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sweetlemontart · 1 year

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call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

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Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath.

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on.

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease.

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago.

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend.

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification.

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck.

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan.

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious.

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by.

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier.

"Is that it?" you asked him.

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head.

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you.

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest.

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name.

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes.

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further.

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show.

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal.

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more.

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow.

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to.

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit.

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut.

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge.

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in.

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much?

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend.

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it.

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you.

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer.

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising.

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants.

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light.

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you.

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet.

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum.

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back.

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath.

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes.

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips.

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting.

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening.

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all.

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better.

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him.

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh.

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips.

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole.

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt.

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit.

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up.

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow.

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt.

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name.

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know.

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle.

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy.

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it.

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours.

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp.

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt.

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow.

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

"Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him.

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full.

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess."

"W-What?" you squeak out.

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans.

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest.

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you.

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin.

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air.

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?"

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs.

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst.

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors.

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind.

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance.

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry?

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes.

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again.

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high.

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet.

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it.

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal.

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck.

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing.

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk.

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly.

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out.

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago.

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair.

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind.

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes.

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..."

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—"

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once.

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head.

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush.

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open.

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer.

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him.

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath.

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..."

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly.

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his.

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss.

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine.

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes.

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice.

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek.

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom.

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fairymousse · 3 months

Text

St Trina is the best part of the DLC's story

Massive spoilers below cut for the whole DLC

I think that St Trina singlehandedly makes Miquella's story not only make sense, but as a natural conclusion to his character.

Miquella's first title was Miquella the Unalloyed. This obviously means purity and lack of compromise, which would be weird if he had been manipulative all along, and just so happened to have a kinder alter ego. So I think that Miquella and St Trina were in sync as helping the people outside of order (the Haligtree, the cut content Merchant stuff).

But, as Miquella began to plan to become a God, St Trina became more separate. As such, Miquella is usually referred to as Miquella the Kind, rather than the Unalloyed. This is also evident in how the presentation of St Trina varies. The Sword of St Trina reads that:

St. Trina is an enigmatic figure. Some say she is a comely young girl, others are sure he is a boy. The only certainty is that their appearance was as sudden as their disappearance.

In the DLC, Trina is explicitly depicted as feminine, suggesting a split similar to Marika/Radagon. And Miquella discards Trina, with the two crosses associated with her being his doubts and vascilations, but also his love.

Obviously, Miquella has at this point done some horrible stuff that would encourage doubt. There's Mohg, and more explicitly Radahn. That Sword of St Trina I mentioned earlier? You find it in Caelid. There must have been some faith for her there, so she would be seeing the horrors of war and the rot. Then there's more general stuff. Will Miquella be any different from Marika? Will he be able to do good at all? This is not what you want if you need to commit to the path.

So Miquella abandons his doubts and his compassion, and this is his fatal flaw. Miquella is no longer able to change his mind about whether the vow that, (as @drenched-in-sunlight pointed out in their post on the Prattling Pate), could have been incredibly flimsy, and never intended to be honoured. He is no longer able to consider if his age of compassion is even wanted. He is no longer able to even consider Mohg. All of this, is incredibly unlike the original Miquella. A defining feature of Miquella is how he abandoned Fundamentalism, because it couldn't help Malenia. Miquella without his compassion and his doubts, isn't really Miquella.

Miquella the Kind is an ideal. St Trina is the genuine heart, who has been forsaken.

Edit : Here is my follow up post to this.

#st trina #miquella the unalloyed #malenia blade of miquella #starscourge radahn #mohg lord of blood #elden ring theory #elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #shadow of the erdtree spoilers #seeing a lot of hate and kinda reductive takes about Miquella #so just throwing this out there to show how the descent is the point #might make an animatic about this at some point #but we'll see

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vampiricgf · 1 month

Text

— g. satoru | FAMILY MATTERS

warnings : dead dove do not eat, dark content, pseudocest (stepdad/stepdaughter), noncon, restraints, slapping, oral, fingering, dacryphilia, pet names (honey, sweetheart, pumpkin, baby), creampie, emotional manipulation, use of daddy, underwear stealing

wc : 3.5k+

if you choose to expand the work and read it, it's your responsibility. I have made sure to use the proper warnings and kept everything beneath a read more for a reason! also sorry for any errors it's not edited

Coming back home wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

If you’re being honest with yourself you weren’t sure what exactly it was supposed to feel like, but you did know enough to recognize your childhood home shouldn’t feel like a mausoleum. Maybe that was due in part to the overall bitterness of having to come back at all, a failed bid for independence left a lingering sour taste washing across your tongue. It didn’t help your guilt either, guilt for having left your stepfather behind while chasing all the fury of youth.

You mom was long gone, mostly a faded memory now and it was him, Satoru, who had taken care of you through your adolescence in the aftermath of her disappearance. You would always be grateful to him on some level for that, especially since it would’ve been just as easy for him to toss you out on your ass with a good luck, kid. But he didn’t. Even with the long hours at Jujutsu Tech and the missions you knew he tried to keep secret from you, he still tried. Although you mostly found the overly affectionate displays embarrassing when you were younger, you would be a liar if you said it didn’t provide a certain level of comfort.

Or at least, it did. You knew better, knew that even as an adult yourself you were still explicitly forbidden from entering his study. Wished so hard you physically squeezed every muscle in your body taught that you hadn’t gone nosing for moms things. It had been natural to assume though that if he would keep anything of hers it would be in the study, not out in the main house anywhere.

You’d just wanted to feel closer to her in a low moment, not pludge even further down in free fall.

In the small closet inside that room you’d found it. Thought it was just a small box of maybe her jewelry or something like that.

Not a box of trophies.

Bile rose quick and acidic as you recalled what had been inside that box, fingers gripping the edge of your mattress as you tried to control your breathing.

Various pairs of womens underwear. So many it was beyond inconceivable, and all carefully folded to fit inside the wooden confines, clearly precious to whomever had placed them there.

What was worse is that you spotted a familiar set tucked away in the midst of the array of colors and materials. Your own fucking stepfather had stolen a pair of your underwear.

Tears rolled down your face as your breathing spiralled out of control.

Every interaction since coming home was now colored differently in your racing mind, bearing a more sinister undertone now than any of the warmth you usually felt when it came to the man you looked at like a father.

But he would be home soon, you needed to get yourself under control and you needed to do it now. He would be expecting you to be ready to go through the usual evening routine you had fallen into: cooking dinner in comfortable silence, occasional chatter about his workday, the familial domesticity of sharing the work of cleaning up before spending the rest of your time either together in the living room or in your separate spaces. You in your bedroom, him in his study.

Your skin crawled, feeling like something damp and slimy was wrapping around you in a vise grip, like a cobra made of all this sickness swimming around inside your head and your gut.

The thought of cooking side by side, cleaning up and feeling him wrap you in a hug was enough to make you feel ready to expel everything inside your body.

The clicking and thudding coming from further down the hall sent chills running down your back as you sprung up, frantically rubbing your eyes with your sleeves. Oh fuck. You cringe, knwoing that he’ll be able to clock it immediately that you’d been crying and you couldn’t stomach the idea of him comforting you right now. But time was rapidly ticking down, marked by the sounds of him tossing his keys in the little ceramic bowl you’d made as a kid, the sliding of a jacket against the metal hook on the wall, the solid thumps of shoes being removed and hitting the wood floor.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you home?” The question drifted through the house, reaching your now hyper aware ears.

After taking a few seconds to steady yourself you padded out of your bedroom, arms wrapped around yourself like a shield. “Hey, dad. How was work?”

Before he can answer he looks up at you, instantly his features are awash in concern and you shrink away automatically, before you can catch yourself.

“Something happen today?” His crystal blue eyes moved methodically over your face, making you feel hot all over and suddenly gripped by fear, like pinpricks of ice punched into your heart.

“No, just… Just feeling sad. A little bit.” Your voice is stilted and awkward but he seems to buy it, giving you a little aw sound before pulling you in for a hug.

“S’alright baby. Hey how about we make your favorite tonight, yeah?” He gives you a kiss on the temple and it makes you squirm, the barely contained urge to break out of his hold and take off at a breakneck speed back to your room surging through your head, but you stuff it down.

Shyly you back up, trying your best to give him a wobbly smile. “Sure, that sounds good.”

Dinner was mostly uneventlful, thank god. Because of the sheer stress and anxiety the actual act of cooking and doing dishes passed by in a blur, and you didn’t have the ability to choke back much food but he seemed to chalk it up to your low mood and didn’t pry.

Except that now, as you laid in bed in the dark of your room, your every thought focused on the fact that he was shut away in that study. What was he doing in there? Going through the box, relishing in the feeling of all those things in his hands? Or was he zeroed in on yours, face pressed to the silky material with deep inhales, getting rock hard like a fucking freak?

Fresh tears gathered in your waterline, spilling over and rolling down your cheeks, puddling in your ears but you couldn’t care less.

You’d never wshed more in your life to be a sorcerer. Maybe then you could feel more confident, if not in confronting him than at least in fleeing. At least you’d have some ability, no matter how small, to protect yourself and shove him out of your life. But instead you were just a sniffling, regular person. At an extreme disadvantage against someone like him. Pathetic.

You curled up on your side, squeezing your eyes shut against the overwhelming thoughts and the sheer disgust pooling in your belly.

As you gave all your focus to your breathing you could feel yourself slipping away, exhaustion setting in after hours of being wound so taut you were like a string ready to snap in two.

You locked your bedroom door, certainly.

It’s dark when your eyes crack open, a different sort of darkness than when you had initially fallen asleep, the sort thats thick as molasses and just as difficult to rid yourself of. It doesn’t register until you try to stretch onto your side, a tug of resistance against some kind of binding. Immediately your eyes snap open fully, heartbeat thrumming as adrenaline shoots through your veins at light speed.

You thrash, twisting and noticing with a sickliness that someone changed your clothes, or rather removed them and left you in only a pair of underwear.

Immediately the room turns cold, as if you’ve been transported to the Arctic circle in the blink of an eye. All you can do is whimper as your eyes adjust and your movements come to a halt. It’s then that you catch sight of a familiar shade of white blonde, shining even in the darkness.

Your stepfather is leaned against the dresser across from your bed, body language lax and lazy, like a cat thats been stretching in the sun after a good meal. You find his eyes, that shocking blue shade no longer familiar as he pins you with the weight of them. His small smile is seemingly meant to convey bashfulness but you see through it, catch sight of the predatory glint of his canines as he pushes off the piece of furniture and walks around to the side you’ve turned your head towards.

“Hey pumpkin, we should probably talk huh?” You flinch, pushing your body back against the mattress as if you could put any distance between yourself and him. The restraints looped around the rods of your headboard thoroughly prevent that.

