, but you choose to add little details just so he gets irritated, and boy is it working. ony was absolutely itching to just break that stupid laptop so you'd pay attention to him, but it was all in vain.

no matter the amount of kissing, licking or teasing he did, your resolve didn't crack one bit under the pressure of his touch, and that in itself made ony's blood run cold. he just wanted you to look at him, and his cock was throbbing even without your attention.

“don’t act like you ain’t just drink a whole pint outta me even when i said wait. you not gettin’ shit else.” you wave him off with a simple signal of your hand, and his stomach drops. not only were you ignoring him, you were shooing him.

ony raises to his feet and nuzzles his face into your neck, positively whiny now. he undid the button of his pants and you gasped as his cock sprung free. of course the freaky nigga wasn’t wearing any drawls, he strange like that.

“ony, put some damn drawls on.”

“baby please, ‘s literally throbbing. ‘can’t take it.”

you found yourself holding back a smile as he peppers kisses along your face and neck, and you’re trying not to giggle. your restraint is slowly slipping, and you figured that you could indulge him just a little. you meet him halfway, his tongue slipping into your mouth easily. it was just how you liked it. ony had a way with kissing—his fangs usually came as a bit of a roadblock, but you two found ways around it. you tug the back of his head toward you, and he’s stumbling down to your height.

you smile, and ony feels himself melting once more. you could tell that he was getting needier, the glint in his eyes giving away how ready he was to be ruined by you.

“you need it bad, pa?”

“fuck, so bad.” he gasped into your mouth, his fang nipping your lip and watching a bit of blood bead at the tip of it. he eagerly licked it up, and you could feel your own arousal building. your gray panties did nothing to hide the wet spot growing in your core, but you had bigger things to worry about.

you wrapped a manicured hand around ony’s wrist, pulling him to the bedroom. he chuckled deep in his chest as he trailed behind you like your personal mutt, and you couldn’t help but smile. you loved when he got like this.

as soon as you entered the room, ony blinked and he was suddenly cuffed to your king sized bed, the silk of the sheets rubbing up against his skin. he already felt overwhelmed, and was pouty about not being able to touch you, but he had to remember that this was his punishment, and he wanted to be good for you. he was completely naked and the cold air of the room barely registered to him as your clothed pussy rutted against his bare cock.

it was like torture, but he knows that’s the point.

“c-cmon ma, you can go harder,” ony sighed, gesturing his head toward your matching bra and panties. you ground your pussy down against him harder, wanton moans falling from your glossed lips. ony cursed under his breath as he watched you stimulate yourself on his cock. your nails dug into his waist as you moved, arousal clear on your face. “is fat ma wet for me yet?”

it was a ridiculous question, really. he already knew the answer, and you did too. squelching noises filled the room as your sticky underwear made friction against his cock, and that was answer enough, but ony wanted to hear you admit it. you weren’t that vocal in bed (at least not with words), but it was always ony’s goal to make you.

“mmhm, she’s so wet f’you pa.”

“oh fuck.” ony feels his hips jerk up involuntarily as you talk dirty to him, he loves that nasty shit. he can’t figure out if it’s because you’re kinda mad at him or something else, but you were so responsive today and he needed to be inside you now. just the simple act of watching you climb the ladder to your climax was enough to have him panting and moaning along with you.

your head drops backward as you get closer to that sweet release, and ony is falling in love all over again. you look perfect like this, drooling over his cock rubbing between your folds without even properly touching you. your hand rubs under his chin as you force him to look at you, and he hopes he isn’t blushing.

“ony—fuck! ‘m cummin!” the coil in your stomach snaps, and ony watches in awe as your panties get completely ruined. his lap is sticky from the mix of his own pre and your juices, and he whines as his fangs start to protrude from arousal. you smile and let your thumb trail over his teeth and tongue, and he’s struggling against the cuffs.

there’s so many thing ony wants to do to you right now—but he wants to touch you more than anything. run his fingers up the indent of your wide hips, choke you, rub your oversensitive pussy, fuck, and he really wants to bite you. he wasn’t even that hungry, but there was an ache under his skin to mark you and make you bleed, and watch it all drip out.

just the thought was enough to have a spurts of cum shooting onto his stomach, and you let out a little coo at his twitching stomach as you take the opportunity to begin stimulating him, not even caring if he was too sensitive. you ran your fingers over the head of his cock, pay extra attention to the tip just the way that makes him fall apart.

“w-wait!”

“for what? you were just begging me to make you nut earlier, weren’t you?” you smirk as he bucks against your hand. when ony gets sensitive, his voice will pitch up and it’s the sexiest thing in the world to you. he’s always the neediest after he feeds, and it’s so cute. your eyes landed on the lube sitting on your nightstand, and you took the opportunity to squirt a few drops onto your hand. it was almost too slippery for you to keep your pace, but the added moisture made it easier to stimulate the most sensitive parts of him.

“shit, it’s so wet.”

“yeah? wetter than me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“uh uh, ‘s nothing wetter than you mama—oh shit,” ony’s mouth dropped open as your finger passed over his slit once more, and he was spilling into your hand with a groan. there was more of it this time, and his hands tugged at the handcuffs as you continued to work him through his second orgasm. you were almost afraid that he was going to break them with his pure strength, but you just let him struggle.

you’d seen him break many things in your shared house. door handles, alarm clocks, your counter, (don’t ask about that one) so you wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to break his restraints, but you knew he loved them too much. “baby—can’t take anymore, fucking hurts!” ony trembles, his legs bucking under you as you stroke his harder. both of your hands were working on his cock now, and his lip was bleeding from gnawing on it too much. a few stray tears even started to trail down his face.

“cmon princess, you can give me one more,” you kiss along ony’s neck and chest, and smile as you feel his breath stutter under your touch.

“ma, w-wait! ‘m serious, it feels weird—shitshitshit—”

before you could ask what he meant, ony’s orgasm was slamming into him and a clear stream of liquid was shooting out of his cock in uneven spurts. each shot was shorter than the first, but you were taken aback nonetheless. he’d never done anything like that before, at least not that you’ve ever seen, but you could feel arousal pooling in your belly again as he writhed under you. you finally released his cock as it softened against his stomach, and room was developed in silence apart from the heaving breathing of both of you.

you gave him a wet kiss on his cheek and began undoing his cuffs, his look of embarrassment not going unnoticed. he rubbed his wrists together, inevitably proud of the marks you’d left on him. “onya.” you pressed your chest to his, but he wouldn’t look at you. you figured he was embarrassed about what had just happened, even if you didn’t know exactly what that was.

“hmm?”

“you gonna look at me or just do that blushing school girl shit all night?” that made him smack his lips and finally let his eyes meet yours. you held his jaw with your hand, stroking right where he was starting to grow some hair finally. it was a shame, ony really had no idea how pretty he was, even with his eyes streaked with tears, swollen lips, and marks left all along his neck and chest. his hands finally grasped your waist, eventually sliding down to paw at your doughy ass.

“you’re ruining my street cred, fat butt. out here makin me squirt and shit.”

“what street cred, nigga? you from the woods!” you laughed against his chest, and he felt his heart swell. he lifted your chin up to look at him, and your little smile made him remember that everything would be okay as long as he had you. you’d saved him, taken him away from a dangerous life, and he couldn’t find any way good enough to properly thank you.

your eyes twinkled and you closed the distance between the two of you. the kiss was slow and ardent, and you wanted to stay like this forever.

“you did so good, ony. ‘so proud of you, baby.”

“if you were really proud, you’d feed me some more—”

“mmkay, don’t push ya luck.”

special tag 444 my baby <3 @hoesluvshanti

[zawescource]

More than the sum of her parts

Actor Zawe Ashton has graduated from student sitcom Fresh Meat to directing and producing her first film, writing a book and bulldozing barriers in an industry still dominated by white male privilege. Oh, and she might be the next Bond

Scheduling a shoot for first thing on a Monday morning with the woman best known for playing Vod from <Fresh Meat> may not have been the best idea. One imagines Vod waking up in a field somewhere with a spliff stuck to her cheek. Time ticks on. The car is waiting. There’s no word. But when Zawe Ashton finally sashays in full of apologies, immaculate in a Stella McCartney cat-print two-piece, she’s virtually unrecognisable from her bovver-booted, perma-stoned student alter ego.

Zawe (pronounced Zow-ee like Bowie) is a curious mix of erudite and approachable, high-brow but also no-holds-barred. Conversation swerves chaotically from FGM to crisps falling out of her hair, via fourth-wave feminism and the dangers of tequila. She talks frankly about getting recognised at excruciatingly awkward times – “after yoga when I’m naked in a communal shower or when I’m mid-wax and they’re lathering my labia”. Musings on the trappings of superstardom lead to an almost Vod-like exchange. “If you chase that level of fame then you’re asking for it. You’re… who’s the guy who goes that into the labyrinthe?” Er, Theseus? I suggest, searching through my somewhat shaky knowledge of Greek mythology. “Thank you! I’m on my period so I can’t remember anyone’s name.”

She orders brown toast with peanut butter, and then suddenly opts for a salmon salad instead. She has just remembered that she’s going to the Vogue 100 gala tonight – “my eyeballs might look bloated if I eat my beloved toast and that’ll be a no no for Vogue!” Her voice is posher and more considered than it is on TV, and also incredibly husky – not the result of a Vod-esque weekend of hedonism, she tells me, but the tail-end of a bout of laryngitis which left her mute for “six whole days”.

“It’s been one of the most emotional things I’ve ever been through,” she says hoarsely, elegantly crossing her 5ft 10 frame into a tiny school-style chair. “You want to be able to express yourself, but suddenly you’re forced to spend all this time in silence. It was really interesting for me because people pay for this sort of silent meditation so I was like ‘Look within, find the zen…’”, she comically massages her temples. “And actually when you can’t speak, people are very compassionate and kind to you, their body language changes, I really recommend it!”

Many of Ashton’s best roles have been women trying to find their voice. A murderous maid in a radical reworking of Jean Genet’s 1947 play <The Maids>, an unsettled divorceé in the Channel 4 drama <Not Safe For Work>, and the lonely Joyce Vincent in <Dreams of a Life>, a part-dramatised documentary about a woman whose remains were found on her sofa, with the TV still on, three years after her death. And then of course there’s Violet Nordstrom, better known as Vod. “You can’t pin her down,” she explains of her show-stealing part on the student sitcom <Fresh Meat>, which ended in March after four series. “People would say to me ‘There’s never been a character like this on TV before’. I’m so sad to say goodbye to her.” She has lots of souvenirs from the set, including Vod’s leather jacket. “I wear it all the time, but it’s got huge holes in it so I keep putting my hand down looking for my keys and coming up with fake little bags of weed.”

Playing the same character for five years has “intermingled” with her life, not just her wardrobe. She’s currently writing a book of essays about how the “membrane between performance and self can become very, very thin.” It’s partly based on her own experiences – “factional” is how she wryly describes it – not just as an actor, but as a woman. “Female identity can be such a fractured thing…that line between the roles that you inherit, the roles you give yourself, the roles that as you get as you go along through your life and begin to define yourself in terms of relationships, having children…”

Although she describes the writing process as “terrifying”, she clearly thrives off the fear. Ashton has written plays, produced and directed short films and has set up her own production company – Asylum Features. She’s in the process of financing her first feature film, a remake of the 1986 Turkish film <Ah! Belinda>. “I first watched it when I was 18 and working at the Rio cinema in Dalston and I said ‘I’m going to remake that one day’ and now I’ve got the rights to it and I’m working on the script.” It’s the kind of multidisciplinary work ethic that makes Lena Dunham look lazy.

“If you broke me apart I’m sure there is one bone in me that says discipline,” she admits, letting out a raucous laugh. “But it’s not a bone that’s easily seen from the outside. I just don’t think too much about things, that has to be my starting point. If you overthink it, that’s when the anxiety kicks in.”

For Ashton, being an actor-director-writer-producer is about creating a space for herself in an industry that’s still remarkably dominated by white men. “I think you get to a point where the line gets drawn with the powerlessness you feel as a black woman and an actor,” she says. “I’ve had doors slammed on me, people shouting in my face, I’ve been escorted from the premises. So many women I know are multihyphenates. You start off doing one thing but because of the progress that we’re trying to make…that starts to morph into writing or directing or producing or critiquing the status quo.” She cites Michaela Cole, the BAFTA-award winning creator and star of <Chewing Gum> on E4 as an inspiration. “She’s a woman, she’s a black woman, and she made that show because she didn’t feel there was a space where people felt comfortable with her and that’s definitely something I feel.”

The dearth of black female characters on TV when she was growing up led to some unlikely role models. “I loved The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, so Will Smith was my first port of call in terms of someone to look up to – I mean he’s kind of my height and got a similar skin tone. Him or Oprah Winfrey or Rudy Huxtable. That was it.” But she feels that things are slowly improving. “There was a point when I was acting as a kid and there was no make up for women of colour and you were asked to arrive having your hair and makeup already done,” she remembers. “Now you’ve got models like Jourdan Dunn saying ‘I’m one of the highest earning models in the whole world. If I turn up to a shoot and you are not acknowledging my place and my space in this industry, then I’m going to call you out’ and that, to me, feels like a whole new landscape.”

