#he keeps pulling and pulling from his rope with no regards or care if it snaps

[sunclown]

“You look tired, Zoro”

#op #one piece #zoro #kuina #trans roronoa zoro #couldnt stop thinking of those seconds before he defeated King where he was between life and death #and the possibility of him seeing kuina there #he makes me so sad u dont even know #he keeps pulling and pulling from his rope with no regards or care if it snaps #and one day it will #cw blood #my art

[romana-after-dark]

Keep Cry'n

Joel Miller x reader

Join dark!Romana's tag list Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Shout out to the girlies in the Whorefully yours discord for encouraging my dark side lol

Summary: Joel kidnapps you, but can't even wait long eough to put his dick inside you to cum. (Reader is rather Little One coded but this is a completetly separate fic from The Wrong Way)

Warnings and Content: NON CON, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !!!!!! Hair pulling, kidnapping, masturbation, cumming on face, dirty and degrading talk, crying, dacryphilia, Joel is really psycho in this, maybe a lil off his rocker. Implied future abuse. Literally like so much crying.

DONT LIKE IT, DONT READ! If you do not wish to see rape on your feeds at all, i suggest blocking the tags such as non con, dddne, dead dove do not eat, and depending on preferences maybe dub con, yandere, or dark fics. No judgement if its not your thing!

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Your head hurts. So bad. That was all you could think about as Joel dragged you off his house and up the porch by your hair with no regard for how you were supposed to keep up with his long stride. Scalp on fire, you scramble to stand but it seemed he would purposefully yank at you just to make you stumble. 

You can hear him smiling as he speaks, the outline of his cheeks giving away the wide grin if you can look up long enough to catch a glimpse. “Pretty fucking girl. Gonna make such a nice little toy.” 

He doesn’t care that you're crying. He doesn’t care that he took you away from everything you know. He doesn’t care that you are scared. He wants to use you.

Your hands are tied behind your back so you fall on your face when he trusts you onto the shitty mattress, dirt being inhaled into your lungs.

“Just gotta be good for a few days, pretty baby, ‘till I get tired of you and move onto the next shiny thing. Think you can manage that?”

Sobbing, you nod. You can do this. You can…

Your confidence wavers as he stands above you, palming himself and moaning. “Oooohhh fuck, such a pretty little baby, uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhuhuhuuuh” Joel sucks his breath in through his teeth, then shutters it out. “Get the fuck over here.” Joel reaches over and yanks on your hair again, pressing your face up against his jeans-clothes crotch. His musk was strong, the smell of his dick was sweaty and masculine and you could not help but feel just a little turned on. You couldn’t help it; it was biological, primal, evolutionary. 

With your hands still tied behind your back, you were helpless to the way Joel ground your face up against himself, his hard cock prominent despite the stiff material. Fingers entangled in your hair, Joel trust his hips up in your face as you sob, “Fuck baby, keep cry’n, I can feel your tears on my dick.” Joel pressed you tightly up against his crotch, your mouth pressed over the outline of his member and muffled your cries as they turned into attempts to scream. You wanted to bite but you knew better.

When he finally let go, allowing you to sit back on your haunches and breath, Joel unzipped his pants and thrust them and his tighty whitey’s down in one go, his massive cock hanging heavy between his legs. A sick man, Joel gripped your face in his large, rough hands to gather up the wetness before he fucked his fist. 

“God, I need to cum right fuck’n now” He grumbled to himself as he furiously pumped the extensive length. “Ain’t got time to- oh fu-u-u-ck, ain’t got time to fight your pants off.” Joel lets out a loud groan, bucking his hips as his breath shutters before looking down at your crying and shaking figure. “Oh fuck, you look so scared!” He has the audacity to chuckle, smiling at you as he gently nudges you with his boot just to see you cry more. He jerked harder and harder, his cock red and throbbing inches from your face. “There we go, fuuuuuck! Uh, uh, uuuhhhggg” Ropes of white began to spurt out of him, Joel grunting aggressively mixed with huffed out chuckles, a wide, joker-like grin on his face as his eyes sparkled with mischievous possibilities for the future.

Joel took his softening dick and wiped your tears and his cum with it. “Pretty little thing… goddamn… make’n me cum without even touching me, fucking fantastic.” 

You feel the wetness on your face, a mixture of fluids painting you up like a picture. 

Joel pushed you down onto the bed, not even bothering to pull up his pants as he pulled you on his naked body, sighing. He takes a knife out of his pocket, however, and cuts off your ties. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him as you cry. You just wanted to be held, to feel touch and comfort and you didn’t care who it came from. “Oh god, princess…” He’s panting still, a crazy grin plastered upon his face as he stared up at the ceiling, laughing to himself. “Such pretty skin, such a pretty face…” Joel chuckled, long fingers massaging down your still-clothed body. 

“Gonna be a lot of fun playing with it.”

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First dark! joel one shot ina while, woozers.

Love me my crazy man.

Got a cool ask today for a dark triple frontier Will Miller that I loooooove that I will be working on after a few other WIPS.

Also got an idea for a dark!joel sugar daddy yandere vibes fic, a dark!William Tell, and a dark!Nathan Bateman. I also plan to work on a short series (3 parts maybe?) of a darker ending to tww where Joel wins.

If you like this, click the link at the top to be added to my ongoing tag list!

@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@hereforthepedrofanfic @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and maybe @toxicanonymity might enjoy.....

#joel miller #dark fanfiction #dark smut #dark!joel #dark!fic #the last of us hbo #dark joel miller #joel miller fic #non con #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader #dark joel x reader #tw rape #dddne #dead dove no not eat

[dino-fart]

A Vampire’s Kiss (One-Shot)

Pairing: Miguel O’ Hara x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Action

Summary: You dated Miguel a while ago and the two of you ended on good terms. The distance grew between you and you had shifted your focus on Kingpin. After achieving your goal, you’d think it would be smooth sailing for the city of Nueva York and for yourself. Oh how wrong you were...

You were known as Diamond Star, a superhero with the power to manipulate light. You adorned a white and gold suit and worked with law enforcement to take care of the criminals. Your fame and power caught the attention of Miguel O’Hara. The two of you became an unstoppable duo and crime rate went significantly down. Your bond with him grew stronger and you entered a relationship with him. 

But that didn’t last long, your jobs put you both at risk of being killed. He had explained to you about being Spiderman results in someone he loves dying, and he wasn’t ready for that. You understood and left on good terms with him, telling him you’d be there if he needs you. That was two years ago and the distance between you two grew, communication was scarce and crime went right back up. Diamond Star made less and less public appearances and didn’t stop to talk to any news reporters after an incident happened. 

Recently, your focus had been on Kingpin, who everyone told you to leave alone. But you couldn’t just sit there and hear news story after news story about people dying from a gang war. So you decided to ditch the suit and take a more subtle approach. You had stalked and gathered information on Kingpin to plan your attack, you wanted to catch him and all his goons in one go. And so you did and did so successfully. 

You remembered the police and SWAT arriving at the scene to find Kingpin wrapped in golden magic rope and his goons temporarily blinded. The city cheered of the villain finally being put away. But you should’ve known this victory wouldn’t last...

It was a Friday night and you were sitting at the table on the balcony enjoying a cup of tea. You looked at the night sky of the city and how gorgeous it was. How peaceful it was...It was moments like these where you wished you lived a more simple life. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft click of your door. 

You set your cup down but kept your back to the door, waiting to see what idiot was trying to break in. You heard careful footsteps getting further into your living room and the sound of a knife being pulled from its’ sheath. You sprung into action and waved your hand toward the ceiling light which brightened to stun your assailant. When the light went back to normal the assailant opened his eyes to see you charging at him. He was knocked against the wall and onto the ground. 

You kicked the knife away and positioned your foot between his legs. “Who are you?!” You demanded. The man smirked and gripped your leg and yanked it toward him hard. You stumbled and he quickly pinned you to the ground. His leather gloved hands wrapped around your throat and he used his whole body weight to keep you from struggling. 

“Kingpin sends his regards.” The man said with a wicked grin. Your vision began to blur and your head getting hazy. You tried your best to scratch the man’s hands but it was no use. You accepted your fate until you saw a large looming figure entering your line of vision. You blacked out before you could comprehend anything else. 

You awoke with a jolt and let out a raspy scream. “Easy, cariño, easy!” A voice shouted with concern. 

You turned your head to the left to see someone you thought you’d never see again sitting in the chair beside the bed...”Miguel?” You whispered. 

“Hi.” He said with a small smile. 

“W-What are...Was that you earlier?” 

Miguel nodded and looked at you softly, his expression laced with concern. You gave him a smile and rubbed your head, your mind not catching up with what was happening. Miguel noticed this and wrapped his large arm around your shoulders and supported your back. He gently laid you down, “Duerme (Sleep), angel...” You turned to nuzzle your head on his shoulder and Miguel chuckled softly. 

He got the hint and shift onto your bed, he was still in his spider suit and his torso had blood splatters of his enemy on it. But he didn’t care, you needed him. He wrapped his arms around you, his large frame enveloping you in his warm as you rested your head on his chest. His talons ran along your hair and he pressed his lips against your the side of your head. “Estoy aquí, querida, estoy aquí...(I'm here, darling, I'm here...).” He whispered in your ear. 

A few hours went by and you opened your eyes to see Miguel’s sleeping face. As you lay in Miguel's embrace, the room filled with a mix of relief, confusion, and unspoken questions. Slowly, the haze in your mind began to clear, allowing you to focus on the present moment and the man who had reentered your life.

Miguel's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and his touch ignited a spark of familiarity and comfort. His strong arms enveloped you, offering a sense of protection that you had sorely missed. The warmth of his body against yours reassured you that you were no longer alone in this dangerous world.

Gently, Miguel leaned back against the headboard of your bed, keeping you close to his chest. His eyes slowly opened to meet yours and a sleepy smile spread across his lips. Finally finding your voice, you whispered, "How did you find me, Miguel? And why did you come back?" Your eyes searched his face for answers, longing for the reassurance that this was not merely a fleeting moment.

Miguel's gaze softened, his brown eyes filled with regret. "I've spent these past two years consumed by the guilt of leaving you," He confessed, his voice tinged with sorrow, "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, but I also couldn't bear the thought of you facing the dangers alone. So, I continued to look for you, I knew you moved since we broke up...” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I finally found you but I didn’t want to make my presence known yet, I was just going to keep an eye out if you needed help and well...Here I am."

Tears welled up in your eyes as Miguel's words reached the depths of your heart. The longing for his presence, the yearning for a shared purpose, suddenly seemed within reach. You reached out, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. He sighed happily by your touch.

"I missed you, Miguel," You whispered. 

Miguel's eyes met yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss filled with longing. The kiss continued for quite some time and when the two of you finally separated that’s when you noticed the blood. “It’s not mine.” He quickly reassured you. You relaxed your shoulders and leaned in to capture his lips in another kiss. 

Miguel let out a soft moan and turned you over so you were laying down on the bed under him. His lips moved from yours down to your neck where he sucked on the skin. You ran your nails along his hair and that encouraged him to bare his fangs. He slowly and gently punctured your neck with his fangs and you let out a moan. “Cariño, you always taste so sweet...” He murmured and sucked your blood lightly. You wrapped your legs around his waist and arched your back off of the bed. 

“Mmmm, let me make up for lost time~” Miguel purred as he pulled away from your neck and pressed his bloody lips against yours. 

Tagging: @deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi, @vibaracal, @lostpirateinwonderland​      

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara

[steddieas-shegoes]

saturate me, i can't get enough

rated e 4,066 words cw: please read full note below the cut in regards to terminology used in this ficlet/warnings A really big thank you/shoutout to @patchworkgargoyle for proofreading this and giving me a few great suggestions to make sure this was absolutely perfect for @steves-strapcollection's birthday! Also available on ao3.

This labor of love (and smut) is for my favorite transmasc Steve truther, Gerry. I am so grateful for your contributions to this fandom, and I am even more grateful that you welcome me into your chaos (Tig threads I'm lookin' at you 👀). While I may still not think my writing could be a gift to anyone, let alone a talented writer like you, I will just be positive that you'll enjoy this for what it is which is soft and tender fuckin'.

A VERY SERIOUS NOTE FOR EVERYONE ELSE: I am very much a cis woman. I spoke with Ger before even starting on this because I wanted to make sure he was comfortable with me even attempting to write transmasc Steve. I am using masculine and feminine terms for lower anatomy that he uses in his own fics and his own life with his express permission to do so. If you think this might be a trigger for you, please don't read. I wrote this specifically for Ger, and realize that it may not be for everyone. Taking care of yourself is the most important thing!

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If Eddie had known what exactly he was getting into when he asked Steve on a date, he probably would have done it a lot sooner.

He tugged on the silk ropes around his wrist, just tight enough to keep him in place on the bed, but still loose enough that he knew he could pull out of them if he had to.

Steve refused to tie them any tighter.

“Need you to feel safe with me, Eds,” he’d said with a soft kiss to his lips.

As if he could feel anything other than safe with him. As if he hadn’t spent the last five or so months falling in love with him, learning what makes Steve Steve, figuring out how he could fit in Steve’s life.

Somehow, Eddie ended up naked first, tied up in his own bed, breaths heavy with anticipation of what was to come.

And he had very little idea of what was to come.

He’d already been surprised at how quickly Steve took charge of their date, their first kiss, the torturous ride back to Eddie’s apartment where Steve’s hand just brushed against his cock every minute or so.

Now, he was at Steve’s mercy entirely.

Just the thought of Steve leaving him like this while he touched, and kissed, and bit every part of his body was enough to have him leaking.

“Can’t believe how good you look like this,” Steve groaned from his spot between Eddie’s legs.

Oh, his shirt was off.

Finally.

Eddie whined as he saw Steve’s one and only tattoo, a baseball bat with nails sticking out of it, on his left side just under the scar from his top surgery.

He wanted to trace the outline with his tongue, maybe mark it up so that it wasn’t just black ink, cover him in purples and blues that would take days to heal.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that now, not with his hands tied above his head and his legs spread wide enough that he couldn’t get leverage to pull himself up or Steve down.

Next time.

“Steve, please,” Eddie begged, though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for at this point other than touch.

“Sorry, baby. You’re just so distracting.”

Eddie knew he was blushing, could feel the heat on his face and neck, on his chest.

