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chrollohearttags · 3 months

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“..smile for me, daddy..”

you take quite the liking to eren’s newest piece of jewelry!

oral sex (p + a eating), spit play, hair pulling, fingering, squirting, need I say more?

I’ve written this trope before but I’m doing it again because why not?! I can’t get it out of my head and I am pushing this agenda. (Also trying to ease back into writing because I’ve been bullshitting.)

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•

“What you think, my man? How ya’ like it?”

“..yeah, this is the one, dude..definitely the one..”

stood before the counter at Schiaparelli Jewelers, brandishing a mirror in one hand as the the other casually stroked over his chin, Eren’s lips curled into that of quite the smirk; in turn, refracting off of the light..to say that he was satisfied with the result of his latest commission, would be a very gross understatement. Schiaparelli’s had become a staple in Miami's Design District. A multi-generational business with a reputation that preceded them. With infamy rivaled next to Johnny Dang. Having catered to celebrities and the city’s elite alike, they curated the most beautiful pieces with the utmost care. Thus, earning them millions and a recurring clientele. Among those were the Underground God himself and seasoned musical maestro, EJ the Don. Who had gotten everything from his first chain to the wedding ring he placed on his beloved (y/n)’s finger a year prior. VVS diamonds glistened from the bottom row of his already perfectly aligned teeth as he examined the new grill he had just acquired. A spur of the moment decision he’d made on impulse while you were away on another modeling trip. The custom mold wrapped his entire bottom and encapsulated his canines with red stones. It was absolutely beautiful and although the piece had set him back roughly fifteen thousand, it was well worth it and deserved in his opinion! Having just been nominated for two writing awards and a third for album of the year. Awards season was approaching and although it wasn’t among his priorities to attend, it was still a feat worth celebrating. Not to mention, it was quite the confidence boost as well. He wasn’t one to base his self worth in extravagant jewelry or expensive clothes, but he was certainly feeling quite good about himself in these. He loved the way they looked against his lips and how they complimented his teeth.

dapping up the jeweler, EJ thanked the man once more and proceeded to give him quite the hefty payment for his services..of course, self gratification wasn’t the only reason he had gone and copped this new piece for his collection. He was actually hoping to get a little something more out of the deal..

“That’s what I like to hear, my man! Listen, how do you think the missus will react? Think she’ll like ‘em?”

a question he was certain he’d find out the answer to as you had just shot him a text, saying that you’d made it home and of course..to hurry back to you! Not a moment too soon, in his opinion. He’d spent all week longing to see you again and what better way to greet you than with a surprise like this?

“..I guess we’ll find out soon enough..”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•

“Mmph…Rennnnn, baeee! Stop—oh my gosh…”

the words spilling out in a trail of whiny huffs being drawn forth from your mouth. Among many other lewd sounds leaving you at the moment. Just as he had expected, your reaction was one he could’ve spotted from a mile away..the second Eren made it back home through the door, (y/n) came rushing him as you leaped forth into his arms. It didn’t take long after spinning you around with an array of kisses for you to spot them..the faint glint from his mouth as you slowly pecked at it. It was when you took his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged gently, did you reveal his little secret. He could tell immediately from the glare on your face, just what you thought of it. That was also apparent by your sudden shift in demeanor..going from subtle, flirtatious kissing to full blown, unadulterated lust. He had no interest in setting you to your feet or halting your advances, especially when you continued to swirl your tongue around his own and continue filling his head with compliments. From how sexy he looked with them and how badly you desired to wet them up! “Yeah? I’m glad you like them, baby.” That was to say the least. He wasn’t shocked in the slightest and once he heard your opinions, he no longer felt any reservations about his purchase! So fast forward, and the two of you moved your little party to the downstairs game room, where he’d often reside on his days off. You’d find yourself on the leather couch in the corner, legs spread to either side as he feasted at your center. Nearly seven days had passed since you’d seen one another in person and nearly ten since you’d had any physical touch so it was obvious what was on either of your minds. Inked up fingers laced around your throat in an effort to make certain your eyes never shifted from his. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help but to glare down at him with tears and lust teeming at your waterline. A finger slid between your lips as your husband delicately flicked that tongue around your clit..and each time, he’d make certain to flash you a toothy grin. In which you’d catch those sparkling diamonds littering his mouth.

“You sure you want me to stop, baby? I mean..you were the one begging me to make you come in my mouth.” Prompting both of you to burst into laughter. He knew that it was only because you were so close to your peak. Apparent by the creamy secretions leaking down his chin and staining that silver. How he craved your essence, your flavor and the feeling of you dripping onto his tongue. How good it felt to hear your moans coagulating with the sounds of his loud slurping, erupting throughout the room. Those white toes resting atop his bare shoulder blades, curled up at the slightest brush of your little bud. “I-I..fuck, it just feels so good, baby. Please..keep going.” (Y/N) uttering with the heave of your chest, rising and falling at a rapid rate as you tried to control your breathing.

“That’s what I thought..now lay your pretty ass back and lemme take care of you..lemme eat this pussy. Missed you so bad..”

with that, he’d continue his ascent into your soaking cunt. Exploring every fold, crevice and every delectable part of his beautiful wife. It may have been his favorite pastime if he were being completely honest…eating you until he brought you to the brink of tears and ecstasy. There was something so satisfying about it. Especially with the euphoric feeling of those juices making contact with his mouthpiece. Your fingertips would run underneath his chin and stroke the side of his face as his own dug into the thick flesh of your thighs..kneading slowly and keeping you in place. “Fuck…you look so sexy. Shit..” tossing your head back and releasing another breathy giggle from the overstimulating pleasure. “..swear you gon’ make me come, daddy..right there.” Guiding him along with your hand and those loud whimpers. That sundress that wrapped your body was shuffled down to your tummy as it bunched up underneath your breasts. You’d alternate between them and those dark tresses of his, not entirely sure what to do with yourself as you were unraveling.

“Don’t tease me now, princess. I need all of that..please..”

only taking a breath momentarily to work a couple digits inside of that hole as it spasmed on the air. He knew you needed to be filled but for now, he wanted to continue his feast..in more ways than one. As he parted your legs even further and continued working those digits in and out, Eren tugged you towards him. The only time he’d become forceful, as to keep you restrained. Because whilst you were focusing on the gentle thrust of his fingers in your pussy, his tongue would snake south to your puckering hole. Where the tip prodded at it and he’d flick around until you were trembling. Pleasure only increased tenfold when you pinched at those sensitive nipples. You could barely contain yourself and it was only a matter of time before he’d be getting that sweet release. He’d squeeze at your plump asscheeks as he switched between your entrances. Lobbing each hole with a very generous amount of spit. Soft whimpers arose from your throat and even hitched but that wasn’t enough for him. He needed that body to fall apart within his grasp and to react only the way he could make it happen.

“Come on, gorgeous. Let me have it. You wanna come, don’t you?”

that toothy smirk appeared yet again along with a high pitched coo. It never fails to make you melt..with the nod of your head, you’d shake vehemently, just grasping at anything to feign off the swelling in the pit of your stomach. One that was only mere seconds from exploding.

“Aw, then let it out. Do what you said you would earlier..or you gon’ hold back on me?” Teasing as he continued to push up into your most sensitive spot. And it didn’t take long until you were exploding all over the couch and of course, those silver slugs lining your man’s mouth. “Fuck! Fuck!—“ “..thereeee we go!” (Y/N) released a shroud of juices that spilled onto the cushions and Eren let his tongue wag as he lapped up every single drop..those fingers sopping with your creaminess. Which he’d let you slurp off once you were able to compose yourself.

“Shit!..Kiss me..” whining as you tugged him up by his chain and into your grasp. Shoving that tongue back between his lips and tasting the remnants of yourself against those grills. Cupping his face between your palms, you’d pull away from each other to meet gazes once more. That’s when he’d smile for you once again and you’d swoon for him all over again.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to wear those more..like all the time.”

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generalsmemories · 5 months

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Ginkgo leaves

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: Since reqs are open, you think you could write jing yuans reaction to his lover being Mara-struck? Thank you! - requested by anonymous

✧ contents: established relationship, angst, hurt/almost no comfort lmfao, implied character death, mentions of other characters, pov mostly written in jing yuan's pov, still usage of 2nd pov (referring the reader as you), mayhaps ooc because jing yuan is an emotional wreck.

✧ a/n: when i tell ya'll i legit struggled to be able to write this entire thing. there's been like 3-4 scrapped drafts because halfway through writing i would just NOT be satisfied with the result. to the anon who requested this, i'm so sorry it took this long - but i hope the upcoming trainwreck makes up for it! a trainwreck im still not actually satisfied with LMFAO. but it's better than the other 5 scrapped works. also not beta-read so fellas if u see a spelling error - no you didn't.

p.s: some mara-struck information i give here are totally fanmade for the purpose of this fic alone, as such don't take whatever i write about mara here as what actually happens canonically to characters (then again most of the playable characters have different symptoms of mara themselves).

"Benefactor, am I correct to believe you're asking me if the general has any specific interests?" Tingyun asks with a snicker, the trailblazer looking away from her prying eyes while mumbling a quiet yes.

"Some of the younger... Can I call them younger? Anyway, some of the younger Xianzhou citizens are very infatuated with the general. Seeing as I've been announced as his honory guest, they do often come and ask me various things to try and gain his favor. So yeah, anything at this point will work - so please!" the trailblazer hurriedly explained, clasping their hands together in a desperate attempt to get anything from the foxian amicassador leaning back with a quirked eyebrow.