It’s amazing Ashton isn’t more jaded considering how long she’s been playing the game. She’s been acting since the age of 6, when her parents took her to Anna Scher Theatre School in Islington every Saturday. Childhood roles in Desmond’s and The Demon Headmaster were followed by that trusted triumvurate of British acting gigs – Holby City, Casualty and The Bill. She credits Scher with awakening her political education, and attributes her almost-zealot like drive to her “brilliant, creative” parents who were both teachers. Her mum, Victoria, is from Uganda, and emigrated here as a teenager. Her father Paul is a “proper cockney” from east London. “All the dropping me to auditions they’ve done and the times they’ve supported me when it hasn’t been a bed of roses does make you strive that little bit more to turn it into something worthwhile,” she explains.

After getting straight A-s in her A-levels she studied drama at Manchester Met, where she was told she wasn’t a “commercial commodity”, which must amuse her now that she is being touted as both the next Dr Who and the next James Bond. “People love putting me into these iconic male roles,” she laughs. “I know I’m naturally androgynous in some ways but…come on! I’d love to be the first female Bond. It would be an amazing part that also has that one small step for womankind element to it. Sorry Idris, move along!” Although she describes herself as an “indy girl at heart” she’d love to make a big blockbuster. “I have a huge love of musicals and cheesy big budget stuff. Not being pigeonholed is the dream. Someone like Tilda Swinton’s career I really admire because she always makes every role as enigmatic as her persona.”

Hollywood has been courting her and last year she filmed a pilot for HBO about the Salem witch trials, directed by Gus Van Sant – “he’s so quiet but he sees EVERYTHING!”. The series didn’t get picked up, but Ashton loved spending time in LA. “I’m really into the David Lynch surreal dark undertones of the city…I love how diabolical it is”. She could see herself moving there, or Paris, but also says she’s “at that point in my life where I could live anywhere”. She recently bought her own house in Clapton, “embarrassingly close to my parents” but won’t discuss if she’s single or otherwise. “I don’t talk about any love lives – past or present or future!” she jokes. “Of course, when Ryan Gosling realises that we’re supposed to be together that’s when I’ll shout about it.”

Now she’s off to “get my grooms on” for our photoshoot, which will see her stripping off in the middle of a Shoreditch street for an impromptu outfit change. “Come and get itttt!” she cackles as she whips off her trousers. Vod would definitely approve.

[slimnotsorry]

“Men prefer curves!!!11!11!!!”

Has only ever been said to me by fat women. Usually after insulting my body by insinuating that I look like a boy, a child, or any other comparison meant to invalidate my femininity. This very long post sums up my thoughts about this “men prefer curves” sentiment.

First of fucking all. These are the same cunts that screech about feminism and “women supporting women” that are the QUICKEST to police my appearance in the name of appeasing the Straight Male Gaze™. Which I’ve never given a shit about. Every man on the planet could find me repulsive and I’d be relieved, not upset. Seems like the same women always preaching online about how happy and beautiful they are care a lot about what hetero men think of them.

Secondly, this is not a “hUmBLe bRaG” because I, again, genuinely couldn’t care less if men find me attractive or not. I have a sixteen inch difference between my waist and hips. I gave up on pants a good 7 years ago. I have a true hourglass figure naturally, regardless of my weight. A wide-ass pelvis which gives me a thigh gap at any weight/size. People are constantly pointing out my ass and how disproportionate it looks to my body. Which I don’t appreciate. I don’t appreciate any random body related comments. Point is, my body type is what almost anyone with functional eyeballs would call curvy. I have a lower waist-to-hip ratio than Beyoncé for fucks sake.

But apparently my body doesn’t count as curvy to these brainless asshats because my body fat percentage isn’t high enough (???) As if someone’s huge gut spilling over their sweatpants, shrouding whatever bone structure they may have underneath is the only thing that counts as “curves” 💀

Third, I have been fighting off men with a proverbial stick my whole adulthood and most of my adolescence because of the way I look. I’m hit on and leered at every time I leave the house. Sometimes I cannot make it to the end of my driveway without strange men pulling over in their cars and rolling down the window to ask for (or demand) my number (I wish I was exaggerating, this happening more than once is what prompted me to put another camera on the side of the house). If I’m having a particularly irritating day, I wear giant over-the-head earphones and dark sunglasses to discourage suitors from interrupting my day. Sometimes this isn’t enough. Boys as young as 12 and men as old as 70 approach me regularly and make comments about my body and proposition me for dates/sex/whatever. Occasionally women approach me to ask for my number too. It might sound really strange but I have spent years dressing down and wishing that I looked more average or invisible. Wishing for a more peaceful life and to be left alone. I’m not the type of person that’s ever enjoyed receiving any attention, especially from people I don’t know. It makes me anxious and puts me on edge. I want nothing more than to blend into the background and to not stand out.

So obviously when an overweight woman brazenly utters the phrase “men prefer curves” to my face in an attempt to put me down and imply that I’m unattractive, it’s clearly coming from a place of insecurity. I find it pathetic that so many women operate under the assumption that every woman who’s not overweight must be taking drastic and dangerous measures to keep thin with the goal of being more attractive to men. Which by the way, I strongly hold the belief that MOST straight men simply prefer whoever has the largest ass and breasts, which typically is overweight women (or surgically enhanced women). So I don’t even fully disagree with the underlying message of those words in and of themselves. It’s the context in which they are said to me which is so backwards it’s laughable.

God, if only they knew how badly I want to be left the fuck alone by men and the general public. To be able to move through life undisturbed. To not be viewed as a piece of meat that lacks autonomy and humanity by both men and women. If I could suddenly overnight put on 100 pounds and be invisible to society, I’d be crying with joy and relief.  I DREAM of the day when I’m finally considered “old” looking enough to no longer be conventionally attractive. Fuck, what a heavenly, PEACEFUL existence that must be. It’s really not the soul-crushing bingo they think it is to imply that men won’t want to fuck me because I’m too thin. It’s just a toxic, vain, contemptuous lashing-out from people who are desperate for male validation.

[apilgrimpassingby]

Why Going Back To The Fifties Is Not The Answer

(Before we go further, I want to say that, if you like the aesthetic of the 1950s, this is not intended as a criticism of or attack on you or your tastes. Like the aesthetics you like.)

If you are trad, the odds are good that you think the fifties were a good time. Not in all respects (racism, most obviously), but certainly in terms of gender politics. And, pretty much by definition, you feel that modern society has *%^&£* up in some respect, related to gender and probably to the economy.

But going back to the 1950s is not the answer.

The thing that popular discourse, both Left and Right, obscures is that the 1950s was an exceptional period. Europe and Japan had been trashed by the largest war in history and America was comparatively unscathed. After the Marshall Plan gave Europe money to buy American consumables, suddenly there was a massive market for them. And the USA reached a period of unprecedented prosperity.

Before the 1950s, the lone household without outer connections was more of an ideal than a reality, and mostly confined to the Midwest and West. The middle and upper classes had servants, and the Appalachians and much of the South had extended family networks. But come home tech obsoleting servants and a great deal of American money, and suddenly this household is viable for everyone. So viable is it that things like vegetable gardens are things of the past, and suburbs that need cars to get you anyplace useful are widespread.

Until it's not anymore. Because it wasn't long until Europe and Japan rebuilt their industries, and suddenly the boom came to a halt.

Additionally, we need to consider that there are different kinds of housewife. On the one hand, there is what we will call "the 1930s housewife" who, through agricultural work and hard economic circumstances, was regarded by society as the linchpin of the family. Then comes "the 1950s housewife", and suddenly men are earning enough and technology makes domestic work easy enough that suddenly, women have nothing to do and society sees them as existing to please their husbands and look pretty. In addition, the complete severing of the economy from the home means these women feel completely cut off from productive work.

And what happens when a significant portion of women have nothing to do and are seen by society as existing solely to please their husband? Feminism happens. That was what happened in the 19th century, and that's what happened in the 1960s. But in the 19th century, this was only the case for the upper and upper-middle classes. In the 1960s, this is the case for a broad sweep of society. And suddenly, feminism is a lot more successful and radical than it was before.

It's important to note here that neither feminism nor capitalism "killed" 1950s housewifery; that died a natural death.

Seeing as the 1950s were strikingly transient then, I see little reason to believe that a recreation of them will last more than a decade or two.

So what do we need? In my opinion, a return to pre-industrial ways, in some respects. Where the home, rather than the corporate workplace, is the centre of production. Where, because of this, men and women's work is equal but distinct, and equally valued by society. Where we, having learnt that life is more than food and the body more than clothes (Matthew 6:25, Luke 12:23), aim to produce what we need to live, and just a little more. Where our aim is not to leave our children with more material goods, but with stronger families, a happier society and the same well-maintained living structure that is the smallholding.

[dango-milk]

save your tears (kaeya’s version)

I realized that I’m much too late, and you deserve someone better.

an ode to heartbreak masterlist: (x)

word count: 2564

genre: angst

pairings: kaeya x gn!reader x childe

warnings: mildly suggestive, jealousy, swearing, drinking (all of legal age), mentions of wanting to vomit

want to be tagged when future oth works come out? click here!

additional notes: a belated birthday gift to my favorite stinky bastard. whenever I see him all the feminism jumps out of my body

Kaeya suddenly finds the urge to apologize to every single person that had suffered under the hands of his scheming.

For the longest time, he’d reveled in the expressions of shock and disbelief that he could draw from the people he worked with as a result of his rather unconventional means of doing things, and only chuckled at the dressing-down he often got from Jean. He’d waved it off as nothing but harmless fun; something he did to stave off the boredom of doing the same thing every day.

You’d thought it all hilarious, which was, he believes, the one thing that had pushed him off the edge and made him fall hopelessly in love with you. You had a devilish sense of humor, not too unlike his own, and your laughter occasionally had a tinge of malice that would have rubbed people the wrong way (had they not known the person who practically fed its existence).

One day, that’ll come back to bite you in the butt, Jean had told him sternly once, and he once more laughed it off and assured Jean he would not pull the same maneuver twice—if that was enough to make the Acting Grandmaster swear like a sailor.

But Kaeya should have known better than to wave off Jean’s warnings, which always had a funny way of coming back to people in the end.

“The Acting Grandmaster’s pranks have improved of late,” he says, leaning on one elbow on top of the bar as Jean approaches him. “Tell me, was it the thing I did with the Ruin Guard the other week that had the recruits wetting their breeches? Or was it the time I told Albert that Barbara took a detour during one of her afternoon walks and he ended up walking into a hilichurl camp?”

“No and no.”

“Did Eula tell you about the cavern I’d collapsed, trapping most of her men inside while they dealt with Treasure Hoarders?”

Jean snaps her head towards him so quickly, he was sure that a ligament had popped. “You what?”

“Nothing,” Kaeya sings, taking a leisurely swig of his beer as he surveys the scene in front of him. “I just wanted to know what I did to make you so mad that you conveniently left out the fact that my ex is here.”

“I didn’t know,” Jean protests. “Well, there was a last-minute change in the guest list, but I didn’t think it was a big deal...had I known, I would have—”

“—told me not to come? Ha. That’s even funnier.”

“Sir Kaeya.”

“ ‘M sorry.” He takes another gulp, setting the now-empty glass down and immediately asking for another one. Try as he may, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you on the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbinger’s arm, looking completely at home with his colleagues. As if you hadn’t been on the other side—his side—just months prior.

He’d initially thought it a mistake to see Tartaglia fawning over you like a kid with a shiny new toy; after all, since when did you deal with the Fatui? What had happened to you all those months after he’d watched you disappear into thin air at Mondstadt?

Diluc would be livid, he thinks.

For a moment, he believes in what his eyes tell him, which was that you were slightly overwhelmed (and even annoyed) at the Harbinger’s attempts to strike up a conversation. He holds on to the thought that you were now simply one of Tartaglia’s victims, and he would have stepped in to save you—the memories of your horrendous break-up be damned—had he not noticed a ghost of a smile on your face.

That had stopped him in his tracks.

Then came the drinks. Kaeya had kept a close eye on Tartaglia as he filled your glass, over and over again, until the faintest of smiles had stretched into dopey grins, and until you could barely put one foot in front of the other. That had sparked the fire that made his blood boil. Hadn’t he warned you against drinking with strangers, much less Fatui members? Didn’t you know any better?

If things had been different, he would have marched over to you, smoothly knock Tartaglia to the side, and take you home. But he’d realized that Jean wouldn’t appreciate any forms of confrontation, especially with tensions so high, so he’d all but shackled himself to the bar.

Besides, he chides himself. It’s none of my business. Not anymore.

Jean sighs and scratches the back of her neck. “I hadn’t counted on seeing one of the Harbingers tonight, either. This is a miss on my part; I should have checked to see who was in the updated guest list—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kaeya says lightly, clutching onto his beer mug like a lifeline. “You’re not what’s on his mind right now. Neither is diplomacy.”