His hands were sweaty where he had them clenched into fists, somehow already overwhelmed before even being properly touched.

Steve’s fingers glided across his chest, pausing to pay attention to his only nipple, laughing to himself when Eddie jumped.

“Sensitive? Maybe this one got all the nerves from the other one being gone,” Steve smirked as he leaned down to flick his tongue over the soft, pink flesh of his one remaining nipple.

It was like an electric shock, a fire burning through his veins and Steve’s tongue was the match that lit it.

He arched his back, chasing the feeling as far as he physically could, pouting when Steve pulled away.

“Hey,” Steve touched his cheek, smiling when Eddie relaxed into the touch. “I know we’re moving fast, but I kinda wanna take my time with you. Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, thankful that Steve said it first.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of going as far as they could as fast as they could, not at all. Eddie would be happy with anything.

But taking their time?

He would take all night.

“Wanted this for so long, baby. You have no idea,” Steve whispered, breath hot against his lips as he leaned back in.

“Me too,” Eddie’s voice trembled.

Steve’s palm settled against his chest, no doubt feeling how hard and fast Eddie’s heart was beating, but not saying anything about it.

Eddie could feel his pulse in his fingertips, in his toes, in his hair.

“You like being tied up?”

Eddie nodded, biting his bottom lip between his teeth and letting his mind drift to thoughts of being like this hours.

“You want me to do what I want? Not let you pick?”

Eddie didn’t even care about his teasing tone, his knowing smirk.

He wasn’t asking for an answer, he was asking for control, and he already had both.

“I think you want me to take over, ride your face maybe? And then your cock?”

Steve was spot on.

Eddie couldn’t count the amount of times he’d pictured that exact scenario in his head. Just last night, while he was cooking dinner, he thought about the way Steve would taste, how he would look while Eddie took him apart with his tongue, his fingers.

He hadn’t even gotten to picture his cock inside him when the fire alarm started beeping to let him know he was burning his supper.

“Yeah, that’s what you want. Don’t even have to say it, I can see it all over your face,” Steve teased.

He could only imagine.

Steve got off the bed, shushing Eddie’s whines with a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Just getting everything else off, Eds.”

It was said to calm him down, but it just caused him to cant his hips upwards, seeking any type of friction on his leaking cock.

Steve’s eyes never left him as he stripped his jeans and boxers off in one fell swoop, his feet stepping out of the pant legs as quickly as he could without tripping.

He joined him on the bed again, settling between his legs and staring down at him, eyes holding so much affection that Eddie wasn’t sure what to do with it, where to put it all.

When they made eye contact, Steve smiled softly down at him.

“You okay with this?” He asked, wanting to be sure before they got too carried away.

“More than okay,” Eddie nodded. “Wanna taste you so bad, Stevie.”

“I can make that happen.”

Steve untied one of his hands from the bedframe, but didn’t let it touch any part of him yet.

“This is only so you can tap out if you need to. You’re not allowed to touch anywhere except my leg. Three taps if you need to stop, okay?” Eddie nodded. “Show me.”

Eddie waited for Steve to climb up a bit, straddle his chest, the warmth between his legs enough to make him forget for a moment what he was supposed to be doing.

“Eddie. Show me,” Steve’s voice was stern enough to grab his attention again, and Eddie focused on making his shaking hand tap his thigh three times. “Good boy. You can keep your hand there if it’ll help you remember, but no moving unless it’s to tap.”

Eddie’s head felt cloudy already, something he so rarely experienced with anyone, something he hoped he’d get to keep experiencing with Steve from now on.

Steve shifted back down for long enough to leave a kiss on Eddie’s lips, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he let out a laugh.

“I can feel your heartbeat between my thighs. A bit excited, aren’t you?” Steve teased him again, but Eddie wasn’t complaining. If anything, it just made his heartbeat louder with anticipation at what he was about to get.

“Need you,” Eddie managed to say.

Steve didn’t wait any longer, scooting his body up so his pussy was level with Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie groaned, lifted his head an inch so he could be even closer.

He needed it, needed him. He couldn’t wait any longer to get a taste.

Eddie’s tongue lapped at Steve’s hole, the only part he could reach at the moment, but it was enough.

Steve let out a long moan, gravelly voice letting out a long “yes” as he rocked his hips forward to get Eddie’s tongue inside.

Eddie closed his eyes and let himself be surrounded by Steve.

His slightly musky smell, the sweat that was rolling down his thighs, the surprisingly sweet slick dripping from his pussy, all of it was better than Eddie could have possibly imagined.

The noises got louder as Steve adjusted himself directly over Eddie’s face.

He pulled away just enough for Eddie to catch his breath, but Eddie didn’t want to catch his breath.

“Need your cock, please,” Eddie begged, not caring if he was breaking an unspoken rule, not caring if he suffocated for it.

But he didn’t get in trouble. In fact, he got exactly what he wanted when Steve settled back down, his dick rubbing against Eddie lips in silent instruction.

Eddie opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue, and moaned.

“God you’re so good,” Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand on his thigh, squeezing as he rocked back and forth, taking things slower than Eddie expected him to.

Eddie whimpered, letting out what little breath he had as Steve rested more of his weight on his tongue.

“You made me so wet just laying there, all tied up for me, hng,” Steve groaned.

The hand squeezing Eddie’s moved to the headboard, giving Steve just a bit more leverage to bear down and chase his own release on Eddie’s tongue.

Eddie could feel his fingernails digging into Steve’s thighs, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, stop unless Steve made him.

He could feel slick and drool dripping down his chin, his cheeks, his neck, probably making a mess of his hair and the pillow under him, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. Steve was making low groaning noises now, his pace getting faster every few thrusts back and forth.

Eddie opened his eyes, wanting to try to see what Steve looked like from this angle.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Steve’s head was thrown back, his arm muscles straining as he held onto the bed, leg muscles and stomach tensing as his pleasure started to crest.

The flush that Eddie had barely gotten to enjoy before was now covering his hairy chest and his neck, a few drops of sweat dripping to his stomach.

Eddie hoped he could lick them up after Steve came.

Steve let out a loud whine and one of his hands fell to Eddie’s hair, his fingers tugging at his roots in a way that reminded him he had no control over any of this.

Eddie decided to take matters into his own hands the best that he could, curling his tongue into a sharper point so that on the next thrust, Steve’s dick was given more pointed pressure.

“Fuck!” Steve yelled out. He looked down at Eddie, hair flopping into his face. “You wanna suck it, baby? You can if you want.”

He sounded so close, breathlessly framing his own wants as something Eddie wanted. And Eddie did want those things.

He was starting to realize he wanted everything with Steve.

It should have been a scary thought, especially when this was just the ending of their first date, but instead of worrying about it, Eddie used all the energy and muscle he could to lift his head up and start to suck on his dick.

“That’s it,” Steve panted, holding Eddie’s head against him, not giving him a chance to move away again. “You’re so good, baby. Gonna make me cum so hard, fuck.”

Eddie started to nod, and the extra movement seemed to set Steve off.

He felt Steve’s thighs clench, then loosen, then clench again, his hand tightening in Eddie’s hair, and a long moan left his body.

Eddie moaned too, and the vibration sent Steve over the edge.

Steve slowed his pace, but didn’t get up, letting Eddie slowly lick along his folds, gathering up the slick dripping out of him.

When Eddie’s tongue brushed over his cock again, he flinched, but let out a huff of a laugh.

“Sorry, baby, you got me so oversensitive already. You’re too good at that,” Steve said, still trying to catch his breath.

“Good at what? Being used?” Eddie managed to ask, voice hoarse.

Steve looked down at him as he moved down to settle against his stomach instead.

“Good at being good for me,” he finally said, seriousness ruined by the hint of fondness in his tone and smile.

“Always wanna be good for you, Stevie,” Eddie admitted.

Steve looked at him for a moment, searched his face for any sign of him lying or being too sex-drunk to be realistic.

But whatever was on Eddie’s face must have shown him that he was serious.

“Yeah, baby. I think you could be,” Steve leaned down to kiss him, licking into his mouth like he wanted to taste himself on Eddie’s lips and tongue, like he wanted to know what they tasted like together.

Eddie felt his cock pulse, felt the tug in his stomach that let him know he was probably much closer than he should be just from eating Steve out for five minutes.

He didn’t have time to be embarrassed though; Steve was moving down his body further, reaching a hand back to touch his cock.

“Wait!” Eddie leaned his head away.

Steve pulled his hand away and looked at him, frowning as he took in the panicked look on Eddie’s face.

“I just, um, I’m close. Like, pretty sure if you touch me, I will cum all over your hand and probably never be able to look you in the eyes again.”

Steve snorted out a laugh.

“What’s wrong with that?” Steve asked, slowly tracing his fingers across Eddie’s waistline, not even looking as he got closer to his cock.

“I…I don’t know?” Eddie admitted.

And truly, he had no idea why he shouldn’t cum. That was the goal of this, and Steve was making it pretty clear he didn’t mind if he did, might even prefer if he did.

The only thing stopping him was that he didn’t want any of this to end.

“Eds, you’ve been so good for me, I kinda want you to feel good, too. Unless you really don’t want to-”

“No! I do!” Eddie ignored the way Steve was trying to cover his laughter. “I just thought you wanted to ride me.”

“Ohhhh. I see. You’re being selfish.”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut, teeth audibly clacking together.

No one had ever called him selfish in bed, not even jokingly.

But Steve’s tone wasn’t joking. His face wasn’t joking.

“I guess you think I don’t wanna see you squirming because I’m wringing the third orgasm from you in less than an hour? Is that it?”

“Uh…”

Steve clicked his tongue.

“I planned on you begging to stop soon enough. Unless you want to stop now? Seems like it might be hard to go to sleep like that, though.”

Steve’s brow raised as he glanced behind him for a moment at Eddie’s red and dripping cock, then looked back at Eddie.

“No, please don’t stop. I…can I be inside you?” Eddie was desperate, and didn’t care if he sounded like it.

“You wanna cum inside me? Fill me up good, make sure I feel who I belong to?” Steve asked as he slowly moved back further, his hand firmly grasping the base of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie whined, bucking his hips up, but not making the contact he needed.

“You can if you promise to clean me up after,” Steve’s hand slid up Eddie’s dick slowly, the pressure not nearly enough to satisfy him, but enough to make him whine.

“I promise. Please,” Eddie nodded, his one free hand making a fist in the sheets while his still tied up hand tugged on the binds.

Steve didn’t respond with words, just sat back and guided Eddie’s cock along the inner lips of his cunt, moaning at the sensation.

“So warm,” Eddie groaned.

“Gonna get me all wet again, baby,” Steve rocked his hips slowly, teasing the tip along his folds and against his entrance. “You’re leaking worse than I am.”

Which may be true at this point. Eddie had spent enough time licking up as much of his mess as possible.

Steve sat down on his cock with no warning.

He hissed, clenching his fists and curling his toes to fight off the impending orgasm.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the way Steve’s pussy sucked him in, clenching around him in a way that left him shivering and panting.

“Good?” Steve asked, smug grin the only thing keeping Eddie from losing it completely.

“Yes, yeah, so good, fuck,” Eddie threw his head back, arching his back as Steve slowly lifted himself up and dropped back down.

Fuck, Eddie wasn’t gonna be able to hold off. He’d just have to live with the embarrassment.

Steve reached up to untie his hand, grabbing his wrist and massaging it in his own hands as he moved his hips in circles.

“Wait, you didn’t-”

“Yeah, I did.”

“When?” Eddie knew his brain hadn’t been working for a while now, but he was certain his eyes had been. Steve hadn’t stretched himself on his fingers this entire time, and going from just Eddie’s tongue barely breaching his entrance to suddenly sitting on his cock, no matter how wet he was, had to be at least a little painful.

“Bathroom when we got home,” Steve shrugged.

Steve had been fingering himself in the bathroom not even an hour ago. Without Eddie. Without even making a noise.

God, Eddie was so fucked. Literally.

“You okay, baby?” Steve asked, smug grin back in place as he guided Eddie’s hands to his own hips. “Think you can do this part or do I have to do everything?”

Eddie gripped his hips, hoping his fingers would leave bruises, and let himself have this. It may only last for another minute, but he was going to make it worth every second.

He lifted Steve up, then dropped him down, smirking at the loud yelp Steve let out.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard later, this is just a preview,” Eddie growled out.

“Promise?” Steve gasped as Eddie shoved his hips up as he pulled Steve down.

“Swear. Every night you want me to from now on, Stevie,” Eddie slowed his thrusting, felt the tension building in his abdomen.

Steve groaned as he placed his hands on Eddie’s chest and started lifting his hips up on his own, clenching as he moved up Eddie’s cock.

He quickened his pace, little whimpers leaving him every time his ass met Eddie’s thighs.

“You feel so good, Stevie, gonna cum,” Eddie whined as his thighs clenched.

“Yes, yes, please. You’ve been so good, Eds,” Steve nodded, not pausing for a second.

Eddie’s eyes closed without his permission, Steve’s words hitting him right in the chest, making his breath leave him in one long, drawn-out moan.

Steve didn’t slow down, lacing his fingers with Eddie’s and pushing them backwards onto the sheets as he rode Eddie through his orgasm.

“Kiss me, please,” Eddie begged, opening his eyes to look up at Steve’s flushed face. Sweat was beading along his hairline, bangs flopping into his eyes.

Steve’s lips hovered over Eddie’s, not quite making contact, but close enough for their breaths to mingle together, for the small whimpers Eddie was unintentionally letting out to be swallowed by Steve’s hungry tongue as it grazed against his own.

Eddie was coherent enough to pull one of his hands loose, reaching up to cup Steve’s jaw as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

“Can I?” Eddie asked, moving his hand down his neck, tracing a finger along his collarbone. He looked up at Steve’s wide eyes, felt his pace slow to a stop.

“Can you…?” Steve asked, breathless as he tried to figure out what Eddie was trying to ask him.

“Can I touch your cock? Want you to come on mine.”

Eddie felt Steve clench around him, his cock almost over sensitive enough for it to be painful.

“Yeah, I’m close,” Steve admitted, pulling his other hand away to sit back so Eddie had easier access to his dick.

He was dripping, and Eddie’s cum was leaking from his hole now that he’d stopped moving and Eddie was starting to get soft.

Eddie’s fingers gathered up as much as they could, gliding down to where his cock was still inside him and away a few times, just to tease.