“Now, don’t be so high strung. I had to make sure we could have this conversation, you get that right? Now listen, I don’t know what you think you saw-”

“You’re a fucking freak,” you spit, full of vitriol as you glare at him, breathing heavily now. You forget to be afraid, forget the vulnerability of your current position. All that matters now is making sure he knows you think he’s beyond disgusting, a man no longer your step father but a bizarre monster.

In a split second his hand cracks across your cheek, making you yelp as your head snaps to the opposite side. Immediately a sob bursts from your lips, the sting already setting in. It’s so shocking that you can only gape at him as you face him once again, an odd feeling of betrayal setting in. Not even when you were on your worst behavior did he ever so much as raise a hand to you, barely ever raised his voice even. The man crouching down next to you is unrecognizable.

“C’mon, I’m trying to have a real conversation with you, don’t be a brat.” You bite your bottom lip, hard enough to wince, but you don’t cry out and you don’t interrupt him.

“Now, you’re a smart girl. Always have been, so you should be smart enough to know that sometimes a mans just gonna have urges, sweetheart.” His long fingers sweep against your burning cheek, making your breathe seize in your throat painfully.

“You’re sick,” you croak out, his face becoming blurry as tears fall anew.

You can hear him laugh humorlessly. “Yeah, maybe so. But I’m also a good man, a good dad. Coulda just threw you out, you know. Thought about it. But your mom was just so sweet, I figured whats the harm in keeping a little of that sweetness around.”

His words make you feel like you could vomit, the implications speeding through your head are enough to make you dizzy and you briefly wonder if he hit you hard enough to cause some kind of brain damage. You don’t get long to ruminate on it though, his thumb rubbing around your lips in slow, steady circles drags you back to the present moment.

“You look just like her, I ever tell you that? I wonder if you taste the same too.”

That makes your heart drop all the way to your ass, blubbering pathetically as his hand creeps down your chest now, stopping to squeeze at your breasts and twist your nipple harshly.

“Really, your dads not a bad guy honey. We could’ve gone our whole lives without anything like this, but you just had to be nosy huh?” You’re not sure if he’s really talking to you or talking to himself and you don’t truly care, all you want is for this to stop.

“Please dad, you don’t have to,” you get cut off by his hand slipping down the front of your underwear, long index finger stroking against your wetness and its with horror that you realize yes, you are wet right now. It makes you choke on your own spit, renewed vigor in your movements as you start tugging against the restraint again.

He seemingly lets you tire yourself out, hand never withdrawing, just continuing to stroke you before his fingers connect with your clit and you bite back a groan.

You hear his grin more than see it as he speaks again. “Let yourself relax pumpkin, it doesn’t have to be so bad.”

You whine, low in your throat, but find yourself complying. Your body stills, your breathing the only sound beside the soft slick noises of his fingers playing with your pussy. With your eyes shut you can almost forget that it’s your own stepfather doing it, can pretend you're just sexually exploring with someone else, anyone else.

But his other hand grips your face, squishing your cheeks together and forcing you to open your eyes. “Nu-uh, you gotta keep those pretty eyes open for me baby.” You cry out feeling his thumb press hard against your clit, feeling a pulsing like a second heartbeat reverberating from your cunt. “You know, I’m kind of glad you find that stuff. Been thinking about this for a long time.”

You let his words wash over you, hating the way they make your pussy clench around nothing. Are you so fucked up that you’re getting off right now? You decide it doesn’t matter, none of this matters. Just a bad dream from start to finish. Thats all.

“M’sorry dad,” you say, voice breaking and you hear him coo at you before letting go of your cheeks, shifting to lean back on his knees before you can feel him working to slide your underwear off. You don’t kick or thrash, eyes trained on the shadowy ceiling.

“It’s okay honey, you know everythings okay.” He breathes the words against the flesh of your inner thighs as he slides down onto his belly between your legs. “I love you.”

You can’t answer before he places a kiss to your puffy clit, making your legs jerk and your breathing hitch in your chest. His lips wrap around the sensitive little bud and begin sucking, light and rhythmic and desire wraps its fingers around your mind. You moan openly, hands twisting against the soft fabric binding them. He hums into your soaked cunt, dragging his tongue up and down through your folds, fingers prodding at your entrance before pushing against the ring of muscle, sliding inside you and making your head spin all over again.

You don’t realize you’re bucking your hips against his hand, greedily trying to take more of his fingers inside as your walls reshape to accommodate the intrusion. His fingers are perfectly slender, long enough to reach the spots you’ve never been able to get yourself and making your vision swim.

His nose bumps against your clit in just the right way, making you cry out for more, a sort of delirium settling into your very bones an dhe obliges your unspoken need with his tongue.

“Please daddy, please,” you blubber, barely coherent, “love you- I love you-”

With a garbled cry you feel yourself coming undone, your muscles flexing so tightly your back raises off the bed, legs screaming from the strain as you cum.

On the comedown he never stops rubbing your pussy, making you sob from the prolonged contact and your own sensitivity post orgasm. As you cry you can hear the soft shushing of fabric moving, being discarded, thankful for the momentary break in physical contact.

“There she is,” he murmurs, voice gentle as you feel the head of his cock bump against your clit, push through your mess of arousal and cum to coat his dick. You feel conflicting horror and excitment at the feeling, horror at yourself for being excited at the though of him pushing inside you fully.

You don’t get the chance to respond before he was doing exactly that, the head of his cock sitting heavy inside you as he gave a few shallow thrusts that made you pant and wince. He felt heavy inside you already, but you weren’t given much of a grace period for adjustment before he was pushing in once more, clearly relishing in the way your gasped and arched upward once more.

The sheer girth of him was astounding, coupled with the length reaching impossibly far up inside you and in a sickening way you felt jealous that other girls had felt his cock before you did. He was your dad, didn’t it just make sense?

“Knew you’d take it so well, pussy was made for me, yeah?” He grunts out as he bottoms completely, hips nearly flush with yours and hands pressing your thighs down firmly to open you as wide as possible. And it all felt impossibly good, better than anything you’d ever had before.

You nod your head dumbly, still thick with the pain from his slap and the afterglow of your earlier orgasm.

He doesn’t start with a soft pace, not that you really expected him too. Clearly it had worked him up, the time he’d spent lavishing your cunt with attention and the thought made you feel strangely proud at having been the reason your stepfather was painfully hard and fucking you into the mattress with abandon. The pace was so brutal all you could do was hang on to the restraint, feeling your breasts bouncing wildly as he gripped your legs so hard it would definitely leave bruises in the morning.

“You take it so much better than any of the others,” his voice is strained, probably from the way your clamping down around him and the way your walls are massaging his cock frantically, as if you need his load or you’ll die.

A thought pops into your mind and you squeak it out before you can stop yourself. “Your favorite, dad?”

“Ah fuck, yeah you’re my favorite baby.” His head tips back as he lets go of your legs to grab your hips, yanking you up a bit more than what your current position allows but the pain of it feels delicious in tandem with the way his cock rams against your cervix, another round of tears falling as your mouth drops open in a silent wail.

The way hes holding you open makes you feel like you’ll snap into a million pieces, it’s all so suddenly overwhelming and you don’t notice the way his thrusts become sloppier, his moans more unintelligable as he pushes even deeper inside you with every internal push. And suddenly hes caging you, gripping your face again but not to squish your cheeks it’s clearly to force you to look at him and you do, eyes blown wide and still wet with saltwater. His own fairytale blue eyes lock with yours before his lips crash against your own, all clicking teeth and sliding tongues, uncaring towards the spit leaking from the corners of your mouth as you squeal into the surprise kiss.

Whats more shocking is how good it feels, as if what you needed to completely tip you over that insane edge was his kiss, all consuming and blotting out any lingering thoughts of how wrong this all was. And it worked, suddenly you had no qualms about chanting his name like a prayer as he rubbed our clit once more, desperately trying to get you over the edge with him again.

As that coil snaps inside your body and the rush of endorphins flood your brain you’re struck by the thought that nobody could ever make you cum like he has, and how even though he hasn’t even pulled out yet you already want him to do it again.

And its then that you feel it, that thick gooey warmth spreading inside your pussy as he gives one last thrust, as if he could shove all of himself inside you. Between kisses and the grinding of his hips, like he wanted to keep fucking his cum inside you, something shifts fully. An irreparable rearrangement of your mind. Of course looking through his things was wrong, any parent punishes their child for being naughty no matter how old they are. And really, your lucky your dad cares so much about you that he let you cum twice, let you feel his cock stretch you out and kissed you while you cried.

He even came inside you, so you can be good for him now, right?

Apparently you’d been speaking aloud as he rubbed his hand over your tummy, pressing down slightly as he pulled out to watch the way his cum oozed out of your exhausted pussy.

“That’s right honey, see you are my smart girl. And if you’re real good daddy can fill you up again, would you like that?”

You nod blearily, feeling utterly boneless against the rumpled sweat soaked sheets.

“I know you’ll behave, my good girl. Better than your mom, anyway.” He says offhandedly as he rises, grabbing his hastily tossed clothes, and you can’t help the way you shiver at that. The vague threat tugs at your mind but for now you decide to shove it away.

All that matters is being as good as possible.

And maybe getting on birth control.

#tw.dark content #tw.pseudocest #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #gojo x female reader #jjk x fem!reader

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boringkate · 3 months

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Kinda wild to be living in this era of increasingly normalized cosmetic surgery and manipulated imagery clashing with like a maybe simultaneously increasing level of fat acceptance etc.

Dudes spend all day looking at jpegs of twenty two year old girls who have spent a bajillion dollars and gotten BBLs and implants and a dozen other surgeries and a full face of makeup and who then still had to be photoshoped to achieve the type of true marketability that comes easily to AI generated anime waifus. And those dudes won't even jack to those jpeg in a "Yes! Reject the fetishization and false dichotomies of naturalness! Embrace transhuminist bimbofication, babe!" type of way bc they're too head empty to even consider what goes into looking like that. I promise you that they don't know or care who Nina Arsenault is. Those dudes are jackin in a "This is what women and their bodies are supposed to look like! This is womanhood in its natural state! Tradwife material! Uncorrupted by the performative wokeness of a wide chin!" type of way.

And as a fat aging tranny porn slut (who doesn't have a bajillion dollars and is scared of getting cut open and is bad at makeup and doesn't even wanna be high femme) I obviously find it distressing. I feel like I'm expected to look like that. An unachievable goal that I'm only inevitability drifting further from.

I also feel tho like there's never been a better time to swoon over some frumpy babes. Like Instagram and snapchat etc may have put everyone's body dysmorphia into overdrive (totally nuked the mental health of their entire user bases) (made absolute normies think they have to LARP as celebrities which requires looking like celebrities), but social media (and I wanna explicitly include OnlyFans and other platforms that have democratized pornography) has also provided avenues for the types or body diversity that you wouldn't have found in a 2000s era magazine announcing that Brittany Spears is a fat pig or even in an equally profit motive driven Dove commercial.