Jean follows his gaze to the sight of you perched on Tartaglia’s lap, cackling wildly as you chuck your cards onto the table, earning a collective groan from the Fatui members you were playing with. Neither Jean nor Kaeya miss the glass of champagne in your hand, swirling around madly and threatening to douse you and those within your vicinity. If you cared, you didn’t let it show.

Kaeya could feel Jean’s eyes boring into the side of his head, and he tries to ease their weight by staring into the froth of his drink as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. I don’t care, he says to himself. I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. They can date whoever they want. I don’t care.

Your laughter rings out again, mixed this time with Tartaglia’s. Kaeya turns on his heel to face the bar.

“I don’t understand why they’re here,” Jean murmurs. “It couldn’t be that (Y/N)’s—”

“A part of the Fatui?” Kaeya’s tone is colder and sharper than he’d expected. “No. There’s only one reason they’re here, and it’s to piss me off. A poor attempt at trying to make me jealous.”

“How do you know?”

Kaeya sets his glass down and starts ticking points off his fingers. “Well, let’s see...we broke up months ago, then (Y/N) disappears to heaven knows where...then they show up to a party that they know I would attend, and seeing as they really have no reason to be here, how else would they be able to pull that off?”

He jerks his head in Tartaglia’s direction. “A brand spanking new toy, who happens to weasel his way through anything, that they can dangle under my nose.”

“That doesn’t rule out the fact that they might have joined the Fatui.”

“Trust me. I know them.” Kaeya’s eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. “More than anyone.”

The strings and the flutes come to life, and the drums all but shake the building from top to bottom, nearly causing Jean to spit out her drink. The change in music had drawn in more partners who clearly had been waiting for a more upbeat tune to dance to. Kaeya glances over his shoulder to see Tartaglia hauling you to your feet, urging you towards the dance floor.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, tapping his fingers on top of the bar counter.

“Perhaps we should take our leave,” Jean suggests. “It’s getting late, anyway, and if the guest of honor isn’t going to make any negotiation attempts, then we can call it a night.”

“You go.” Kaeya takes one last sip of his beer. “I’ll stay here a little longer.”

“Kaeya,” Jean warns, and the drop of his honorific manages to break him out of his thoughts, but not completely. “I’ve said this a million times before, but don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“Never mind. I’m not leaving you alone here.”

“Go on.” He draws out the last syllable for longer than usual. “I’m not going to do anything.”

“And who’s going to take care of you once you’re completely inebriated?” Jean sighs as she watches him take a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, pausing, and calling them back over to take the entire tray.

Kaeya’s attention had long turned away from Jean, and his traitor eyes went straight to the sight of you dancing with Tartaglia, with your head tipped back in a way that was both careless and flawless. You were earning more than just a couple of eyes, and who could blame anyone; you’d always had this magnetic aura, a whirlpool of a presence, that pulled unsuspecting hearts under the surface before they could even blink. Tartaglia spins you around, and your smile easily becomes the brightest thing in the room.

A smile that you always used to reserve for him, and him alone.

He goes through the rest of the flutes and slams the last one down on the counter, before sighing and dropping his head.

“‘M sorry, Jean,” he mumbles.

“What?”

Kaeya pushes himself off the counter and, once he had gotten his balance, offers his hand to her. The Acting Grandmaster raises her eyebrows.

“Let’s dance.”

“What? I—Kaeya!” Kaeya practically drags her out onto the dance floor, ignoring the way the room spins around him and how the sudden entry into the crowd takes his breath away.

Wordlessly, and with barely a smile on his face, he whisks Jean into his arms, stepping into the dance without missing a beat. He had to give Jean credit; even though he’d put her on the spot, she made blending into the crowd almost effortless.

Immediately, he realizes that jumping straight into an upbeat dance while drunk off his ass was a bad idea. The dance involved spins, jumps, and turns galore, all of which had started to make his stomach turn.

Just spot, he tells himself. Focus on one thing. Just one thing.

For a minute, he stares at nothing but the bow in Jean’s hair. Then, when that grew boring, he turns his eyes towards a poster over by the far side of the room. And when that grew boring, he continues to scan the room for something to keep his dinner from making a reappearance.

That’s when he remembers.

It takes him only a couple of seconds, but his eyes finally land on you. This time, you were looking back at him.

And in that moment, everything clears.

For a moment, he forgets everything that had happened between the two of you. He rages against his harsh words towards you that night, despises the way he just left you when you’d crumpled to the ground, and despairs over the fact that he never even gave you a reason why.

You had been the one real thing he’d ever known, and like the fool that he is, he’d given you away. You with a personality so similar to his, you who understood everything that made him him, and you who accepted him and his past when his own sworn brother couldn’t.

It infuriates him to no end that this is what makes him realize it, and how this time, he had been the one falling victim to someone else’s schemes. He hates that you know him so well that you know this was the one thing that would make him crack. The thought that you were now in someone else’s arms—arms that he knows have snuffed entire lives away—makes him unbearably sick.

For a moment, he forgets all the excuses he’s made, and all the attempts to make him look and feel fine. He was not fine. He is not fine.

He’s filled with a sudden urge to run away from the scene, like Jean had suggested earlier. He doesn’t deserve you; no matter how much he tells himself that everything leading to this point was solely for your benefit, it was his own insecurities that had bypassed normal communication and ran straight towards the end. A clean strike, but not a clean break. An agonizing death.

He’ll only make you cry when he shows up in your life again. He knows that. But despite that, despite everything, he wants you back.

And his throat closes, when he sees a single teardrop falling from your eye.

You suddenly disappear behind a broad back, and Kaeya snaps back to reality to see Tartaglia blocking his view of you entirely. He’s forced to watch as the Harbinger, who clearly has had one too many drinks, leans down towards you to whisper something in your ear, getting a little too close for comfort.

He finally stops dancing as Tartaglia presses his lips behind your ear, and your hazy eyes flutter at the contact.

Jean notices the shift in atmosphere, and immediately places a warning hand on his chest. But there’s no stopping the rush of adrenaline in his veins, accompanied by the sheer rage that darkens the edges of his vision, as he watches Tartaglia crowd you into the nearest wall.

As if in a trance, Kaeya pushes past Jean, teeth chattering as he practically barrels through the crowd towards you. He briefly stumbles backward when she grabs hold of his shoulder, but even the feeling of her nails digging into his skin does nothing to calm the fire in his system. All he sees is Tartaglia’s hands wandering down your back, sees your own clutching his biceps; and all he sees is red, red, red.

Kaeya reaches the scene and practically yanks Tartaglia back by his collar with a strength that surprises even him. His sky blue eyes were dull, but filled with a terrifying amount of bloodlust; when they’re accompanied by a knowing smirk, all Kaeya’s wits leave him.

He shoves Tartaglia backwards, but the Harbinger lives up to his reputation by bouncing back almost immediately, barely looking disheveled.

“So it’s you,” he says triumphantly.

“Me,” Kaeya repeats flatly. “Sorry, but I must respectfully ask you to leave.”

“Tell me again, whose party is this?”

“Kaeya!” Jean makes another attempt at grabbing Kaeya’s arm, but he shakes her off.

“Nice to meet you, Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius,” Tartaglia mocks. “I’m afraid you have some internal issues; some of your subordinates clearly don’t know their manners.”

“Childe, that’s enough,” you say firmly.

“Come now, I’m more than just “Childe” to you.” Tartaglia reaches for you again, and Kaeya pushes him back once more, with even more force.

“Don’t touch them,” he growls.

Tartaglia’s brow twitches as he swats Kaeya’s hand away. “Bit too late for that now, buddy.”

Kaeya falters, and his eyes flicker momentarily towards you. When you refuse to meet his eyes, and instead try to pull Tartaglia away, his mouth goes dry.

Had you...did you…

He glances back at Tartaglia, looking as if his face was about to split open from the width of his grin. With a start, Kaeya realizes he’d let his guard down, and Tartaglia had found the chink in his armor.

The world nearly slides out from beneath his feet when the Harbinger knocks him backwards, straight into a startled group of Knights. Kaeya regains his balance and lunges forward to grab Tartaglia by the collar, ignoring your pleading and your futile attempts to separate the two of them.

“I’m warning you,” Kaeya snarls, breathing heavily.

“Go ahead.” Tartaglia’s voice drops to a low rumble. “Warn me.”

taglist (those in italics, I can’t seem to tag you :< ): @izayanna​ @onigiree​ @thetwinkims​ @cybersnotonline @decaffeinateddragonbananagoth @candyqueen10​ @littlefluffbunz-4208 @xuenn @crushmylimbs​ @axerrri​ @idkwhattonamethis1000​ @foelup​ @rasasvavda​ @themoonalienhere2000​ @catharia-catharsis​ @catboyjesus @that-jax​ @xcherriess14 @friend-ofcloud​ @berryunderscore @xiao-chao @flerpdederp​ @bugtim3​ @kelly339 @pinaplemess1 @ch1och1o @blissmal​ @saeran-g​ @gloomdoomraccoon​ @casey852-blog @oxptify @the-dreaming-city​ @nadav-ii​ @simpforgojousatoru

[mommy-imagines]

Pretty Boy - part. 1

Content: Sub!Atsumu. Corruption Kink. Dacryphilia. Small Penis. Premature Ejaculation. Pegging. Slight Feminization. Praise Kink. Mommy Kink. MILF. Sugar Mommy. Mentions of Atsumu in Lingerie. Aftercare.

Words: 2.994

Dedicated to @tobios-housewife for making me fall in love with baby 'Tsumu!

The two of them met at a fundraiser. Atsumu had to attend because the Jackals were required to make an appearance, it was good for their image, their PR had said. She had attended because it was her company, the one responsible for the whole event and, as CEO, her presence was the most expected of the evening.

So they had talked; Atsumu, at first, felt smug at being the one to catch the undivided attention of the older woman who, clearly, was a very important and very influential person. As the evening went on however, that feeling slowly gave way to awe; She had people coming over to her table at all times, asking for a moment of her time or, perhaps, a dance; She never even glanced in their direction, eyes firmly planted on the tall blond in front of her, paying attention to his every word, asking questions about his life and it left Atsumu feeling, for the first time in a long time, like what he had to say mattered. Her face never got that patronizing expression that he had gotten used to being on the receiving end of. She didn’t look at him like he was dumb or in over his head. She listened to him.

She could tell from the moment that the volleyball player started to talk that he was making an effort. He had a lazy grin in place and big, round eyes. Still, as he talked she could pick up on the fact that he seemed to be holding back, as if being afraid that if he rambled a little bit, she would cut the conversation short. But she never did that and, slowly, the boy in front of her, because even if he was in his mid-twenties, to her - who was ten years older than him, he was still a boy - Atsumu, the real Atsumu, made an appearance. And it was as endearing as it was hot. He reminded her of an excited little boy, mouth running a mile a minute with the most interesting topics.

The evening ended with the two of them stumbling inside her Estate. She caught the slack-jawed expression of disbelieving that crossed his face as he took in the imported rugs and curtains, the dramatic chandeliers and expensive, exclusive art on the walls. It brought a smirk to her face.

She guided him to her bedroom, refrained from offering him a drink to prevent him from being unable to discern the following events, “Come here,” She called him softly when he seemed to be rooted to the spot near the large window overlooking the grounds. Atsumu went. She discarded his bowtie, as well as his jacket, his crisp white shirt and his slacks, until he was standing in front of her in nothing but plain black underwear. As she assessed his strong thighs and round butt, she had the passing thought that he would look breathtaking in silk pink panties, maybe the ones with white ruffles. Her hand reached for his cheek, not a hint of a stubble, she leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the lips, “Are you going to be a good boy for me tonight, Atsumu?” She asked, voice a mere whisper against his lips.

She waited one, two, three seconds, and then he was nodding quickly. She chuckled lowly, and looked up at him. In her high heeled stilettos she was almost at eye level with him and she planned on keeping it that way. It didn’t escape her notice and neither did it escape Atsumu, the power dynamic of him being practically naked while she was still fully dressed, decked in couture and priceless diamonds, “Alright then, baby,” She almost purred, the endearment falling from her lips easily, it was the perfect fit for the blonde in front of her. For as tall and muscled as he was, the way he looked at her, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed from the faintest touch, as if seeking guidance, a steady hand and discipline. She was going to have so much fun with him, “Lay down on the bed.” She instructed and he went, fucking obedient, looking up at her as if saying ‘See? I did as you told me to. I’m behaving’.

She walked slowly to the foot of the bed, deftly unzipped her red dress and let it pool at her feet. She felt a rush as she took notice of his audible gulp and low swear under his breath as he took in her half-naked body. She let him bask on the view for a few seconds, her black, lace and silk lingerie doing very little to conceal her lean curves. She kneeled on the bed, leaning over him, straddling his hips, they bucked up to meet her as she settled over him and she chuckled once more.