“Eddie…”

“Sorry, sorry. Just like touching you,” Eddie smiled up at him, at the way Steve’s back was arched, at the way his thighs were trembling with the effort of holding himself up.

Steve grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to his dick, impatience finally taking over.

“I like you touching me too, but if I don’t get to come again soon, you won’t touch me again for the rest of the night,” Steve snarked.

Eddie loved him.

He didn’t hesitate to curl his fingers so his knuckles rested against the sides of his dick, still teasing, but at least where Steve wanted it now. He didn’t move for a moment, wanted Steve to be desperate enough to rock forward.

“Eddie, please,” Steve whined.

“Look who’s begging now,” Eddie teased. “You’re so hard, sweetheart. Should’ve told me you were this close earlier. Would’ve taken care of you.”

Steve whimpered, shaking his head as Eddie’s knuckles started dragging up and down his dick.

Watching Steve fall apart above him like this, making him fall apart, especially when he’d been the one in control all night, was making Eddie feel unstoppable.

This was all he ever wanted: making Steve feel good in any way Steve wanted or needed.

Eddie started jerking his fingers faster, watching as Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuuuuuck,” Steve groaned, shifting his hips up for more pressure, for anything else he could possibly get.

“That’s it, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good. Wanna be good for you.”

And just like Steve’s words had done for Eddie before, Eddie’s must have been the final straw for Steve.

Steve’s thighs shook as he came, his fingers digging into Eddie’s shoulders as he fell forward, trapping his hand against his pulsing dick.

“Hmm,” Steve moaned out as his grasp loosened, leaving half-moons in Eddie’s skin.

Eddie knew he would be hard again soon. At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if he got hard while still inside Steve.

But Steve’s eyes opened, and Eddie somehow fell further.

“I don’t wanna stop,” Steve whispered, leaning in to kiss along his jawline, letting his teeth gently brush against his chin before pecking his lips.

“I’ve got perfectly good fingers. Or…” Eddie leaned up to kiss him, smirking when he felt Steve grind against him. “You could also fuck me.”

Steve’s responding groan was muffled by Eddie’s chest, a laugh immediately following.

“As much as I would love to, and will as soon as I have energy, I was thinking maybe we could just…stay like this?” Steve looked up towards the end, a pink blush coating his cheeks unlike anything Eddie had ever seen on him before.

Steve didn’t get embarrassed or nervous, he didn’t get flustered, at least not where others could see him.

He was Mr. Charming, the smoothest guy around, the one who always knew how to respond in a flirty situation.

But right now, all Eddie saw was vulnerability, his eyes mirroring back the love Eddie felt but hadn’t put into words.

“Like this or on our sides?” Eddie whispered, not wanting the moment to be broken.

“Like this for now.”

Eddie gave a single nod, not mentioning that they should probably clean up a little, or the fact that Robin would be home soon and the bedroom door was wide open.

Steve kissed his chest before he settled with his head in the crook of his neck, breath hot against Eddie’s pulse point.

Eddie’s cock was hard again inside Steve, but both of them ignored it, savoring the feeling of finally having each other.

Steve was asleep quickly, and Eddie let his mind wander as he traced his fingers up and down Steve’s back.

This first date felt a lot like the beginning of a long future.

–

When Eddie woke up the next morning, his cock was in Steve’s mouth, and Steve already had two fingers in his hole, lube slowly dripping between his cheeks.

“What a way to wake up,” Eddie moaned.

Steve pulled off of him, already smirking, lips red and glistening with spit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Stevie. Keep going,” Eddie’s voice was rough from sleep.

“You got it, baby.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #transmasculine steve harrington #light d/s #soft dom steve harrington #sub eddie munson

[kurimiaki]

Jamil Viper — Pansy, chestnut, & hydrangea

The flower prompt list is courtesy of ddarker-dreams!

Content warning: dark content, implied forced physical affection

Pansy - What was it that ultimately sparked their obsession?

He first pays you mind when you’re partnered in a group project together. Some fickle, ambiguously posed essay prompt assigned by Trein. Jamil, as expected, pulls his weight. So as not to drag him down, you follow suit. It’s no question that he’s regarded as something of a jack-of-all-trades by his peers, a badge of versatility and all-encompassing talent he’s forcibly brandished with— so, under the assumption that this is true, you work hard not to impede your respective success, his above all.

But this particular assignment is to be completed in pairs of three. Jamil’s other work partner does not show for library meetings, does not reply to your texts, calls, or the inquiries you pose outside of their dorm. Jamil isn’t unaccustomed to the flaky vagrants that litter NRC’s student body, but this ordeal irks him regardless; this paper determines the bulk of his cumulative grade for the quarter, and he’s not too keen on being bogged down past the handicaps he’s already posed upon his academic success for Kalim’s sake.

Jamil’s grateful for you, though.

Trein assigned the lofty project on a particularly tedious week for Jamil, who had been wrought with exhaustion and chronic annoyance, with notably prominent eye bags, patience dwindling from sturdy kevlar rope to delicate snapping silk threads. He’d scarcely caught sleep, with only a few, fleeting hours to spare for himself (which were now dedicated to his essay portion). Kalim developed a daily taste for an incredibly complicated dish. Floyd misplaced Jamil’s practice sneakers atop the rafters for kicks. He forgot to clarify that his exam flash-cards were not for his dormleader to keep. He sliced his ring finger while dicing an onion. One night, he only got two hours of sleep, and woke up feeling like he’d been shot, waterboarded, and then shot again during the night.

He’d been especially cursed that week, and you’d done your share throughly and without complaint. Compromising and avid in your participation, you were almost eager to please him. You showed up early to meetings, and went insofar as to finish his study prep (even if it wasn’t to his standards) for another class when Jamil, quite startlingly, fell asleep atop of his reference materials, and did not wake for another half-hour. It wouldn’t usually have, but the considerate act genuinely warmed him. It threw him a bit off kilter. He even woke up relieved to find the finished paper, the smiley-faced sticky note that wished him ‘good luck!’ on his upcoming exam. It makes Jamil simultaneously unnerved and flustered, a combination that has his stomach turn uncomfortably. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

It was a small kindness, and might’ve been what kindled his initial interest in you, but it’s a kindness must be repeated for Jamil to acknowledge his interest in you. Even if he understands that the warmth in his chest is his mind and body’s positive reciprocal reaction to the minute sweetness you show him, he will not fully accept that what he is feeling is romantic interest, feeling quite put-out with how little it took to evoke such vulnerable intrigue.

Methodically planned or not, if you repeatedly display a semblance of care for Jamil, and act on it— helping him with cooking, pitching in and offering your services when Kalim saddles him with a seemingly insurmountable task, waving at him in the halls, smiling when he enters the room, demonstrating a baseline interest in his company alone; he’s quickly ensnared. You just have to hack away at him first. Jamil wants to feel wanted.

Chestnut - Would this yandere care about their darling’s past romantic relationships? If not, then why is that?

Disregarding the stabbing feeling he gets in his chest when you casually bring up a past fling of yours (even if the individual was nothing more than a middle school puppy-crush), no, Jamil swears he is not bothered by your past romantic ventures. No, he did not bristle when you spoke their name, and his face did not twist up when you giggled through a funny anecdote of a past failed date. He tells you to drop it, should you inquire further into his subtle bursts of jealousy, even if you’re just harmlessly teasing him for it. He won’t entertain it.

But if you were able to, if you could peel back his ribs and peer into his heart, you could observe how awfully is squeezes when presented with the reality that of course, he’s not your first and only love. Jamil, despite his efforts at concealing it, is incredibly possessive of you, jealous beyond what can reasonably be accepted as healthy and normal. Jealously seizes him, and, unfortunately, is provoked by both your past and present relationships, be they romantic or platonic. That he could not be there from the very beginning to monopolize you in your entirety, is a very irrational regret of his, one he’s almost ashamed to feel. His jealousy spirals into something fanatical and uncontrollable, and he loathes to feel it.

Jamil will persistently try to ignore it, to snip the dangerous buds of envy at the root, but it’s like some everlasting weed that’s even managed to creep into his love life, never abating. Always growing back, and somehow stronger than before. For as long as your attention is left open to the world, to anyone other than himself, it’s a weed that will fester and encompass him.

Hydrangea - How would this yandere react if their darling gave them affection? What is their internal thought process like? 

Ultimately, Jamil isn’t expecting much physical affection from you. It’s not something he really craved in a relationship, nor does he ever long for it; he always believed himself a true independent, disregarding the ludicrous notion that an individual could truly grow starved from a lack of skin-on-skin contact. Jamil steadily maintains this belief— until you take the initiative. He’s always been one to take the first steps, to maneuver your relationship along the path he’s set for it; but he failed to take into account the obvious possibility of your genuine romantic reciprocation. Jamil doesn’t fluster too severely when you first shyly take his hand, not keen on displaying a modicum of softness to the prying eyes of his peers, namely Kalim. To publicly and positively reciprocate to your touch in front of Scarabia’s housewarden, to Jamil’s ward, would open a floodgate of issues for him. The flimsy barrier he’d built to negate Kalim’s already-immovable waves of physical affection would all but collapse, and his harassment would increase tenfold.

PDA is something Jamil kindly asks you to refrain from. He won’t completely discourage you from touching him, merely asking that it be on his own terms: acts of kissing and hugging and hand-holding are as privatized as he can manage. Especially within Kalim’s general vicinity.

In private, however, he does all he can to positively reinforce your affectionate behavior, for as long as you will willingly give it. If his coldness and general lack of reciprocation on campus ever has you fear for your relationship, he’ll work hard to make up for it behind closed doors. He ploys you into accepting his advances— in the privacy only his dorm room provides, he’ll add, barring you from lounging about Scarabia’s main social hub, its atrium. Jamil has you lie with him on his bed, pressed to his chest, urging you to doze off with a few choice words if you’re not already weathered from your day. Any light, intentional brushes of your hand to his will prompt him to cup yours, to intertwine your fingers, perhaps gripping them with too much pressure. Your shy pecks to Jamil’s cheek after a study-session will imminently lead to his tongue down your throat, a rapid progression that very faintly comes off as concerning. As too much, almost needy; but at the very least, you won’t be able to claim that he’s not paying attention to you.

#yandere tw #my writing #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #i want to post.this is not as good as i wanted it 2be because he is not mean enough but i am also tired of looking at it! here! #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #jamil viper #yandere jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #yandere jamil x reader

[imisskacchan]

Little Princess//pt.2//

Find pt.1 here

TW: Non-con Elements,

The rest of the voyage you didn’t utter another word. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing how angry they made you.

Instead you thought about all the ways you could make them suffer like they did to you

You arrived on the shore of what you guessed was their settlement. 

Bakugo led you off the ship where you were met by many other women who had come to greet their men. The red head was greeted by a beautiful woman with soft pink hair. The man with freckles was greeted by a woman with big round cheeks. 

Did they know their men were murderers? What they went to do ll for your sake was unforgivable.

These people get to be happy while you suffer. They get to know a kind of love you never will.

You’ll never get to meet your true love like all of the princesses did in the fairytales your mother read to you. 

No instead you have to walk around with the monsters who ruined your life.

“Why’re you fucking crying now?” Katsuki asked turning your face to meet his. You hadn’t even noticed your tears falling.

You quickly pulled away from his touch. Touching him felt like daggers piercing your skin. You couldn’t bare even standing in the same vicinity as your captor. 

He scoffed and pulled you with him away from the others. 

He brought you to his hut. It was fairly large inside with space for a bed topped with luscious furs, a carved stone tub, and a chimney.

He let you look around for a moment before bringing you to sit on the bed and tying your hands to the bedpost. Your wrist ached at the strenuous position. 

“Don’t move, i’ll be back later and when I am i’ll really give you something to cry about, princess.” he says walking out the door leaving you alone.

Did he mean what you though he meant-?

You had to get out of here. Maybe there were neighboring tribes that would take you in. It didn’t matter as long as you left now. Your plot for revenge was forgotten in regards for self preservation.

You pulled on your ropes but they were tied too tight, you’d have to find something to cut them with. 

You looked around and thanked the heavens. Katsuki had weapons hanging up all over the hut. The closest one was hanging by the end of the bed. You used your foot to reach and knock it down before bringing it to cut your ropes. You were careful not to hurt your wrist anymore.

You actually did it, now you just had to escape without anyone noticing. Simple enough right?

You found one of Katsuki’s cloths and wrapped it around your wrist straightening it. 

You hurried to the exit peeking outside to make sure no one was around. 

Everyone seemed to be celebrating around a large bonfire. You were thankful that no one noticed you as you made your way out the door and through the village.

You stopped when you came across a forest. Surely with the sun down it would be hard track you. You took a deep breath and started walking into the woods.

“Hey!” a voice called from behind you.

You didn’t even look back before you started running. You weren’t familiar with the terrain but you wouldn’t stop running. Every second was pertinent if you wanted to get away.

You almost trip a few times but manage to correct yourself before you can. Your legs are tired and it feels like you’ve been running forever. You keep on and hope you’ve gone far enough. 

It’s cold out and you’re not dressed appropriately. All you have to keep you warm is a scarf. 

It’s been about half an hour since you left. The man from before didn’t chase you but no doubt he went to get the chief.

You didn’t know where you were going or what you were gonna do. 

You panicked when you heard footsteps behind you. You ran as fast as your legs would carry you. Jumping over logs and weaving through trees you tried to put distance between you and whoever was out there.

You thought you could actually get away. Well till a strong body slammed into yours pinning you to the ground. You thrashed against them but with your broken wrist it was useless.

“Thought you could run away from me huh?” he whispered tightening his hands around your wrists bringing them above your head. You cried out from the pain.

Katsuki.

“You’ll never get the chance again” he says calmly pulling you to your feet.

When you arrived back at the village everyone was staring at you like you were some prized animal that was caught. 

Katsuki pulled you closer to him as you walked through the crowd of people.

“Mine” he growled in your ear. 

“I’d rather die than belong to you” you replied with disgust lacing your tone.

“Yeah we’ll see about that princess” he chuckled.

Your heart pounded when he brought you back to his hut. Your discarded ropes still laid on the bed where you left them.

“You’ve got balls princess, i’ll give you that” Katsuki said breaking the silence as he pushed you onto the bed. 

“It’s just gonna make it all the more fun to break you” he smirked as he took off his clothes.