"Ahh, love truly makes someone go blind doesn't it," she muses out loud, the trailblazers' eyebrow furrowing together in confusion over the foxian's lady choice of words, "... You're not entirerely wrong with that statement..."

"Do you want to know what his favorite flower is?" Tingyun asks, ignoring the confused question that had been uttered to her, snapping her fan open to hide the cheeky smile that spread across her lips - but anyone could still tell that her eyes were gleaming with mischief as the trailblazer nodded their head.

"He doesn't have one."

"Then why did you even-"

"But he likes ginkgo leaves."

The trailblazers' eyes widened in shock, and rightfully so because the very thing ginkgo leaves are associated with are after all...

"He had a lover once, and as far as I'm aware, his last moment with them while they still had their consciousness intact was surrounded by ginkgo leaves."

Jing Yuan whilst having forgotten almost every single moment with you, does unfortunately remember the exact details of the day that your descent into madness started. Because what he witnessed wasn't a futile struggle you had with yourself to not to destroy everything within your vicinity. Instead, he witnessed the slow process of your bright self becoming an empty shell, only capable of uttering a few words.

It's comical really, even when faced with a curse that struck everyone mad - he found out that it oddly fit your character to not go mad, but instead become the complete opposite of your gentle self. A hollow shell of the person he fell in love with all centuries ago.

Jing Yuan knew he had to end your suffering right then and there when you first started to show signs.

But he couldn't - This wasn't something that had to be immediately dealt with, his hand wasn't forced like it was back when he had to slay his own master down before she took more lives.

No, this was a normal afternoon on what would've been another normal, mundane day in both of your lives. But everything went wrong the moment Jing Yuan heard the breaking of glass, and how there was a lone gingko leaf inside the palm of your hand - a ginkgo leaf that you were staring wide-eyed at with a trembling hand.

You were too far from the veranda to have a ginkgo leaf in your hand.

General Jing Yuan would've ended your suffering the moment you turned around to lock eyes with him, your own face twisted into one of utter fear.

General Jing Yuan would've reported you the to Ten-Lords Commissions as the law had stated. But Jing Yuan couldn't - because Jing Yuan knew that the moment he did, he would never see you again.

So he decided for once he would be selfish. Jing Yuan rarely made choices lately that was based off of his own feelings, but his time with you was cut too harshly, so once again he chooses to be selfish. Even if that meant that it would prolong your suffering just a tiny bit more. "... We can figure something out," was the only thing he could muster up the courage to say with a shaking voice. You didn't say anything, your mouth wobbling a tiny bit and your breathing getting harsher by the second.

But still you indulged him - you always did. So with an equally wobbly smile, you only nodded your head slightly, "... Sure."

That wobbly smile and expression of utter fear was the last genuine expression that truly came from yourself.

The descent to becoming fully mara-struck is usually a fast process, the curse able to completely overtake someone's mind within the same day the symptoms appears - rendering the person completely vulnerable with the only alternative to either hand themselves in to the Ten-Lords or wait for the Ten-Lords to come to them personally.

Your usual easy-going smile was gone, in its stead was eyes that kept going in and out of focus. Almost as if you were desperately trying to keep yourself grounded - a battle you both knew would end with your defeat.

Jing Yuan didn't dare to venture outside of the house. One step out and every Cloud Knight would've been on you within seconds to subdue you. He had first initially resorted to just holding you within his arms for as long as he could, to be able to remember how you felt like after your death.

But with the minimal strength you had left, you had wobbled to the garden, every step taken only making you pant heavily. But even with heavy breaths of air leaving your lips, you had refused to take Jing Yuans hand or offer to even carry you out to the garden. When you had managed to reach the ginkgo tree standing tall at the center of the garden, Jing Yuan was sure you were going to collapse in front of it, taking a quick step to catch you.

But instead you had merely reached your hands up, the falling leaves fluttering gently down onto your palms. And while you were in indescriable pain for the last couple of hours - Jing Yuan could only see a serene expression when you looked up at the ginkgo leaves that were continously falling down.

"... They're beautiful... aren't they... Jing Yuan? It's almost a pity... that these beautiful... leaves are associated with our doom," you said softly. Jing Yuan could feel his breath hitch in his throat when you uttered his name.

You're obviously struggling to convey whatever thoughts you still had to him properly, taking a moment in between words to catch your breath, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you fought against the searing pain that was spreading through every nerve in your body.

There's a sudden gust of wind which causes the pile of leaves in your hands to flutter away from your grasp. Your hand stretches out slightly, almost in an attempt to reach out for them - stumbling a bit in your step. The limp causes Jing Yuan to take a quick step forward with his arms outstretched. Perhaps seeing him in your peripheral vision causes you to stop the futile attempt to catch the escaping leaves, arms going limp against your side as you turn to face him - your once blank expression turning into a somber smile instead.

Jing Yuan thinks that it's unfair how normal you look in front of him - almost as if you haven't been becme mara-struck. Like nothing has happened to you aside from the ginkgo leaves fluttering from your lips whenever you cough. The same cough that causes the general of Luofu to flinch every time - without fail.

And perhaps you can see his inner turmoil, the way he tries to make eye contact with you, but is unable to after a few seconds. The way his hands clench too hard into fist to the point droplets of blood fall down to the grass and stains it a deep red while he bites his own lips to not say a word - lest he says something that he will regret.

And you truly wish that you could tell him everything is okay like you usually do.

But for the first time since the day he lost his friends, you can't.

"... I'm sorry," you finally say, the apology making him whip his head up to you again. Mouth opening to say something to comfort you, to tell you that it's not your fault. But the words are unable to leave his mouth when he sees your arms slightly outstretched towards him with a small smile.

And he can't hold it in anymore.

It only takes him a few wide steps to reach you from his position before he cradles you within his arms. The grip is tight, unbearably tight to the point it hurts, but you don't complain. You're limp in his hold, and if this was any day he wouldn't comment, but the fact that you're not moving a single muscle terrifies Jing Yuan to the core. "... Please," he finally manages to whisper, the rustling of ginkgo leaves around you almost drowning out his quiet plea.

"Please don't make me do this again."

He doesn't ask if the tensing of your body is caused by the pain that's rapidly increasing or if it's caused by his silent confession. He can however feel the gentle hand that rests against the lower part of his back and your head resting against the side of his own. The reassurance you try to give him does nothing to help because he's aware that it probably brought you unmeasurable pain to try to move those limbs - instead the general buries his face closer to your neck and squeezes you tighter.

"... You won't." you whisper quietly.

It takes a moment for Jing Yuan to process the meaning behind those two words.

But it's a moment too late, because before he can get his phone out to usher a command, a few resounding knocks can be heard throughout the quiet mansion.

"General Jing Yuan. This is Xueyi of the Ten-Lords commission. I've gotten information that there's currently a mara-struck within these premises."

Jing Yuan feels his blood run cold, he pulls himself away from you to stare at you properly in disbelief.

You're still staring at him with the same somber expression, however he can tell there's a small pitiful smile grazing your lips, "I'm sorry," you whisper once again.

"I asked her... personally," you start, finally letting yourself rest now that the end is near, slumping down onto Jing Yuan's chest, your ear settling itself against his heart to hear his rapid heartbeats.

Jing Yuan loathes the fact that it's at this moment, with the Ten-Lords commission outside of your door and with him completely broken do you actually look at peace - like your battle against time has finally come to its conclusion.

And naturally, the one who lost is you.

"Half a day... with you. Then she would come and bring me there. You won't have to... do this again."

You're not able to see Jing Yuan's face - and Jing Yuan wouldn't want you to see how he looked like right now. The arms around you is trembling, his mind is racing - trying to come up with anything to give him a bit more time with you.

But for once, the general that had a plan for every situation had nothing in mind.

He's lost. And the prize of the loss this time is losing you forever.

"General, I apologize for the rudeness of what I'm about to do, but this is for both of your safety," Jing Yuan hear Xueyi mutter from outside of the door, before he hears the rattling of the door frame start to slide open.

"Wait- no," it's a quiet request that gets ignored as Xueyi strides in alone, the lack of company making Jing Yuan's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"... Their last request along with the request for my late arrival here was for the Cloud Knights to not see you like this. Naturally I won't tell anyone of what I've seen today."

Jing Yuan doesn't care about that, he could care less about his image right now, pulling you closer to him while his eyes are downcast - he makes no move to hand you over to the judge.

The puppet judge before him does not say anything - nor does she make a move. What she does however is wait, wait for the general before her that has been utterly crushed and broken by the person in his arms start to accept the harsh truth once again.

If he doesn't handle the mara-struck himself, someone else would - but the end result only serves to punish him in the end, the one left behind.

Xueyi hears a silent breath be let out by the general, her once closed eyes opening up to see the general pull slightly away from you, one hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. Your eyes have long since closed, and you're most likely not even conscious to hear what he's about to say.

"My dear... I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. But I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer before we can meet again," he whispers, bumping his forehead against your own gently, "I hope you won't fault me for that."

A long ginkgo leaf flutters right between the two of you, eventually settling down on your chest.

Jing Yuan sucks in one last deep breath, "I'm sorry I kept you here for so long - I'm sorry you had to be in pain for so long because of me," he leans in to slot his lips one last time over your own, whispering something that Xueyi can't hear before he rises up, your body limp in his arms.