She noticed that his black underwear was wet underneath her. She kissed him languidly, taking her time on taking him apart. When she heard his low whine, and felt his hips thrusting up against her again, she knew that she had him exactly where she wanted him to be. She separated their lips and kissed a path along his cheek until she reached his ear, “Baby,” She breathed, hot and heavy, “Have you ever been fucked?” She asked and she felt his body locking below her as he became perfectly still. She lifted her face to look down at him, his eyes were wide and he seemed at a loss. She offered him a gentle smile, “I bet you’d look so pretty all stretched out around my cock, mhm?” She murmured, voice alluring. Her hand drifted down his defined torso, she was close to reaching his cock when he suddenly grasped her wrist, “Wait!”

She was confused, “Is everything alright?” Atsumu looked up at her, eyes big and scared and tearful. She frowned harder, “Baby, do you want to stop? We can stop if you’re not comfortable,” She was faced with him sharply shaking his head.

“I don’t want to stop,” He told her, but his voice was small, “But you might once you see that,” He pointed shamefully down at his crotch and it took a moment for her to fully comprehend the meaning behind his words. Her eyes widened just a tad as she assessed his underwear and, sure enough, the front had a large wet spot to it, but no bulge at all. She inwardly smirked at full force, could this boy be any more perfect?

She pressed her hand firmly over his tiny bulge before sneaking well manicured fingers under his underwear, hand meeting hot, delicate flesh. Two of her fingers were enough to wrap around it entirely and she leaned down to nip his bottom lip. Atsumu moaned prettily at her, “Such a perfect boy, aren’t you? A pretty boy, with a pretty little cock to match him,” She mumbled against his lips and Atsumu whimpered, “What do you say, baby? Will you be my perfect boy and let me fuck you tonight?” She posed it as a question.

It took him a few seconds, gentle coaxing and lewd strokes of her fingers, but finally he gave her an answer, “I want to- ah” He stopped short when she gave a particularly hard tug, “Want to be yer good boy,” He gasped, she was delighted to see the heavy blush high on his cheeks.

It was her favorite part of these types of encounters. The clear embarrassment was plain as day once they gave up on fighting the urge to submit to her. Granted, Atsumu gave in quickly and she rewarded him with a long kiss. She had a feeling that Atsumu was the kind of boy who needed reassurance. She usually wasn’t such a gentle dom, usually she never excused attitude and had little patience for hesitance and green subs. But something about Atsumu made her not mind a single bit to let her nurturing side come out to play. It had been years since the last time a sub had made her feel such urges.

“Alright, good boy; I’m proud of you for using your words,” She told him and could see him preening at the praise. She stretched out to the bedside table and came back with a bottle of lube. With one last kiss to his mouth and a stroke of his bleached locks, she kissed a path down his abdomen, relishing on the well defined muscles. Her nails scratched lightly down his sides and she gave a playful little bite to the sharp corner of his hipbone as she prepared to lower his underwear. She looked up at him and he seemed nervous, she kept her eyes locked with his hazel ones as she undressed him from his last piece of clothing. If anything, his blush intensified as he closely observed her taking everything in. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the base of his little cock, it couldn’t be more than two inches long. His hips stuttered again, “Such a pretty little cock my baby has,” She told him again, fingers already slick with lube and circling his hole, “But then again, maybe cock is not the right word to describe it, don’t you think?” Her voice turned teasing, but not much. His eyes were watching her keenly, “Relax, baby,” She murmured when she felt his body turning stiff, he took a breath and only then did she manage to enter him, her finger reaching deep inside him and coming back out, she kept the motion until she was up to three fingers and curling them just enough to touch that spot inside of him that made him moan loudly.

She looked at his crotch again, there was a pool of precum on his stomach already. She was hit with the realization that he would most likely cum at any moment now and smirked again, this boy was truly something else, “Are you going to cum already, baby?” She asked as she curled her fingers again, he whimpered, “It’s alright if you do, you know? Some boys just can’t control themselves with things like that,” She took it a step further than she usually did in first encounters, “That’s why little boys have their Mommies to take care of them, isn’t that right?” She cooed at him as her lips met his. Atsumu’s eyes were wide again, but she caught the way that his pupils dilated that much more. “Maybe you need Mommy to help you? Maybe if Mommy touched your little clit,” She proposed and her fingers stroked his slit as she would stroke a clit.

Atsumu moaned lowly, “If you want to make cummies, you have to say the right words, baby,” She advised and saw his resolve crumbling.

“Please,” He said and she quirked an eyebrow, fingers massaging his prostate and the head of his tiny cock simultaneously, he inhaled sharply, “Please, Mommy,” His voice was rushed, “I need Mommy to help me,”

“What do you need Mommy to do? How can Mommy help you?” She prodded.

Atsumu’s face was bright red and his hair was sticking to his forehead, “Need Mommy to touch my-” He cut off suddenly, as if saying those last few words was his limit. She knew better, though. She leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, jabbed her fingers sharply against his prostate, “My little clit;” He gasped, “Need Mommy to touch my little clit so I can make cummies,”

Well, how could she deny such a pretty request? She stroked him until he came, and as he came down from his high, she got up from the bed, coming back with her strap already fastened around her hips, “Are you ready?” She asked him and he breathed heavily as he nodded at her, his eyes had a look of pure, unadulterated trust. It made something inside of her clench, not painfully, oddly enough.

She kneeled on the bed, brought close a pillow and slid it under his hips, she reached to his right leg and wrapped it around her waist. She leaned down until her lips were hovering over his own and just as she kissed him, she entered him in one quick and sharp thrust.

She swallowed the pretty sounds that he made - Airy moans and aborted whimpers. Her hands caressed his shoulders and down his biceps until she reached his wrists, bringing them up over his head and crossing them, holding them there with a firm hand. Her lips kissed down his cheeks, wet with his tears and that made her release a moan of her own, her hips snapping faster inside of him, grateful beyond words for the strap she chose to wear being double ended. She kissed his tears away, one hand holding his wrists firmly above his head and the other roaming his torso, “Such a good boy, fuck-” She panted as she noticed his hips moving to meet her thrusts, “Such a pretty boy, too; So pretty getting fucked, aren’t you?”

She was surprised to get an answer, “Thank you, Mommy,” He gasped as an answer. Somehow, in the middle of getting fucked, Atsumu Miya found it in himself a way to sound bashful. She smiled down at him, hips slowing before snapping harder than before.

“And a polite boy, too,” Her hips moved sharply, hitting his spot with every other thrust, she was on the verge of tumbling over the edge when his body arched up to meet hers.

“Mommy, can I-” His phrase was interrupted when he moaned deep inside his throat, “Can I cum? Please?”

She had to force herself to have some fucking restraint. Who the fucking hell was this boy? Subbing for the first time, as far as she could tell. Thanking her and asking her for permission? She had to be careful, she didn’t think that she could bring herself to let him go, “Of course you can, baby. Go on.” She urged and not a second later his tiny cock was spurting thin white ropes all over his chest. She followed him not long after.

As soon as she caught her breath she started to move. Smiling to herself at his whine when she slid out of him. She discarded the strap and took off her heels and the remaining pieces of her lingerie - her stockings, the garter belt, her bra. She padded to the adjoined bathroom and cleaned herself up, walking back inside the bedroom with a warm flannel to wipe him down. She pressed a kiss to his forehead as his eyes fluttered open to gaze lazily at her and laid down beside him after slipping on a silk camisole. He instantly snuggled up to her and, as it had become the rule of her evening, she felt herself doing another thing that she never did. She brought him even closer to her body, arms firmly wrapped around his strong shoulders.

Something about this boy was tugging at all of her heartstrings and she found herself not minding a single bit.

/*/

“Alright, who the hell is she?” Atsumu feigned confusion as Bokuto and Hinata looked at him with interest.

“What are you on about?” He asked, hoping to god that his face wouldn’t betray him.

He had been going out, officially, with her, with Mommy, ever since that night. The morning after he woke up to an empty bed and felt his heart sink to his stomach. But there was a note on the pillow next to him with instructions to put on the robe she had left for him and meet her downstairs for breakfast. He went, if only a little reluctant, feet padding down the large staircase, not making a sound as they hit the heated black italian marble. He got distracted more than once by the sheer amount of wealth that her Estate oozed.

The robe he was wrapped in was soft like nothing he had ever owned and he got lost inside the maze of hallways until he bumped into a girl that was probably nineteen, dressed in a maid uniform. She had squeaked and blushed brightly, apologizing profusely for disrupting him, before guiding him to a formal dining room that, much as the rest of the house, looked expensive and luxurious. They had talked over the most delicious breakfast that Atsumu had ever tasted and, once Atsumu managed to find within himself to look her in the eye, had decided on going out on a date.

That had been a month and a half ago.

He was saved from having to answer when they were all called to the center of the court and Atsumu’s eyebrows shot up as he took in the presence of the team’s executives, all dressed in suits and looking painfully out of place, “Alright, we have someone important coming in today. She is a new sponsor for the team and is putting in a lot of money, so put on a show, because she wants to watch part of the practice and introduce herself, she should be getting here at any moment.”

As if on cue, they all heard the clicking sound of high heels knocking on the floor sharply. Atsumu traded a look with Omi and Bokuto when the executives scrambled to stand up straight, lips tugging up in amusement.

His amusement was short lived, however, when he caught sight of the new sponsor. Sure enough, standing in front of him, dressed in sharp Yves Saint Laurent couture, with dark red lips and perfectly done hair, was Mommy.

But Atsumu was pretty sure that he was not supposed to call her that at the moment. His cheeks instantly flared hot when he caught her eye and she winked at him.

“Fuck, hot MILF, huh ‘Tsumu?” He heard from his right side and turned sharply to look at Bokuto.

Yes. He thought. Hot MILF indeed.

[icaruskeyartist]

*tugs your sleeve*

If you don’t mind… I saw a post “no part trans ideology makes any sense. How can they say they are trans if they don’t believe in sex/bioessentialism?”

And I recently talked to a cishet man about why I know I’m non-binary; he didn’t press but we basically left it at “so it’s an awareness of self but nobody really knows how/why that happens?”

I had sent him summaries and explanation posts but the talk still feels… ended unsatisfyingly. Any ideas?

I need you to know I accidentally bopped one of my bettas while feeding the fish tank because I was thinking about this question and thought he was part of the food cube I was trying to unclump.

So RIP him (he's fine we just scared the shit out of each other).

And I'm gonna probably oversimplify this a bit, so I'm sure there'll be good additions/corrections once I've posted it since yanno. A single human meatbag like me can't be arsed to remember everything lol. I depend on the trans hivemind to keep my head on straight.

But basically there's roughlyish 3 schools of thought in trans circles about why people are trans. It's all biology, it's all society, or it's somewhere inbetween.

Again, oversimplifying. But then again we sorta oversimplify the splintering of second wave feminism into three main schools of thought, so have at ye yeah?

First, the biological. Helloooo transmeds and Serano. Basically these folks think that the answer to why a person is trans has to do with genetics or your brain or w/e. It's all encoded in the meatsack, be it electric or proteins. That's why. you get assholes saying you can't be trans without dysphoria. It's why you got Serano talking about "subconscious sex" and claiming any non male/female identity is only a partial expression of one's "true" sex. I figured out I was trans on the tail end of this big scientific push to learn about how gender works in people's brainspaces, so I grew up knowing about male/female brains.

Mind you, I didn't learn I was trans until I was 19, so I'd read this Scientific Evidence for Trans and Cis and be confused because well, I'm Cis(TM) so why does my brain not feel Female? And then post-trans awakening, I still felt very dissatisfied by that answer.

Ok so that's your bioessentialist argument for The Trans. Some of it is born out of old rhetoric meant to force wider society to take trans people seriously (I was ALWAYS like this! I ALWAYS knew!) -- not saying there aren't people that didn't or don't feel like that to this day. We just know that it's a pretty narrow minded way of looking at gender identity with plenty of people not realizing until they're older. Even Old. Like 25. Or 60. You know, Old.

I'm in a mood today apparently. Hoping this still makes sense.

Okay, next one is "it's society". Pretty much the extreme end of this is the idea that Everything about Gender is because of society. Did you know babies come out of the womb with accents? Like, legit, my seahorse dad nurse friend told me that babies literally listen with their little not even ears yet holes and learn about shit around them. It's nuts.

So basically, we know that male and female sexes come about for fucking and making more of us, and we know that waaaay back in the throw rock collect berry days certain traits got associated with each sex. Men (generally) were more of the hunters and protectors and women (generally) were more of the gatherers and nurturers. So we as a Species sorta evolved down to make the Best of Each Sex cause the people who lived long enough to fuck and make more of us passed on their genes.

Fun fact, that's part of why after a certain amount of time parts of our bodies crap out early. We weren't genetically pressured to have a good back after 25. We'd already had like 10 kids and 2 survived to go and make more babies to fuck and have 2 more kids grow up and fuck and they all have bad backs by 30. It's just neat.

Anyway, after awhile, people decided Women were This and Men were That and suddenly what was an evolutionary thing was a Gender/Sex thing. Fast forward a whole lot and suddenly. Gender Roles. And if you didn't fit those roles you were a pariah.