His build was like something of a God. He had hard washboard abs with a surprisingly small waist. You willed yourself not to look down as he removes his pants. 

Your self control could use some work.

It was like he had a third leg...

How was that going to fit inside you?

He could obviously see the panic in your eyes because he reassured you that he’d ‘make it fit’.

He came to stand between your legs where you sat on the side of the bed. 

You tried to scoot away but his hand came to grip your hair keeping you still.

“Please... don’t- i’ve never...” you stuttered trying to find something to say that could buy you some time.

“Oh? The little princess is a virgin huh?” he sneered as you brought your lip between your teeth.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you” he promised before moving to take your clothes off and pushing you back against the bed. He climbs on top of you and straddles your legs between his.

“W-wait no don’t” you begged as he ran his calloused palms over your bare body. 

“I was gonna go slow, but I changed my mind after I had to chase your through the goddamn woods for a half hour” he growled. 

The air escapes from your lungs when you feel him run a thick finger over your slit. You shiver at the sensation clenching your thighs together and a chuckle falls from the blonde.

“What princess? Never had someone play with your clit before?” he mocked as he slaps your thigh hard causing you to cry out. He places his legs between yours forcing you to keep them open.

His digits move between your folds causing you to whimper and try and pull away from him. That earns you another slap.

“Stay. Fucking. Still.” he orders as his fingers continue to move. You feel yourself starting to get wet and your cheeks heat up.

“Look at you, hah fucking soaking and i’ve barely touched you” 

“N-no I-“ you choked as you felt him press a digit into your warm core. 

“Fuck princess, so fucking tight” he groans feeling your walls clench around him. You let out a loud moan as his thumb presses against your clit. 

You hips buck against him, the feeling of pleasure washes over you as his fingers plunge into your heat.

Katsuki feels you clench down on him and before you can come he pulls his fingers out.

You whimper at the lost sensation and look up to find him stroking his length. 

“Don’t worry princess i’ll let you come, just on my cock” he says rubbing his tips through your wet folds collecting your arousal.

You go to protest bit before you can he sinks into you at a agonizingly slow pace. Taking inch after inch you feel like he’s gonna split you open.

When he finally bottoms out inside you tears begin to fall down your cheeks at how full you feel. 

“I-it hurts Katsuki” you cry out.

He ignores you as he pulls his length out.

“Fuck... please” you choke out. He reaches up and closes a fist around your throat. 

“Come on Y/N... fuck... beg for it- beg for me to fuck you, to let you come, do it” he says through clenched teeth.

You can’t even string together a thought right now. You feel so unbelievably full. 

“Please... Katsuki please fuck me” you whimper.

“Please make me come”

That’s all he needs to hear before he sheaths himself inside of you, watching as your eyes roll back and your mouth opens into a silent moan. 

“Fuck Y/N... you’re fucking mine, say it- fuck say it” he growls as he pounds into you.

“I’m- I... fuck... I’m yours Katsuki.” He chuckles before his mouth latches onto your neck biting hard.

He marked you.

“That’s fucking right you are, and i’m gonna fill you up so fucking good princess.” He moans as he feels you lose yourself around him.

“Yeah that’s it come on my fucking cock... fuck... good girl, my good little slut.” He pulls your legs up and places them on his shoulders so he can be deeper inside you. 

His mouth comes to claim yours with a hungry kiss full of passion and lust. He chuckles when he pulls away seeing your blissed out expression. 

He picks up his pace and his cock brushed against your cervix causing you to cry out in pleasure and pain. 

“F-fuck Katsuki’s too much” you whine as his cock relentlessly hits your g-spot.

“Yeah you gonna come again? Come on princess... shit... come all over my cock like the whore you are.” And you do. Your back arches and tears fall as you scream in bliss, he growls as he fucks into you chasing his own release. 

He bites at your soft skin leaving his mark on you. 

“ ‘M gonna fucking fill you up, breed you like a fucking slut.” You’re too blissed out to hear he fucks your through your orgasm. 

His head rests on yours as he listens to your mewls and he groans loudly as he paints your walls with his cum. 

He pulls out and rolls over pulling you against his chest.

“Don’t ever run from me again.” You just nod.

After all you were just a little princess and there wasn’t much you could do against the King.

#yandere bakugo x reader #viking bakugo #size k1nk

[prof-ramses]

I’ve been compiling a bunch of random headcanons & theories regarding the Sins. Just a heads up, it’s going to be kind of a long list:

Like Lucifer and his family, the Sins have surnames. The only exception is Mammon, whose legal name is ‘Mammon TM’, for branding purposes.

I don’t know if it’s been confirmed if the Sins are Hellborn or not, but I like to think that the Hellaverse sort of draws from Paradise Lost in that they were originally angels loyal to Lucifer before getting the boot after the stunt Luci and Lilith pulled in Eden. This would effectively make them the first sinner demons, which could be used to explain why sinners rank so high on Hell’s hierarchy.

Working off of the above, I thought it would be funny if Leviathan was originally a cherub prior to falling, either looking like some form of small fish or maybe even a prawn. Over the course of thousands of years living in Hell, he slowly grew into the titan of the deep he is in the present.

Speaking of Levi, I’ve mulled over what we discussed the other day, and I can picture him being the designated “creepy one” of the group. After all, still waters often have terrible and dangerous things lurking just below the surface. Given there is a lot of talk of Levi being a surfer dude, I feel like the thin veneer of a beach bum barely conceals something much darker. Everything he says and does just has this edge to it, which is just reinforced given he’s a massive sea serpent. Is his personality and use of surfer slang an act? Is it genuine? No one knows.

I like to think all of the Sins can naturally fly, regardless of whether or not they have wings. The only reason they (barring Luci and Bee) don’t regularly use this particular ability is a matter of practicality. Continuing this thought, I like the idea of them leaving trails when they fly, sort of like the Night Entities from Orion and the Dark. Like, Mammon leaves a trail of currency symbols, Bee’s trail resembles honey being applied by a bony wand, Satan leaves a trail of smoke and volcanic ash, etc.

Mammon is ridiculously agile, acrobatic, and can scale walls like Spider-Man. Most people don’t realize this given how he prefers to just teleport everywhere to get around.

While Wrath’s culture (when not geared towards agriculture) is centered around conflict, specifically martial conflict, I can easily picture Satan as trying to create conflict of all kinds. I mean, just imagine this giant, draconic demon cowboy/gym rat hopping on an internet forum or comment section just to start a flame war and watch the chaos unfold. This even extends to the other Sins, as he’ll just say or do minor shit to rile the others up.

I was thinking about your interpretation of how Belphagor and Baphomet could pan out and how Bel is fixated on efficiency. I feel that an outsider looking in would wonder why a laidback (and morally questionable) woman of science like Bel would go for a peppy and inviting guy like Baph, the answer being he’s efficient. Very efficient. The guy runs the ring and likely does far more behind the scenes, all the while finding time to keep a stable relationship with his wife, maintaining the Sloth ring’s facade of being a placid vacay spot, and being something of a large scale host and possible tour guide to people that come to Sloth to relax and likely roping them into/abducting some of them for his wife’s sketchy practices. Bel finds this workaholic level of efficiency very attractive.

When Charlie was little and the Sins took turns babysitting her, Satan and Belphagor were the only ones to actually dislike the duty. Satan didn’t want a kid around cramping his style & cutting into his workout regimen and Bel felt taking care of a child wouldn’t be conductive to her research & refused to let Baph watch her because it would cut into his carefully planned work schedule. This isn’t to say they don’t love their niece, they just aren’t the kind of people that want to deal with kids.

I’ve seen a lot of people joke about what’s under Mammon’s jester cap and my theory is that he basically has a bunch of spider legs growing out of his head like this:

Mammon’s “head legs” are probably one of the few things he’s actually self conscious about.

Given it’s been confirmed Bee’s stomach basically digests everything she eats almost immediately, I like to think that her weight and build actually fluctuates based on how much collective ambient gluttony is in a given area. In places/times where the majority of people feel gluttonous, she starts gaining weight, while gluttony being at its lowest causes her to start wasting away.

I remember you once suggested Andrealphus was incapable of having kids, hence Stella was born to keep the bloodline going and possibly try and climb the social ladder. It actually gave me the idea that Mammon is incapable of having kids of his own, hence his fixation on becoming a step-dad. With this in mind, I can picture his clown pageant being his way, through the lens of greed, of getting his own step-child, with the added bonus of getting a face for his brand. It’s debatable whether or not the thought of just adopting a kid ever crossed his mind.

The above point could also cause some Golden Goose angst.

I get the show kinda debunked the fanon idea of Lucifer playing the accordion, but I’m just going to ignore that in favor of a long-standing headcanon I’ve had. In essence, I thought it would be funny if Luci was a fan of polka to the point he actually made the other Sins learn how to play instruments traditionally used to play polka so they could all perform together. The others all hated it, but after Lilith left and they tried to get Luci out of his funk, they repeatedly offered to perform with him to no avail.

Continuing the music ideas, I can picture Bel being a fan of EDM.

As a testament to the Sins sheer level of power, if sufficiently motivated to do so they can actually reshape and restructure their respective domains. This naturally causes near incalculable damage and upheaval, while taking a lot out of them.

At some point early into Hell’s existence, Lucifer just kinda… snapped. He became a cruel tyrant that lined up more closely to traditional depictions of the devil, while Lilith and the Sins were at their all time worst as people. After several thousands of years of unspeakable evil, Lucifer and the others eventually grew out of their “tyrant phase”, eventually becoming who they are in canon. The event that got Lucifer, Lilith and the Sins to change (to varying degrees) for the better? Charlie’s birth.

I get that this is a lot and that your schedule has been thrown out of wack, but inspiration hit me like a speeding truck. Hope you like some of these.

Oh, I have a TON of thoughts about these! So, I'll spread out me responses in a 1 to 1 pattern

I always liked the idea of the Sins having full names, and the TM is perfect to Mammon

While I don't know if we'll ever get confirmation one way or the other, the Sins will, to me, always be found siblings who were once Heavens greatest circus before they were outcast for standing by their leader.

My design idea for Levi range from having transparent skin, to being partial rotted (like those videos of bottom feeders picking apart whale bodies). I'll be talking more about Levi's appearance in it's own post

At this point I'm starting to think the surfer thing is something the fandom gaslight itself with, because I can't find anyone genuinely claiming any such content was leaked. Personally, I see Levi as more of a sleazy editor/publisher, running the non-Pride news channels and most of Hell's print media. So basically, J. Jonnah, but he's a giant glowing eel.

I also think all the Sins have magical flight, but I also think that, like how Ozzie can manifest as a flame, Mam can manifest and move around as a lightning bolt.

YES! I love acrobatic Mam headcanons! My idea of him having needle like feet and his curly shoes being padded actually works really well with that. He can be very graceful when he wants to be.

Yeah, I think Satan would likely have a formalized way of doing this too, like, at some point personally declaring one side of a flame war the winners.

Yep, that's Bel and Baph in a nutshell. A lot of the mannerisms I envision for Baphomet come from the gag of Captain Fun and Activity Boy from the Jack Frost 2. (Look it up)

Again, I totally agree, I actually have a lot to say about Charlie and Bel's relationship, but that's for another time.

I like to think Mam has hair made of static electricity, it tingles to the touch, much like his webs.

Bee's consumption of emotions being what actually affects her body is a new idea to me, but one I love. Also kind of gives the impression she eats actual food mostly for the sensation of eating, which works pretty well.

My idea is that Mam can have kids, but always wanted it to be with someone he was absolutely sure about. However, Stella's trauma with essentially being forced to have Via gives him pause, it's a touchy subject for both of them.

Hah, nice. Also, I just leave this here, before rock existed, Mam was mostly into and performed opera.

Yeah, EDM is a good fit for Bel.

Oh, that's a new one for me. It's great! Might actually have a somewhat similar idea in the works....

This one I don't really jive with. I don't really like the idea of Charlie sparking all the Sins' character growth, but I do think they've all gone through a lot of "phases".

#hellaverse #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #hh Lucifer #hazbin Lucifer #hellaverse Lucifer #hh Charlie #hazbin Charlie #hellaverse Charlie #hb Mammon #helluva Mammon #hellaverse Mammon #hb Stella #helluva Stella #hellaverse Stella #hb Octavia #helluva Octavia #hellaverse Octavia #Golden Goose #Mammon x Stella #Stella x Mammon #hb Satan #helluva Satan #hellavers Satan #hb Asmodeus #helluva Asmodeus #hellaverse Asmodeus #hb Beelzebub #helluva Beelzebub #hellaverse Beelzebub

[fishtre]

Why do you not like Jason as a crime lord? I don't think I've met any fans who don't. You don't have to answer this if you don't want to. Thanks.

Thanks. Loaded question but who reads DC comics and doesn’t love to rant once in a while?    

People who want Jason to be a crime lord are a mixed bag, anon. From my experience, some are nostalgic of when Jason was a villain; they want this to be the hill on which Jason fights Bruce & co (and dies on). Some are just severely naive fans. Some are fans who want Jason to stars in gangster stories, etc... Nothing that interest me.

1. I'm okay with Jason killing traffickers and dealers, but not him becoming one.  That’s an actual deal-breaker for me. 

2. I don't want to see Jason becomes what he hates for no reasons.  

Beating dealers and crime lords, making them afraid to deal drug to kids... Jason achieves nothing as a glorified drug dealer that he can't accomplish as a vigilant. Affiliating RH to organized crime is more of a dead weight and a moral liability to his character than anything else.  

Also, anyone who think Jason is an actual crime lord in UTRH is basically telling me they don’t have enough reading comprehension to read/watch UTRH or a dictionary at this point. (More about that below the cut if you care.)  

3. Jason being turned into a crime lord is not going to magically solve how DC portray him. 

DC will never let a crime lord be the solution to crime their heroes can’t be, or imply that what Gotham need is a "good crime lord", or that such concept even exists... That shit is irl harmful. Such direction can only validate DC when they'll portray him as a scumbag or a cautionary tale; "he who fights monsters become the monster" and "Batman was right about Jason being a bad apple all along".   

I hope this delayed answer clear things, anon.  

 * 

A crime lord is someone who run and lead a criminal organization for profits. It’s the literal definition. Aside when Jason shortly takes over Penguin’s club during Rebirth RHATO, calling him a crime lord is a misconception or simply an informed attribute. UTRH never refers to Jason as being a crime lord. The flanderization happens after UTRH and my best guess is that DC went there to mark a distinction for their readers. So, they do not confuse RH (a vigilant but also a full-fledged villain for the rest of post-crisis continuity) and the ideal(ized) vigilantes Batman & co, whom readers should root for.   