"Thank you for your service Miss Xueyi, please see them off appropiately." Jing Yuan says, voice sounding eerily calm - almost like his usual self.

When he turns around to finally face her, the puppet's lifeless eyes seem to grow a bit in surprise. Before her is the general of Luofu, his usual easy-going smile present on his lips.

Like he wasn't carrying his mara-struck lover in his arms.

"As much as I would want to accompany you to see them off, I'm afraid I have some urgent matters to attend to," he informs, handing your body over to Xueyi - she doesn't comment on how his hands are still slightly trembling or how he immediately turned a bit to the side to ignore staring at her head-on.

Even though Xueyi doesn't want to ask, she still asks either way, "What are your plans from here on, general?"

Jing Yuan only gives her a close eyed smile, turning his gaze towards the large ginkgo tree with his hands behind his back. He gnaws a tiny bit at his lips, finally breathing out.

A couple of seconds passes by before he opens his mouth.

"I think I'll meditate a bit under this tree before heading back to the Seat. I can't leave Luofu without me for too long after all."

5 SCRAPPED WORKS AND I'M STILL NOT ACTUALLY THAT SATISFIED BUT IF I KEEP THIS PIECE LONGER IN THE WORKS THE MORE I'LL BUTCHER IT SO HAHA - THIS IS THE BEST WE CAN DO AFTER 3 MONTHS OF CONSTANT BACK AND FORTH FELLAS. I HOPE IT SQUEEZED YOUR HEART A TINY BIT NONETHELESS.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail x you #honkai star rail angst #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan angst

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littlegreenfag-archive · 5 days

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Regarding @littlegreenfag

Tldr: Adina, known by the Tumblr urls littlegreenfag and prksoda, has spent the past several years lying about many facets of their life. The list of lies includes, but is not limited to, being half manouche Romani, being Jewish, and being descended from Holocaust survivors.

I never wanted to have to do this. I’ve spent months trying my best to encourage Adina to come clean themself. My methods were not ideal. I should not have used anonymous messages. I used to be friends with them, I should've talked to them openly as their friend. I also should’ve attempted to be less aggressive at times, even though I think it is incredibly reasonable to have felt the way I felt when I was sending some of those messages. I understand and regret both of these things. Unfortunately, since Adina has deactivated @littlegreenfag, I cannot provide links or screenshots to every ask of mine that they responded to, only those I saved at the time. I will do this later, upon request. This post is already going to be enough of a monster without them.

Though the last day has been a complete nightmare, I am satisfied with one thing: Adina came clean about everything, even if not publicly. My worry was always with the though of having to reveal their personal information, as many of the things they’ve lied about would require me to, functionally, dox them. Though it's technically all public, I would much rather that no one who doesn't already have access to this information gain it.

So, why am I writing this post? For those of you who were on Adina’s blog last night, you may have seen this post. I was also able to save a capture of their blog on the Internet Archive. Here is a screenshot that I took around when the post was first published. Apologies for the formatting.

To summarize, Adina begins to by admitting to a small lie, that they were born in Chicago, before admitting that they had been lying about their race. Though it was not present at the time of the blog's deletion, I would like to note that Adina had the phrase "jewish and half-romani" in their blog's bio for a very long time. This phrase was quietly removed after I sent the first anon message telling them that I was aware of their lies, on March 16th 2024. This can be seen on the Wayback Machine, by looking at the capture taken on March 5th, 2024, in comparison to the capture taken on March 24th, 2024.

That is what you may have seen. However, it is not the only major lie Adina has told. After suggesting Adina should turn off anons, I sent them another ask with my blog name visible, telling them that I could tell everyone about the other lies for them, if they wished to log off and be done with it. They messaged me privately, and this is the resulting conversation.

I apologize for the block of images, but I figured it was necessary to include the entire conversation. Here, Adina openly admits to not being Jewish. Adina has spent months receiving social benefits for claiming to be Jewish, and they've even used this claim to support arguments. Truth be told, Adina has one Jewish great-grandfather. How Adina expected me to believe they would know about this without knowing his surname, I will never know. However, I should emphasize that Adina is not Jewish by the standards of any main movement of Judaism. Orthodox and Conservative look for an unbroken line of Jewish women, while Reform asks that you be raised Jewish by a Jewish parent. Adina is descended from a Jewish man who converted to Catholicism and raised his children Catholic.

Regarding the Holocaust claim, I understand hat Adina did not directly address this. I will say that I find it suspicious that they deactivated as soon as I mentioned it, but they technically never confirmed it was a lie. However, with the information that:

The ancestors they mention as being survivors or victims quite literally do not exist and

Their Jewish ancestor was born in the United States well before WWII

I believe it is quite safe to say this was also a lie. My screenshots of their claims come mostly from their Reddit account, which is now deleted.

It is absolutely ghoulish to me to create fake relatives so that you can pretend they were tortured and killed during the Holocaust. All to receive sympathy.

Though there are many, many other lies Adina has peddled, such as being a child of divorce and having a dead biological mother, I don't think any of them matter much in the grand scheme of things when these are the other lies that have been told.

It is also worth noting that this is a pattern of behavior from Adina. As some of you who followed them may know, back in 2019, a blog was created with the intent of calling them out for lies. Frankly, this blog, @prksodalies , is what put me on to Adina's trail in the first place. Though I believe that several of the things Adina was accused of on this blog are downright cruel to accuse someone of without evidence, the fact that there were so many smaller obvious lies made me very uneasy. What specifically made me curious was the post, here, where Adina claims that they are half Lebanese. Obviously, this did not make a ton of sense with the half Roma and half Ashkenazi Jewish Adina we all knew. As it turns out, this was one of the very few shreds of truth from Adina. They're a quarter Lebanese on their father's side, and other than that and a Jewish great-grandfather, are of mostly Polish and German descent.

This being a pattern of behavior, alongside the way Adina behaved in messages with me, tells me that this will likely unfortunately not be the last time this person creates a Tumblr blog with a fabricated life story. I feel immense guilt at the thought that they may continue to swindle and hurt people, and that I will never know or be able to help again.

To everyone who was friends with this person and has been hurt by their actions, I am truly, truly sorry. This has been an absolutely miserable experience for me and I can't imagine it's much different for any of you. If you have questions, I'll be available for a least a few hours. I do not want to share any of their personal information, but I will share what I need to (privately) if some of you need or want more information.

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neteyamsyawntu · 6 months

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Kinktober 29

D i r t y T a l k

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞 Vulgar language, na'vi dirty talk, fingering, intense squirting, overstimulation, thigh fucking, mentions of breeding, cream-pie kind of, slight P in V.

please note that I am not fluent in Na'vi, so I do apologize if my phrasing isn't completely accurate.

Translations: Nga narlor lu - You are beautiful Lonu - Release/Let go Tsakrr - Then Leyn… tsä po oe - Again… squirt for me Tsafya - that way/like that Tìvirä nga kinams - Spread your legs Srane - Yes Sìltsan ‘eve - Good girl Sran, sran, tsafya… ma’ yawne, tsä po oe - Yes, Yes, just like that… my beloved, squirt for me nga lu mei nìtxan - you’re so wet tam tam - There there

Nete art by @cinetrix

Being mated to someone like Neteyam was otherworldly. It felt like a gift to have someone with his kindness and compassion care for you like no one else has or ever would for that matter. Although you weren’t entirely fluent in his mother tongue, that still didn’t stop him from calling you sweet names in the language, which of course you didn’t mind.

The language of na’vi itself had always sounded beautiful to you. Sure Neteyam would call you English pet names too, like “baby” or “my love” because he knew that you would understand them, yet your heart always skipped a beat when he called you things like, “yawntu”(loved one) or “ma’ txe’lan”(my heart). It was moments like now when Neteyam was anchored above you, a hand supporting the underside of your head while the other was focused between your thighs, making you take his long, slender fingers into your cute little pussy, that made you love the way he spoke to you. So loving and yet somehow incredibly filthy at the same time.

Your back arches, hips bucking as you fucked yourself into his hand and despite your lip being tucked so tightly between your teeth, it couldn’t stop the flood of needy whimpers that escaped you. “That’s it, love… keep moving your hips… I love seeing you dance for me.” His soft, low purr echoes in your ear as he places a kiss on your hairline, nuzzling sweetly into your temple. It didn’t escape your eyes that beneath Neteyam’s loincloth, his boner was twitching wildly, as he subtly moved his own hips to grind against the fabric, his body growing more desperate for some form of friction.

Despite how many times the two of you had done this, it had always amazed you how well he filled you even though all he’d ever used was his fingers, making the idea of taking his cock seem impossible to you. You’d seen it of course, even attempted at sucking him off, yet to get even just the tip seemed to be too much to fit inside your mouth. The thing was practically the size of your forearm, so the outcome was no surprise to you. Even still, you were completely satisfied with how attentively and lovingly his fingers curled inside your soft, velvety cunt, and fuck did he love to hear you moan for him.

It had caught on quick that even the things he said to you was a turn on, to which he happily used to his advantage. Neteyam’s eyes wandered over your body, the light bounce of your breasts, the arch of your neck, the way your eyes fluttered closed when he curled his fingers in just the right spot; Breathtaking. “Nga narlor lu” he whispers under his breath, his eyes drifting to a half lidded state as he watches you intently. “Hm?” You hum, his tone of voice indicating his words had been ones of affection. “I said you look beautiful, yawne… so beautiful.” Neteyam’s voice breaks into a soft hum as he passes his cheek over your forehead. It was hard to tell which he enjoyed more, smelling your scent, or spreading his own scent over you to be able to smell his claim on you.