So you got babies learning when they're still becoming babies what gender is, you got society telling you what gender is, but something isn't clicking inside. It's not your gender, but people are all "gender and sex are the same thing and you were born with a long enough dick and no internal gonads or a hole so you're a boy bleh"

And it's confusing and not right and you look across the aisle and there's a lot there you do like so you look in the mirror and you say "Okay I'm not Caleb anymore. I'm Alice and I'm a girl." And oh hey. Euphoria. It feels right?

And maybe you play with being feminine and it's for you. Or maybe it's not. Maybe you find you're not totally one thing or the other. Maybe you want HRT, just a little, or surgery, or you must have it ALL. The point is, you didn't fit the gender roles people expected you to fit into, you didn't like the body you were supposed to have, etc etc. You're trans.

You'll notice this kinda ignores the Intersex in the room. And that's because intersex makes things Complicated for Everybody.

So you're looking at these two ideas right? And you're just, but what makes that gender thing click in your head? Is it biology, is it society? Is it neither? And all I can say, and any sane trans or cis person will say is

shrug

It's really up to an individual to say where they think their own gender identity comes from. Because it's literally impossible to create a world where we could "test" people's gender identities. That shit is encoded in us to some extent when we're fetuses. We have a biologically sexually diverse array of people. There's so many fertile "cis" men and women who are actually intersex, be it through chromosomes or hormones or whatever (this is why hormone talk in sports is dumb).

So the reason why all this shit is so complicated and weird is because it just is? We may be able to map out the human genome and see what chemicals makes our brains do what, but that doesn't mean we fully understand the how or why of it all. And it's not really bioessentialism to say "hey, there's probably some biological component to this" because well, there's no definite No on the matter.

What do I think personally is the root of it alll? I'll let these iconic bi boys speak for me here.

[bonnyskies]

deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah​

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 22: Meet Cute

Trick Or Oh No, Please Don't Cry | @deansmultitudes

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,360 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Dad!Castiel, Halloween, Fluff Summary: Dean expected the Halloween night, spent on giving out candy, to be rather uneventful. And it was, at least, until the tiny disaster happened.

Losing A Few Teeth | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,481 Main Tags/Warnings: dentist office, high on nitrous oxide Dean, drunken marriage proposal, first meetings Summary: Dean probably should’ve had his wisdom teeth removed ages ago, but he's never been fond of doctors of any sort, and that included dentists as far as he's concerned. But when he wakes up from getting them removed, the nitrous oxide makes him a bit drunker than expected. Proposing marriage to the hot nurse with the ungodly amazing blue eyes level drunk, apparently.

irresistible | @kitmistry

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,529 Main Tags/Warnings: Top Castiel, Bottom Dean, Porn with Plot, Strangers to Lovers, Celebrity Castiel Summary: Well, hello there, Mr. Dark-and-Handsome. Dean can spy what is surely a demi-god, talking with a few ladies across the room. The ladies all coo, and blush, and cling to him with adoration written into every curve of their shapely bodies. The demi-god, though, is cool and aloof. He smiles politely at them, but doesn’t single any of them out. Doesn’t even really look like he’s paying that much attention to them, actually. His strikingly blue eyes scan the room every now and then, without focusing on any person or art piece in particular. The demi-god turns his face so he’s looking somewhere to Dean’s left, and holy. fucking. shit. That’s Castiel Novak! The movie star!

My Honey Bee | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,774 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Dean, omega Cas, true mates, scenting, first meetings Summary: Rolling his eyes as Sam excitedly made his way to a booth selling what looked like weeds as far as the alpha was concerned, Dean started wandering in the opposite direction. Wrinkling his nose in horror at an older lady selling hideous crafts made out of freaking corn husks (do people even buy crap like that?), he was suddenly hit by the most delicious scent ever. He knew he recognized it from somewhere, but he just couldn’t place it. It was sweet and thick, and even had him drooling a little from how good it smelled.

To All The Places I've Never Been | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 2,814 Main Tags/Warnings: first meetings, barista Cas, pilot Dean, referenced Sam/Eileen Summary: Castiel has always wished that he could travel the world and see all the beauty and adventure awaiting him. Working at Starbucks for minimum wage, though, usually makes travel like that way too expensive and impossible. And working at said Starbucks in an airport only adds insult to injury. Maybe the cute green-eyed pilot that just ordered some coffee can sweep him away from here?

The Fortune Teller | @expectingtofly

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,038 Main Tags/Warnings: Fortune Teller!Cas, Eileen/Sam, Normal Life AU, Beach Vacation, Fluff, Inspired by the song "Fortune Teller" by Robert Plant and Allison Krauss Summary: Dean doesn't trust any of this hippy bullshit—as he likes to call it. But he's at the beach on vacation with Sam and Eileen and they've dragged him to a fortune teller, so he reluctantly follows. Cue an attractive, charming fortune teller and a palm reading Dean wants to dismiss, but can't seem to shake.

Winchester's Haunted House | @deansmultitudes & @kitmistry

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,417 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Past Character Death, Ghost!Cas, Halloween, Haunted House Summary: For the Halloween evening, Dean turns his new home into a haunted house for neighboring kids. But once all the guests are gone, is when the real haunting begins.

Heat powered by you | @Mistofstars

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,177 Main Tags/Warnings: Destiel, cold winter night, holding hands for warmth, first encounter, Fluffy, Romance, duracell campaign Summary: Just two strangers in a cold winter night, who have both missed the last bus home. Luckily, there is a bus shelter that provides warmth – as long as you hold hands to close the electric circuit. Too bad that Castiel appears pretty infuriating to Dean. Or is it something else? P Inspired by the Duracell campaign "Moments of Warmth".

The Christmas Market | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 4,377 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fic, First Meet, Meet Cute Summary: Being alone in a country he didn't know was never Dean's plan. Still, he tried to make the best out of it and, in the end, he thinks he really did.

Muse | @twisted-pride

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,605 Main Tags/Warnings: temporary character death, implied/referenced character death Summary: His life is but flashes Castiel has remembered from dreams, recreated in monochrome, if only so that Cas could prove this man wasn’t made up. After all, he’s certain he’s alive, that he’s someone out there that Cas just can’t get out of his head: he’s stuck with Cas too long to be fictional. And yet -- and it sounds silly in Cas’ head -- he’s never met the man. Someone he has drawn and painted for at least a decade, one that’s haunted his dreams even longer, and he didn’t even know his name. --- Ever since he was young, Cas has been haunted by this phantom of a man, both in his dreams and in the real world. No matter what Cas does, where he goes, the man is there too. In every mirror, every reflection, in puddles and car windows and the faintest reflection of Cas in the metal pitcher at restaurants. He's certain the man isn't the result of an overactive imagination or a ghost with unfinished business, but if he really is experiencing someone else's dreams, why is it only this stranger that Cas sees in his dreams and no one else? [Prophet AU]

This Charming Man | @expectingtofly

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,993 Main Tags/Warnings: College AU, Fluff, First Kiss, Inspired by the song "This Charming Man" by The Smiths Summary: Castiel is not having a good night. He was on a bike ride, until some asshole nearly hit him with his car, sending Cas veering onto the shoulder. Now he has a flat tire and has to walk his bike back to his college dorm. And, it looks like it's about to rain. Then said asshole returns, apologizing and offering to give Cas a drive. Sure, he's attractive and Cas' own age, but he could also be a serial killer for all Cas knows. Either this night is looking up or it's gonna get a whole lot worse.

Splash | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,132 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean wears a bikini, Genderfluid Dean Winchester, Feminization, HHomophobic Language, genderphobia, lifeguard!cas, First Time, First Kiss, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Summary: Dean is an idiot. Since it’s hot outside and Sammy wants a break from his studies, they decide to check out the local pool. Feeling brave Dean decides to finally be himself for once. Will he regret that?

A New Perspective | @kingdumbass

Rating: Mature Word Count: 5,471 Main Tags/Warnings: First Date, Meet Cute, Blind Date, Artist Cas, Language Summary: A recently dumped Dean is begrudgingly dragged off of his couch by his brother Sam to attend an art show. As it turns out, getting off the couch can be a good thing sometimes.

The Samhain Feast | @deansmultitudes & @kitmistry

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Magic AU,Wich!Dean/Familiar!Cas, Animal Sacrifice Summary: The end of the harvest. The one day the veil between our world and the otherworld is thinnest. The day when a witch coming of age can try summoning and binding a familiar. The Samhain Feast is a tradition so ancient, no one remembers how it started. Dean has attended every single one of them since he was old enough to walk, watching witches meeting their familiars and bonding with them. This year, it's his turn to make an offering. And hope one of the familiars chooses him.

Dear Santa | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,854 Main Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Top Castiel/bottom Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Rimming, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, kinda a christmas fic Summary: Castiel takes his 8-year-old son Jack to the mall, where Jack decides he HAS to speak to Santa. Cas is glad he did.

[ajaxwrites]

Genshin Impact Fanfic Rec List

(because this is my most current obsession~~)

The Narwhal of Dihua Marsh by GreyLiliy

Childe hears of a strong Adeptus living at the Wangshu Inn. Despite warnings from Zhongli that fighting Xiao would be a deathly mistake, Childe seeks out the Adeptus living in the Dihua Marsh eager for a proper fight.

However, Childe severely underestimates his opponent, and the consequences of his actions may keep him from returning home to Snezhnaya.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This fic is interesting primarily because it's not necessarily what you would call an easy story to read. The content can surprisingly get quite heavy as the relationship between Childe and Zhongli isn't healthy and it becomes increasingly obvious as the story progresses. You swing between wanting to separate the two and also desperately wishing that they'll work out because there is something there. The story snowballs from what seems like an innocuous, if stupid and rash, decision on Childe's part to a complicated mess that you can’t help but be enthralled in. I went in expecting your typical romance and ended up in something that was more complex than I expected but also beautifully thought provoking.

Entirely Out of Spite by Bgtea

"Welcome to a new user experience! You have triggered this interface with the keywords, ‘Stupid game! Stupid devs! I want my f*****g money back!’ You are now bound to the character Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, codename: Childe! We hope you have an enjoyable user experience and we welcome you once again to Genshin Impact 2.0!”

Those are some of the first words Ajax, starving college student extraordinaire, has the misfortune of hearing upon waking up in a brave new world from what he's fairly sure is a very, very fatal accident involving water and a shit ton of electricity.

Okay, so he's not dead. That's good. But what's this about him being stuck playing the character Tartaglia? Tartaglia, as in the shitty, one-dimensional, cartoonish villain who met his untimely, gruesome death in the first act of the original game?

Fuck that noise. Like hell Ajax is going to share that fate.

And so begins one man's journey to unfuck himself.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Whenever this updates, I squeal. If you’re a fan of The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System or just transmigration/reincarnation plots in general, you’re going to love it. Bgtea does a beautiful job in balancing humor with the trauma that comes with the whole reincarnation plotline. The whole of it is beautiful written and watching Childe/Ajax interact with the other characters (and the perspective of those characters) is a delight! 

the sister by glassdrachma

The tragic and unexpected death of Zhongli-xiansheng of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor occurred to the sorrow of many and the deep skepticism of a few.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: glassdrachma has a gift for humor and romance. In short, Zhongli fakes his death for plot reasons and comes back as Jianlao, the bereaved twin sister. Shenanigans ensue, featuring overprotective Liyue-ians (?), chaotic gremlin Venti, and Kexing. Very light hearted, good for the soul.

The White Cicada Society by clementinesgulag

After his little brother is bundled back to Snezhnaya, Childe makes good on his promise to the traveller and takes the first boat out of Liyue Harbor. Any sense of homecoming lasts about as long as an uncooked steak in front of Xiangling, however, when his boat sinks, grounding him back in the mainland.

It's just as well, because the next morning, a body is found in the Northland Bank. A visit from a fellow Harbinger reveals a far more insidious plot than anything Childe could concoct with a god of the vortex and twenty minutes without supervision. The murders aren’t limited to the one Bank. They’ve been trailing down the Liyue border, getting closer and closer to the city. The Tsaritsa has a new mission for him: to figure out who, or what is targeting Fatui forces.

Against his best wishes, Childe is forced to see Zhongli again at the morgue. It becomes clear that he’s going to need a guide, and Childe resolves to quash his pride, and their differences to request his help to navigate Liyue and solve the case.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A diamond in the rough that I slept on and then stumbled back to by accident. I had it marked for later on AO3 and forgot about it for like a good week to my utter self-disgust. It. Is. So. Damn. Good! The mystery is intriguing but I live for the realistic portrayal of the aftermath of the whole gnosis plotline. The betrayal, the bitterness, but ah, the sexual tension. The harbinger interactions in this fic make it gold though.

Lungs full of Roses by SecretlyACatLady

Childe had always assumed that he would die young. He had accepted that a long time ago, ever since he accepted the mantle of a Fatui Harbinger. However, he always thought that he would die in a glorious fight, his body broken but spirit relishing the strong opponent that had bested him. He was okay with that type of death.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Fate had decided to add one last insult to injury, because, here Childe was, dying because he had fallen in love with the ex-Geo Archon. The same Archon who seemed to have discarded him like an old toy ever since the Osial Incident. --- In which divine beings are cruel and a cursed Childe starts preparing for his inevitable death because no Archon could ever love a mortal.