So, yeah... Jason isn't a crime lord in UTRH.    

The only thing Jason leads there is his own operation, much like any vigilant. He blackmails actual kingpins into paying him so they stop working for BM. A "subscribe to my protection and policy or die" sort of deal. Then he kills and arsons underlines and stocks of the traffickers he didn't rope in. The goal is to weaken Black Mask’s empire, N°1 crime lord in Gotham and it's not to overtakes him.

RH has no hands in the drugs operations or business. He never touches that. He has no plans for some expansion or unification too. The actual crime lords in the story regards him as a madman, a big bully and a thug. He would have let that kingpin he roped in by force get burned alive by BM’s men if he didn’t have to pretends and keep BM’s manpower divided.  

I can't remember or care to check if the whole "regulate the drug market to control it” is fanon or also a direction that pop-up later in post-crisis. But UTRH!Jason isn’t leading a criminal organization. He’s leading a scorched-earth policy. There's no regulation of anything aside the "no child rule", and RH never claims such. He’s stirring shits in Gotham’s underworld, pocking at a hornet's nest, to get Batman's attention. UTRH is the story of a ghost coming back to haunt Bruce/Gotham.

If you go with the movie version, Jason also stirs things so BM pulls Joker out of prison and get his hands on the clown. Potentially, this is why Jason use the moniker of RH. If BM goes to Joker for help, it’s because he thinks Joker may know who RH is, or is behind all this, since the clown once used that alias himself.  

RH has no regard for any criminals involved, while actual crime lord Jason entails that Jason employs and works with a bunch of people who makes a living of smuggling and selling drugs. That he makes a profit over addictions and trafficking and he feeds that industry on some level. Regardless of how you justify this choice or not, he becomes an active wench in poisoning society and not just the underworld.  

That's a BIG side-step from what RH does in UTRH, and worse, in complete contradiction with his character or motives prior to his death.  

Drugs, thugs, dealers destroyed his childhood, his mother's life and jeopardized his by proxy. Jason doesn't idealize criminals or heroes. He doesn’t see anything moral about being a vigilant and thus don’t see a point in Bats’ “being better than them” mantra. Moral =/ Justice. His whole schism with Bruce steams from that.

So no, I’m not enthusiast about seeing Jason work with people he loathes, or turn into something he hates. For no real gain, again because he can do the same as a vigilant not affiliated to the drug business.To be clear, DC will never let him solve crime, obviously, but if turning Jason into a "he who fights monsters become the monster" villain so the moral can be "Bruce was right all along" isn't the point, going back to UTRH or crime lord Jason is not a viable direction.  

That's about cover my thoughts on the subject. :p   

#reply #jason todd #didn’t plan to answer this at first #but i'm tired

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Fandom: Supergirl, Shazam, The Flash, Zatanna, Teen Titans

Characters: Alexa Luthor Danvers, Liza Luthor Danvers, Zatanna, Billy Batson, Damien Wayne, Jon Kent, Nora West Allen

Summary: The Superkids are participating in a decathlon, but unusual series of events start to happen. This is a part of the 1k word challenge. I got the word smoke. This is in the same world as my series My Everything. Alexa, Liza, Billy, and Zatanna are a couple of years older. You can read this independently of the series. Not sure if I will keep this as a one shot or continue. If you want to see more, let me know!

Word Count: 2,464

Chapter: 1/?

Billy Batson looked at his gym outfit and cringed. Every year he got roped into doing the school’s decathlon. Everyone from 6-8th grade had to do a variety of physical activities for several hours. Then their results get posted in front of their entire class. It sucked because as Billy, he was at the tail end of the pack in regards to fitness. But as Shazam. He could wipe the floor with everyone. What made it worse this year is that they invited other schools across the country to participate: Gotham Academy and Kansas City Middle School. There was only two highlights. One is that this is the last one that he had to do before entering high school next year. The second highlight (which was the best in his opinion) is that he would get to hang out with two people that he admired: Jon Kent and Damien Wayne. They were in the Teen Titans and in the same grade as he is. Jon was cooler and calmer then this dad. Damien was the opposite. He had excellent knowledge and combat skills, but tended to be on the impulsive side. He has been able to meet them as Shazam since the League assigned him as a team lead for the Titans, but they didn’t want to hang out with him much because they perceived him as being an adult that was judging their performance. However, today was the day to change all that. His only problem is that they didn’t know who he was. 

Billy sighed while walking outside. Most of the students were either just standing around or just stretching. He scanned the school yard to see if he could spot anyone he knew. He smiled brightly when he spotted Damien and Jon huddled together across the yard. As he approached, he started to slow down as he saw the two in a middle of an argument. 

“I’m telling you Jon, we should just leave. No one would noticed” said Damien. 

Jon sighed and said, “You really want to start trouble right after getting off the plane.”

“It is not like anyone would noticed that we are gone. We don’t have anything to prove. I can wipe the floor with these simpletons any day.”

“People would noticed that we are gone dumb ass. Remember Alexa and Liza saw us earlier.”

“Do you really think your cousins would rat us out?”

“Lena is picking them up,” muttered Jon.

Damien’s face fell and said solemnly, “The human lie detector.”

Jon nodded and said, “Even if we didn’t tell Alexa and Liza anything, I am supposed to be staying with them the next couple of days. I am not going to face her wrath over some stupid stunt you want to pull.”

Damien looked down and said, “You guys are no fun.”

Billy thought it was a good moment to try to get their attentions and cleared his throat. Both boys looked back at him quizzically. 

“Is there something we can help you with?” asked Damien.

“Um, hi! My name is Billy,” said Billy stuttering. 

“And? Why should we care?” drawled Damien. 

Jon turned to Damien and said, “Don’t be rude.”

Jon then turned to Damien with a smile and said, “My name is Jon Kent, and my annoying friend here is Damien Wayne.”

“I am not the annoying one,” muttered Damien.

Jon rolled his eyes and said, “Anyway, I have heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” squeaked Billy.

Jon nodded and said, “You hang out with my cousins Alexa and Liza. There are really big fans of yours especially Alexa.”

Damien started snicking at that comment. 

Read the rest on AO3

#billy batson #damien wayne #jon kent #original luthor/danvers children #zatanna #nora west allen #supergirl #dc comics #dc universe #teen titans #fanfic #fanfiction #word challenge #shazam #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc comics fanfic #dc comics fanfiction #dc universe fanfiction #the flash

[mwebber]

41, 51, 2, 8, 34 for Martian :))

hiyaa thanks for sending this along! gonna try post-retirement martian..

41. Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

maybe when he was younger, seb was more absentminded regarding the care and keeping of Himself--the invincibility of youth, etc, you know how it is. but as he's gotten older, he's also gotten better about preparing for unexpected weather. it's mark, surprisingly, that'll get distracted by the outdoors, and in his hubris, think he can get beat the rain home. seb's lost count of the number of times he's dragged mark under an awning and shrugged off his coat, reaching up to pull it over mark's shoulders with a scowl. why don't you ever check the weather before we leave the house, he'll say. to his annoyance, mark will simply settle the coat more securely over himself, and beam at him. i've got you to handle it, don't i? and, well. seb can't argue with that.

51. What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

it's like a dissonant, suspended chord from their red bull days, their unwillingness to be entirely vulnerable. that they care strongly for one another is never in doubt--it's impossible to go through what they did and not have an intimate understanding of the other--but sometimes, they finds themselves having to pay closer attention to their actions to understand the true extent. when mark walks close enough to seb that their hands bump, and his pinkie finger hooks around seb's; when seb isn't on dish duty, but he steps in to help anyway; when mark tucks seb's curls behind his ear, and his thumb lingers; when seb offers to help fix mark's bike; it's almost as though they're broadcasting their affection for each other. they only ever need to tune into the right frequency to listen.

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

seb gets stress dreams, sometimes. he's not one-track minded, per se, it's just that when something unresolved is on his mind, it'll stay there until he resolves it. he never remembers his dreams, once he opens his eyes; just the impression of fear, some phantom shadow curling at the edges of his vision. thus, in the early hours, it's not a manic state he wakes up in after a nightmare so much as an unsettled one. fortunately, mark can clock his mood like he's got a radar for seb's happiness installed in his brain, and he usually stirs awake too. it's helpful in moments like this, because he also knows exactly what to do: he'll pull seb closer, and hold seb's hand even if it's still clammy with sweat, and tangle their legs together, or do whatever's most convenient to remind seb that he's there, like a guard dog. or, seb thinks, as he breathes in the warmth and the lingering smell of detergent and something certifiably mark, more like a teddy bear that chases the darkness away from under the bed. when he closes his eyes again, he's on a rowboat under the stars, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the ocean's swells beneath him, and anchored to shore with a rope tied carefully by mark's hand.

8. What happens if one of them gets sick?

naturally, they both get sick. mark's the one who's away from home more (and more, because the race seasons just keep getting longer), so when he gets that familiar feeling of dryness in his throat, it feels like an inevitability. at first, he tries to quarantine himself, because someone's gotta take care of the animals and keep the place running. but seb insists on taking care of him instead, uncaring of the germs. it works out, in the end: when seb gets too sick to crawl out of bed, mark's well enough to feed the chickens. they take it easy for a week, or at least until they can spend a day without hacking a lung out. life goes on.

34. Who's more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

if seb is anything, he's a little shit-eating gremlin who knows precisely what he's doing at all times, or at least in the times that are most inconvenient to mark. case in point, right before he's about to go on tv. seb's innuendos and double entendres aren't even subtle, as though he's stopped trying to flirt entirely, and instead taken it for granted that he has mark wrapped around the cute little index finger he sticks up in victory sometimes. the problem is, he's not wrong. mark steps in front of the camera with his cheeks tinged pink--from the heat, obviously--and a smile that twitches at the corner of his lips, like he can't help himself. viewers everywhere wonder what's so funny, especially since neither dc nor steve jones are being particularly interesting. it remains a mystery to everyone but seb, who takes a quick, suggestive picture of himself, and sends it to mark. none of the microphones pick up the notifying buzz.

ask me about martian / nobody asks you questions!

#my writing #inbox #martian #long post #thanks again!

[art-of-manliness]

Saddle Up! A Dictionary of Old-Time Cowboy Slang

The cowboy is one of the great archetypes of American manliness.  He embodies many of the virtues Americans prize, such as grit, freedom, and independence. The cowboy followed a code of honor that, rather than being set by an aristocracy, came from the ground up and worked itself out within a posse.  While many of our ideas of cowboy life are a myth, the romantic ideal of it has had an outsized influence on American culture, including in language.  Because the cowpuncher was typically uneducated, he often used slang to communicate with his horse-riding, steer-roping peers. In 1936, American folklorist Ramon Adams published an ethnography called Cowboy Lingo that focused on the unique language of American cowboys. In it, he cataloged the colorful slang words used by cowboys in the American West from the 19th century to the early 20th. According to Adams, cowboy slang is characterized by the use of picturesque metaphors. The cowboy drew from his everyday life to create phrases and words that could be used more broadly. For example, a cowboy might have noticed that when a bull gets angry, it starts aggressively pointing its horns at would-be targets. To tell a fellow cowpoke to quit looking for trouble, a cowboy might say to his compadre: “Pull in your horns!” Below, we give you a sampling of common cowboy slang words. You might notice some of them sprinkled in a Western movie or novel, and you’ll even notice some that are still in use today. Ace in the hole. A hideout or a hidden gun. According to Hoyle. Correct, by the book. “Hoyle” is a dictionary of rules for card games. Acknowledge the corn. To admit the truth, to confess a lie, or acknowledge an obvious personal shortcoming. Addle-headed. Empty-headed, not smart. A hog-killin’ time. A real good time. “We went to the Rodeo Dance and had us a hog-killin’ time.” A lick and a promise. To do a haphazard job. “She just gave it a lick and a promise.” All-fired. Very, great, immensely; used for emphasis. “He is just too all-fired lazy to get any work done around here.” Amputate your timber. Go away, run off. Apple peeler. Pocket knife. Apple pie order. In top shape, perfect order. Attitudinize. To assume an affected attitude. Bach (pronounced “batch”). For a man to keep house without a woman’s help. Backdoor Trots. Diarrhea. Ballyhoo. Sales talk, advertising, exaggeration. Barber’s cat. Half-starved, sickly-looking person. Barber’s clerk. A conceited, over-dressed fellow who tries to act like a “gentleman.” Barkin’ at a knot. Doing something useless; wasting your time, trying something impossible. Barrel boarder. A bum. Between hay and grass. Neither man nor boy, half-grown. Biggest toad in the puddle. The most important person in a group. Biggity. Large, extravagant, grand, haughty. Black-eyed susan. A six-gun. Blue devils. Dispirited. “I have the blue devils today.” Bone orchard. Cemetery. Bosh. Nonsense. “It was absolute bosh what he said.” Boss. The best, top. “The Alhambra Saloon sells the boss whiskey in town.” Buckaroo. A cowboy, usually from the desert country of Oregon, Nevada, California, or Idaho. Buckle to. Set about any task with energy and determination. Calico queen. Prostitute. California widow. A woman separated from her husband, but not divorced. (From when pioneer men went West, leaving their wives to follow later.) Cash in. To die. Catch a weasel asleep. Referring to something impossible or unlikely, usually used in regard to someone who is always alert and seldom or never caught off guard.  Clodhopper. A rustic, a clown. Cotton to. To take a liking to. Cowboy up. Toughen up, get back on yer horse, don’t back down, don’t give up. Dash. Euphemism for damn. Dead-alive. Dull, inactive, moping. Didn’t have a tail feather left. Broke. Docity. Quick comprehension, usually used in a negative way. “He has no docity.” Don’t care a continental. Don’t give a damn. Dry gulch. To ambush someone, especially when the ambusher hides in a gully or gulch… http://dlvr.it/T613jw

[darsynia]

Trust Fall | Ch 15b

ARC image by Eury Escodero

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Emory is given a room at the Triskelion, and Tony meets with Phil Coulson in search of her.