Which you could (maybe correctly) interpret as all being part of our widening beauty norms. That it's totally internally consistent for society to be more accepting of women who have gotten liposuction and women who have gained weight. It's body positivity and bodily autonomy all the way down. Totally liberatory! But it feels less like a widening and more like a fracturing. In line with the fall of media monoculture and a growing political divide between young men and women. It's what you get when people are increasingly online and siloued off. The people following immaculate celebs and influencers on insta aren't the same people checking out your favorite dyke's 50th hastily taken underarm hair pic.

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marley-manson · 7 months

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Hawkeye and Frank are the two most diametrically opposed characters on Mash. They clash politically, ideologically, emotionally, intellectually, and even physically on more than one occasion. There is virtually nothing they agree on. But they do have one significant similarity: both Hawkeye and Frank are notably, pointedly effeminate.

Hawkeye is the central protagonist, so he's written to be likeable, even admirable, especially in the first five seasons of the show when satire dominated rather than character drama. He's the character who makes the correct political points and voices the show's ideology, and male audience members are encouraged to identify with him and aspire to be like him. He's witty, he's smart, he's charismatic, he dodges consequences a lot, he's highly skilled in his work, and he has a strong personality and natural leadership qualities.

Frank is the main antagonist up until the end of season five. He's written for audiences to hate him, mock him, and occasionally be horrified by him. He's dull-witted, incompetent, awkward, easily led and manipulated, and always gets his comeuppance. Few audience members are likely to aspire to be more like Frank Burns.

And yet, while most likeable protagonist/detestable antagonist duos in American popular media would also be differentiated in terms of gender performance as a matter of course - the effeminate villain being a standard stock character, always set against a ruggedly masculine hero - Mash takes a different approach.

From his core personality as a sniveling, weak-willed follower, to the way other characters, including Hawkeye, routinely make fun of him by comparing him to a woman or insinuating that he's gay, Frank Burns certainly fits the part of weak, emasculated villain. What's more interesting, and much less commonly seen in Hollywood media, is that Hawkeye is portrayed as just as unmanly, and just as, if not more prone to having it pointed out in the show.

Often Hawkeye's jokes at Frank's expense include the implication that Hawkeye is attracted to him himself, and not necessarily as "the man." He jokes, "Guess it's a marriage, Frank. I know I can do better, but at my age, can I wait?" in Hawkeye, Get Your Gun; he switches from calling Frank one of his vampire brides to taking the feminine part in post-coital pillow talk after siphoning his blood in Germ Warfare; he kisses or tells Frank to kiss him in Major Fred C. Dobbs, For the Good of the Outfit, and Bulletin Board, etc.

Other times, the jokes Hawkeye makes about himself are virtually identical to the jokes made at Frank's expense - their respective attractions to Margaret as a potentially dominant sexual partner, eg, with both Frank and Hawkeye portrayed as eagerly submissive. For instance, in 5 O'Clock Charlie Hawkeye jokes about tying Frank to Margaret's tent, then dismisses the thought with, "He'd probably love it. I know I would." And Hawkeye/Trapper and Frank/Margaret are sometimes paralleled as dual couples, Hawkeye and Frank usually being framed as the more feminine partner in each.

And of course, unconnected to Frank, there are many, many more examples of Hawkeye's effeminacy, both in jokes and in personality traits.

Hawkeye is a self-professed coward who is loud and proud about how terrified he is to be stuck in a war zone. He's emotionally open and highly empathetic, always willing to listen to others' problems and discuss (or scream about) his own. He abhors institutional violence and faces every enemy combatant with his hands firmly in the air. When authority is thrust upon him he strives to relinquish it, and uses it as little as possible.

More shallowly, he has little interest in sports and exercise, derides masculine hobby magazines like Field and Stream and Popular Mechanics, is incapable of performing mechanical tasks to the exasperation of others at least four times (Comrades in Arms which explicitly frames this emasculating, In Love and War, Patent 4077, and Hey, Look Me Over), mocks traditional masculinity in many ways, and enjoys musical theatre and Hollywood gossip. And he makes and takes literally hundreds of jokes about being unmanly and having sex with men himself, many more than he makes at Frank's expense.

But while the jokes are at Frank's expense and meant to belittle him, they're rarely made at Hawkeye's expense, especially in the first five seasons. Hawkeye doesn't make the jokes out of self-deprecation, he makes them out of pride and a desire to differentiate himself from the army men he's surrounded by. He's almost always in on the jokes others make about him, rather than offended - Potter telling him to file a paternity suit against his rival in Hepatitis makes him laugh delightedly, and Trapper's remarks on his effeminacy, such as Miz Hawkeye in Hot Lips and Empty Arms, are sometimes lightly teasing but always a regular aspect of their dynamic that Hawkeye enjoys playing up. Frank doesn't make any jokes directly mocking Hawkeye's masculinity that I can recall, beyond vague "pervert" and "degenerate" remarks, which, while often historically homophobic, in the show's context tend to be treated as a reference to his heterosexual endeavours.

Frank's effeminacy is a point of mockery and derision, but Hawkeye's is a point of pride, and not intended to make him any less likeable to an audience. Antagonists don't get to score points off of Hawkeye by mocking his feminine traits, but Hawkeye makes fun of Frank regularly by mocking his feminine traits.

This difference in framing can partially be explained by the nature of their respective gender performances.

While Hawkeye and Frank are both effeminate, they're effeminate in many opposite ways. Frank is weak-willed while Hawkeye is strong-willed. Frank is unappealing to most women, while Hawkeye is something of a lady's man. Frank cannot face his fears to rise to a challenge, but Hawkeye can. But on the flipside, Frank refuses to admit to fear while Hawkeye openly proclaims it. Frank strives to attain authority while Hawkeye refuses it or takes it on only begrudgingly. Frank is obsessed with guns to a freudian extent while one of Hawkeye's most famous monologues of the show is a speech about refusing to carry one. Frank worships the concept of traditional masculinity even while he can't perform it himself, while Hawkeye mocks the concept and would refuse to perform it even if he could.

The Sniper is an excellent case study of these contrasts. In this episode, Hawkeye is effeminate and at ease with it, while Frank is desperate to prove himself masculine. Frank and Margaret flirt with strong Freudian overtones while Frank shoots a gun while nearby Hawkeye flirts with with a nurse with a line about "tasting" her. Hawkeye connects with the nurse he's wooing by relating to how scared she is and huddling in fear with her, while Margaret demands that Frank prove his masculinity by going out and taking down the sniper himself. Frank carries a gun while trying to approach the sniper, while Hawkeye carries a white flag. Frank tries to make fun of Hawkeye for wanting to surrender, but he can't bring himself to approach the sniper while Hawkeye does.

This contrast of gender performance is a consistent aspect of Hawkeye and Frank's dynamic throughout the show, but The Sniper makes it a central theme so it's a useful example to show how their relationships to masculinity are a deliberate aspect of their dynamic.

And while Hawkeye makes fun of Frank's femininity, it's significant that he also regularly makes fun of Frank's masculinity - his love of guns (eg The Sniper), his sexual affairs (eg the exchange about Frank as a "fantastic performer" in Yankee Doodle Doctor), his numerous attempts to exert authority (eg Welcome to Korea), his desire for socially approved success (eg Hot Lips and Empty Arms), etc.

Both masculine and feminine sides of Frank are comprised of negative character traits, while Hawkeye embodies the best of both - emotional expression and healthy ways of coping by talking about his feelings; bravery but not machismo; intelligence and skill as a doctor rather than an officer; empathy and a willingness to listen; sexual prowess but largely through his love of foreplay rather than his dick game (which, in the context of the early 70s, is a somewhat feminine attribute that distinguishes him from a typical traditionally masculine man); etc.

Hawkeye demonstrates some of the most appealing and healthy qualities of both masculinity and femininity while Frank demonstrates, or strives to demonstrate, the more toxic qualities of both. Through including a few positive masculine traits in the mix, the narrative is able to depict Hawkeye as likeable, admirable, and desirable in his effeminacy while Frank is depicted as loathesome in his. Hawkeye gets one of many, many women in The Sniper by showing vulnerability, while Frank only appeals to Margaret, and Margaret is portrayed as borderline pathological in her sexual attraction to violent masculinity (the scene where Frank excites her with his gun, for example, also includes an electra complex joke, and there's a running rape kink gag in this episode as well).

Another aspect to consider when it comes to differentiating Hawkeye and Frank's respective femininities is hypocrisy. Similar to how Frank and Margaret's affair is mocked because they can't admit to it while Hawkeye and Trapper's affairs are glorified, part of what makes Frank's effeminacy so mock-worthy, while Hawkeye's feminine qualities are a source of pride and rebellion, is that Frank refuses to admit to them.

Frank desperately wants to be the ideal heroic army man and often play-acts the part, poorly. When Hawkeye mocks him by calling him a woman, for example, he's drawing attention to Frank's failure to live up to his own ideals. And when Hawkeye calls himself a woman, he's mocking those same ideals. The message is that Frank is pathetic not so much for failing to be traditionally masculine, but for wanting to be traditionally masculine at all.

Ultimately the ways Hawkeye and Frank perform masculinity and femininity are pointedly in opposition, from which masc and fem traits they embody, to how proudly they embody them. The show itself draws attention to these gendered similarities and differences between Frank and Hawkeye through a constant barrage of jokes, and even whole scenes and episodes. In this way the show portrays Frank as a hypocritical loser who wants to be masculine but fails to embody all but the worst traits, and Hawkeye as a cool, admirable guy who disdains the traditional pillars of masculinity and embraces his own effeminacy.