With a sudden stutter of your hips and a strained “Ohh” that climbed in pitch, Neteyam knew you were close, his fingers working diligently against the same spot that forced your body to react time and time again, his palm deliciously rubbing against your clit in the process. “S-shit, Teyam- fuck I’m gonna-!” You whine, squirming in Neteyam’s grasp, as his hand beneath your head slips to hold your shoulder, pulling you into his body, “There you go… lonu…let go for me, yawne…”. That name is what pushes you over the edge, your cunt flutters around his fingers as an intense pressure takes over your core, until you find yourself recreating a sort of explosion as your juices squirt out of you, soaking his forearm in the process.

Your voice reaches its peak as Neteyam continues to fuck you through your high, while his fingers progressively slowed down, his hand slowly changed position, to press his thumb firmly against your clit. “That was quite a lot, little one” Neteyam coos teasingly as his lips spread in a satisfied smirk, With a breathy chuckle you lay your head back, eyes closed as you try and regain some form of logical thinking, “Mm… I feel like you know my body inside and out… and I’m not gonna lie, something about how you speak na’vi to me when you touch me just…” your voice trails off as you anchor yourself up on your forearms, a slight blush taking over your cheeks as you avert your eyes bashfully.

Neteyam’s smirk seems to widen at this realization, showing off his bunny teeth, his ears flicking with intrigue as he adjusts his body posture to lay beside you rather than over you, “Is that so? Tsakrr…” his voice rumbles in a low purr as he brings his face to the crook of your neck, dragging his tongue along the dip of your collarbone as his fingers begin to slowly work inside of you once more. Your body jolts as slight overstimulation begins to set in, showing signs of still being sensitive from your intense orgasm, “Ahhn! T-Tey what are you doing?” You mewl, gripping onto his wrist as his thumb pushes up on your clit, “Leyn… tsä po oe.”. His mother tongue is still foreign to your ears, yet when his thumb quickens to flick your sensitive bud back and forth, you immediately know what he’s asking for.

Your breath catches on your throat in a gasp, your hold on his wrist growing tight as your neck arches, rolling your head back at the sensation, “Tsafya…” he encourages, latching his lips onto your pulse and sucking tentatively. The pressure in your lower abdomen builds and builds, your core feeling as if it’s on fire as heat rushes through your body. It was almost too much, too intense. Skittishly you attempt to bring your knees together, closing your legs around his hand, “Kehe.” the relief is short lived when large blue three fingered hands push your thighs open, Neteyam’s lips slowly working their way up to your ear, “Tìvirä nga kinams.” The rough whisper comes out as an obvious command that sends a shiver through your body and a will to obey.

“S-sra.. srane…” you mumble sheepishly through your moans, doing your best to engage with his tongue. Neteyam releases a breathy chuckle against your ear, very much appeased with your efforts, despite them being a tad formal, “Sìltsan ‘eve…” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before dragging the flat of his tongue up the side of your ear, causing yet another shiver and a slight yelp to emerge from you. A sort of invisible weight bears down on you as you feel your legs begin to tremble, your body beading in sweat as your moans and whimpers shift into wheezed pants, “Sran, sran, tsafya… ma’ yawne, tsä po oe.” And there was that name again, his words added fuel while your body writhed and bucked uncontrollably, a steady stream suddenly bursting from your body, spraying another load of your arousal in a fresh coating on his arm with a cry of ecstasy.

A groan leaves Neteyam’s lips as the sight before him sends a bolt of arousal to his covered erection, throbbing with need to have you. In the dizzying flurry of your second high you fail to notice as Neteyam pulls his loincloth down to his ankles, his arm sneaking under your backside is the only thing that brings you back into a conscious state as you are suddenly lifted onto his lap, both hands holding your hips assertively down on his cock, releasing a pleasured hiss as your pussy lips come into contact with his shaft, “Mmmn… nga lu mei nìtxan.” He groans, sliding your slick folds up and down the length of his cock. Your broken yelp sounds the air as your body is pushed further over your limits as your na’vi lover uses you for his own pleasure. It was only fair wasn’t it?

Your soaked pussy nearly drenches his cock in seconds as you rode along the firm muscle, your body would’ve already been slumped forward onto his chest, if it weren’t for his hold on you. You watch through glossy eyes as the veins in Neteyam’s neck protrude when his head dips backward, mouth hung open spewing native curses. Your body felt so perfect against his, despite the size difference. Your soft cunt pressed so lovingly against his throbbing cock felt euphoric, yet even still he craved for me, and more he would have.

In another quick movement, Neteyam swiftly rolls you onto your back, his cock now laying heavily against your pelvis as he gathers both of your legs and puts your knees together lifting your lower half off the bed, resting your ankles on his shoulder and securing his hold on you by locking his arm around each of your thighs. With his dick now snuggly in the hold of your closed thighs, Neteyam reels his hips back and begins to grind himself against your labia and clit alike. “Ohh fuck! Neteyam! Net- haah!” Before you could even formulate any sort of retort, another gush of juices drench each of your pelvises. Eywa were you a sight to behold, all wet in your own juices as he fucked your thighs like it was your cunt. Neteyam’s eyes bore into you as he took in every inch of your body as thrust after thrust prompted a new wave of squirts that made it easier to run his cock through your thighs over and over again.

“Ffffuck yawne… you feel so fucking perfect… my sweet little tawtute being such a good little toy for me…” his use of English takes you off guard for a moment having mentally adjusted to hearing him speak in na’vi, yet you are hardly able to linger on this thought as another gush has you squealing in ecstasy. “Eywa I want to feel you… I want to be inside of you so badly, feeling your pussy cling to me.” His words are breathless, his eyes closed tightly as he imagines just that, being inside your warm cunt, fucking into you like it was his life’s calling, unconsciously moving his hips faster the deeper he falls into his fantasy, his stomach now smacking loudly against your thighs.

Your head twists and turns, your hands reaching for him in a futile effort before they fall to your sides, fisting the blankets and sheets beneath you, your mind now deprived of any coherent thought as Neteyam rips orgasm after orgasm, squirt after soaking squirt out of your fragile little body. The center of Teyam’s brows knit together as the obscene sounds of your squelching thighs vigorously massaging his cock make their way to his ears, his mind whirling with images of your cunt taking every inch of his cock until it’s bulging from inside your stomach, a unchecked moan escaping his lips at the thought, “Ahh oh ma’tìyawn… I want to be inside of you, stretching you, breeding your cute little womb until it’s full of my seed.” Another gush of your arousal emerges as the tip of his cock catches against your clit. “Mmmn! P-please… please Nete!”, “Hmm? Is that what my little mate wants? You want to be full of my cum?” Neteyam hums in response to your pleas.

His hips had slowed into a steady push and drag of his cock, squeezing your thighs tightly together in his arm as he drags his shaft over your abused clit, relishing in the way you soak him almost entirely as he thrusts through your thighs. “Mmn I want you to feel it… even if it’s just a taste, I want you to feel my seed squirm it’s way into your womb- are you ready for me, yawne?” You vigorously nod in response, gasping when Neteyam grabs hold of each of your ankles, spreading your legs wide enough to watch himself align his cock head with your aching pussy lips, pushing himself as much as he can until your pussy almost swallows his tip and with a grunt his cum is spilling hot and heavy into your entrance.

Of course not all of it is able to stay contained in the small opening he had made for himself as some of his cum mixes with yours in a puddle on your labia. “There…” Neteyam huffs as he watches his seed spill out of you, his eyes wandering to your exhausted face as you embrace the warmth of his ejaculation spilling into your walls. Your chest heaving with strong pants as you desperately attempt to catch your breath, “Fuck… ah-haah… tam tam… you did so well my love… sìltsan ‘eve…” Neteyam softly coos, lowering your legs back down to the now ruined mattress, leaning down to gently press his lips to your forehead before moving to scent you all over again, rubbing his cheeks all along your face.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #avatar twow #avatarsmut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x reader #avatar smut #avatar kinktober #kinktober #lunaskinktober2023 #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x human!reader

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shantechni · 2 months

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The Redemption of Slash

Seriously, can I take up 33 seconds of your time to share how in love I am with this? Slash was influenced by Raph's constant frustrations with Leo back then, and his mutagen fueled mind was so satisfied when he sent the kid flying across the roof of the building. He wasn't just telling Raph to join him because he was his long time companion and confidant, but because he also used to believe a lot of the things Raph said about his brothers, one of which being that Leo did a terrible job of leading.

By the next season though, he amazingly pulls a complete 180.

I know he technically redeemed himself in Newtralized!, but it wasn't until Battle for New York that he finally tried to make things right with the entire team, and of course Leo isn't so willing to put any faith in him or his abilities (he's such a hypocrite btw, he tried to argue with Slash over Pete being used as bait like Mikey isn't right there lol, tbf Mikey's hardly sent in as bait by this point of the series anymore, but still). They expectedly go back and forth quite a bit for a majority of the first part, wherein Leo is repeatedly doubtful of Slash's leadership and causes the snapper to become frustrated with the treatment he receives. Raph even steps in on one occasion to defuse the situation.

Leo's mind eventually changed near the end of the episode though when he watched Slash defend Pete from a laser blast, and he realizes Slash doesn't truly view Pete as the meat shield of the team. He expresses how impressed he was by the result of Slash's leadership skills, and Slash brightens up over the compliment before proudly responding that he's changed from the turtle that bruised up him and his brothers nearly a year ago (this hits even harder when remembering that he starts to believe Leo's words of doubt for a minute after the Kraang captures them later on).