Length: 3,233

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

“Are you under the impression we intend to hurt her, Mr. Stark? I assure you, that is not the case. Her condition is classified, as I’m sure you understand, but it’s not our intention to fulfill the role of scientist boogeymen, here. She’s not being examined or tested, beyond routine care.” Agent Coulson pauses, then raises his eyebrows. “That has been more difficult than we expected, as her medical records have been locked down by unknown, outside forces.”

So, they know he locked down her files, somehow. How much latitude does this agency he’s never heard of before actually have? Tony keeps his expression neutral and says, “That shouldn’t be a problem, should it? Can’t you override that with her verbal permission?”

“Once she is awake, yes.”

Tony shoots out of his chair and leans over, slamming both of his hands palm down against the empty desk. It hurts so much that he has to grit his teeth not to cry out, rather than immediately speaking. Coulson does throw himself back, which is gratifying, but he doesn’t look afraid.

“You drugged her? Give me an address. Now.”

Chapter Fifteen: Disinfectant

Emory learns that her knight in black leather and tek gear is named Clint Barton. His flippant sarcasm keeps her sane as they are winched down from the roof, and once they’re on the solid ground of the river bank, she finds herself fascinated by the dynamic between him and Fury. Agent Kate hasn’t accompanied the director to greet them, but he is flanked by a few dour looking men in black suits.

“If that rope was any longer you’d need workman’s comp for that drop!” Fury tells Barton in a voice just shy of stern.

“If it’d been shorter you’d have a lot more paperwork,” Barton says, grinning. He unfastens Emory from his harness in three swift motions and steps back, pulling the thick straps free of their entanglement with her hair gently. With a respectful but brusque nod, he says, “Nice to meet you,” and heads into the building.

Emory Autumn and Nick Fury look at each other for a full minute in silence.

“You knew I could fly.” Emory finally says. She crosses her arms, feeling dreadfully exposed.

“I knew you could fall,” Fury retorts. “Glad to see it wasn’t immediate.”

“Me too,” she sighs. “I’m used to negotiation, okay? But I’m also used to knowing where my bed is at the end of the day. Can we pretend I’m threatening to walk up the fifty-odd flights of stairs to toss myself back out that open window again only to be caught by a second muscle-bound archer?” Her chest hurts from needing to let out a shaky breath, but Emory holds it in, sure that it’ll weaken her position. Every part of her body is screaming that she’s not physically cut out for this. “How about we just skip ahead to the part where you agree I can have contact with Tony, and I agree to help you?” 

Fury regards her with a forbidding, narrow-eyed glare for a few seconds before relaxing into a thoughtful nod. “It’s a deal.”

Her relief curves a layer of energy around her like a caress, and Emory impulsively decides to thank him in kind, sending a tiny twist of air toward him. Because he’s in the process of turning toward the building, it makes his trenchcoat furl out behind him dramatically.

“Don’t push it,” he says, but she can hear the amusement in his voice.

Emory feels underdressed in her scrubs when they walk into the dark grey staircase the back door opens onto. There’s a level of sophistication to the architecture that is completely missing in the room she’d partially wrecked less than an hour before.

“Do you seriously have a ‘throwback to a sterile generic government agency’ wing of this place, but everything else is in a more modern design?” she asks as they start up the single flight of stairs.

“Actually? Yes. You’d be surprised how much difference that can make in certain situations,” Fury says. “To our benefit, of course.”

“Of course,” she agrees, kind of impressed. The way that this place and its people seem to have layers upon layers is intimidating, though. Emory had been hoping she could leave that kind of hidden meaning social manipulation behind her after getting a ‘break’ from it, of sorts. Show business is an underhanded, double-talking environment, and she’d become good at dealing with that as self defense. The only silver lining she has to look forward to right now is that all of this counts as a great excuse to continue avoiding the inevitable confrontation with Rory.

Fury takes her through a hallway and into an elevator, turning to give her a slightly impish look, hovering his hand between them as he speaks. “Too bad the staircase that leads where we’re going doesn’t have a gap in the middle. You could just float your way up. Good practice.”

She backs up so the wall of the elevator is behind her and she’s mostly looking at Fury’s back. “Why even bother with the charade when you’re this well informed? Couldn’t you just hand me my script?”

“We needed to see how you’d handle disappointment.”

That has her speechless for the rest of the short elevator ride. When they emerge, it’s to a high-ceilinged room with various hallways branching from it. Sounds of people exercising and practicing fighting each other can be heard from the large gym area separated from them by a glass wall with a shoulder-height window running the length of it. Emory throws Fury a wry look; she’s short enough that she doesn’t see as much through that window as he can. He leads her to the leftmost hallway and pulls out a keycard, holding it up.

It has her picture on it, featuring a candid photo taken before Afghanistan.

Fury scans the keycard and the door unlocks. He steps inside halfway to look around, then moves back and gestures for her to go in. His confidence and the pre-made keycard he hands her are a powerful indicator of both his trust and his confidence in his own decisions. She can’t help but wonder if he understands Tony Stark’s influence on her, or if she’s so far managed to keep Fury on his toes in that regard.

Emory pulls in a steadying breath and walks into the room. It’s a self-contained apartment, complete with stylized room dividers that don’t quite reach to the ceiling.

She turns around to look at Fury. “You sure you want me so close to the elevator?”

“Better than the end of the hallway. Look out the window.” She walks over to it and understands what he means. This part of the building is round, with protruding sections that curve around the outside. Her room is on the edge of one of those built out sections, making her window barely functional. It looks out at the building, for the most part, rather than the view, and its cramped position would make gathering air for a quick exit tricky. Fury’s probably got a whole report on the probabilities.

“Better than bars,” Emory observes, walking into the center of the room to stand next to the grey-patterned loveseat.

“Indeed.” He raises his chin to regard her sternly for a few seconds, then nods at various parts of the room as he mentions them. “Kitchen is self-explanatory. Bathroom has a stand-up shower, picture window has a button to turn it opaque. Computer is locked down-- data comes in, not out. Arrangements are being made to contact your family--” She draws in a deep breath to mention Tony, and Fury holds up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “I am working on something for Stark. Give me twenty-four hours.”

“Are there even any clocks in here?” she asks pointedly, welcoming the tiny pinpricks of energy starting to flare on her skin at the thought that she’ll talk to Tony soon. The heartache from not doing so is a worrisome counterbalance, though. She’s going to need to come up with another generator.

Fury starts for the door. “Foot of the bed.”

“Fury?” The absurdity of her situation is kicking in, and her voice is ragged, desperate. He turns. “Tell me why. Nearly everything you’ve said to me started out as a lie, but you’re sticking to this separation thing like it’s life or death.”

He stops, turns his head. “It very well might be. You spent time with the man, do you think Tony Stark will listen if he’s told he can’t help with the mission?”

Emory sags against the back of the loveseat. “Shit.” She hugs her arms around herself, but they’re a pathetic substitute for Tony’s. “There has to be something we can…” Her voice trails off.

“Time will tell.” He walks over to the door and opens it, turning toward her. You should have contact with your family in the morning. Agent Harris will be in touch about the other things.”

“Is that Nurse Kate?” Emory asks, frowning.

“Her real name is Sharon.”

“Oh what a shock, more lying!” she gripes. Is she really expected to trust these people when it takes two or three passes to get to the truth every time?

“It’s not always about you,” Fury says before pulling the door shut behind him.

Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division doesn’t try to play hardball with Tony when he calls. The man simply agrees to meet in less than an hour, sending over the address to a nearby business complex. It’s nearly seven in the evening when Tony buttons up his dress shirt, dons the suit coat, and adjusts the velcro for his sling.

Then he takes it off, shaking his head-- he can’t drive while he wears it, and Happy is out for the night. The arm hurts, sure, but he should be able to handle that for the short distance. When Tony slides into his seat and buckles, the act hurts like hell, and all he can see is Emory’s face scrunching up in adorable, chastising disapproval. She’d give him so much shit for this, but it’s part of the steps he must take to find her, so she’s just going to have to deal.

He spends the drive smiling, thinking about how she’d berate him for driving injured, without asking for help. Tony arrives at the small office building and parks in an open spot in front; he eyes the sling in the passenger seat but locks the car up without grabbing it. His internal Emory tsks at him.

No one is at the sparse receptionist’s desk, but a balding man with a bland suit and a friendly expression leans out of the cubicle area to see who has walked in.

“Ah, Mr. Stark. Phil Coulson,” he says, raising a hand in greeting. He angles his head toward the only private meeting space visible, an office that seems built out into the rest of the room as if an afterthought. Tony is pretty sure they’ve rented the space solely to speak to him. It puts him on edge, because if this agency has the authority to redirect military planes because of their human cargo, they’re not accurately represented by this shoddy bureaucratic facade.

Coulson sits down at the (again, almost empty of personal or business items) metal desk without reaching out for a handshake. Tony settles into the cheap, armless chair across from him and schools his face into an expression of equal blandness.

The man’s eyes trace Tony’s right arm. He obviously knows about Tony’s injury, which isn’t that surprising considering he was at the press conference to give his card to Pepper. What Coulson doesn’t do is look at his chest, even though Tony hasn’t chosen his dress shirt with enough care to conceal what’s embedded there. The light blue color allows a faint glow to shine through. Has someone from his agency talked to Emory about what happened in Afghanistan? Tony hadn’t asked her to keep it a secret, after all, but to him, it’s so private that this would be a given. Tony wishes he could get a read on Coulson.

Is he a sloppy paper pusher checking boxes by meeting with Tony to get any additional information about their new captive? Or is he one of their best agents, sent out to assess Tony while simultaneously concealing their true weight as an agency?

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Coulson says. “You must be doing well, to have driven yourself here.”

“Sure,” Tony agrees easily. He’s certain that this man’s genial demeanor is actually rife with hidden threat, and he can respect that. He’s not going to back down, though.

He’s not leaving this place without Emory’s location.

“So our purview is rather broad,” Coulson says, as if apologetic. “To start, I’d like to ask you some questions about your escape from captivity in Afghanistan.”

“I can’t imagine I’d have anything to add to Ms. Autumn’s account of the event, which I’m sure you’ve already gathered?” Tony lifts his chin and dons the 80/20 stern/smug expression that Pepper bitches to him about.

“As you might imagine, it’s important to gather any and all accounts, as eyewitness testimony is often distorted by emotional entanglements,” Coulson says smoothly.

“Pesky, aren’t they?” Tony says, pouring on the charm. He leans forward in his chair and offers Coulson a tight smile. “Here’s how this is actually going to go: you have my friend. You took her, which I take personal offense to, and I gotta tell you, after recent events? I find myself much less inclined to care about first world inconveniences. I have a considerable fortune and very few shits to give. Where is she?”

“She’s staying at our headquarters in D.C.,” Coulson says, relaxing back in his chair. “As you might imagine, her safety was at issue, initially, so we took measures to--”

“Careful,” Tony interrupts through nearly clenched teeth.

“Are you under the impression we intend to hurt her, Mr. Stark? I assure you, that is not the case. Her condition is classified, as I’m sure you understand, but it’s not our intention to fulfill the role of scientist boogeymen, here. She’s not being examined or tested, beyond routine care.” Agent Coulson pauses, then raises his eyebrows. “That has been more difficult than we expected, as her medical records have been locked down by unknown, outside forces.”

So, they know he locked down her files, somehow. How much latitude does this agency he’s never heard of before actually have? Tony keeps his expression neutral and says, “That shouldn’t be a problem, should it? Can’t you override that with her verbal permission?”

“Once she is awake, yes.”

Tony shoots out of his chair and leans over, slamming both of his hands palm down against the empty desk. It hurts so much that he has to grit his teeth not to cry out, rather than immediately speaking. Coulson does throw himself back, which is gratifying, but he doesn’t look afraid.

“You drugged her? Give me an address. Now.”

“Please don’t further injure yourself, Mr. Stark. We’re on the same side.”

“Like hell we are! We rescued ourselves from that cave, and her reward is a dressed-up American version of the same fucking thing?” Tony pushes off and walks away from the desk so he doesn’t punch the guy in the face and send himself to the hospital for real.

“I’d really prefer she be the one to explain the situation to you, sir, but the short version is that the injections she took while in captivity carry a fairly large drawback that our agency has been trying to find a way to mitigate. She’s in the best possible place to deal with that drawback.” Coulson’s tone is soft, compared to Tony’s raging harshness. Tony hears his chair push back from the desk.

This is exactly what he’d been afraid of. As much as he’d love to reject Coulson’s words as fake and manipulative in the same way he rejects that the shabby office building they’re meeting in is real, there’s a ring of truth to his tone. Yes, he wants her to be safe, but ‘safe’ is relative, when there’s both a real problem to deal with along with the artificial problem of red tape standing between them.

Tony’s mind races, trying to come up with leverage.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony wheels around, pins the man with a glare. “I assume you’d like to keep her condition secret? And that your so-called mitigation is classified?”

Coulson nods, one hand out as if awkwardly trying to soothe a raging beast. He has no idea.

“Put me in touch with her or I’ll do it my way. I’ll send her messages with your help or I’ll post them in every newspaper, on every news program, every publication that has begged me for an interview in the past day. I can assure you, there are hundreds.”

The agent blinks, which Tony supposes counts as ‘shocked’ for him. “Do you really think it’s best to subject her to that kind of scrutiny?”

“What’s best is for her to be in contact with me,” Tony bites out. They look at each other for a long minute, neither blinking. The ache in his arm helps to keep him focused.

“I’ll pass that along,” Coulson finally says.

“You do that.” Tony turns to leave. Right as he reaches out for the doorknob, the agent speaks again.

“Oh, one more thing. Should I contact Ms. Potts to reschedule?”

He doesn’t want to stop. He almost doesn’t, but Tony’s not ignorant to the fact that he’s just threatened someone who can make a call and have Emory moved out of D.C. before Tony has a chance to get home and arrange a flight out there, much less actually landing.

“Good idea. Do it tomorrow, would you? I gave her the night off.”

With that, Tony walks out. He slides into the driver’s seat wishing he hadn’t chosen a convertible. Either he tries to buckle up without his right hand and Coulson sees it, or he bears the agony and fucks up his arm by buckling himself. If he chooses the latter, he’ll have to sit until the pain subsides enough to actually fucking drive away. So much for a power move.

Tony rests his forehead on the steering wheel in lieu of doing anything. As he has every time he isn’t actively working on something, Tony thinks about what Emory might be going through. Did they lock her up as if she’s some kind of dangerous monster? Have they tried to force her into using her powers? Interrogated her? He already knows she’ll have asked to talk to him, and Coulson has probably known where he is since before he crossed the ocean.