#mash #marley on mash #mash gen #mash gs #frank mash #hawkeye mash #since you guys liked that trapper gender meta a lot more than i thought you would here have another one #though this is written a little less formally lol #i have more examples of whole scenes that make these comparisons than just the sniper but i'm trying to keep this from being #even longer than it already is #but eg white gold is another good example wrt how they relate to flagg; yankee doodle doctor; army navy game; george; the gun; etc etc #(also it's interesting that when frank leaves hawkeye gets the pathetic loser portrayal more often... though i think that's a coincidence #the shift from early to late mash could be yet another essay on mash and gender lol)#long post

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chaos-of-the-abyss · 9 months

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akio and the coffin

it’s fascinating how akio both literally IS the coffin of ohtori academy and, simultaneously, is trapped by it. ohtori academy is in many ways a manifestation of the ugly side of adolescence, of clinging on to something in your past and refusing to move forward in your life. every character has something they continue to hold on to despite the fact that they ought to let it go for the sake of growing and maturing. for example, saionji has his inferiority complex regarding touga, his refusal to let go of the simplicity of their childhood together when he felt that they stood on the same ground, and that touga saw him as an equal. everything he does in the series is an attempt to make himself feel as though he is finally on equal grounds with touga. if he would only stop tying his self-image to the perception that touga is somehow above him, that touga looks down on him, then he would be able to let go of that sense of inferiority and move on. but he can’t. juri refuses to let go of the pain she feels regarding her past with shiori, and continues to see shiori as someone who is “innocent”, albeit cruelly - someone who is unknowing of the pain she causes juri through her actions when in fact, shiori in seducing the boy she thought juri loved was deliberately acting to hurt her. if juri would only realize and accept the true intentions behind shiori’s behavior, then she could get one step closer to understanding shiori, to being understood by her, and moving past the pain of shiori’s betrayal. but she can’t.

most of the characters, except utena and anthy of course, remain in ohtori by the end of the show. while they’ve all made progress in “maturing” thanks to the events they experienced throughout the series - both saionji and touga’s as well as juri and shiori’s relationships have gotten visibly better, as shown in the final medley of scenes - they still have more growing to do, hence why they remain in ohtori academy until their time comes. one day, the show suggests, they might also revolutionize their own worlds - their own selves - and finally leave the coffin of ohtori behind as well.

so where does that leave akio? i think he can be said to literally be the coffin of ohtori in that he is explicitly shown to try to manipulate others into remaining stagnant, to clinging on to whatever toxic things they are struggling to process and come to terms with, though this is of course only shown via the characters he most directly interacts with. naturally it comes across most clearly with anthy, although i think utena and to a less direct extent, touga, are the other two people who are the most straightforwardly influenced by him. when it comes to anthy, she clings to her love for the person her brother used to be, the older brother who, at least as she perceived, was kind and caring and wanted to protect people. to protect that older brother, she willingly took on the hatred of the world, and continues to endure the pain of it to this day for what is implied to be centuries. but akio has shown time and time again, through the repeating dueling cycles, that if he was ever kindhearted and genuinely caring, those parts of him are gone now. i do believe he cares about anthy to an extent even now, but whatever affection he has for her is paltry in comparison to his desire to reclaim his power as prince dios. it’s for that purpose that he set up the entire dueling system, for which he freely allows duelists to treat anthy like a prize and an object. and additionally, because anthy is so integral to the power he has now in ohtori, he uses emotional, psychological, physical, and sexual abuse to keep her tied to him. he’s willing to not just let her wellbeing come last, but puts it at the bottom of the list of priorities, and actively tears it down himself for his own benefit. anthy knows all this - but because she still holds onto that love that she had for who he used to be, she stays with him and does his bidding. and that’s what akio wants. he is the coffin, wishing to keep people in their states of despair, conflict, and pain, therefore ensuring that they are compliant and vulnerable to his manipulation.

at the same time, akio is trapped by the coffin like everyone else. he, like all the other characters, has something that he ought to move on from for his own sake as well as the sake of the people around him: his goal to reclaim his powers as prince dios. akio has failed in this goal every single dueling cycle that happened before the show’s events, and as displayed in the final episode, he definitively fails the one that takes place during the show as well. he can attempt the cycle over and over and over again, redo and tweak and modify the dueling system however many times and in whatever ways he wants - it’s all useless. there is no sword that can break open the rose gate. there is no way to reclaim his powers. they’re gone, that part of his life is over, and if he accepted that fact, it would allow him to move on and heal from what he experienced. but he can’t. at the very end of the series, right before anthy leaves ohtori for good, he’s typing away just as diligently as he ever did and, completely oblivious, tells anthy that he’s rewriting the rules of the rose crest, that he’ll be counting on her again. and i didn’t pick up on this until rewatching the episode, but it really just hits you then how utterly stupid he looks, working so hard and speaking so confidently about the upcoming dueling cycles as if any of them are ever going to matter in the slightest. i love anthy’s response to him too; i love the subtle but at the same time so blatant scorn in her words: “you really don’t know what’s happened, do you?” because once again, throughout all this, akio has learned nothing. he hasn’t realized it’s useless, what he’s trying to do; he hasn’t realized all the effort and pain and anguish he’ll cause in people for yet another dueling cycle will never make any difference. he is unable to come to terms with the reality that he will never have his powers as prince dios back. he refuses to move on.

akio is the coffin of ohtori, wanting to keep others in stagnation and regret. he’s also trapped by the coffin, incapable of maturing past his own stagnation and regret. and it really, really says something that all of the other major characters of the show, who have been in ohtori for far shorter a time than he has, have been able to make visible strides in their growth. anthy, who is the only one comparable to akio in terms of duration at ohtori, revolutionizes her world and leaves. meanwhile akio, as deluded and self-unaware as he is, hasn’t made a single step of progress in all this time. the only thing he does is call in bewildered desperation after anthy as she finally leaves him behind, still totally clueless as to what has happened.

tldr; i once saw an author say one of her characters represents inertia, in fact he is inertia. i think that’s a spot-on explanation of akio, at least in terms of what he symbolizes in the story. i want to beat him in the dick with a cactus

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messiahzzz · 8 months

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Grooming also doesn't have to involve sex. So even if people think his relationship with Mystra was appropriate, you still can't deny he wasn't groomed to be great. The guy caught Elminster's attention at eight years old ffs. There's no way around it.

that’s the thing. it doesn’t matter at what exact point their relationship became sexual, it doesn’t matter whether gale was of age at this point in time or not. grooming is a process, it’s pure manipulation that sets the groundwork to ensure that this person will be fully accessible (in whatever way the abuser desires, usually sexual) at a later point. children can be groomed, teenagers can be groomed and adults can be groomed as well - age is no factor in this regard. children are merely common victims due to being more impressionable. it’s essentially about creating a power imbalance that the abuser exploits for their own gratification.

the discussion about where to fit gale’s relationship with mystra in terms of her death & the overall timeline (while fun to theorize over) is redundant imo, since larian has been known to play pretty loose with the lore themselves. there are already so many inconsistencies.

so, the information we have regarding mystra’s relationship with gale are these snippets:

mystra first functioned as his mentor, then his muse, and later his lover.

gale’s relationship with her was indeed of a sexual nature, he has explicitly stated so several times.

elminster sought him out when he was but 8 years old, as stated in the epilogue letter.

during the ending where gale fails to ascend raphael states during the credits that tav has “rekindled gale’s ambitions after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest”

if you do want to consider d&d lore, it also tells us that mystra possesses a degree of foresight. (my friend @galedekarios already wrote a very thorough meta on the general subject.)

elminster’s letter pretty much confirms any suspicions we might have had earlier. after all, what reason is there for elminster, one of mystra’s chosen, to seek out gale specifically? how was he aware of gale in the first place? what personal incentive could he possibly have that isn’t tied to mystra in some way? why gale specifically when there are likely many young wizards with a potential for greatness that he could take under his wing? claiming that “it wasn’t mystra who sought him out, but elminster” feels like a rather naive and shortsighted read on the situation imo. we know that mystra was gale’s mentor and that she eventually made him her chosen. it isn’t hard to connect the dots.

summed up: we do know that mystra had her sight set on gale when he was an 8-year-old boy, possibly even earlier than that. the intention was already there and we know that their relationship underwent the transitions of teacher, muse, and then lover.

gale has been inevitably shaped by her grooming (just like any victim) to be devoted, to be compliant, to be loyal, to not question. many of his behaviors and beliefs are a direct result of said manipulation and abuse. gale himself is only starting to comprehend the possibility that he might actually be a victim once the tadpole crew comes into his life. and, like i said in my previous post, has barely scratched the surface of the damage that was done.

#sorry went on a lil tangent there #i just feel really strongly about this topic #grooming cw #abuse cw #mystra cw #bg3 #gale dekarios #asks #it speaks

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neesieiumz · 1 year

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| ֍ ⸻ 𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚 ⳼ 𝙯𝙚𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙧

「 synopsis 」 ⸻ zeke yeager is a good person, said no one ever

「 warnings 」 ⸻ 18+. minors do not interact. infidelity. lawyer!zeke. trophy-wife!reader. fem!reader. afab!reader black-coded!reader. reader comes from old money, has a wealthy family and has a huge inheritance. that's basically the whole reason why her husband married her. reader's husband is an OC named Michail Palakos. he's also very condescending to you. mainly Zeke's pov, but there is a transition from zeke's pov to your own but it isn't explicitly said. manipulation on zeke's end. pwp. cunnilingus. fingering. missionary. couch sex. bathroom sex. zeke wraps his hand around your throat but he doesn't choke you. hair pulling. degradation. he calls you a slut as well. multiple scenes and transitions, with dividers. zeke bends you over your bathroom sink. zeke had a plan and he finally got his platform.

「 writer's notes 」 ⸻ this is so late 💀💀💀, I was so lazy with getting this out. I did an exercise for myself to come up with fic ideas and this one and the professor!shunsui idea are the ones that stuck with me. it was originally named dianthus but it thought vespertine was a better fitting name for it. after I finish eren's part in gold rush and the next chapter of basorexia, that shunsui idea is definitely the next one

「 word count 」 ⸻ 6.7k.

Zeke Jaeger believes he’s a good person.

As he sat around the small ballroom, overly bored out of his mind as he swirled around a glass of brown liqueur. The suit he wore was a tad bit too tight around his neck, and the bright lights were giving him a slight migraine. He let out an internal sigh, before laughing along to another joke one of the many old geezers sitting at his table let out. One of the many parts of his job he hates, pandering and pampering people who held the key to everything he needed and desired for the real parts of the job that he loved. The smile he wore was pretentious in nature as his eyes began to drift across the room. Lifting his hand, he took a long sip of his drink, before his eyes landed across the room.

The lights reflected and shimmered against gold glitter, etched into the main hem of the skirt. His eyes moved up, seeing your beautiful braids trail down your back oh-so beautifully. His heart twisted as they landed on your wide smile. You held a drink in your hand, a champagne flute as Zeke’s eyes darted towards the hand wrapped around her waist. The man holding her close held a pretentious smirk, as he flaunted his wife off like a trophy, which to be fair, is exactly what she was meant to be. Her beautiful skin shined in the room, it was obvious she was meant to be looked at.

Zeke took the last sip of his drink, before standing up, excusing himself from the conversation of which he had no idea the main subject of. He pushed past other tables, smiling, waving, and nodding at those who acknowledged him before making his way across the room. He gently excused himself past people deep in their own conversations. His partner saw him approach first, eyes lighting up slightly as he basically shoved past you to get to him, hand reaching out towards them.

Zeke let off a smirk, before reaching out before pulling him into a handshake converted into a side hug. The person the two of you were talking to quickly gave Zeke a small greeting, before walking off to refill his drink. You smiled at Zeke, much softer and felt more real than the other smile you were once adorning. Hold your arms open, and you pull him for a hug which he reciprocates, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. Your grip on him slightly together for a moment before fully releasing, taking a step back. In doing so, your husband wrapped his arm back around your waist.

“I thought you found these kinds of parties to be pretentious, Zeke?” His co-worker, Michail Palakos, spoke first.