…Right?

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The fic that started it all for me, the one that sucked me into the fandom. This fic is heartbreaking. We always do love a hanahaki plotline but something about the way it frames the disease and the shame that comes with it...I highly recommend giving it a read. The angst is real I tell you.

The Bride of The Golden Dragon by Erika_Bee

“You’re to be sent on a special mission, Tartaglia.”

The young man’s eyes gleamed in interest. “How special?” He asked as he wiped the blood off his daggers.

His superior grinned. “Special enough to put your name in Snezhnaya’s history books.”

—

In which the Archon War ravaged the land of Liyue and to ensure the people’s survival, the God of Geo established the Harvester Contract: One bride per village, every year, in exchange for protection and a good harvest.

Or: Childe is sent on an undercover mission to kill the Geo Archon, but things don’t go as planned.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Don’t let the title scare you off--this isn’t one of those fics where they feminize one of the male characters and reduce their personality to a mindless submissive bobblehead to the point that I want to throw my laptop out of the window. Not that there’s anything wrong if you like that kind of thing, just not my cup of tea. This fic though---READ IT! There’s just something refreshing about the writing and the plot, the way that Childe’s character reads off the page. I live for the interactions between the characters and how the author has mapped the relationships. Warning that recent chapters have swerved decided into NSFW territory though.

the brothers grim by izabellwit

Left in an unfamiliar land with a mission he never wanted, a young Kaeya lies, survives, and somehow finds a family in the process.

Or: How Kaeya came to Dawn Winery, and why he left it. Includes lore, sibling bickering, found family struggles, and a more in-depth look at the years between Kaeya’s arrival and Crepus’s death.

Ships: N/A

Notes: Ahh, little Kaeya. Cheeky ass little shit that’s too angsty and adorable for his own good. I don’t have words for this fic. It makes my heart warm but also makes me want to weep because god, this fic covers exactly how traumatic Kaeya’s situation is and why child soldiers/spies just shouldn’t be. And the dynamic he has with Diluc and Crepus--do me a favor and read it. Screams found family.

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A light-hearted, humorous and fluffy as hell piece. Short word is that Venti comes to Liyue for some fun, causes chaos, accidentally plays matchmaker, and steals some vegetables. A get-together fic for Childe and Zhongli that includes a surprisingly self-aware (if blunt and snarky) Zhongli and jealous Childe that gets increasingly flustered.

melt (speak or forever hold your peace) by anatakana

Falling into bed with Diluc was an unbelievably bad idea given their tumultuous shared history, but Kaeya’s impulsive urge to amuse himself knew no bounds.

It’s all fun and games until emotions got involved.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: THIS IS NSFW. With plot though? This is THE FIC that got me shipping the two (though the game did a good job on its own). The angst is real here and we love the sheer gal of both of these two stupid men.

Cascading (In a good way) by Hubbleablubble

Kaeya is a fascinating annoyance.

(Or: A series of events in which Albedo gets to know Kaeya, and they slowly go from strangers to acquaintances to something more.)

Ships: Albedo/Kaeya

Notes: Sweet fic. Not my typical ship pairing. Loved the Khaenri’ah mentions. Kaeya is Trans FTM here though it’s only briefly mentioned. There is also an incomplete sequel (as of May 2021) featuring an Overprotective Big Brother Diluc on a warpath giving shovel talks to everyone except apparently Albedo that’s also worth reading.

The Language of Flowers by Jules (Penwyn)

Kaeya Alberich has made a habit of lying—after all, the only truths he’s ever spoken cost him everything—but there are only so many lies a man can tell before the truth comes spilling out.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Hanahaki! Except not! Basically, Kaeya pukes up flowers that say the truth whenever he lies. Cue, angst! Lovely and quick read--love Kaeya’s voice here.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly."

Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-"

Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?"

Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Childe, you idiot. Humorous and funny, very light hearted. Makes you wonder if Childe has an IQ. He’s too busy pining/lovesick to realize that he told his target that he’s going to kill him for his gnosis. Zhongli and Liyue remain confused on how Childe still DOES NOT get it but half-ass hiding his Archon status anyway.

the bird without wings by Anonymous

"Kaeya!" someone yells. Small arms wrap around his waist tightly, red hair spilling out of the ponytail, and Kaeya's heart almost stops.

He's talked his way out of all types of situations. From placating international disputes to buttering up his informants, he's always had a quick response to everything.

But for once, Kaeya is speechless. He stares down at the boy with puffy cheeks, slightly crooked teeth and sparkling bright eyes.

Eight year old Diluc beams back.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Diluc gets de-aged and Kaeya gets angsty. The interactions between the two are heartwarming and will induce tears. Childe makes a brief appearence that *chef’s kiss*

call me "lover boy" by Anonymous

Zhongli turns back, eyes bright with amusement, a stray lilypad still stuck in his hair, and Childe thinks, wow. I want to kiss him stupid.

Childe's not into the whole "swooning maiden patiently waiting for his beloved to swoop down and smooch the daylights out of him" thing. Nah, that's not his style. He's Tartaglia, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers, and he's going to kiss Zhongli right now.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: FUNNY AS HELL. Childe is straight up just trying to plant one on Zhongli but fate and people just keep interfering. It’s a weird trope aversion where the character is actively trying to confess rather than avoiding it but life gets in the way. 

springtime in snezh-nya-ya by miaomaomei

Tartaglia’s body moves before he can even think about it. He arches his back and flattens his ears against his head, baring his teeth in a hiss. Considering he barely even reaches Scaramouche's knees — Scaramouche, of all people! The guy is practically the size of a fourteen-year-old — he doubts that he is cutting as imposing a figure as he hopes.

It isn't a surprise, though. No one could become a Fatui Harbinger if they were scared of a little cat.

OR

Tartaglia is turned into a cat and he goes to Zhongli for help. It goes about as well as expected.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TOO ADORABLE FOR WORDS. This is just pure fluff I swear. Love how Childe is written and the interactions between the two are just ahhhh. A balm on the soul.

Melt by tanktrilby

“My name is Diluc,” he says. A scowl naturally furrows his brow, and Kaeya looks like he wants to laugh.

He’s looking at him through his lashes again, blue eyes teasing and warm. “Diluc,” he says. “A knight in overalls isn’t quite where I thought my preferences would lie, but here we are.”

(or: Kaeya loses his memories and makes some assumptions. Diluc can't honestly tell him that he's wrong.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: As the summary says, Kaeya loses his memories. Diluc plays babysitter for plot reasons. Meanwhile, Kaeya freaks out and has an essential crisis because his instincts freak him out which = angst. Simultaneously, sort of love confessions? 

you are cordially invited by ktenologious

When the Traveler receives a mysterious invitation from a Snezhnayan businessman, they seek out help from the only Snezhnayan they are on good terms with. They decide it is a wonderful idea to go to this business party in the middle of the ocean because, well, what could be better entertainment than watching a Fatui Harbinger at work? It is too bad Childe couldn't come with them...

Meanwhile, the Tsaritsa needs someone to track down the source of a brand new drug at a party on a cruise; it just so happens that she has two Harbingers who specialize in causing chaos and sinking ships. Scaramouche is a sadist and loves this, and Tartaglia... Well, Tartaglia just wants to know why is he the one in the dress again.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, sort of Diluc/Kaeya & Scaramouche/Childe

Notes: Features a crossdressing Childe and Kaeya for plot reasons. Funny as hell. Love Fatui dynamics/interactions. Highly recommend. Go read it. I’m serious. It’s so beautiful, I can’t. Also Zhongli is so love-sick and jealous, it’s hilarious.

The Road to Snezhnaya by paranoid_fridge

Everything's done and over. Now, Zhongli only needs to adjust to living like an ordinary mortal. Or that is what he thinks until a familiar face shows up in Liyue. Teucer comes looking for his brother who failed to return to Snezhnaya on the Fatui ships. And as Childe's declared "friend", Zhongli must help Teucer find him.

Or: Teucer drags Zhongli on a cross-country goose chase looking for Childe. Zhongli just happens to find a bit more along the way.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: I have no words for this fic outside of the fact that it is clear that Teucer has the only functioning brain and should be Best Man because he obviously did all the work here. Features an oblivious Childe and overprotective Zhongli, plus bystander Kaeya that is getting allll of the gossip. And also the most destructive group of children ever.

basket of knives by oronine

“I just want to be loved,” Childe says to himself, to whoever is listening. “Is that too much to ask?”

They are on the roof once more, this time Childe’s foot touches the edge of the building as he daydreams of something that cannot be. The sky is blank and cloudy and perhaps Lumine fears it’ll all end when he takes a step.

“Not at all,” she says. It’s still the truth.

Contrary to popular belief, Childe hates his family but loves them all the same.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TW for suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self-harm, depression, etc. Not a light read by any definition. Set in a modern AU, not in the genshin impact universe. Features a Childe that is Not Okay, good friend but also probably traumatized friend Lumine (and her brother Aether), and Zhongli. Family dynamic is messed up as hell and explores mental health quite well in my opinion. I’m not sure how healthy necessarily Childe’s relationships are but I think that’s a given considering the context and how derailed his mental health is in this fic. Definitely angst as heavy, made me tear up quite a bit. Read, but pay attention to the content/trigger warnings as it does get quite explicit.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Ships: Chongyun/Xinqiu

Notes: JFKLFJS I LOVE THIS. I love Chongyun’s characterization and the interaction between all the characters. The dynamic between Chongyun, Xingqiu, and Xiangling are to die for. Also, this line: “Stuck-up Persnickety Bastard.” Random note but Xiao throws Chongyun off a balcony yet is also 100% a softie.

Talks about Nothing by tzitzimeme

In which Zhongli unlocks the Memory of Dust, only to find out:

1. Guizhong is 100% alive (just disembodied) within it, 2. Guizhong has been watching over him this whole time, and 3. Guizhong is very excited by the prospect of Zhongli getting a cute Snezhnayan boyfriend.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, Venti/Xiao

Notes: The pure judgment that Guizhong unleashes on Zhongli (as well as her sass in general) is pure comedic gold. The dynamic between Xiao and Venti are also adorable. Meanwhile, Childe misunderstands and also just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

xi wangmu by tzitzimeme

Xiangling scales entire mountains to satisfy the palettes of her two pickiest customers.

(Or, two men who are emotionally stunted by their own immortality inadvertantly turn an overly enthusiastic chef into their messenger pigeon.)

Ships: Zhongli/Xiao (?)

Notes: Not sure if it reads romantic exactly, can definitely be read as platonic. The fic boils down to Xiangling trying to expose Xiao to variety because just eating plain almond tofu is a no no. Zhongli gives advice/uses Xiangling as a messenger pigeon. Backstory is explored!

Falling (Fallen) by asinglecrow

It’s only when Childe finds himself in front of Zhongli, a spear protruding from his stomach, that he thinks oh I might have fucked up.

Or: The worst (best) day of Childe's life.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Funny and lighthearted! Gets sort of NSFW with passing mention of mpreg but otherwise, it’s just pure humor/fluff. Get-together fic featuring deadpan dragon Zhongli and Childe that is just done with everything. 

the louvre by morisuke

Here in Liyue, the air is filled with the ocean, and the sun shines through the mountains like it’s flowing through a crack in the sky. Here in Liyue, there is a man with no wallet at a vending machine that is going to waste the rest of his day showing a stranger around their school campus for a pocket sized can of iced coffee.

It’s interesting here in Liyue, Childe thinks.

or

Where Childe flirts with a stranger at a campus vending machine.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Set in a modern/college AU. This is a relatively quiet, soft kind of story. Childe comes to Liyue because reasons and falls in love quietly. It’s more of a snippet of life type of fic that’s sweet and peaceful. Love the change that comes over Childe as he finds a home.

[spiritofchaoticdreams]

A Lantern’s Rage PART 3

Prev Beginning  Next

Based on @cornholio4 ‘s Red Lantern Prompt

______________________________________________________________

The view of the Earth from the watchtower was always a sight to see. Hal sighed as he looked down on the big blue planet. “You were right when you said your home planet was beautiful.”

Hal looked over at his shoulder to see his friend, Blue Lantern Razer slowly walking toward him , he chuckled, “Do I ever lie?” He turned his head to look back at Earth. “Sometimes when I’m here, I take a moment to just take it all in. To remind myself what I'm fighting for.” 

“I understand.”, Razer said coolly, as he walked over and stood next to Hal. “It’s difficult to believe you came from such a planet.” Hal snorted, and lightly punched Razer’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I guess it is hard to believe such a handsome specimen like myself came from little old Earth.”, Hal joked.

Suddenly, the sound of an alarm filled Hal’s ears, recognizing it as the alarm for the Situation Room he looked at Razer. “Follow me!”, he shouted, Razer nodded and together they flew to the Situation Room in the center of the Watchtower.  The Situation room was where the core members of the Justice League discussed threats and held meetings about plans to further ensure the safety of Earth and its citizens. 