Tony’s startled by the sound of the seatbelt unspooling and jerks sideways to see that Coulson is standing beside the car, pulling on the buckle.

“What are you doing?”  

“You’re not the only one making threats regarding a loved one’s safety. Be glad I’m not commandeering the car and sending you home with an agent, instead. Drive safe, Mr. Stark.” As he speaks, Agent Phil Coulson leans over and buckles Tony in, taking the time to tighten the belt. That just so happens to allow the man to press the back of his hand against the center of Tony’s chest, where he has to have felt the hard shape of the ARC reactor.

Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “Well played.” 

“We’ll be in touch about contacting Ms. Autumn,” the agent promises, straightening up and walking away.

He deliberately does not turn to see Coulson’s expression, choosing instead to watch his progress back to the sidewalk in the rearview mirror. He knows it’s reckless, he knows it’s going to hurt, but Tony throws the car into reverse with an exaggerated gesture that stabs pain through his right arm, before swinging the car out onto the road and speeding away.

The sound of a phone ringing wakes Emory up. She squints at the clock with bleary eyes, only recognizing the time because the hands of the analog device form a straight line, top to bottom. Scrambling out of bed, she makes her way to the telephone and picks it up, pressing the old-style device to her ear.

“Hello?” she asks, hearing the scratchy, just-woke-up tone and wincing.

“It’s me.”

Next chapter, Tony and Emory finally get to speak to each other, but the effect on Emory's powers is... destructive.

#tony stark x oc #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x original character #tony stark imagine #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark #series: autonomy #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs

[sliptohk]

Prompt #4: Off the Hook

Dangling by an ankle a dozen fulms above the forest floor was a disorienting state to suddenly find oneself in. One moment Katja had been walking peacefully. The next, a sudden twang had sounded as the rough pull of a tightening noose squeezed into place and she found herself thrown forcibly skyward to swing back and forth from that anchor point high upon an upper branch. A blur of browns, greens, orange, and red rushing past as leaves and bark blended together for one unsettling moment. The Gyr Abanian raised a hand to ward off branches as she swung into them. Sharp prods earned no reaction, so long as those protective hands kept them away from the eyes.

It took some time for the pendulous swing to lose momentum, the creak of the tree limb quieting as the acrobat manipulated her position to hasten the stilling of the line. It would have been simple enough to curl herself upward to untie or sever the hempen cord, but that would hardly bring her quarry into the open. Canicus had always been a sadist and a coward, granting him a false sense of security seemed the best approach.

Arms dangled downward, the performer keeping careful time of just how long as she hanging in place. Too long, and she would need to take preemptive action, and as moments dragged on it seemed increasingly likely she would need to do so. Only when she had reached the limits of her patience did the sound of snapping twigs draw her attention toward the lean figure cautiously peering up at her through the undergrowth.

The appraisal was unwelcome, a slight shift in weight sent her slowly turning away from that regard. Or at least her face, as she was certain the unruly mop of dyed hair on her head would fail to give her away. Choosing more common, ragged attire would help in that regard, though she well knew he had never seen her in anything except for prison greys.

"Hardly resemble a hunter, are you some sort of bandit skulking about my cabin, girl?"

It would have been a laughable suggestion if Katja's jaw weren't already clenched tightly shut. Preventing the furious grind of teeth that would undoubtedly begin when that loathsome voice rekindled the memories of her time at the Castrum. She ignored the question, just letting herself hang limply. Let him think what he would - perhaps his quarry struck their head when that trap ripped their legs out from under them. Or the rush of blood had rendered them unconscious.

She was uncertain if that could happen, but given how poorly camouflaged the trap had been before she decided to personally bait the trap, it seemed unlikely he would have known that himself. Simply dangle and twist, lure him forward one step at a time. A goal that was slowly coming closer if the rustle and snap of those approaching footsteps was anything to go by. Glimpsing him through half-lidded eyes, the highlander waited for that firearm in his hands to slowly dip its barrel down toward the earth as he stared upward. Into a face he quickly recognized when eyes snapped open and Katja rapidly erupted into sudden, violent motion.

Aether solidified from heel to calf as a sharp, curved blade of pure magic ripped through her rope and pant-leg, gravity immediately laying claim. Body tucking into a sharp, forward somersault as it twisted into a vicious spin to slam that deadly construct deep into Canicus at an angle from his right shoulder down to his left side.

"No bars between us now."

It was an unsettling sound, but one she had grown accustomed to amidst her hunt. A heavy thump preceding a sharp crack as bone snapped beneath the force of her dropping heel, and the tear of a sharpened edge ripped through bloody flesh. The construct faded even quicker than it formed, as Katja disengaged from the dying Garlean beneath her and rolled backward to her feet once more. A deep ache in her formerly bound leg from the strain that magic placed on it. Undoubtedly some of the blood along her calf was her own, and not just that of Canicus himself.

As always, there was no sense of satisfaction to the act. No joy. Only the faintest sense of relief as she need no longer share the star with a monster like that. Dying, but not dead, she leaned down to put his own firearm to use. Others might wish to see those who wronged them suffer, but to the acrobat their continuance grated on her. Each breath, labored or pained, one more than than those they had robbed of it.

Tossing the smoking weapon down onto the body sprawled beneath her, Katja turned to move on to the Garlean's cabin with only the slightest limp, "Hope ya were a better chronicler than a fisherman, kir Hispallus. Nice if ya kept in touch with the rest. Got a bloke waiting to read through your journals for me."

#FFXIVWrite #FFXIVWrite2023 #Katja Revel

[falinscloaca]

thinking back to people comparing shonen author's portrayals of women back in the day and the outright glowing egalitarianism people attributed to akutami (Jujutsu Kaisen) versus the... "ok its not that there isn't GOOD or COMPELLING stuff in here, its way more um. interesting and spiritually activated than some of the older standards, but um. good god this is an abject mess of 'can't tell if its a feminist not-even-a-masterpiece-but-like-SOMETHING or its written from the perspective of being literally gynophobic'" opinion (reality to be fair, though CSM has absolutely improved in that regard since i was seeing those posts) people held of Fujimoto (Chainsaw Man, Fire Punch, various wierdass oneshots) and how like. beautifully that's aged.

People were overstating their case with Gege from the get-go (Nobara was *literally* 'women be shopping' AND 'shut up i don't care about sexism existing your being a bitch' and that second one was pretty central to one of the big things people pointed to as to JJK being 'progressive') but he was managing to pull off a degree of equity there. But just... steadily, steaaaaadily his consistent undercharacterization of women in comparison to their male peers just never STOPPED and it just accumulated and accumulated until theres only one fucking female character at play right now who isn't defined by her relationship with a man. PEOPLE WENT NUTS OVER A TWO PANEL ESTABLISHING SHOT CAMEO OF MIWA EVEN THOUGH THAT WAS CLEARLY JUST A 'oh god even the NICE people are being roped in with this shit' MOMENT BECAUSE OF HOW GOD DAMN STARVED THE NARRATIVE IS LMAO. not to mention the pacing biting this in the ass. Also the amount of lady fansiverice has increased by a not-insignificant margin over the years but in his case i really Don't think thats directly relevant he was underperforming even when that shit was minimal.

Meanwhile Fujimoto doesn't so much *improve* (ok he does actually i'll stand up for that. still got issues and developed a few more but like.... for all its issues both ~ethical~ and otherwise part 2's been muchhhhh better in terms of Bechdelling it up) as just keep fucking *going* and involving new women into the plot at an equal or greater rate than the male characters at this point and without any superfluous sexist shit BEYOND THAT ONE SCENE OF ASA ALMOST-NAKED AERGHGHGHGHHGHGHHG *smashes my computer with HAMMERS*. its literally like the tortoise and the hare up in here.

#zannies giant brain #also i love nobara. she can really be shopping she deserves it she deserves everything that isn't the point #SURE WISH SHE WAS *HERE* RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!! #TURNS OUT WOMEN *CAN'T EVEN* BE SHOPPING! tragic.

[mayhemproduces]

Sister Abigail (c) vs Bryan Danielson - MPW World Championship

Two months into her reign, Abigail has been a fighting champion. A cheating one, relying on underhanded tactics and flat out turning some into handicap matches - but nonetheless. Abigail has defended and retained against some of the biggest names in MPW and the wrestling business alike. Kenny Omega, Darby Allin, VENY Keith Lee, just to name a few, before burying Josh Bishop six feet under last night. That match became an all out war between The Fallen and the Rip City Shooters, but only one team was left standing. Only one champion left standing, and she’s barreling straight ahead towards State of Emergency.

But first, the Reaper meets a Dragon.

This marks the first time Danielson and Abigail share a ring together, and there’s no love lost here. Abigail has to be carrying bruises and deep aches and pains after last week, and she’s looking to make this as quick as possible, but that’s going to be much easier said than done when you’re in the ring with Bryan Danielson. Bryan is the epitome of resilience in wrestling, as most have had to choke Bryan out just to keep him down. Abigail may have to do the same here if she wants to walk out with the gold.

The bell rings, kicking this one off, and the wrestlers disperse, circling, feeling one another out. Proficient strikers, but Bryan has the edge when it comes down to catch as catch can wrestling. Abigail could carry her own long enough to get in a few good hits, but she’ll have to be careful not to get caught in Bryan’s web as they finally lock up. Jockeying for position as Bryan tries to slip in a multitude of holds, none of which he can find a good grip for, as Abigail goes low for a waistlock. Bryan grabs her head but she uses it to topple them over, trying to lock Danielson in some type of choke, but the challenger finds the ropes. They break, circling, Abigail going low but Bryan picks the arm and forces Abigail to the mat. Sitting on Abigail’s back, he quickly pulls on the face before going to a crossface. Abigail gets out of it with a hold on the leg but Bryan reverses again, going back to that front chancery. Pinning them against the ropes, Bryan releases, and gets slapped across the face! Abigail’s eyes are wide with mischievous as she steps back, beckoning Bryan forth.

Locking up, fingers locked together as they battle for dominance. They get nowhere with it, so Bryan lets one hand go and smacks Abigail back! Snapmare puts the champion on the mat, and Bryan launches a shoot kick right on the spine! That has to hurt! Abigail rolls her neck, rolling the shoulders out as she gets back to her feet, shaking off the kick. Bryan had hoped for a better result, but Abigail’s silently asking for more, a wide smirk on her face as Bryan keeps his distance. There’s a reason why Bryan Danielson has been regarded as one of the best in the world for decades now - he knows better than to step into her trap. Bryan will continue to take his time. He has 60 minutes to put her down, and he’ll use every second if he has to.

Abigail points to her chin, requesting Bryan’s best shot, and actually letting him have it. Surviving Grave Consequences has boosted Abigail’s confidence even higher. Such a thing we didn’t think, or maybe hoped, was possible, but Abigail’s been smug ever since she walked through the door, and thinks this will be a cake walk. But if you’re walking into a fight with Bryan Danielson and think it’s going to be easy… it’s that type of ignorance that has paved the way to many successful moments of Bryan’s career. Abigail’s a fool, and she’ll be a title-less fool, if she makes that mistake tonight.

Nonetheless, Bryan isn’t backing down from the challenge, and cracks a forearm against her jaw! Abigail almost looks staggered from the shot, but responds with a forearm in kind. Quick forearms are fired back and forth trading brutal shots before Bryan hits an uppercut. Abigail responds with a forearm, battering the jaw of Danielson as she succeeds with more before throwing Danielson into the corner behind her and stomping him down. Using Bryan’s crook as a stepping stool, Abigail puts all of her weight down onto the shoulder and neck, utilizing the five count before backing off and whipping Bryan across the ring. Bryan climbs the turnbuckles to flip over Abigail, landing on his feet, Bryan runs the ropes. A swing and a miss by Abigail but she gets Bryan on the rebound, dropping him with a roundhouse kick! The kick lands flush on Bryan’s temple, and his eyes are glossed over for a moment as he looks into the void. Abigail’s legs are a sore spot for the right opponent, but they’re also where she gets most of her power from. That kick puts Bryan on his ass, and Abigail uses more, taking a page out of Danielson’s play boot as she smacks her thick leg against his chest. Repeating the action over and over again, causing Bryan to rock back with each brutal hit. She sets up for the buzzsaw - but Bryan catches the leg! To his feet, Bryan hits a dragon screw!

Abigail tweaked that knee hard on the way down, and opens herself up for Bryan to show her how those shoot kicks are really done. Expert, precise kicks from Bryan, crushing Abigail’s chest, before going for the buzzsaw, Abigail tries to block it but Bryan kicks her on the other side of the head instead! Abigail slumps to the mat as the referee checks on her. Bryan extends his arms, circling, before asking if she was okay to continue. With no response, Bryan starts to do jumping jacks. Normally it’s Abigail on the other side of these mindgames, but what Bryan’s doing is mere light work. Getting her riled up, even while she’s on the defensive, Abigail leaves herself open for Danielson to drive a vicious knee into her side. Driving in multiple knees before Danielson decides to simply stand on her ribcage, crushing Abigail beneath him, much to the delight of our fans here. Danielson breaks at three and a half, waving his hands at the referee, very much the cocky little shit we’ve come to know and love. The cocky little shit that has all the skills and all the smarts to do the unthinkable now has Abigail backed into the corner with an uppercut. Bryan laying in body shots, working Abigail down. A hard forearm has Abigail clinging to the ropes, and Bryan measures before delivering a stiff shoot kick. Wearing Abigail down like a heavy bag as Bryan comes from the left or the right, precisely measuring as he delivers another shoot kick, this one on the ribs. Danielson lands a chop, and it ignites something in Abigail! She’s grinning wide, a sadistic grin spread from ear to ear, as she gets in Bryan’s face. Bryan hits another chop and Abigail wraps her hands around his throat, choking Danielson, before stumbling him with a headbutt. Bryan falls back into the corner and Abigail lands body shots all across his torso, softening up the muscles, but Danielson turns it back around and lands another HARD shoot kick. Abigail’s doubled over and Bryan’s able to hook one arm and switch, delivering a front chancery suplex into the turnbuckles!