Zeke shrugged his shoulders, shoving his free hand into his pocket, “just reaching my monthly quota with the big bosses.”

You let off a giggle this time, covering your plump lips with your hand. The sound was sweet in his ears, it twisted his heart just a little. He wondered what other sound he could hear from you? What else could you show him?

“I feel you on that, these types of things can be so exhausting,” Michail spoke, suddenly grabbing the flute of your handi and basically downing the rest before gagging, giving you the empty glass.

“Ugh, I don't know how you women can drink things like that,” he complained, taking a step away from you.

Zeke saw the way your statute deflated, hands clasping and coming up in front of you, stopping your fidgeting hands. He shook his head slightly, humming a little before lifting his glass, and taking another sip only to taste cold water. He blinked, before looking down at his glass, nothing but melting ice in there. Michail noticed his empty glass before turning towards you.

“Be a dear and get us some more drinks, preferably something actually enjoyable.” he said before fully turning away from you, facing Zeke.

Zeke glanced over at you as your mood only dampened, before turning away, and walking towards the open bar on the other side of the room. His eyes didn't leave you as you reached the bar until the man beside him spoke up.

“This latest case has got me stressed, you?”

Zeke shrugged his shoulders, swirling his empty cup, “I’ve finished my parts in it, if you need help with yours, it’s not a problem.”

Michail let out a laugh, sarcastic in nature, hand popping out, slapping Zeke on the back. Zeke felt a level of disgust run through him as the man acted as if they were close friends. He only dealt with it, as he couldn't do much else within the firm. Heels clicking again the porcelain floors brought his attention back as he turned, seeing you walking back to them with two identical drinks in hand. You smelled of a luxurious vacation, of sweet honeyed neroli oil and sugared coconuts. It was intoxicating, you were intoxicating. You handed the two of them the drinks, smiling over at Zeke before moving to stand beside your husband. Michail took a sip of the drink, humming and shrugging his shoulders.

“Least you can get one thing right,” he mumbled before taking another sip.

You let out a nearly slight sigh, straightening up your figure before looking at Zeke, a smile appearing back on your face.

“So back to this case, Zeke,” Michail started, but Zeke shook his head.

“Rather not talk about working during things like this, just wanted to come over and check in with you. We’ll talk tomorrow,” He said, taking a sip of the drink you brought over.

Michail’s eyebrows quivered but still nodded in Zeke’s direction. Zeke began to turn away from him, but not before he reached out towards you, taking one of your hands, before placing a soft kiss on it. He could feel your hand tensing within his hold, glancing up at you, seeing your eyes soften at his gesture. With that, he bidded the two of you good night before walking off towards the exit. He finished his drink, handing it off to the servers ambling around the room, before escaping into the night.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

He could only roll his eyes at the way Michail flipped his phone upside down after swiping at it for the fifth time within the last 45 minutes. It was quite obvious who was calling him, as it was etching into 9 o’clock at night. It was the two of them and some other associates, preparing for a big case. Zeke looked at him along with the other people in the room, all wondering the same thing.

“You should probably answer it, if it’s important?” One of the younger associates called out.

Michail only rolled his eyes, “it’s just the wife, wondering why I’m not home yet. Something about a dinner party tonight? I don’t fucking know…” he trailed off, mumbling at the last part.

Zeke blinked, mind thinking back to you, the constant point on your face he would see you with. His thoughts only broke when the sounds of vibrations were heard throughout the room. Everyone gleaned down at Michail’s phone once again, before looking over at his face, flushed with annoyance. He picked up his phone once again, before suddenly standing up, his chair nearly flying back.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled before stepping out of the room.

The atmosphere was slightly tense but everyone mainly focused on getting back to their work. Zeke was flipping through a huge packet, highlighting important information before the door flew back open. Everyone looked back up only to see Michail enter back into the room, hands in both of his pockets as he sat down, before focusing back on the piles of papers in front of him. Zeke looked at him for a few more moments, before rolling his eyes once more, focusing back on his work. He knew Michail wouldn't bother to actually go home to you.

Three hours rolled by and everything was set, most of everyone had already gone home as it was etching onto eleven o’clock. It was only Zeke and Michail left, with Zeke soon reaching the last part of his work. Just as he finished dotting the last sentence of his notes, he heard a loud yawn as well as the creak of the desk chair before glancing over to his right and seeing Michail stand up. As the man packed up his papers, he glanced down at the watch on his wrist.

“She should be asleep by now,” he mumbled under his breath, placing his laptop and papers in his bag.

Zeke said nothing, watching him sling the bag over his shoulders. Michail looked over at Zeke and gave a one-handed wave before heading off into the night. Zeke could only sigh, placing his pen down as he tried his best to relax his mind. As he did so, his mind began to pump fantasies of you asleep on the bed. What would you be wearing? A dainty little nightgown, riding up your beautiful dark thighs, or would you wear nothing at all? Zeke groaned, through his hand back as he began to palm his growing hard-on. He could see himself towering over you, drunk off of your sleeping presence. He imagined himself, grabbing at your legs, peeling them back, spreading them wide open.

He let out a groan as he envisioned your eyes fluttering open just as he sunk himself into you, stretching you out like so. Your melodious voice crying out to him, begging him for more, your hands digging marks into his arms as he pummeled into you. Fantasy upon fantasy amassing within him, Zeke could only let out gasp-like groans, throwing his head back as his seed spilled out, bleeding through his khaki-colored pants. Breathing heavily, moving his head back down, he could only let out a sound of slight disgust as he looked down at his stained pants. He stood up and began to pack up his own work, before heading towards his office for a change of clothes. As he pulled off the stained pants, his mind wandered back to the events that had just happened, how his reveries had overflown at that moment.

And how he has finally made his decision.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

Zeke stood up straight as he rang the doorbell, before taking a step back. It was mid-day, and it was one of the few days Zeke decided to take. He tucked his hands in his pockets after glancing over at his watch. He heard noises getting closer before the sound of the deadbolt clicking, and the intricate door slowly opening. He found himself facing an unknown figure, one glance at her outfit and she was obviously someone who had worked for you and your husband.

“Yes, may I help you?” She asked him.

He cleared his throat, but just before he could speak, another voice cut through. He glanced up as your form peeped behind the maid.

“Riza, who’s at the door?”

Your eyes landed on his, almost immediately lighting up, “Zeke! What a surprise, come in!”

Once you said that, the maid stepped back, nodding slightly towards you before scurrying along into the house. Zeke took a few steps into the house, taking in the vaguely familiar surroundings. The last time he had been in here was when Michail had hosted his housewarming when he arrived at the firm three years ago, that's when the two of you had first met. All that time had passed by between you two and yet, it was his second time stepping into the three-story luxury mansion.

His eyes locked onto your form, seeing your hips sway as you led him past the anteroom, towards a more casually designed, yet still obviously opulent living room. You wore a two-piece silk lounge outfit, the hems of the arms and legs fitted with tulle ruffles. Your hair was wrapped in a silk scarf, it was obvious you weren’t expecting company today. You gestured for him to sit, taking the seat two cushions down from him before looking over at the maid standing close to you. You told her to bring some snacks, as well as any bottle of wine that would pair well. Zeke tried to interject, but you were already sending her off. You were vague with your instructions, he noted, you must have trusted this maid very well.

Riza, the maid, nodded before scurrying along, most likely headed to the kitchen to prepare what you have asked for. Once she was gone, it was just the two of you, and it strained Zeke to keep his eyes right on your face as you gave him a soft smile.

“This really was a surprise, I haven’t seen you in here since… well since we actually moved in. I always see you at Michail’s work events and such… but never here. What brings you by? Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” You ended your spiel with a question.

Zeke hummed, shrugging his shoulders a bit before leaning back against the back of the couch, “took the day off, my parents actually live around here, and was visiting them when I passed by your place. Thought I should stop by.” He lied through his teeth, his parents preferred to come and visit him at his penthouse than for him to come by.

You hummed, eyes widening slightly, “From what I heard, you barely take any days off. It’s good to go and see them though. I’m sure they’ve missed you,” you smiled at yourself, turning your body slightly to face him.

Before he could respond, footsteps interrupted you, the two of you glancing over at the same time, seeing Riza enter with a tray of snacks, along with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Whilst you were looking away, Zeke's eyes looked towards you, trailing down to your exposed cleavage, the thin, shimmer-like fabric pressing up against your breasts.

The sound of glass clinking against glass broke Zeke out of a trance, giving him just enough to look away. Towards the maid placing the tray on the table in front of them. You turned yourself once again, facing forward, thanking Riza as she tableed everything, before taking the tray with her as she took her leave. He reached over, immediately grabbing the bottle of wine, before taking a closer look at it. With one twist, he easily broke the seal, before grabbing the corkscrew, and fully opening it up. He poured out the red-purple alcohol, seeing you reach over for a glass.

“Should we be drinking wine this early in the day?” he asked, placing the bottle down on the table.

You grabbed a glass, raising it up slightly before winking, “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.” you grinned, before taking a sip.

Zeke let off a downturned smile before grabbing his own glass and taking a long sip as well.

The two of you carried conversations well into the day, sharing the bottle of wine between the two of you. He barely took any of the snacks, keeping his focus mainly on you as you partake in them.

“So how is Michail at work, he barely talks to me about his day,” you mentioned, bringing your newly-filled glass to your lips.

He took in the slight change of mood within you, the once joyous light in your eye, dimming down to a more mirthless one. Zeke hummed, lifting his foot to rest up against the knee of his other leg.

“He’s… hard-working, but very friendly to the staff, they enjoy his presence more than me.” He took on a humorous tone but kept his eye on you as your body deflated just a bit more.

“Really…? Friendly how?”

Zeke pondered for a minute before shrugging his shoulders, “just talking to people a lot, sometimes about work but most of the time he’s not. A lot of friendly touches, especially with that new assistant of his.”

Your eyebrows quirked up, “assistant?”

“Yeah, assistant? He didn’t tell you about that?”

You shook your head, sighing before taking another long sip of your fermented alcohol, “he doesn’t tell me anything, least not anymore… most days he just comes home and doesn't say a word to me.”

You mumbled out the next part, most likely thinking that Zeke wouldn't hear you, but he heard you loud and clear.

“Doubt he’s even noticed I don’t sleep in the same bedroom with him anymore.”

Zeke said nothing but locked that into the back of his mind, another piece of the complex puzzle of your and Michail’s marriage. Zeke shifted the conversation away from you and Michail, bringing back your joyous mood. You continued talking until the sun went down, and soon after the two of you personally exchanged numbers. You stood by the door, waving him off as he got into his car, driving off and away from the large house.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

You were lonely.