Once the doors opened, Hal immediately got to work, “What’s going on!”he asked, plopping down into his designated seat. Razer stood behind him, silent and listening. He saw Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman sitting at the table in the middle of the room. “The scanners picked up red lantern energy on Earth.”, Bruce explained as he pressed a few buttons and a hologram appeared.  It was Earth, with a little blinking red dot covering Europe, “Computer, pinpoint location of the red lantern energy.”, The Batman said.

The hologram shifted and turned into a 3-D model of a city, the word “Paris” underneath it. “There is a red lantern in Par-isss”?, Razer asked, Diana nodded her head. “Hal, will you and your companion be able to detain the threat? Or will you need assistance?”, she asked.  

Hal waved his hand dismissively, “It won't be necessary. Razer’s blue lantern energy not only boosts mine, it neutralizes Red Lantern energy. As soon as Razer gets close enough that Red Lantern will be powerless.” He grinned at the Amazonian warrior, and looked at Razer, “Ready?”

“Ready.”, Razer replied. Together they left the situation room, to fly to Paris.

When they arrived in Paris, they were greeted by the sight of a giant cloud of smoke, he and Razer shared a look. That’s where they’ll find the red lantern, they flew closer and ended up above what may have been a school. Parts of the building were on fire, there were destroyed parts that encased a big courtyard full of trembling teens. That’s most likely where they’ll find the red lantern. They flew closer and hid behind some debris waiting for something to prove their suspicions correct. 

Hal looked over the students, all of them were terrified and there were a handful of adults trying to keep them calm. But there was a small group in the middle of the courtyard that was separated from the rest of the students with no adults watching over them. Why wasn’t anyone checking  on them, wait was that an unconscious adult in one kid's arms? A red haired woman in a white suit was asleep in a tall asian boy’s arms. He noticed that almost everyone kept away from that one group in the middle, just what was going on? In fact, it looked like everyone was scared to just look at them.

Suddenly, there was a giant gust of wind and there was a glowing red figure hovering above the middle group. There’s their red lantern. Hal gasped, it was just a kid, a teenage girl. Her most notable feature was the set of red devil horns resting on her head.  They flew closer and saw that the group  huddled together behind a girl with glasses and ombre hair and a boy with glasses and a red cap. “Marinette! Please you have to fight him.”, the girl begged. 

The red lantern, or rather Marinette laughed, not a light hearted giggle, it was a hearty laugh. Like she heard someone tell her a really funny joke. “Fight who exactly? Hawkmoth?”, she cackled, “Hawkmoth would kill for the power I have.” Her ring glowed brighter. “And I’d kill him to keep this power to myself.” A wicked smirk came over the girl’s face. 

“Is this Hawkmoth one of Earth’s villains?”, Razer asked, Hal didn’t know how to answer. This is the first time he’s even heard of Paris having a supervillain, he and the other league members prided themselves on knowing almost every bad guy, every hero, and every vigilante. How was he supposed to say, that there was something like this going on in a city on Earth that he and he’s guessing the other league members don’t know about? 

Then a giant red arm stretched out and wrapped around a girl with long brunette hair. The girl then started screaming as she was brought closer to the red lantern girl. “Well Lila, looks like you’re in trouble...Maybe you should call your best friend to come help you...Go on Lila, call Ladybug.I’ll wait.”, Marinette said in a cold menacing voice. 

‘Ladybug?’, Hal thought, ‘She’s gotta be their hero. Why did she never reach out to the League?’ He observed everyone of the kids, all of them were terrified, but they seemed almost used to it. If something like this was a regular occurrence, then he’s been doing his job wrong. He looked back at the brunette girl being held hostage, she looked annoyed?

Then she said, “Ladybug will come and save me, just wait.” Marinette laughed and flew closer to the girl, their faces centimeters apart. “Oh Lila, it’s pathetic that you think that. Because I know for a fact, Ladybug isn’t coming.” She then dropped Lila, only to catch her by the arm with her construct. Marinette’s grin turned bloodthirsty and there was a sickening snap. Lila landed on the ground, clutching her arm and sobbing. He saw at least two bends in her arm, one was definitely her elbow, the other was in her forearm. She was then pulled into the center of the group of teens, forming a shield to protect her from the red lantern. 

“What makes you so sure that Ladybug’s not coming?”, a femine voice yelled, all eyes turned to a red haired girl with big glasses. “Ladybug always comes to save us! She’ll stop you, you big bully!”, the girl shouted. Some of the teens looked emboldened by her words, others looked like they wanted her to shut her mouth. Hal watched as this red lantern girl began laughing, a long and hearty laugh. 

“Oh wow Sabrina!”, Marinette laughed. “ You’re speaking up to me! But not to Chloe? Why?” The laughter stopped. “Because you think Ladybug’s coming? Big, strong Ladybug’s coming to save the day? Newsflash! The only thing that’s being saved is me savoring the sounds of your suffering. As I get my revenge for all the suffering you and everyone else has put me through for the past few years of my life!” Marinette began to glow bright red.

“Marinette!”, a male voice yelled out, all eyes turned to see a teenage boy in a catsuit standing on the roof of the school. All the students began cheering and there were multiple yells of “It’s Chat Noir!” “Chat Noir’s come to save us!” “Go Chat Noir!” 

This Chat Noir pulled a staff from his belt and then used it to jump down to get on the ground level with the rest of the teens.

“W-what happened?”, he asked, he looked at the middle group of teens, “Why is she an akuma?” None of them looked like they could answer, most of them looked ashamed, Alya and a boy in a red cap looked angry, while the brunette just had an annoyed look in her eyes as she cried about her arm. 

“You really want to know?”, Marinette growled, she pointed a finger at the teens, “My so called friends decided that I needed to be punished!” she made air quotes, “ After I punched Lila for making fun of my parents death! Not only that she basically told me to kill myself so I could see them again!” Hal tossed a disgusted look at the brunette girl, then Marinette started to laugh, “After I gave that bitch what she deserved, my classmates threw me into a janitor’s closet and locked me in there!” Her laughter turned into cackles and Hal felt an uneasy feeling in his gut.

“Then this glorious power came to me in a blazing red ball of light”, she smiled so sweetly, as if she was talking about a happy memory. She clenched her fist and brought it close to her heart, “The power to get my revenge on everyone who’s ever wronged me.” She stopped laughing and stared into Chat Noir’s eyes, “like you.”

Hal heard a couple of gasps, the blonde boy took a step back, “Me? How have I ever wronged you?”, he yelled. Marinette scoffed, her ring began glowing and she glared at him, “How you ask? Every time you goof off on the job. Everytime you flirt with Ladybug, instead of focusing on the battle. Everytime you do anything else other than your fucking job!” 

She flew closer and closer to him, then started poking him in the chest, “because of you, I’ve had to watch my family and friends die over and over again! And now, my parents are dead and they’re never coming back! And you weren’t there! You want to say you’re a hero but you’re never there!”, she was yelling in his face now. 

“You want the fame and glory that comes with being a hero without doing any of the damn work! People die, and you don’t even care!”,she pulled her fist back and Chat Noir couldn’t block her punch in time. He was sent flying backwards, then he flipped his body around and landed on his feet. 

“You can’t blame me for your parents death! If I was there I would’ve helped save them!”, he ran over to where some rubble was, grabbing a few decent sized pieces he threw them up in the air and hit them with his staff like a baseball. The pieces flew at her, she crossed her arms over her chest and made a shield. 

Behind her shield she yelled back, “You’re not listening to me!” He kept hitting pieces of rubble and launching them at her, not leaving her a chance to attack. Hal then noticed that he was using the rubble as a distraction, she was too busy using her shield to protect herself to realize that Chat was getting closer.

By the time she noticed, Chat Noir was right in front of her with his staff, he jumped into the air, staff raised and slammed it down on her head. Her shield broke and she fell to the ground clenching her head with both hands. She yelled in pain and took in a deep breath of air, she let her head go and cracked her neck. She smirked at Chat Noir, “Is that all you got?” 

Chat Noir glared and then charged at her with his staff, “Hal, shouldn’t we be doing something?”, Razer’s voice snapped Hal back to reality. “You’re right.” Hal looked at the numerous teenagers watching the fight, “We have to get the kids out of there, we’ll have to get the middle group after everyone else, it’s too risky to the rest of the kids.” He said, Razer nodded his head, “You’re right. You get one group while I get another?” The green lantern gave his friend a thumbs up and then they split up.

Hal flew close to a small group of kids, a blonde pigtailed girl noticed them, and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, the Justice League is here.”, she whispered loud enough for Hal and her friends to hear. Hal nodded at them and put a finger to his lips, they got the memo and were silent. “I’m going to get you all out of here while she’s distracted, in order for me to do that I need you all to be very quiet. Give me a thumbs up if you understand.”, he said. They all gave him a thumbs up. He looked back over at the red lantern, she was still fighting Chat Noir, looks like he was trying to lure her out of the school, but she wasn’t taking the bait.

Looking back at the teens, he gave them the follow me gesture and led them to the entrance he came through. “Ok, all of you are going to run home to safety.”, he said, they all nodded and began rushing through the entrance, Hal turned around and was about to go back into the school when he felt a hand grab his wrist. He looked over his shoulder and saw the blonde girl was grabbing him, “Please...Please help Marinette! I think her akuma is in her ring, or her earrings! She never takes those off!, she pleaded. 

“I-I will do my best to help your friend.”, he said. ‘What’s an akuma?��, he thought. She nodded and walked out the school, giving him one last look before she was gone. Hal turned around, “Razer, if we’re gonna take her down we gotta do it now.”, he said into his ring. 

Razer’s voice came through, “I agree, I managed to sneak a lot of the children to safety.” Hal looked up, he was right, it looked like there were only a handful of students that weren’t in the middle group left. “Ok, what do we do when we get all of them out? Like how do we take her out?”, Hal said aloud, he thought back to his adventures when he first met Razer.

Razer had been a formidable opponent, strong, cunning, and he had been able to break through his constructs easily. But he was still vulnerable to physical attacks! But it still took him a while to get the best of the then red lantern. Hal groaned, he really didn’t want to fight a little girl. “Ok, we’ll focus on the rest of the kids, then we get the middle group of kids. After that...I’ll draw her fire and serve as a distraction helping Chat Noir, then you get her in a bubble!” 

Razer nodded his head and was about to say something, when Hal felt two hands push him away from where he was hidden. After landing on his behind, he looked up to see a bright red car where he once was. The car disappeared into thin air and he heard a demented laugh. He looked over at the red lantern, her eyes glowing bright red as she smirked and constructed a crown of crimson light, hovering above her head. 

“Well looky here.”, she grinned, “another fake hero’s come to play!” Her crown dissipated, a manic gleam shown in her eyes. “I’ll play with you later, right now I have a cat to skin.” 

She looked over her shoulder, Hal followed her gaze. Cat boy wasn’t doing so well, he was heaving and looked like he was going to fall over at any minute. Using his baton to support him, a brave look on his face, he stared his opponent down. “Come and get me….Purrincess.”, he breathed out. 

“Aww, look at that! Kitty thinks he has claws!”, Marinette cooed. She summoned a morning star with a giant head of spikes. Then she said with an expressionless look on her face. “How cute.” Her entire body started to glow like a light bulb. 

“Marinette! What the class did was horrible, but this isn’t you ”, The ombre haired girl with glasses spoke up. Marinette’s glow seemed to flicker, but only slightly. This time coming back brighter. “Alya, you and Nino are free to leave and I won’t hunt you down. But if you try and stop me, you’ll burn where you stand.” 

The girl, Alya, didn’t move, she stood her ground and stared Marinette down. “Fine then.”, Marinette growled. Her eyes glow so bright that Hal could barely make out her face, he narrowed his eyes and formed a barrier around the teens. 

Hal looked at Razer, “New plan, I’ll get her attention and you rescue the kids.  Razer nodded, and flew away from Hal. The green lantern turned his head to look back at the teens, Marinette was still glowing red and was now swinging the Morningstar up and around her head. He flew over immediately, yelling “Hey little red!” 

Marinette whipped her head around and Hal was stunned. Her eyes...they were pitch black with glowing red irises. He’s only seen that look on a red lantern once before. Back when Aya had been attacked by a manhunter. Razer’s rage had become so strong that he was able to use his powers in front of two blue lanterns and then went on to destroy the manhunter. Almost nothing had been left of that robot. Hal made a shield and whispered into his ring.  “Razer, you ready?”

“I am ready, just tell me when.”, Razer’s voice said coolly. Then Marinette stopped moving, her morning star vanished, her ring began to glow ominously. The glow engulfed her hand and she made another  a construct. 

“Wait, what is th-”, Hal’s question was cut off by a yo-yo construct hitting him in his face. He groaned and held his poor aching forehead, then shouted, “Who uses a yo-yo in a fight!” 