And the cherry on top of all of this? When both teams reunite after bringing all of the humans back to New York, Leo comes around to rightfully apologize for the way he's been treating Slash, even going so far to refute his earlier words by saying he deserved a second chance after all. And Slash tells him to his face that he was his role model, this is peak cinema fr-

#analysis #sorta idk #i could /easily/ get into how raph never gets on leo's case for not trusting slash despite how often leo got on him for not trusting karai #i'll save that for a rainy day (probably idk lol)#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt slash #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #2012 leo #2012 raph #2012 slash

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scodelariokaya · 2 months

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also that second to last scene with wilhelm finally yelling at kristina and ludvig was everything to me.... they have not been his parents a second in their entire lives they've been absent they've been neglectful they have forced him to hide his emotions and bottle it all up for 16 years they have not let him properly mourn his brother (the brother he's been looking up to the one person in his family he trusted the brother that as it turns out has been an awful person but that's a whole other conversation) they have forced him to make that damn statement and lie to the whole nation as well as deny him of the one relationship he cherished... they have ignored and dismissed his mental health for years despite knowing about his anxiety and panic attacks (meanwhile the queen gets to have a time off duty to deal with her breakdown??? which results in wille having more responsibilites?? responsibilities he didn't want to begin with???)... they have belittled him at every opportunity while bringing up their perfect firstborn son... i am so sick of them... i was genuinely thrilled seeing wille screaming at them and finally acknowledging all of the shitty ways they treated him... it was the most satisfying scene for me (also edvin's brilliant acting >>> like my jaw was on the floor)

#that being said simon's reaction to wille knocking down the presents was totally understandable especially considering his family issues #was i happy with wille's behavior this season? oh hell no but i just understand and relate to this character was too much...#all of those hateful reactions being thrown left and right right now are making me kinda sick tbh but anyways....#young royals #young royals spoilers #yr3

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orion-nottson · 9 months

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devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating” decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty.

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis.

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence.

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you.

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought.

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth. Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade.

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates.

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly.

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir.

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp megatron #megatron #megatron x reader #megatron x you #megatron x femme #megatron x cybertronian reader #cybertronian reader #femme reader

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celluloidbroomcloset · 5 months

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Narratively, Izzy’s arc only ends two ways - his redemption and death, or his full immersion as a villain. This is going off from what is discussed in this post by @areyoudoingthis, but I didn't want to start writing essays on someone else's post.

The problem of redeeming antagonists is that it’s often in the eleventh hour, and often not emotionally satisfying because it ignores or discards the violence (emotional, psychological, or physical) done by them earlier in order to give them a saving grace.

In the case of OFMD, Izzy suffers, and he suffers as a direct result of the choices he made and the consistent violence he inflicted on Ed and on others. He becomes beloved by the Kraken crew because they see him suffering along with them, and using what little influence he has to try to stop Ed from descending further. But that doesn’t erase what Izzy has done, which is born out by the attitudes of Stede’s crew and Izzy's continued isolation from them until the unicorn and even after.

Does Izzy bear the brunt of Ed’s direct physical violence? Yeah, he does. He's the only one that Ed physically harms (and the cutting off of toes and limbs seems to be a leaveover from Hornigold, as Ed performs the role of the monstrous father who tortured him). That suffering is part of the redemption narrative. It is one of the narrative conceits for Izzy to atone for his sins.

(Please note - I am talking about narrative conventions and how the show is using them, not making a moral judgment on characters' actions.)

Again, narratively, Izzy being the target makes sense. He has systematically tried to deny or eliminate every spark of happiness in Ed’s life. He has tried to have Stede killed multiple times, all of them either by Ed or in front of Ed. He has allied with a repressive regime, itself the biggest villain in the show, that wants all pirates dead or in chains. Failing all that, he has attacked Ed in the only safe space he has - Stede’s cabin - and told him that if he doesn’t turn into the caricatured monster of Blackbeard, then Izzy will KILL him.

He has zero claim on Ed’s mercy and Ed shows him none, not least because Ed's descent is exactly what Izzy insisted on from the very start. Ed, half mad with grief and self-loathing, directs his hostility at his jailer and at himself.

All of that sets up a redemption arc, but how much does Izzy touch on his own culpability? He tells Stede that Ed "took my leg because I dared to mention your fucking name," which is not true. Izzy blames the toxic atmosphere on the ship not on himself and not even on Ed, but on Stede. It is Ed's feelings about Stede - his namby-pamby, pining for his boyfriend feelings - that Izzy thinks have created this violence. And Ed shoots him for suggesting it. Izzy misses his role entirely, that Ed was in fact in the depths of grief but not a violent suicidal spiral when Stede left him.

It may be that Izzy does indeed recognize his role at this point, but he's not admitting it - the furthest he goes is to say that "we did this to him," but he never fully defines what that means, and in this case he's appealing to Stede to save the crew.

Later, when Stede reappears and Ed recovers, it is quite obvious that Ed himself is still angry and still hurt and still distrusting, but the mere mention of Stede's name or sight of Stede's face doesn't send him into a rage. Stede was the source of his grief, but Stede and Ed's feelings for him did not cause the toxic atmosphere on that ship.

Throughout, Izzy does indeed begin to find redemption. He accepts the crew's offering of love, and he begins to express himself outside of Ed and Blackbeard. He decides to move on from what Ed did to him (and he cannot really control if Ed decides to forgive him for his part). He offers sympathy to Stede, and support for their relationship. His suffering is part of that arc, and it is a function of Ed's arc - Ed cutting off the gangrenous limb to save himself. But we never see Izzy taking on the blame for his earlier behavior. Unlike Ed, we don't see him working through, or trying to work through, the pain he caused others and what that says about himself. Which makes sense - Izzy is a secondary character, not the lead. His healing matters less to the narrative than Ed's, and his characterization from the beginning is not of a man given to introspection or longing for something different. Him suddenly embracing Lucius or being really kind to Stede wouldn't make sense.

The only possible narrative conclusion here is for Izzy to die. He cannot continue to exist in the same space as Ed. His character cannot continue to interfere with Ed's healing and relationship with Stede. The show gives him peace and love, and it gives him an opportunity to tell Ed to let go (though, again, he cannot control Ed letting go, and he cannot and should not be the character who "gives" Ed his family - Ed already had that). It allows him to suffer so that he can indeed have redemption that doesn't happen in the eleventh hour, and an arc that feels moving and satisfying, in which Ed crying for him (Ed, who did not care when Izzy got thrown off the ship in Season 1) has resonance. But it was always going to end like this.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #izzy hands #edward teach #ed teach #stede bonnet #gif #ofmd meta #tw: abuse #sorry i wrote way more than i thought i would #i may be repeating myself or others #but this just all came out #as always thoughts are appreciated #though i will block rude people

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ohnococo · 6 days

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Sleep Tight | Hiromi Higuruma x Reader

Higuruma’s job leaves him busy, which means the two of you spend far too long as two passing ships, unable to indulge your urges.

He asks for one night to catch up on his sleep, then he’s all yours - but it turns out his body isn’t quite willing to let him make it through that night without being taken care of.

❥ WC: 2.4k

❥ Notes: a request for @bas-writes - Higuruma is so fun to write, thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

❥ Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, SOMNOPHILIA (reader receiving), fem bodied reader/no pronouns used, established relationship, wet dreams (mentions of grinding, oral sex/deep-throating), mentions of masturbation, mentions of semi-public masturbation, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, creampie, sleepy sex

Higuruma feels like a complete fucking idiot.

He’d been pulling all-nighters for weeks now. Coming home well after you were asleep, then forced to get up and leave only a handful of hours later. His work was hard at the best of times, but not even having the respite of time with you had turned it into something much like running a marathon in lead shoes. But the only way out of it was through, and when things had finally settled down you were so eager to make up for lost time.

But… that extended lack of sleep and all of that stress had caught up to him. He’d apologised and apologised again and it still didn’t feel like enough, but he just needed one good night of sleep and he would be on you like it was the last day of your lives the following morning, he’d promised. And you’d accepted, being the caring partner that you are.

Except he didn’t even make it to morning, not properly. Or rather, Higuruma wasn’t counting it as morning, considering the sun wasn’t even up yet. But here he was, barely rested, still so tired he felt almost delirious. And here he was, so fucking hard his balls hurt and he thinks he might have discovered you can actually be so horny that it leaves you with a pounding headache.

It’s not the first time he’d woken up either. The first time, he’d opened his eyes, realised he was humping the mattress, and checked the clock to see it was midnight. You weren’t in bed yet, and he was still exhausted, so he ignored the stirring in his pyjamas, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Then he awoke and found himself hard again, cock pressed against the heavy duvet, trying to tent it despite not standing a chance against its weight. It was past uncomfortable at that point, but he turned to look at the clock and see those gently lit numbers telling him it was only just past 1 am. Once he’d heard you sighing next to him, he’d realised that you’d only just come to bed. It felt unfair to wake you, especially when his limbs still felt so heavy and he was tired enough that rolling onto his side was a feat. So again, he readjusted himself, and fell back asleep.

The next time he’d woken up, it was around 3 am, and he’d decided that his pyjamas weren't helping with his discomfort, constricting the erection that had returned once again, this time accompanied by a dream of you sitting on his lap and grinding against him. He’d groaned outright at that point.