Zeke could tell this from the way the two of you constantly talked. You grew up in a cold home of cold cash and empty mansions, which is how he could guess you were used to your own husband’s condescension and cold attitude. You were used to faking smiles and pretending to be interested in things that had no merit in your life. However, Zeke could tell, from the way you constantly messaged him, to always inviting him over whilst your husband was away. You craved companionship, for a long time you ached for someone to be interested in you and not the check attached to you from your parents. You came from old money, with a huge trust fund as well as stocks in your family's multiple companies. You served on the board of the main enterprise, led by your brother as your parents had retired after you had gotten married.

You hadn’t spoken to them in two months apparently, as there was nothing to really talk about. You were closer to your younger sister, as she went to the luxury private college in the city. You were like a fountain, spilling all of your life for Zeke to listen to, and he took it all in. Your phone calls lasted all the way through his lunch period and sometimes he would be on the phone with you while he was working, by himself of course. Before you knew it, three months had passed, and Zeke was a more constant thread in your life than your own husband.

Zeke couldn’t lie, something within him jumped every time you sent him a message, but his goal was still high in his head. This was why he stood in his expensive penthouse, in his recently cleaned kitchen as he gleaned over at his dinner table, two silver dorms covering the dinner he had just prepared. He had invited you over for dinner, just the two of you. Just as he buttoned the last of the cufflinks, a loud ring echoed through the home. He took one good look at himself before walking over to the door, twisting the deadbolt, and unlocking the door knob before swinging the door wide open. You stood there, a smile on your face, one hand at your side, the other holding the strap of the orange clutch you brought with you.

Your braids were pulled back into a low ponytail, showing off the obvious low cleavage of your chain-strapped orange dress. Zeke smiled at you, arms reaching out before swooping you into a hug, your own smile widened as you reciprocated, giggling as you were lifted off the ground slightly. He didn’t break the hug as he pulled you into the home, turning around. The two of you soon let go of the hug, with Zeke turning sound to go and close the door. While he did that, you took the time to engage within your surroundings, seeing the environment Zeke lives in.

“Oh wow, your home looks amazing,” you said, spinning around to take in everything.

“Thank you,” he spoke back, coming up behind you, placing a hand at the small of your back before gently guiding you towards the slightly decorated table over by the window wall.

He stopped right at the table, before stepping away, pulling out your seat before gesturing for you to sit. You thanked him, placing off your clutch before placing it right on the table and sliding right into the seat. You gasped as he stood right behind you, body heat radiating off of him as he pushed your chair in with ease. You kept your eyes on him as he walked around the table, taking a seat right in front of you. He lifted the domes off the plates, seeing your eyes light up at dinner. You had off-handly mentioned smothered lamb chops and mashed potatoes as your favorite meal your old housekeeper used to make while you were growing up. Zeke knew it wasn’t going to be the same but just having the same dish was enough for you.

You had thanked him for the dinner before y'all began to eat. The two of you ate with little words, as you were both raised in households that valued quietness during dinner. Once finished, you had moved from the table to the living room, holding another glass of red wine that you had paired with the dinner as he moved the bottle to the living room.

“I just…” you started, reminiscing on the journey you and your husband have taken, “I wish I made more of my life… rather than constantly relying on the connections my parents made for me. Maybe, I’d be strong enough to leave him.”

You had kicked off your heels at this point, toes covered in the skin-colored pantyhose you wore underneath your dress. You had rested your legs on the couch, bent and tucked away as you took another sip of your glass. Your dress had risen up, past your knees, but still covering up everything.

“Connections?” Zeke questioned.

You nodded your head, “yeah, his parents were close with mine, and he was the only boy around my age that my parents approved of. Only for me to be stuck in a loveless marriage, all for money.”

Zeke’s hand reached out, placing it right on your knee. Your body slightly jolted from the sudden contact, the feeling electrified like static electricity. His rough hand moved up and down, caressing you. Your heart sped up just a bit, but you couldn’t stop him, or rather, you didn’t want to stop him. His touch was warm, a contrast to everything else in your life. You said nothing as he scooted closer to you, his other hand coming up and pulling you close to him.

“I’ve tried my best to make it work, but he’s made it quite clear that the check my parents send every month is much more important than him,” you said, taking another sip of your wine.

Your mind flashed to your wedding, everything was perfect, and you believed your life would be perfect. You believed he loved you, he made you believe he loved you, but his love was really money, it was an almighty consumer of his life. It wasn’t enough, not enough in his professional life, not enough in his personal life. Cold hard cash was he visioned for, and he’ll do anything to get it., even if it means throwing away the warmth of his wife.

“You deserve more than a man that sees you as his next paycheck,” he said, leaning his head down towards your ear.

Zeke’s hand rubbed up and down on your arm, the warmth relaxing you, and before you knew it, you were laying your head on his shoulder. The negative thoughts about your failing marriage soon began to break away as thoughts of the man beside you began a subtle influx in your mind. Zeke smelled of blackened teakwood and a subtle sense of mahogany and lavender. His scent had you relaxing in his hold, it was the opposite of your husband, who usually smelled of spiced whiskey, from his cologne or his collection of alcohol. You couldn’t help but snuggle further into him, as lines were beginning to blur. You knew this was treading about muddy waters, but you couldn't find it within you to care. The hand resting on your thigh began to creep up, your breathing hitching just a little as your heart began to race. The hand that had once been resting on your upper arm and shoulder left for a moment, before feeling his large hands wrapped around your own, easing the half-full glass of wine off your hand before reaching down and placing it on the table.

“Lemme take care of you,” he whispered to you.

That diminutive ache that had been building within you the moment you laid eyes upon Zeke opened the door for you. This was wrong, you knew this was wrong, you thought to yourself once again as Zeke’s hand joined his other, each right on your inner thigh, massaging deep circles into the skin.

“Zeke,” you let out a gasp-like breath, hips moving and grinding against nothing.

The thong you wore underneath the dress was drenched, head thrown back in growing ecstasy. With ease, he lifted you up into his lap, trembling as you felt his hardon poking through his slacks.

“Zeke…” you let out again, tongue unable to say anything else as his fingers dipped underneath your dress.

This was wrong, this was wrong, this was wrong. However, the care you were supposed to feel, the notion to push off your one and only friend never came. Instead, it was replaced with a growing ache, and the need for touch, his touch. His fingers curved up and around the thin string before slowly pulling the sky fabric away from your pussy. Cool air hit your wetness as his fingers rubbed up and down between your slits, gathering your juices up.

“This is wrong… I shouldn’t do this…” you finally spoke up, but your hands didn’t move as he slowly sunk a finger into you.

Zeke’s hums vibrated through you, “but if I don't… who will? You deserve to be spoiled, touched upon. He does not appreciate who he has… so let me.”

His words enthralled you, enamored you as he began to move his thick finger in and out within you. Your dress had ridden up to your hips and his free hand slowly pushed your legs wide open. It allowed more room for him to finger-fuck you deeper, his hand reaching and wrapping underneath your knee, lifting it up slightly. Spit drooled from your mouth as your sticky arousal coated his finger and the knuckles of his hands. You could feel his slightly abrasive beard grazing against your skin. Letting out another choked moan as Zeke bullied another finger into you. Your hips bucked, giving in to the pleasure as he twisted his long fingers inside of you.

“That’s it… let me in,” he whispered in your ears, seeing your eyes squeezed shut.

“Let me do what your husband has failed to do.”

You could feel Zeke’s mouth upturn against you as you let out a high-pitched moan, climax rising. Your abdomen slowly tightens, heat swelling, sweat dripping as you let out a final high-pitched moan. Your cunt spilled your juices excessively coating his fingers and hand as you came all over him. Your hands had dug into his shirt, finding an anchor to try and stabilize yourself. Slowly coming down from your high, you found yourself slumping against him, breathing heavily. Your eyes were heavy, barely able to keep them open, only able to feel Zeke slowly pulling his finger out of you. His other hand slowly left your thighs, allowing your legs to slump down, feeling touching the ground.

You could feel your body moving, shuffling as you slowly were laid across the couch. You could feel his now warmed hands slide right back under your dress, moving his fingers underneath the thin fabric of your thong before slowly pulling it down. Your eyes fluttered open, seeing Zeke tower over you. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his toned chest. Your hands reached up, the palms of your hand grazing over the slightly textured skin. Zeke pulled off your thong, taking the soaked underwear in his hands before pocketing it in his pockets. Your hands slide up and around his body, unable to take your eyes off of him, his hands soon reaching down to his fly. You could see his erection fighting against the seams of his pants, seeing the way he slowly unzipped his pants before unbuttoning them.

Zeke pushed his slacks and boxers down at the same time, his cock springing out of its entrapment. He pushed down his clothes to his knees before bending over, hands falling to your thighs before grabbing them, slowly pushing back, knees going as far as they could towards your ears as he spread wide open for him.

“Zeke,” you whined, as he felt the tip of his cock swipe between your lips, teasing your clit.

With no other warning, you felt pushing himself into you, letting out a sudden cry. No matter the amount of prep Zeke took, you were still so tight, more evidence of how little your husband touched you. Zeke ignored your pleas and cried for him to “slow down” and “stop.” He let out a loud groan, head thrown back as he felt your walls squeezing him around him, the only thing of yours he heard was your high-pitched moans. This was everything he envisioned and more, seeing you crying under him, begging for him, your hands gripping his bare waist. His fantasy came back in full force, god the amount of time it took to make it a reality.

Zeke glanced down at your tear-streaked face. How your braids were undone from the cleaned-up ponytail you had done for the dinner. Seeing your makeup also get ruined, seeing you get ruined whilst under his body, under his hand. Oh, he could come right here and now, he thought to himself.

He held himself back, not wanting to ruin everything and end it all so quickly. He could feel your long nail breaking his skin further, using the temporary anchor, you pulled the man closer as your slightly pained please turned into a passion-filled gasp and moans, calling and screaming out his name.

“Don’t stop, aahh,” you let out a prolonged moan, tongue drooling out of your mouth as ecstasy hit at full blast.

You were like a virgin all over again, from the way you screamed, chasing an inevitable high that you have never tasted before. You never felt like this before, even after losing your virginity to some dunce in college before getting married. Even after consummating your marriage, your husband was always weak and underwhelming, Zeke was just the opposite and it was delicious. You didn’t know what to do with yourself but fell deeper into the nirvana he has placed out for you.

You find yourself keening and drooling over the bearded man above you. An even heavier and deeper climax was building within you and once again, hitting you like a ton of bricks, you squealed.

“Coming!” Was your only warning before your body shook with complete orgasmic pleasure.

Eye rolling out the back of your head as Zeke gave off one last grunt, before leaning down fully, capturing your lips into a messy, wet kiss. You could feel the wetness of the sweat dripping down his beard but you don't care, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You could feel his seed filling you up as he kissed you, your legs unconsciously wrapping around his waist, keeping him closer,

Breathing heavily, your head slumped up against the couch, legs slowly releasing Zeke from your hold, before the two of you locked eyes, Zeke still holding you. With no other words, squealing as Zeke suddenly picked you up, before carrying you in his arms, possibly heading upstairs towards his bedroom.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

Since that day, everything has changed.