His only response was a death glare from the little lantern, ‘Why does it feel like Diana is glaring at me.’, was all he had time to think before Marinette began spinning the yo-yo until it became nothing but a whirring blur at her side. Hal turned his shield into a bubble surrounding himself in the green construct. Marinette then threw the yo-yo at him and it immediately wrapped itself around the bubble. The bubble started to crack only to disappear and the yo-yo had him. He winced as his arms were tucked tightly against his sides. “Aw come on!”, he groaned. Then she smirked at him, a sinister evil smirk...Who taught this kid how to be scary?!

 She then pulled the yo-yo’s string, pulling him along with it. Then she began spinning as she pulled him. Suddenly he was being spun around like a toy, then she finally let the yo-yo go. Why was he still tied up and flying through the air? How did she have this much control over her constructs? And why did he feel proud? Oh god was he turning into Batman? 

He struggled to free himself from the yo-yo, but it wouldn’t budge. Then he landed in a building. He felt his body crash through a window and heard screams, after a rough landing into an office cubicle  he felt the tightness of his binding disappear. He was free. He sat up and groaned, “That’s going to leave a mark.”

He felt a giant tremor rip through the building he was in and instinctively made a bubble to surround him. Just in time to see Marinette glaring at him, a big red automatic gun resting on her shoulder. She had a wicked look on her face as she aimed the gun at him and began letting out a barrage of red bullets.

“Look, you’re hurting I get it, but this is not the way to deal with that pain.”, Hal said calmly, staring at the small lantern girl in the eye. He saw the pure rage falter and a scared child was looking at him.  

“Princess please listen to him!”, Cat Boy pleaded as he limped over to them, the scared child looked so horrified at the sight of the boy...she was going to run. Hal immediately dropped his bubble and summoned a lasso, he threw it and caught her. She yelled and began thrashing around, trying to get the rope off of her. Then she broke free in a bright flash of crimson light. Only for her red glow to disappear completely and she began to fall to the ground.

Hal immediately summoned a platform to try and catch her, but he was too late. A blue bubble surrounded her and stopped her from falling.

Hal’s eyes trailed upward, an apologetic Razer was descending down to the floor he was on. “Took you long enough.”, Hal laughed, only to wince as his lungs stretched against his ribs. Razer landed on the ground next to him and helped him up.

“My apologies, there were innocents in need.” Razer wrapped Hal’s arm around his shoulder and the green lantern winced. Hal looked to a few feet in front of him and saw the tiny red lantern kicking and pounding against the sides of the blue bubble holding her. “Let me out!”, she screamed. “Let me out!” She slumped down to her knees and leaned against the bubble, she  punched it once more. Her shoulders started to shake and he heard soft sniffles and whimpers. “Let me out.”, she cried softly as  she banged on the bubble. 

______________________________________________________________

(Author’s note) Hey guys, Spirit here! Thanks for reading part 3 of A Lantern’s Rage. I hope you all enjoyed it! If you have questions feel free to ask in my ask box!

TAGLIST: @our-preciousss @ @misslenamooney @maskedpainter @silversaphire12 @lassiedanter @vinces-cove @vixen-uchiha

[alstroemeriatea]

HBO Supernatural Scene I can’t get out of my head

- so Sam and Dean have finished hunting for the episode (and there’s probably only like 10 minutes left max but the audience is on the edge of their seats)

- The case took place in a city - a big one, not like the small historic towns the boys often go to in the actual show - and there was a haunting in a club (I’m thinking a gay man was hatecrimed and killed and Dean is livid)

 - Hatred stole life from this boy, and now the energy of utter retribution is ablaze in his mind

- Cas was absent for about half of the first half of the episode, but teamed up with the boys to find the remnant of the ghost and they’re all breathing hard and exhausted after the hunt, entering the club one last time to do a final check

- Music is pounding and everything is painted in neon lights (Dean is probably wearing some transparent shirt and the audience can see his tattoos - I’m thinking he has Euphoria style glitter makeup under his eyes - not feminizing him tho)

- Sam grunts that he’s so fucked from this case and staggers towards the bar, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a handful of various pills before downing them dry, Dean shivers in disgust before realizing he’s alone

- [Cas?] he calls, scanning the area, a low heat growing in his stomach, but he doesn’t know what it is. Anger? Arousal? Dread?

- He stumbles through the crowd and various hands are groping at his chest and shoulders, running down his body and over his ass as a woman presses herself to his back and he tilts his head back on her shoulder, eyes closed teeth gritted together as neon paints his face and fingers ghost over his lips, leaving electric touches wherever they may go. 

- She’s whispering something to him and the music that the audience is hearing (not being played in the club starts growing) (the song is Casual Affair by Panic! At the Disco (if you haven’t heard it just,,, trust me it’s perfect for this scene))

- Suddenly a hand pulls his from her to a desolate, nearly empty and dark corner of the club, the instrumental hits its final notes and the chorus absolutely drowns the audience as Cas slams Dean against a wall and kisses him, his hair a mess and Dean’s eyes are wide open, then close realizing who it is and kisses him back with a matched vigor that sets his soul on fire

- Cas is fucking him up in front of the whole goddamn world after another man was killed for what Cas is taking from him, press after press of their lips together and Cas’ hips grinding into his, their arousal hard between them

- And yes, this is a Casual Affair. Nothing about this is forever, and both of them are heated and angry and exhausted and just want to take and ruin one another

- But an angel is subduing a man with glitter under his eyes who has a bloodstained knife in his pocket and said man is making the angel moan with his head tilted to the ceiling in ecstasy

- The whole world is forgotten for just a few moments. 

[djemsostylist]

Of Queens and Trash

Here’s the thing. SCK has been on a downward trend since 13. The breakup was long, getting together again was tiring, the amnesia plot was poorly handled and the mess that came following his recovery was, well, a mess. The necessary break for covid gave us a chance for a fresh start for Edser. All the bad stuff in the past, and a focus in the last episodes of them being able to finally fulfill all the promises they had not been able to. After all, this was a story that, at its core, was about two people who met and fell in love and who, no matter what, chose to be together. Invisible handcuffs. And with the return of the OG writer, it seemed we might finally get that. After 39 episodes of angst and only 7(?) of real togetherness, surely it was time? Forget the pain of the past, and start with Edser navigating their world together.

And then the trailer dropped. And all of a sudden, all the people who had spent months eviscerating Serkan for behaving badly in the 30s were celebrating this new plot, the “great angst” and Eda “being a Queen.”

For me, I can’t get over the hiding of the child. It's a hardline deal breaker. I don’t think it matters who writes it, I think it's an awful plotline. No matter how "good" the trailer looks or moments seem, I will remember that I was watching a show about two people who loved each other and never wanted to be apart, about a man who learned how to open his heart, and this ruined it all.

Now, I think it's worth noting that my hard line, in this particular case, is in response to Edser, if that makes sense. I’m not hardline, “if this is in a story I’m not watching”. If it works for the characters and story because that is the type of story being told, then fine.

I don't subscribe to the woke feminism brand of "all women are Queens and all men are Trash" which seems to be a trend of late (and not just in fandom). I think people are people and people are generally imperfect but also trying. I don’t think women, simply by virtue of carrying a child, get full say in what happens to the child, regardless of the father’s wishes. I'm not fond of a “hiding a kid storyline”, and while I get the whole "my body my choice" style of arguing, it took two people to make the baby. Two people get a say in what happens. I get you are growing the kid, but you didn't spontaneously conceive.

For me, Edser being apart and/or hiding a kid is a hardline. It doesn't fit with the characters as I know them and it doesn't fit with the storyline. And look--I hated the amnesia plot. I thought there were a literal million ways this could have been done better, but it's what we got. So for everyone suddenly defending this new plot, despite it making about as much sense as Eda getting married to make Serkan remember her, then that means everything goes. No blaming writers or ignoring canon...everything has context and meaning now. And since “it's realistic” is also a common refrain, then fine. Let’s go realistic.

Imagine being in a plane crash. You wake up, you have clear physical/mental blocks. For someone who likes to be in control, that's terrifying. You have a ring on your finger with a woman's name you don't know, and an entire year missing. You call the one person you know will come (since your parents and friends are useless) and she comes and tells you a story that jives. You can't remember shit and you keep getting flashes and your hands won't work, so you take what she tells you, because why would you have any reason to doubt? It’s not like you can remember anyway, and trying to remember hurts.

You finally go back home, and you recognize nothing about your own life. Friends, family...everything is different. Your mom is out, your dad is gone, your best friends are married. You don't even live in the same house, you have people working in your company you don’t know--even your dog is gone. And then you have a hysterical woman throwing pictures in your face of a man you don't recognize and your brain is still foggy and all your friends and family seem to be shrugging their shoulders at you.

You're terrified and alone and all you get is some vagueness about an epic love story and too much emotion and all you want to do is hide. From everything. Plus your heart is doing this thing every time the girl is near and you think you might be dying maybe and remember how your brother died?

So, the girl kisses you, you literally feel like you might be dying, and it's like naw. Fuck this. I'm getting back an ounce of control. So you propose to Selin. I mean you don’t love her and you barely want her but at least she is the same. At least she hasn’t changed, and at least she doesn’t stare at you with the weight of a million expectations that everyone else does. At least she doesn’t look at you and hope to see a man you can’t ever remember being.

But then the girl everyone claims is your soulmate is suddenly engaged to another man, and spends every moment after that claiming she hates you, she is over you, she is better off/happier without you, doesn't need you.

So it's like, okay, what is the truth. Your brain isn't helping, your friends aren't helping, she isn't helping. So you lash out, you close off, because really, what else is left. Your life isn’t your life, your mind isn’t your mind, you can’t even figure out what’s real and what isn’t. And she’s getting married and you want to die but she’s getting married and surely if she loved you she wouldn’t be doing this?

And then you get your memories back. Finally. Everything comes flooding back ,and it's a lot. You cope in shitty ways, you don't respond well, etc. You’ve returned from the dead twice, and everything feels just slightly off, but maybe you can make this work. At least you have her. After a few days, you’re feeling like your old self. You've got your memories, your girl, the possibility of the future you had snatched twice, and then BOOM. She rejects you, out of nowhere.

Won't talk, won't communicate, you have no idea what the fuck is happening. She’s crying and sad but also not leaving but also not staying and your brain can’t quite work things out but all you can do is promise that you love her, only her, always her, forever. Surely she must know that by now, right?

And then she tells you about the baby. You can't remember the sex of course, but then you find out it probably happened while your brain was fucked, and you barely have time to process this before oh yeah the love of your life is leaving you bc she would rather you raise a baby with your rapist. And suddenly you might be dying, again.

But you stop her. You stop her and even though she says she didn’t come back for you, why else would she have stayed? So, you finally get her back, she tattoos you on her finger and maybe just maybe everything will be fine when BOOM. Cancer. You aren't even over the other shit, and you have a fucking tumor. You are 30 years old, you've survived a plane crash, amnesia, and now you have a tumor. How many times can a person die?

And so you don’t cope well. You withdraw, you back away. Your brother died when he was young, you know what that does to a person. You know what it did to your family. You have this fear that curls around your heart that says “but what if she becomes my mother.” And she goes. She leaves and she takes your heart and your child (that you don’t even know about) and it’s like...fuck. Again. Because everyone leaves you, eventually. And somehow, it’s always your fault.

So, what I'm saying is, Eda endured a lot, sure. She was hurt. Their breakup in 14 was hard and I’m not denying that (although there is another post I could write about how since Eda never actually uses her words to tell him how she feels he can, perhaps, be understood in assuming that breaking up after barely being together would hurt but also that she would move on and live her life happily without him. Which I guess season 2 proves…) Losing Serkan to an accident/amnesia was hard, looking at the body of the man she loves but not seeing the man she loves must have been agony. But Serkan was fucking wrecked. So instead of choosing to write a plot where they both get to heal, where they both get to explore their pain and work through it together, we get Serkan who reverted to being a robot to cope with massive trauma and PTSD, and essentially is abandoned by everyone, again.

I guess what I'm saying is, if staying with him and supporting him when he was dealing with trauma was too much for her, then fine.That is very true for some people, and it’s certainly realistic. But I don't really think that jives with Eda and her character, and while it isn't a trauma competition, I'd still think Serkan comes out a winner here. Eda lost her parents, which was awful. She lost him, but she got him back. Twice. His trauma is losing his brother, being abandoned by his parents, a plane crash, amnesia, emotional manipulation/abuse and cancer. And then he gets punished by having his daughter taken away from him because he was having a hard time coping. Keeping a kid a secret isn't "protecting the child" it's punishing the father.

Tl;dr The direction they have taken the characters is gross for both mains, but if people are trying to justify Eda keeping his child from him because “he deserves it” or “she did what was best for her” then I think we maybe haven’t been watching the same show. Even if he said “I don’t want kids,” saying that to a hypothetical child is very different then being told “a baby is very much our reality.” Because that's the crux right? It's not that he decided he just didn't want to be a father ever, he's scared of having a family and losing them or of them losing him. And then she made that very fear be realized. Which is tragic and quite the opposite of what his life partner needed to do in that situation.

Bitte.

Thanks to @lolo-deli for the proofread and the final lines, you are the best. And for putting up with my uncontrollable ranting about this for days.