First his work keeps him from sleeping, keeps him from you. Then the accumulated tiredness keeps him from you instead. And now, the result of so many days without satisfying his insatiable need for you keeps him from getting the sleep he needs to solve his little problem. An endless loop of torment for a man like him, who is more insatiable than most.

When he’d tried to adjust himself in search of a little comfort, he’d found his clothes sticky and clinging to him, precum having made them nearly translucent over this stressful night. He’d done what he could, sliding them off and kicking them out of the bed entirely before letting himself doze back off with that small semblance of relief.

But now it’s 4 am and his cock is throbbing, rudely interrupting his dream of you waking him up with your mouth on him. It was so vivid he’d almost been convinced it was real until he turned to see you were lying next to him, asleep, and not between his legs looking up at him from where his cock was buried in your throat.

Higuruma groans, wiping sweat from his upper lip, staring at the ceiling with his arms helplessly by his sides. He decides that his body won’t be letting him get any sleep until he solves this problem. Then he decides his mind had been admonishing him for being so selfish. Taking all the extra hours he can instead of delegating his work, denying your offer to empty his aching balls, and here he was dreaming of only his own pleasure. So he decides to focus on you first, at least enough to ensure you get yours. He slowly slides the duvet off of you both to pool at the bottom of the bed, and feels almost giddy at his absolute luck after his poor cock had been through so much turmoil.

It’s as if it were meant to happen, with you laying on your back, legs spread, shirt shoved up from tossing and turning of your own. You’re so ready for him, ready to be touched, that he can’t turn back now. He crawls slowly, pausing when the bed creaks or dips too low, until he’s settled himself between your legs. Face to face with your thinly veiled pussy, he can see a wetness of your own has formed, nearly outlining the contours of your slit, and he has to bite his fist to stop from groaning at the sight. It solidifies it for him, sheepishly jerking himself off over on his lonesome side of the bed could never be an option after looking at you in this state.

He moves his face closer, breathing you in, releasing that breath shakily onto your skin, and presses a slack tongue to the damp fabric. His eyes snap up, watching your reaction, but you only let out a breath barely louder than the last. He licks slowly, slowly upwards, eyes rolling as he gets a hint of the taste he knows so well through that dampened fabric, and when even that doesn’t do much to wake you, he concentrates his efforts on your clit.

It’s swollen enough to make its pert little self known through your clothing, and when he flicks at it with the tip of his tongue you let out a deep sigh. It has that little hint of something more that makes him realise that you’d almost certainly been just as pent up as he had. As his guilt at leaving you high and dry swells, so does his cock as his mind inundates him with vivid images of you clenching your thighs and squirming while missing having him there in your bed. Images of you frustrated, whining his name when your fingers and toys couldn’t do what he could. Images vivid enough that they almost felt like visions of what had indeed been happening in his absence. You, left here touching yourself night after night but finding those orgasms didn’t quite go as deep as they needed to without his cock and face and fingers to ride.

That’s more or less how the weeks had gone for Higuruma, when he felt like his head was going to explode during his late nights at work and the only way to stop it was to lock himself in the leaky bathroom on the abandoned floor above and beat his dick hard and fast while scrolling through whatever sweet little pictures you’d last sent him to remind him that you were home and waiting and meals weren’t quite as nice without him there to enjoy them with. It was never really satisfying, just a means to an end so he can think of something other than whining into your neck while you milk him dry.

It makes his heart clench, saddened and flattered at the unconfirmed but may-as-well-be-true-to-him thought that you might be helplessly fucking your pussy to thoughts of him. That maybe you were even dreaming about it now, like you couldn’t have the real thing, and you hadn’t - for far too long for how insatiable the two of you had been during your seemingly endless honeymoon phase. Higuruma thinks that he’ll never make you go so long without him again, even if he has to fuck you in his office, even if you have to climb on his cock while he’s passed out and dreaming of you sitting on his face.

These thoughts and the taste of you on his tongue act as a pincer attack on his hazy mind. It makes him forget himself, swiping his nose at your clit as his tongue busies itself trying to press at your entrance through the thin cloth keeping him from you. It’s not gentle, or subtle, but Higuruma isn’t thinking straight, not now that his mind is sending him on a spiral of filthy thoughts about how he needs to make you cum so hard you forget every night you’d been alone. He licks and nuzzles and sucks until your underwear are clinging to every contour of your pussy and even then he hovers so very close to grazing his teeth along your folds before he just catches himself.

It’s too much, because it’s too little, and his aching cock begs him to take care of you both as soon as possible. By the time he’s sitting up to settle between your spread legs his hands are shaking, and he has to hold his breath to steady them as he peels the sodden fabric away from you and pulls it to the side.

The way you glisten in the moonlight has him emotional, enough that he swears there are tears welling in his eyes - a pressure relieved by letting out a low sigh, shaky and distraught, as he pumps his cock in his hand and lines it up with you. Half of him wants to toy with you further, gliding his head against you, seeing if you’ll mewl for it the way he has to hold himself back from crying out for you, but the other half wins out as his cock throbs just from the lightest touch against you.

He pushes in, and the sticky sound of diving into your wetness makes his stomach clench, eyes rolling back as he bites his lip to stop from making the pathetic noise his body so badly wanted to release. He starts to push deeper, pausing and shaking his head as he realises it’ll just leave him cumming far too quickly, and that’s not what he’s here for right now, so he pulls back. His knees slide forward, nudging at your legs gently, as he repositions himself and starts making shallow thrusts, his tip just reaching deep enough to press and slide until he has your lips parting to release soft moans and your chest rising and falling faster and faster.

He grazes the pad of his thumb over your clit, holding his breath when it makes you clench around him, so he does it again. You only get wetter for him as he goes, warmer, more malleable as you beckon him to sink deeper and fill you completely, but he knows he has to wait, for both of your sakes. So he shuts his eyes, head falling back as he keeps the first few inches of himself lazily working at you, knowing he’ll get there eventually even like this.

You sigh, and squirm, and clench him again and again, sounds of your bodies like a wet squelch of a kiss as you work his tip even in dreams, and Higuruma doesn’t dare look at you - knowing that’ll be the end of him if he sees exactly what he’s feeling below. Instead he works his way just barely deeper, willing himself to enjoy the journey until that telltale clenching lets him know he can let go fully.

But his hastily laid plans change as you let out a moan and your knees lift towards your chest, a sound too loud and a move too big for you to still be sleeping. He looks down to find you looking as desperate as he feels right now with your curling toes and clenching hands. He doesn’t know when you woke up, but he knows you’re awake now, even if your eyes are closed, and your hands are down by your sides gripping the sheets tightly. He thrusts deep, for the first time in too long, and it makes you open your eyes, coming face to face with him as the tight squeeze of being buried so fully sends him bucking forward and catching himself with hands on either side of you.

“You’re awake.”

You laugh, breathy, clenching at him with the sound as he sets a new pace of long thrusts, “You’re fucking me.”

The hot breath of his laugh collides with yours as he gives you that lovesick smile that only has your pussy desperate to be ruined by him, so you wrap your arms around him and kiss at the corners of his mouth as you instruct him to finish what he’d started. “Go on, then.”

It’s playful, a soft challenge that has him hissing as he settles on his pace, heavy balls slapping at your ass as he makes sure you feel every inch of him you’d been without. He tries his best to keep his movements steady, but is all too aware of how he stays buried deep a little longer before pulling back with each thrust. He goes on like this until he’s barely leaving your heat, the thatch of hair scattered at his base rubbing against you with his desperate rocking.

Then you’re squeezing him tight, with arms and legs and pussy alike and it has him crying out. His full weight falls on top of you as all of his energy goes into thrusting - and staving off his body’s desperate call to release until you’re good and ready to squeeze it out of him on the tail end of your sleep-heightened orgasm. He sucks at your neck, sloppy and wet and barely muffling his shuddering groans until you’re finally cumming on his cock and rocking yourself up into his movements.

He sputters, whines, lets hot breaths loose against your neck as he cums right alongside you with the pull of your hungry heat. It’s a relief so great that it leaves him feeling boneless, like he was floating with only your body to keep him from drowning face down as his body and mind reset after cumming so hard after so long.

It’s much the same for you as well, with Higuruma acting as a weighted blanket over your body, the heat of him staving off the chill of the room as your skin cools down. He’s drifting off first, as is expected with such a tumultuous night, and you follow suit, only half thinking of the earful he’ll be getting in the morning for cumming inside of you.

#my writing #reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #jjk smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x you #higuruma x y/n #x reader #reader insert #hiromi higuruma x reader #hiromi higuruma x you #higuruma hiromi x reader

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queenshelby · 10 months

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part Nine)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Nervously, you took Tommy’s hand and followed him upstairs which is where his bedroom was located.

The large bed in which he slept night and night out was beautifully appointed in the middle of the room and beneath the large window facing east.

The window was open, allowing some fresh air to flow through into the house but Tommy decided to close it before pulling you in for another kiss.

“Fuck, you are beautiful’ Tommy then said after his lips pulled away from yours and as he gazed over your body with his deep blue eyes. You were nervous as you stood in front of him entirely vulnerable, but you refused to let your nervousness control you this time.

“If you say so” you gasped while, all so gently, Tommy untied the bow that was holding together your satin dress, resulting in it to drop to the bottom of the floor.

After the dress landed on the floor and Tommy had the chance to stare at your naked body and his hands travelled back up your sides, grazing your breasts lightly before they reached your neck. Cupping your face with both hands, he brought you in for another kiss.