You couldn’t let go of him, no matter how much you tried. Like you even tried at all.

From Zeke having your legs spread across his kitchen countertop, to you two having a heart-racing quickie in the bathroom of a mutual work event. It was complete madness, and you loved it. It was different, it was unique, and it was oh-so-wrong. His large hands roam your body, causing vast reactions within you. He soon learned everything that made you tick.

You had changed, your relationship with your husband had changed, and your relationship with Zeke had changed. Your conversations were constantly shifting, and every time you would visit him or vice-versa, you would find his hands on you. Your texts constantly consisted of lewd wording and imagery, you found a new use for the lacey, expensive lingeries that were almost collecting dust within your dresser. Pictures, videos of the two of you, solos of you, and solos of him. It was madness… it was freedom.

Zeke was good, so much better than the few times your husband has taken you. He towered over you, and his every demand you couldn't help but fulfill. You fell deeper and deeper into ensnarement, and you truly didn't know just how far you’ll go for him. Which is what led up to this moment right here.

You had sent Riza home early, and your husband was on a “work trip.” Giving you free rein as Zeke had you bent over your bathroom sink, silk robe bunched up at your waist, revealing your wet cunt to him. Zeke wasted no time, licking and sucking away at your pussy, your juices dripping down against his beard. Your hands gripped at the counter, head bowed down as your legs trembled. He didn’t let up, his hands attached to each cheek, spreading you wide open.

“Ooooohhhh,” you mewled, body slumping against the sink as he ravaged you.

His chuckle rattled you, causing your body to jerk and jolt against his lips. He lapped and sucked away at your clit, licking up all your juices as he did so. The bathroom smelled of soft vanilla and pink lilacs, the golden-dimmed lighting providing an extra ambiance to the scene before you. Zeke devoured you like a madman, not letting up no matter how you screamed and squirmed in his hold.

“Zeke,” you cried out his name, “s’too much, fuck fuck fuck.”

He said nothing, but his actions spoke even louder as his sucking action intensified, causing you to let out a vocal choked moan, spit flying out of your mouth, and splatter against the sink counter. With a sudden jerk, your orgasm washed over you like a rapid wave, unseen and unbeknown to you. You shook violently as you lost your footing, feeling yourself slipping for just a short moment. Zeke’s hands slid up, allowing his arms to wrap around your waist, holding you completely steady as he drank your juices down. You could feel his moans and groans as he did so, providing extra overstimulation to your clit.

Inhaling deeply, catching your sled as you dropped onto the counter, feeling Zeke behind you as he fully stood up. You glanced ahead, staring at his tall figure in the mirror, before eyeing one of the glasses of wine you had brought with you. Quickly grabbing it, taking a couple sips as you felt that familiar pressure creeping and pressing inside of you. You let out an elongated hum as you swallowed the wine, your head bent back, looking at him in his eyes as one of his hands gripped the flesh on your hips. His other hand slides up your body, before wrapping around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly. He pulled you into another deep kiss, tasting the tanginess of the wine and you taste the mint of his gum.

Letting go of the kiss, you could feel his hand apply pressure as his hips slowly began to move in and out of you, your cunt squeezing around him. He easily maneuvered your body, bending you back over the sink, his hand leaving your throat before joining the other right at your waist. His pace easily picked up as you found your balance, holding onto the bathroom counter as he fucked you against it, his pace slowly picking up with every few seconds. One of his hands left your waist before easily wrapping your braids around his neck, suddenly pulling your head back with a sudden force. The pain echoed through your body, but it only pushed your pleasure to even higher heights. Your mind went hazy, your eyes swelling with your salty tears, obscuring your vision, slowly dripping down your freshly-cleaned face.

There was no reason to hold back your moans, as there was nobody home as your loud moans reverberated against the walls.

“Hmm, aww are you crying baby? Is it too much for you?” He teased you, hand leaving your hips before feeling him leave a loud smack against your deep-toned skin.

The red-hot sparks of his hand, combined with his hands still in your hair had you keened, full-on sobbing as tears and sweat dripped down your face to your neck, all the way down your body. He pulled your body all the way back up, keeping your legs spread as he let go of your hair, hand-cupping your face, squeezing your cheeks as he began pressing his lips against your face, tasting your salty tears.

“Zeke,” you pleaded as he released your face.

With no other warning, you squealed as you were suddenly hoisted into the air, Zeke’s large hands sliding right underneath your thighs. He held you up by the backs of your knees before continuing to slam hiscock into you. His sudden actions awakened something in you, letting out a sudden shout as you convulsed in his arms. Your hands scrambled, reaching for something to hold onto you as he pounded into you once again.

“Squeezing around me like that,” he murmured in your ear, his deep voice causing you to shudder.

“Open your eyes, look at yourself in the mirror.”

Slowly, you pried your eyes open as best as you could, blinking away the tears before gazing at yourself in the mirror. Your robe had come fully undone, revealing your breasts bouncing every movement Zeke made within you.

“God,” he said as he looked at how debauched you were, how in so few months he easily wrecked you from the inside out.

“Who do you belong to?” He groaned in your ear next, feeling your pussy tensing and spasming around him.

You opened your mouth but were barely able to answer as your mind succumbed to pleasure, but Zeke was having none of it. You could feel his nails dig into your skin as he spoke again.

“Answer my fucking question, slut, who do you belong to?”

“You!” you struggled to get out, but once you did, it was loud, bouncing against the walls.

He chuckled, his pace becoming sporadic in nature as he continued to speak, talking you through what would be your inevitable orgasm.

“Yeah , you belong to me? What about your little husband, huh?” he breathed out, huffing as he began to reach his own limit.

“Mmmh fuck I don’t care about him, fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna come, please, please let me come…” you sobbed out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as rock-solid pressure began to build within you.

He only smirked, “come for me.”

With that, you let out a loud cry, body jerking in his hold as convulsions took hold of you. You squirted all over the two of you, juices spread all over your inner thighs as well. With a final grunt, he followed right after you, easily pulling out of you, cum easily staining your inner thighs as well, getting on his lower abdomen as well.

As Zeke took one last look at you, seeing how to spit drooled down from your plump, wet lips, breathing heavily from the strenuous activity. Slowly he pulled you off his now-soft cock, with ideas to take you to the shower to clean you up once again.

Neither of you hears the door beginning to click open.

#zeke jeager smut #zeke yaeger x reader #zeke x reader #zeke jeager x reader #zeke jaeger #zeke aot #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #aot x black reader #aot x female reader #zeke yeager x reader #black reader smut #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot smut #attack on titan x black reader #black reader #zeke jeager x black!reader #attack on titan x female reader

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johannestevans · 5 months

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sorry i finished new episode and i'm obsessed as ever

kabru clasping hold of laios' hands is so insane. laios doesn't remember this little twink's name, all he remembers is that this guy ate monster food with him and showed a slight enthusiasm for him, which to laios is unthinkable

it's hilarious seeing kabru's fervent obsession with and manipulation of laios' feelings and priorities contrasted with laios' depths of pain and distress at shuro's rejection of him and how that was borne of shuro hiding his true feelings

obvs for shuro like. he's explicitly introduced with a level of politeness and also emotional repression that's linked not only to his cultural upbringing in the east but is obviously related to his class position, esp bc the dungeon was meant to serve as his coming of age

or to hone his experiences for a return to rule as lord - and with his proposal to falin like. it's so interesting to me that shuro finds so many of falin's traits so desirable when she and laios genuinely are so similar

falin IS extremely high-empathy whereas laios is very low-empathy, but they find pleasure and joy and intrigue in similar things, they have similar senses of humour, they're similarly inexpressive or overly expressive depending on the moment

at the end of the day like, if you're going to propose to that girl and ask her to come back to your home country and marry you despite the fact that she's so obviously a lesbian, at the very least you have to pretend to like her brother

but like. she's quite LIKE her brother. they have the same broad frame, if laios gained a bit of weight i bet he'd have a similarly luxurious bust, they're both a bit clueless. she's just a woman and laios is just a man

but yeah sorry to move on from shuro's deep and seemingly inherent distrust, nay disgust, of other men that is no doubt informed by the extent to which he's been raised wholly by legions of women vs his inclination to see other men as rivals or opponents

(worsened by the extent to which he sees laios as naive and is offset by the extent of laios' earnestness)

but here you see the EXACT SAME THING happening to laios again in REAL TIME. someone else needs to keep him on side and so they're being polite

kabru is going beyond politeness and is outright lying and manipulating because he's just a delicious bitch that way, but like. the exact same thing is happening to laios - he thinks he's making a new friend and he is LATCHING ONTO kabru just like he did to shuro

is he being intelligent or tactful about it? no. god no. he's infodumping eagerly about monster food, he's answering all of kabru's questions - and!!! kabru is asking him QUESTIONS! he's being so ENTHUSIASTIC!!! and so laios rushes to cook for this new friend, this stranger

and inwardly kabru is horrified because jesus fuck, is this guy SERIOUS? and yeah he's serious about everything, he's earnest and eager about absolutely everything, and kabru is fascinated with this new variety of man but also... fucking hell

i think it's vital that they're introduced to one another initially in this group setting, because i think marcille, who is much naturally more distrustful, would ask more questions of kabru - and falin is very trusting but also would. twig something off about everything

i die because like. falin left home because she couldn't handle people's issues with magic and also because like. she was constantly in the position, i would have no doubt, of trying to explain laios to their family and friends, whilst also being beset by spirits

like obviously she wanted to go to magic school, but it was more than that - she needed to go out and grow and become an adult, and not do so in her brother's shadow and laios went off on his own, haplessly, and they end up together again bc they take care of each other

falin is a weird girl, she likes to play in the dirt, she accidentally does all this genius stuff, she's a little clueless and a little out of it, but to marcille and shuro, this is desperately desirable - she's beautiful, she's a genius, she's so loving

they see those things in her because they shine out of her like sunshine - especially because she's not intimidating, you know? whereas laios, blundering, autistic, selfish, obsessive laios, who talks a mile a minute and is so tall and broad, people find him to be too much

idk i just. i think for falin a big difficulty she has is actually in setting boundaries - she's always rushing to take care of laios even though it's not her job, she holds back on saying no to shuro because she hates to say no

marcille touches falin ALL over, touches her hair, scrubs her clean, holds her TIT while channelling magic, and falin is overwhelmed by it and you can see it in her face, but saying no is so hard for her - no to spirits, to strangers, to her friends, to her brother

i say this because like. they really don't interact much at all in the course of the manga but i think that kabru and falin actually have so much in common, both of them haunted by ghosts and both of them fixated more than they mean to be on laios

falin because to some extent i think she feels guilty about abandoning him to go to school even though she NEEDED that, and kabru because he's just an obsessive little homo and he can't cope with his need for laios' massive dick

#musings #kabru of utaya #falin touden #dungeon meshi #laios touden #shuro dungeon meshi #long post for ts

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itsabouttimex2 · 3 months

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Monkie Kid Villain Fates

A more in-depth look (especially for Macaque) down below!