With Abigail out in the middle of the ring, Bryan decides to go up high. Taking risks to win the MPW World Championship here, Bryan goes for the diving headbutt… but nobody’s home! Took a little too long setting up, and Abigail had enough time to move out of harm’s way. Danielson lands square on his forehead, but he’s able to recover and get pulled to his feet, where Abigail lights him up with forearms, landing right hands and forearms before going to the ropes, but Danielson catches her with a kitchen sink! The knee is driven into Abigail’s gut, causing her to flip onto her back before hitting the ground. She winds up in the corner from there, and Danielson lines her up, Abigail putting herself in one of his favorite places. Sprinting across the ring, Danielson hits a high dropkick before running back, hitting a second consecutive dropkick! “How do you like that, champ?” Danielson asks before unloading a shoot kick, “Huh?” But Abigail only grins as those heavy shots have her sliding to the mat. Grinning up at Danielson, softly chuckling to herself. One has to wonder if Abigail actually believes she’s in any danger of losing her title here, or if she just thinks it’s all too funny. If she’s been in control since the getgo and Bryan is only playing his part in the sick, manipulative game she’s orchestrated. Is Danielson lost in her web of deceit, or is Abigail lost in the sauce? We’re not certified to answer those types of questions, but Danielson narrowly avoids getting his head taken off by a big boot, but he can’t avoid Psychosis, as Abigail rips her signature knee up the underside of the jaw! Bryan’s stunned but keeps swinging, misses, and Abigail’s able to plant him with a spinning Uranage! Bryan’s feet nearly touched the roof!

Bringing Danielson towards the center, Abigail sets up a back suplex, but Bryan lands on his feet. Turning around, Bryan lands a SICK roundhouse kick, catching Abigail flush on the temple! Abigail on rollerskates before Bryan jumps on her neck, locking in a Guillotine! He’s got it locked in tight, legs wrapped around Abigail’s waist with all of his weight hanging on her neck. While they’re basically neck and neck in size, Abigail is slightly taller, and Bryan weighs slightly more, and uses both of those facts against her as he hangs from her torso. Bent over like this causes more blood to rush to the head, the carotid artery on the side of the neck being restrained, putting Abigail closer to a blackout. And that’s all it will take for Bryan to leave Pittsburgh with another World title in his repertoire. That would be the best case scenario for Syn, and the rest of MPW as a whole, but Abigail’s scorn would be so much worse when she’s so close to the very match she’s been waiting for since Mayhem opened its doors two years ago. There would be hell to pay, but Danielson won’t hear the bell just yet. Abigail unhooks his feet and throws Bryan up, before bringing him back down with a Gourdbuster GTS, cracking a knee under Bryan’s jaw! Bryan’s out, and Abigail has to take a rest!

Abigail’s face was red by the end of that Guillotine, and she had to break it out of desperation, both wrestlers taking a rest before Bryan pulled himself up in the corner. Abigail runs around the curvature of the ring, going coast to coast before nearly taking Bryan’s head off with a running boot. She lays Bryan up across the top rope and drives several brutal knees into his midsection before rolling backwards. Back on her feet, Abigail charges, but Bryan slips down and cuts her off with a STIFF shoot kick! Bryan hits Abigail hard, and she hits the mat just as hard! Gasping for breath after that brutal shot, but Abigail sits back up, chuckling to herself, and asking for more. Bryan doesn’t hesitate in delivering, landing kick after kick. Abigail shoves him by the side of the head, not satisfied with his work, and tries to egg Bryan on to hit her even harder. Eventually Abigail decides to simply rake the eyes instead, dumping a blinded Bryan on the outside. Running the ropes, Abigail dives for a suicide tornado DDT, but Bryan slides into the ring under her! A misstep has Abigail stumbling, trying to regain her footing, allowing Bryan to run the ropes and attempt a suicide dive - but he’s caught! Abigail catches him mid-flight and tosses Bryan into the guardrail! Abigail takes a moment to extend her arms and taunt the lively Pittsburgh crowd, before picking Danielson up, who lands an uppercut on the champion! Abigail with a big right hand to stun Bryan, but Bryan comes back with one in return. What starts as a simple exchange of forearms turns into an all out hockey fight, as Abigail and Bryan swing on one another, swinging hard and fast, before they both deliver elbows, knocking each other out! This is about as back and forth as it gets!

Moments pass before either wrestler makes it to their feet, and we can see that Bryan has opened up one of several of Abigail’s wounds, inflicted by Josh Bishop last week, and she’s leaking. A nasty gash has Abigail’s face practically covered in moments as they crawl into the ring, Bryan bleeding from the mouth, but Abigail covers Bryan and nails several knee lifts on the chest. Eventually she grabs wrist control, slinging Bryan out, attempting the Famemaker but Bryan hits a rolling elbow instead! It lands flush on the jaw, and between the shot and the blood loss, Abigail falls back to the ropes - just to bounce off! Bryan’s nearly DECAPITATED by a clothesline! Bryan goes inside out and upside down before hitting the mat, and Abigail falls from the force of delivering that wild shot. Donning a crimson mask now, the blood already painting the white canvas, Abigail sits up, a sadistic, violent look in the eyes. The open wound has awoken something in Abigail, and Bryan’s about to be in for a bad, bad time as he’s set up on the top rope. Abigail climbs up with him, thinking something gnarly… but Bryan slips out and crotches her! Bryan just saved himself, keeping his championship aspirations alive, and looks to end Abigail’s reign as he climbs up behind her. Those sharp elbows driven into the crook of the neck before Bryan scoops under her arm… Avalanche back suplex! What a crash! Bryan makes the cover!

1… 2… Kickout!

There’s been an unbelievable amount of physicality in this match so far, but that has been our only cover, and Bryan couldn’t get the three count. He has a vast repertoire and many, many moves that can put Abigail away, it’s just a matter of softening her up so he can. Abigail was riding a high of confidence from last week, but Bryan came to Pittsburgh with a more realistic expectation, and that could make all the difference as Bryan remains on the offensive. Hammer and anvil elbows unleashes rapid fire on the jaw, the referee staying close to Abigail to ensure she doesn’t go out as Bryan is relentless. When the elbows aren’t doing their job, Bryan wraps an arm around the throat and leans back, locking in a Dragon sleeper! He’s got the left arm trapped, the body scissors locked in, and Abigail could be going to sleep very soon! The damage done to the ribs and the chest from all those kicks make it that much harder to breathe. Mixed in with Danielson’s expert application of the move, leaving Abigail little to no wiggle room. She’s all tied up, quickly losing consciousness, but Abigail has enough wherewithal to keep scooching down… before getting a foot on the ropes! It’s broken!

A pair of brutal kicks to the ribs before Bryan sets up for a shoulder breaker - but Abigail turns it into a Sleeper! Danielson reaches for the ropes but Abigail brings them to the mat, looking for the bodyscissors, but Bryan floats back, trying to get the Dragon Sleeper back in. But Abigail slips right out and DRIVES Danielson’s head into the mat! Danielson’s dropped by Starfall, but Abigail doesn’t have it in her to cover. Instead she sinks down into Danielson, and locks in a cross armbar! Trying to soften up the arm to prevent that LeBelle lock. But in the end, it doesn’t matter as Bryan is able to roll Abigail onto her stomach… and lock in the LeBelle Lock! It’s locked in tight! With Abigail so bloody, it’s hard for Bryan to keep the fingers locked together, but he wrenches back with everything he has as Abigail crawls to the ropes… and forces the break! Bryan releases, but the damage has been done! Abigail was able to weather the storm, but Bryan is looking to finish this. Wrist clutch, Bryan looking for the stomps, but Abigail throws him off. Scrambling to her feet, Abigail strikes first, knocking Bryan down with a big boot! Wrist clutch in by Abigail but she takes a more sarcastic approach, barely snubbing the side of Bryan’s head with her boot. She ups the ante, getting more aggressive, before shooting down and clocking Bryan on the side of the head with a forearm. Abigail rests on the palms of her hands for a moment, a sinister look on the face before rolling over and locking in Hail the Reaper!

This move has brought Abigail to the pay window many times before, and could bring her there again, Danielson’s fading! Danielson’s fading and fading fast, practically convulsing - but he floats back! Shoulders down!

1… 2… Kickout!

Abigail has to release the hold in order to kick out, and Danielson captures her by the shoulder, before delivering a suplex! Basically dumping Abigail on the back of her head but Abigail jumps to her feet! If it wasn’t for the blood everywhere, she’d look unscathed as she charges towards Bryan - WHO HITS THE BUSAIKU KNEE! IT’S OVER! SHE’S STACKED UP!

1… 2… KICKOUT!

Bryan’s got the wrist clutch in, and now, he gets the stomps! Stomping away on Abigail’s chest before he kneels, tucking Abigail’s head in and rolling over into a Triangle Choke. Combining the blood loss with a sudden lack of oxygen, Bryan wants to ensure his win is in the bag as he drives elbows into the dome. Cutting open her wound even more with those sharp elbows, before he resorts to simply punching Abigail in the face. She gets weaker and weaker with every strike until suddenly finding a second wind, and she’s on her feet. Scooping Bryan up, she gets him on her shoulders and hits the Last Hour! Sitout!

1… 2… Kickout!

Picking Bryan up, Bryan stuns her with an uppercut. Following through with a rolling elbow, and finally hitting another roundhouse kick! A brutal shot to the dome, but Abigail’s able to stay on her feet and swing her arm back, nearly taking Bryan’s head off with a sick clothesline! Picking on the right leg, Abigail stomps on the back of the knee before running the ropes, driving him down with another Starfall! Bryan’s time is nigh as Abigail sets up for Baptism by Fire, the move that’s secured most of her defenses thus far… but Bryan doesn’t let her rotate! Back body drop, and Bryan’s safe! He quickly climbs to the middle turnbuckle and leaps at Abigail - but he’s caught! Abigail catches him and twists, before delivering the Wrath of the Gods! This could be it!

1… 2… KICKOUT!

Abigail gets in the referee’s face, arguing with him, but he holds up the two. Abigail scowls as she turns back to Bryan. Dragging him to his feet, she lands a forearm on the jaw, and Bryan returns it! She clearly didn’t expect that, and Abigail retaliates. Another hard hitting slugfest breaks down as they go shot for shot, elbow for elbow, until Bryan gets a one legged Monkey flip, rolling back into the LeBelle Lock! Bryan’s got it locked in tight! Abigail’s hand is waving, thinking about tapping… but she pulls the other arm free and turns around, dropping hammers on Bryan’s throat! Abigail’s beating him senseless! Abigail drops to the mat and grabs Bryan by the wrist, pulling him out to the apron. Bryan’s turned upside down, practically lifeless…. And Abigail hits a TOMBSTONE ON THE APRON! Bryan’s done! He has to be! Abigail shoves him in the ring and cradle covers!

1… 2… KICKOUT!

WHAT. THE. HELL?!

Abigail can’t BELIEVE IT! She’s screaming in the referee’s face, Pittsburgh is screaming in excitement! Bryan Danielson lives! Somehow, someway, and Abigail is pissed! She thought this one was finally over, but she should know by now to never count the American Dragon out. With a disgusted shake of her head, Abigail turns around - INTO A BUSAIKU KNEE! OUT OF NOWHERE, BRYAN JUST STOLE THIS! COVER!

1… 2… KICKOUT!

Rolling through, Bryan scoops her up, and locks in the Guillotine! Hanging from Abigail’s neck again, this time it doesn’t last very long before Abigail throws him off, dumping Bryan on his face! He bounces up, sitting on his ankles, and Abigail RIPS a Psychosis knee strike upside the head! Bryan looks out as Abigail gets wrist control, flips him out, and hits the Famemaker! But after everything they’ve done tonight, Abigail isn’t done there as she holds onto the wrist. Bringing Bryan up once more, the man dead on his feet, before sending him back through the ripcord, hitting a second Famemaker! Abigail cradles him, and this is it…

1… 2… 3!

“Here is your winner, and still MPW World Champion, Sister Abigail!”

#match

[maries-gallery]

Reposting this because tumblr did me dirty. 

genre : nsfw, mdni

warnings : dirty talk, dacryphilia, praise kink, degradation, penetrative sex, female bodied reader

a/n : translations at the end of the post

A hot tear pearls down your cheek as Levi fucks you in the mattress, a hand clamped on your mouth to muffle your pathetic moans and cries of his name.

His thrusts are rough, sending you jolting forward with every slam of his hips against yours, knocking the air out of your lungs for his sole entertainment.

You always try so hard to keep it down for the kids, such a good mommy. And as much as Levi adores how caring you are for your children, he loves how it only takes his cock drilling inside of you for you to break and sing for him, any thought out of the window as your cries pierce through the silence of the night.

He leans over you, firm chest in your back as his hot breath fans over the heated skin of your nape. Merciless as he pushes his length deeper inside of you, filling you with every inch of his length. He smirks as you whimper in his hand.

"Tu aimes ça, n'est-ce pas ? Te faire baiser comme une putain alors que nos enfants dorment juste à côté." He grunts in your ear, voice above a whisper. Hips rutting against yours and cock nudging at your sweetest spot, dragging over your walls. “Regardes toi, une vraie petite chienne.”

You can only nod, silenced by his hand and lost to the warmth coiling in your stomach. Thoughts blur and sentences jumble in your head. You flutter around him as the meaning of his words dawn on you. His pants and the slap of his balls against your clit the only thing you can hear through the daze of your pleasure.

"Tu me prends si bien." He groans, on the verge of tumbling down his release. But he can’t have that, always making a point for you to finish first.

His arm snakes around your waist, fingers trailing down your stomach and flicking over your clit. Electricity jolts through your veins as his thumb dances on your bud, sparks of white flying in your vision as you climb up the ropes of pleasure.

“Tu vas jouir pour moi, n’est-ce pas ?” He questions and you have half a mind to nod again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock hits deep inside of you. “Bonne fille.”  His words trail down your skin and send a shiver up your spine just as you reach your high.

His hips stutter with one final thrust, sheathing his cock deep between your folds and painting your insides white with his release. Pulling out just in time for a cry from your three year old to ring through the house.

With a soft smile he gets out of bed and leans over, placing a tender kiss to your brow as he buttons up his shirt and puts on his boxers.

“I’m taking care of this. You rest and go to sleep.”

1- You like that, don't you ? Getting fucked like a whore even as our children are sleeping next door

2- Look at you, a real pup

3- You take me so well

4- You’re going to cum for me, right ?

5- Good girl

#thirst #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titans x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot smut #snk smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi x reader #levi smut