‘You are so fucking perfect’ he then said, making you blush d and Tommy noticed that, perhaps, you felt a little shy with all the attention.

“Come on Love” he thus said before guiding you onto the bed and, as he guided you onto the bed, he fluffed the pillows around you so that you were cradled in a nest of clouds and, only when he was satisfied that you were comfortable, he began to undress.

You watched him with hungry eyes until, eventually, he joined you on the bed which is when, again, he kissed you, and again you felt your limbs go weak as your mind went dizzy.

As he was hovering over you, kissing you passionately, you started to caress every part of his body that you could reach.

Your hands shook nervously and you were unsure about what to do, but you tried your best to appear somewhat confident.

‘Do you want to stop?’ he asked as he could feel you shaking lightly, but you shook your head.

‘No! I want more!’ you told him with as much confidence as you could muster but Tommy could not be fooled. He could sense that you were nervous and, with that, he whispered into your ear.

‘Okay, then just relax and let me take care of you, eh’ he said reassuringly before his lips pressed against yours and then they pressed to your chin, a gentle caress before moving on to your neck. His hair fell to the side of his face, tickling your skin as he feathered his way to your collarbone, his lips worshiping each patch of skin they pressed against. The tip of his tongue traced paths from freckle to freckle, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he mapped out your skin.

‘Oh god Tommy. This feels so nice’ you whimpered as his fingertips brushed against your breast, prodding lightly as he held one in his hand. The kisses journeyed on, marking your chest and the tops of your breasts until his face was nestled in your cleavage. Again, his tongue darted out, finding an especially sensitive spot between your breasts that made me tremble beneath him.

The mix of anticipation and apprehension was intoxicating. You wanted to lose yourself under Tommy’s body, revelling in the feel of his lips against you, but the fear and excitement of what was to come clouded your mind. You told yourself to relax, to enjoy what was happening, to embrace the new sensations and the way electricity seemed to spark at Tommy’s lips and travel through your body. But your mind kept playing tricks on you and your nervousness took over.

Tommy glanced up at you, aware of the tension running through you.

‘Tell me what you are thinking Love’ Tommy thus said gently and you bit your lip, not wanting to admit that you were out of your comfort zone.

‘I am just a little nervous’ you whispered in between soft moans.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Tommy then asked but you shook your head.

‘No’ you said as you finally closed your eyes and let your sensations take over your mind and, with that, Tommy trailed kisses over your breasts again, alternating between both of them.

‘That feels so nice’ you told him and, just as you were spurring him on with your soft moans, he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth gently and then flicked it with his tongue.

“Oh god” you gasped as a jolt of that captivating electricity shot to your core and you moaned quietly as the hot wetness of his mouth moved against you.

You had not expected it to feel so good and Tommy spent quite a while there. Your enjoyment of what his mouth was doing was obvious to him and it was not until you squirmed beneath him, with your pussy so wet you could hardly stand it, that he tore his heated attention away from your nipples and began kissing the underside of your breast.

He kissed your ribs, his tongue resuming its roaming from freckle to dotted freckle down your stomach. Both hands gripped your sides as he nuzzled against your belly button, then lowered to your hips as his lips moved an inch lower. He kissed that spot, and then an inch lower than that, and again until his lips reached the top of your mound.

You watched, your lips parting in astonishment as his head moved between your legs.

‘Do you want me to kiss you right here?’ Tommy then asked quietly as he gently brushed his fingers over your naked sex, causing you to inhale sharply.

“With your mouth?” you asked surprised and in a foolish kind of manner while holding back your moans and Tommy simply smirked again.

“Yes, with my mouth Love. I want to use my tongue to make you cum” Tommy then explained before waiting for your approval and you were somewhat surprised by his request.

“Uhm, do people usually do this?” you stammered incoherently and Tommy nodded and chuckled all at the same time.

“Some do” Tommy confirmed while toying with your pussy, causing you to moan loudly again before, finally, you agreed to what Tommy had suggested and, with that, he started descending towards his destination.

Just as your naked mound came into view, Tommy let out a groan, seeing again how perfect it looked and your breathing came out in rapid gasps, as Tommy put a finger close to your opening and began to move it up and down. It was almost like he was assessing you, taking in every single curve and fold. You looked so tight and so perfectly sweet.

Then, Tommy’s fingers pulled at your lips gently, parting them, and you felt the cool air of the room against your hot opening for just an instant, before his soft and hot mouth covered your hole with a sudden wet intensity.

“Holy fuck Tommy” you screamed almost instantly while you pulled and squirmed against him, but not to try and get away from him, but rather to adjust to the intensity of your arousal.

“Oh my god. I can’t take it” you moaned as Tommy licked your parting lips, swollen and wet with arousal.

“Yes you can. Just relax” Tommy said in response before he made his way into your slit as far as he could go, getting to taste you and smell your amazing scent.

“Oh god yes” you gasped and screamed with arousal and soon began to explode with pleasure. Your body was extremely hot already and it took Tommy less than five minutes to make you cum. You started pulsating all over. You squirmed, but your body felt weak to Tommy’s tongue. He was controlling you in every way and you shut your mouth to stop your cries of pleasure out of embarrassment for the fact that you were enjoying this, an act you would otherwise consider somewhat dirty and sinful.

But, Tommy could hear you through your closed lips, as the pleasure continued to build and build and, eventually, you could not take it anymore, and screamed out.

“Tommy, oh god! Fuck! Please” you screamed, unsure what you were even pleading for as Tommy started to move his tongue in and out of you faster and then licking your clit as he came out. What was this? Why was he doing this? You arched your back involuntarily; your whole body was reacting to him, at his whim. You could not help but moan; it just felt so incredibly good.

"Please!" you gasped out again as you felt yourself building and building and then, suddenly, your whole body burst into an intense flame of desire and lust. You came so hard that you screamed at the sensation as Tommy licked and sucked you roughly and you knew that he would not relent until you were done.

Eventually, you slowly came down from your high and Tommy lifted himself from you and looked up at your sweating, heaving body. You looked down at him, and the corner of his mouth formed into a small smile. You swallowed hard, overwhelmed by your body's reaction to him. You were exhausted.

"This is not what I had expected” you managed to say through heaving breaths and with a smile and, as soon as those words left your mouth, Tommy’s mouth lifted into a grin. You had never seen him smile like this before, but there it was. A genuine smile.

"But, you seem to have enjoyed it” Tommy then said with a little laugh before he positioned himself on top of you.

“I did. God. It was intense” you heaved before asking him what you tasted like.

“Like honey” was Tommy’s response before bringing his lips to yours and making you taste yourself on him which was something that aroused you all over again.

“I am ready for you to fuck me Tommy. Please!” you then stammered against Tommy’s lips and your heart stuttered as you realized that you could already feel the head of his cock nudging against your virginal flesh.

“You are Love. I can tell” Tommy said and his words made you moan as your body yearned for the completion of the visual that you were already painting in your head. You wanted him inside you and you wanted to feel him moving, splitting you open.

Tommy pulled back, his eyes intent on your face as he shifted your hips and you could feel him at the entrance of your body.

‘I will go slow. But it may hurt since you have never done it before’ Tommy then told you and your eyes went as wide as they could when he nudged against you, his own eyes taking in ever flicker of your expression as he began to press inwards.

‘I know. I am prepared” you confirmed with a low moan, wanting him to finally take you, but Tommy took his time and told you to let him know if and when you wanted him to stop.

“Please Tommy. I want this! Now, just fuck me already” you reassured him and, unbeknownst to you, for Tommy, the thought of being the first man to be inside of you was insanely arousing to say the least.

“Alright Love” he groaned and, whilst the barrier to your body wasn’t thick, he began to feel the resistance as he pushed into you slowly.

“Please” you said again as you could feel it yourself and, with that, Tommy began to push into you a little harder which is when you could feel your hymen tear.

‘Fuck’ Tommy then groaned again in disbelieve as he slipped all the way into you. He never felt anything like it. Not just the way your body gave in beneath him, but also the exquisite tightness of your untouched channel was what made him feel so incredibly aroused.

He was the first to touch you in this way and the first to make you experience these sensations and, at least going by your eyes, you did not appear to be in too much pain.

“Oh god Tommy” you gasped as you writhed beneath him, your legs parting and coming together as your body tried to decipher how best to deal with its new circumstances.

‘I feel so full’ you moaned and he was not even moving inside of you yet.

‘Are you alright, Love?” Tommy asked, caressing your body as he slowly settled his length into the clasp of your heat. It was the slickest, most velvety glove imaginable and it took all of his willpower not to rut inside of you. Of course, he could if he wanted to, but he wanted you to enjoy every moment of your union.

“Yes. It did only hurt for a moment. I am good now I think” you reassured him, causing Tommy to smile.

“Good. I will just let you get used to it for now, eh? We’ve got all day” Tommy then said and you nodded with a smile. Tommy cared for your pleasure and thus held himself immobile inside of you as he kissed you passionately for the first time since entering you.

“Oh god…” you moaned against his lips almost involuntarily as you kissed before looping your arms around his neck so that he could caress you, which also when he began rocking ever so gently with his hips so that his groin would press against your clit.

He could feel your inner muscles tighten and loosen as your sheath slowly accustomed itself to its new dimensions, accommodating the length and girth of his cock. When you began to rock back against him, your arms tightening around his neck, then he knew you were ready.