(I know I’ve been posting a lot of content that’s outside my usual, and I hope no one minds too much! I’m cleansing my palate to prep for Season Five, which I am very excited to write for. ((Especially for Li Jing and Nuwa!!!)) So here’s a slew of my thoughts on the villains, and which one is my least favorite!)

(Spoilers: his name is written in purple above.)

Disclaimer 1: I am not counting instances of “throwing your lot in with the heroes when the world is at stake” as redeeming moments. If you only do something because it personally benefits you at the moment, it’s not exactly selfless.

Disclaimer 2: Redemption means three things-

1. The character acknowledges their wrongdoings.

2. The character works to become a better person.

3. The character makes amends/reparations for the harm they’ve done, without the threat of death hanging overhead. Good must be done of one’s own will and volition.

Disclaimer 3: A character not being redeemed doesn’t make them a bad character. In fact, some characters work better without redemption. (Like the Lady Bone Demon.) I just wanted to make a villain tier list and talk on some of the people it contained.

Red Son: Decently humanizing interactions with Mei, but ultimately uncaring of all the damage and harm that he’s caused, especially in regards to potential deaths during his attacks on the city. Unfortunately, the first example of “pretty much unrepentant but universally-forgiven”. (Fix: Have him interact with people harmed by his villainy, and resolve to help them- even if only by repairing their destroyed vehicles. Something small enough to be reasonably in line with his pride and arrogance, but enough to show that he’s become a better person.)

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Macaque: The worst villain here. Utterly unrepentant and shameless, outwardly cruel and violent… but still got a “you’re not a bad guy” speech before actually showing that he wasn’t a bad guy. Despite being able to skip fights with his shadow portals, he intentionally stuck around to raze the Dragon Palace of the East Sea to the ground. (AO GUANG AND HIS PEOPLE’S STATUS ARE STILL UNKNOWN) This still hasn’t been addressed in canon, not even by Mei, who was related to those who lived there. Instead, she has a team-up with him, never addressing the still unknown fate of her uncle. Never apologizes, never makes amends, never tries to repair the damage he’s done… but allowed to stick around all the same. Where characters like Azure or LBD do what they do because they truly believe in their causes, Macaque is just having fun hurting people. Again, given his ability to shadow-portal, he doesn’t even have the “I’m trying to save my own life” excuse. He could’ve just skipped the torment and violence, but explicitly chose not to, and is always happy to inflict harm- even bragging about what he did to the Dragon Palace.

Also, I don’t give a single shit that Peng “bullied” him. It doesn’t make Macaque more sympathetic, it makes him less. He knows what it’s like to be insulted and berated for your nature, then (unhesitatingly and gleefully) does the same to MK, who may well be a child?

Yeah, no. Then, his “awesome” team-up with Mei only serves to rip agency and nuance from her character, turning this caring and energetic warrior into an amnesiac that doesn’t care about her family for the sake of “Boo-hoo, Peng hit me once to protect someone they care about!” So, Mei holds grudges, right? That would make her a more interesting character! But no! No, no, no! That’s just for Peng! Her grudge isn’t against the man who essentially attempted genocide on her people and razed an ancestral palace full of innocent people to the ground, no!

OF COURSE NOT, SILLY!!

Because then Macaque’s actions would have something called “consequences”, and the writers just won’t allow it! Because he’s just a murderous, violent, manipulative, cruel, spiteful, villain! How dare we expect any actual comeuppance for his crimes? No, we can’t have that!

Oh, and how does he help MK in the fourth season? How about he outright tells (great storytelling, btw) MK about how delusional Azure Lion is- a character with which he has no tie with beyond a tenuous past oath and no actual interactions. This moment could have easily been given to, you know, Wukong! Or Yellowtusk, if they were going the full redemption arc route for him, but no!

We have to pretend that Macaque’s input on a character he has no interactions with is important! Oh, and they let him play mentor to MK, who he has: manipulated, betrayed, violently assaulted, stole the powers of, berated, and attempted to kill.

Does MK care about any of this?

OF COURSE NOT!

But MK is absolutely furious and heartbroken at Azure for doing maybe half of those things, and with an honestly noble reason to boot.

Ugh.

I think it’s only made worse by the fact that people get so mad when there’s any criticism of Macaque “redemption arc”. Throwing actual fits and constantly arguing when someone dares to say “everyone allowing Macaque (and many other villains) to get away with the worst of his actions and not holding him accountable for being a genuinely dangerous, unrepentant and violent criminal is bad and makes the “heroic” characters around him look worse.”

And you can’t use the “well, he didn’t get a redemption arc!” The writers didn’t try to redeem him!” defense.

Because, yes. Yes they did.

We are supposed to think this guy is better now. The series wants you to think of him as redeemed.

MK leaves him handmade food and a drawing. His “you’re not a bad guy” speech is supposed to be taken as truth. Wukong is making amends with him (sharing smiles and offering food) and no one has any personal problems on the guy sticking around (which makes them all seem blander, given that at least one of his victims should be upset), which is portrayed in a positive light.

This is portrayed as good.

THE WRITERS CONSIDER MACAQUE AS DESERVING AND WORTHY OF THIS. THEY THINK HE HAS EARNED IT.

So yes- he is supposed to be “redeemed”.

But he isn’t. He really, really, isn’t.

(Fix: God, where do we start? Some remorse? An apology? Have every character not forgive him immediately? Have Mei not forget about the razing of an ancestral palace? Have Pigsy threaten to kill him if he tries to hurt MK again? Have Tang refuse to interact with him? Anything would have been nice.)

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Jin and Yin: No redemption arc at all. Essentially forgotten about by the show. They show up with the Scorpion Queen, but don’t have a satisfying send-off. It’s just a little funny scene. (Potential fix: more interactions with them as stagehands, working for the community. Why make them neutral only to shift immediately back to evil? It could’ve been nice to see them integrate into society instead of being turned evil again and written out of the story with little fanfare.)

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Demon Bull King: Same as Red Son, but without the humanizing interactions with a heroic character. Bonus points for putting his life in danger to save Wukong and MK, despite gaining nothing for doing so. Unfortunately, aside from that, another “pretty much unrepentant but universally-forgiven” character. (Potential fix: Would’ve been nice to have more positive interactions between him and Wukong. Maybe talk about how hard it is to open up and be soft when they dedicated so much of their lives to being strong? Chat about his struggles adjusting to the modern era? Have him show clear remorse for mistreating his extremely loyal son?)

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Princess Iron Fan: Not much to say. Same as her husband, same solution. Really wish she had gotten some more screen time outside of her family. (Fix: Maybe flesh out her bond with Jin and Yin? I know it was supposed to be a funny “noodle incident”, but learning about their past could’ve been nice- maybe we could’ve gotten a scene of her with little Red Son to humanize her a bit?)

——————

As it says on the tin. I’ll do this all in one quick chunk.

Nothing much to say here- but it would’ve been nice to have one of the spiders survive and redeem themselves, especially since that it was teased for Huntsman.

I wish Goliath (not even his real name btw) hadn’t been such a nothing character. Like, we really don’t learn a single thing about him.

I pity the Ink Curse. Created to be a tool of torture, never allowed to love or be loved. Poor thing.

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Mayor: One of Season Four’s biggest flaws is that it could really feel disconnected from the previous three, which all felt very tightly interwoven. Example one: Mei “no longer *wielding* the Samadhi Fire”, when it had previously been established that she fused with it. Example two: The mayor’s fate is never addressed, despite being such a prominent enemy. (Fix: Just… tell us what happened to him. Is he in jail? Did he escape justice? Did someone just… murder him? I don’t care if “it’s being saved for Season Five”. It’s weird to just forget about someone so dangerous in universe.)

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Kui Mulang: Presumably either dead or returned to the Celestial Realm for punishment. Unlikely that we’ll receive further information on him.

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Peng: Probable that we’ll receive an update on their status in Season Five. Very interesting character with a few humanizing moments (being close to Yellowtusk and Azure, being upset when Monkey King was trapped in the scroll) that keep them from being irredeemable. Actually a better person than Macaque, given that they never remorselessly razed a palace of innocent people to the ground. Or tried to murder an innocent kid who wasn’t involved with their fight at all. Or held a young lady’s life hostage and threatened to murder her. But they’re sort of mean, so I guess people consider them irredeemable? Super weird.

Like, Peng is an asshole, sure. They clearly aren’t in this fight out of the goodness of their heart. But the awful way they get treated in the fandom is insane, especially with the babying treatment that other villainous characters (like Macaque, the Mayor, and Red Son) get.

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Azure Lion: Macaque, but better written! Letting MK be angry at a person who: manipulated, lied to, and betrayed him? Not having his misdeeds be forgotten and glossed over? People actually being upset at what he’s done further than a few minutes after he’s done it? Incredible character! This is what I’ve wanted from Monkie Kid for so long! Ultimately, Azure accepts his failures and sacrifices himself- a punishment for hurting innocent people and wreaking havoc? A villain acknowledging their misdeeds and making up for them? God, I love Azure so much!

Probably my favorite character!

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Yellowtusk: I love this grandpa so much, for mostly the same reasons as Azure. His crimes aren’t immediately forgotten! Everyone doesn’t immediately forgive him! And he has to head back to the Celestial Realm for actual consequences?! Damn, this is what I’ve wanted from LMK villains for so long! Real redemption arcs, my beloved.

Also, this proves that the writers do know that people who commit crimes should be held accountable and punished for it? Can you give some of that to the others, please?

——————

Scorpion Queen: Another character I don’t have much to say about. She acknowledges her mistakes, ceases her villainy, and seems to have made genuine friends in Jin and Yin. Given the very little harm she caused, redemption was never going to be outside of her reach- but I’m happy for her anyhow.

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Finishing Points

1: I do not “hate” any of these characters. Though I definitely dislike how some are written, each one is lovable and enjoyable in their own way. I enjoy writing for all of them, and will continue to do so. I just wanted to take a break from fanfiction and talk about my perspective on some villains.

2: What do I mean by “punishment”?

Essentially, a consequence delivered to the character on account of their villainy. Someone tripping and eating dirt isn’t a “punishment”, unless they’re being shoved down by an old victim. Losing a fight isn’t “punishment”, it’s a matter of self-defense. Additionally, the punishment has to be actively performed as a consequence of misdoings- tripping and breaking an arm after doing evil things isn’t a punishment, but having a victim of the villain actively choose to break their arm is.

3: This is not an attack on you or your “fave”. This is not me saying that the show is bad. This is not me saying that I could do better. This is not me saying that you shouldn’t like these characters. This is not me trying to change your mind. This is not me saying you should feel the way I do. These are just my personal thoughts on the villains listed, and some of the “flaws” that I personally have with their portrayals and depictions.

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