Clasping your hips, he began to withdraw, carefully and gently, before slowly sinking back inside of you.

You were beside yourself with all the overwhelming sensations. Although the sore ache of your muscles stretching to allow Tommy to invade your body had somewhat lessened your arousal, he was well on his way to building it back up again. You could not believe how incredible it felt to have him moving inside of you, to feel him so deeply in your belly that with each gentle thrust you were sure he was deeper inside of you than anything was supposed to go.

Your whimpers were hushed by his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, and you kissed him back. Your body responded to him greedily, wanting him harder, faster, deeper. Your body was beginning to ache, deep inside where you had never felt such a need before, and his thrusting cock was pushing that ache higher and higher.

Moving against him, purely by instinct, you could feel him begin to loosen some of that iron self-control he had been using with you. He groaned into your mouth, plundering you with his kiss as his pumping hips began to move faster.

He hooked his arms under your legs, pulling them upwards so that you were almost bent in half and every thrust had his body pressing hard against your clit. Now every thrust felt so deep inside of you that you had the wild thought you could actually feel him in your throat.

‘Oh my god…I am…I feel…” you barely managed to say as you screamed, hanging onto his neck, as the most intense orgasm of your life slammed into your like a freight train.

‘Let go for me Love” Tommy chuckled in response. He wanted you to cum. It was a hot bliss, ravaged ecstasy, blinding fireworks. You could feel your insides squeezing him, rippling around him in convulsions that you couldn’t control and didn’t want to. Every hard thrust had your climbing higher and higher on a wave of pleasure that seemed unending until it hit you like freight train.

“Oh my god Tommy. Fuck!” you screamed as you reached the peak and, when Tommy bellowed out his own climax and thrust hard, you could actually feel him throbbing inside of you, feel the pulse of his cock against your tight tunnel as you began to milk the jets of cum from him. You were pressed so tightly together and you were cradled in his arms. He surrounded you, inside and out, and you had never felt so alive, so feminine.

‘You feel incredible Love. So tight. Fucking perfect” Tommy’s voice was husky as his weight came fully down on top of you, pressing you further into the bed. You snuggled your face into his chest as you felt yourself contract around him in quivering little shudders of post orgasmic bliss.

‘Don't move, please’ you said, your face still flushed with your excitement. You stroked Tommy’s hair lovingly. ‘I like the way you feel inside me...’ you then told him and he smiled.

‘If it was for me, I would stay here like this forever’ Tommy said softly, enjoying the little ebbing rippled from your tight walls against his length. He smiled and kissed your lips softly.

‘I think that…uhm…I…” you then stammered with a look of wonder crossing your face. You never expected your first time to be so good and pleasurable.

‘What is it Love?’ Tommy questioned with little concern while slowly, but surely, withdrawing from you.

“I may be in love with you’ you said while sighing with disappointment when you began to feel so empty all so suddenly.

“That’s good” Tommy responded almost immediately, smirking.

“How so?” you wondered while closing your legs slightly and feeling how your combined essence escaped your somewhat sore passage.

“Because I think that I may be in love with you too” Tommy then said before kissing you once more.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders fanfiction #Peaky Blinders #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you

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gourmetofglut · 3 months

Text

The Mischaracterization of Ferris: A thread analyzing Re: Zero's most misinterpreted and overlooked character.

Note: This is a re-edit of a thread I wrote on Twitter. I recently decided to start using Tumblr a bit more. Since I've also been wanting to back up most of my threads, I figured I might as well move everything here. This is the first re-edit I'll be posting on this site. It was one of my favorites to write, so I hope it's enjoyable!

Side story spoilers for the entire thread. Arc 8 spoilers in the speculation section (will be marked since so many people aren't caught up).

For novel readers of Re: Zero, Ferris stands as one of the most divisive characters in the fandom. Considering his poor utilization in the anime and his role in the story within Arc 3, it's easy to see why.

On one hand, Ferris is one of the most outwardly aggressive characters toward Subaru in Arc 3. He makes no secret of his disdain from the start and consistently throws jabs at him every opportunity he gets. This behavior can certainly leave a negative first impression.

On the other hand, Ferris is quite a fascinating character who serves an important role within the narrative of Arc 3. He doesn't let Subaru off as easy as everyone else, which is exactly what makes seeing him grow respect for Subaru satisfying.

Whichever opinion you hold, that’s mostly irrelevant today. Instead, I will be simply discussing his character and his role in the story, as well as arguing in favor of many of his merits that people overlook.

Ferris's primary role is similar to all the Royals Candidates' knights: serving as a foil for Subaru. I've explained the similarities between Subaru and the other knights before, but to sum it up as quickly as possible all 3 of them represent a version of what Subaru could be.

Reinhard is a version of what Subaru could've been if he were the typical isekai protagonist, Julius is a lot more complicated but he’s essentially what Subaru could've been if he were granted enough power to face his enemies on even ground, and Al is Subaru if he had been just a bit unlucky in where he had been sent; becoming someone who struggles to care and abuses his powers to the fullest.

Ferris is much the same, though it can be argued he parallels Subaru the hardest, except for maybe Al. The resemblance on paper between the two is uncanny. They are both physically weak men who often don't fit traditional gender roles and have the sole desire of helping a woman they love to achieve her dreams of becoming a Royal Candidate, no matter the personal costs to themselves.

To do this, they use an extraordinary power unique to them (in Subaru's case RB, and in Ferris' case his magic that is relative in power to an authority). Their need to rely on others for victory is a source of immense mental turmoil and often leaves them full of self-loathing.

They place immense value in the lives of others, even those who have or will harm them, to the point that they are willing to be harmed to help them. Seeing others casually disregard the lives of others serves as one of the things that anger them the most.

They are both prone to obsessively possessive behavior and have sometimes even directed it towards the one they love. This often leads to them getting in trouble due to their jealousy.

There are more similarities I could point out, but you get the point.

Where am I going with this though? Ferris is clearly a parallel to Subaru, but what does he represent regarding him? Put simply, I believe Ferris is meant to represent what Subaru could've been if his parents were just a bit different.

Parent and Child is one of the most crucial chapters for informing us about just the kind of person Subaru is. Perhaps the most important piece is how it helps us understand just how much of his current personality is a result of his father. Subaru not only looked up to him but actively mimicked him to achieve his goals. The pressure of the surrounding world caused him to default to trying to be his father instead of who he truly was. Subaru's parents weren't perfect. In fact, they were very flawed people. Regardless of this fact though, they are responsible for many of Subaru's positive traits.

The same is true for Ferris and his shitbag of a father. If you were to ask any novel reader what Ferris' defining trait as a character is, they would probably say anger or bitterness.

This isn't surprising, as that's how he typically acts towards everyone except Crusch and Fourier, even when it comes to friends such as Julius.

I would argue, however, that this is merely an act he defaults to when he is stressed or angry, similar to Subaru's mimicry of his own father.

During his bitter moments, such as his cold statement to Subaru as he leaves Crusch's mansion in Arc 4, Ferris is merely defaulting to what he has learned to be the best method of dealing with his stress...a method that is eerily similar to how Biehn sometimes acts in EX 1.

Whether Ferris acknowledges it or not, his attitude at his worst moments makes him come off like his father. He can be cruel, sometimes even callous. He shows intense rage when he doesn't get his way and attacks the part of his opponent that is most vulnerable.

This attitude can blind him to the point that he can even hypocritically act racist towards Emilia. Ferris' entire life has been defined by discrimination. In the face of someone he should know has faced many of the same issues, he once again acts almost exactly like his own father.

It was in the middle of a mental breakdown, but that does not excuse him just like it does not excuse Subaru.

Speaking of his parents, it's also notable how their inability to connect with Ferris parallels Naoko and Kenichi's struggles with Subaru.

Ferris' dad is a bombastic, loud man who was (once) well-respected and causes many of Ferris's issues through his actions and Ferris' emulation of him. His fatal flaw in the end was that he could not understand Ferris, similar to how Kenichi could not fully understand Subaru.

Ferris' mom, on the other hand, fully understood the distress he was under but did not have the confidence to interfere or make a change as Ferris wasted away, similar to Naoko's inability to help Subaru when he most needed it.

That's not to say Kenichi or Naoko are even a thousandth as bad as either of those two, but their struggles with their child deeply parallel each other.

Back on track though, I want to highlight a bit more of Ferris' parallels with his father using perhaps the most damning example.

This specific scene is from "The Saga of the Great Crusch-sama Begins." When faced with his mother, whom he hates so much, he attempts to stab her in the chest. Crusch gets caught in the crossfire causing Felix to freak out and unlock his water magic to save her.

What can at first be written off as just a unique origin for Ferris' water magic gets recontextualized hard in EX 1, where it's revealed his father killed his mother in the exact same method.

It's such an eerie similarity and something that I feel gets overlooked too often when discussing Ferris.

As shown in scenes like the one above, Ferris often projects this image of hatred, bitterness, and malice. It's easy to write that off as just the kind of person he is as so many often do...

...but there's obviously more to it than this. There is far more to Ferris than his mimicry of his father.

Ferris doesn't allow himself to be vulnerable very often in the story. Only when he is with Fourier and Crusch, as well as when he is in the most intense moments of crisis, does he show who he actually is. Stress is the best test of character after all.

The best example to me? His confrontation with the father he so often emulates.

If Ferris was actually as vindictive as he so often outwardly acts, how would you expect him to react to the death of a man he hated so much?

Wouldn't he taunt him? Wouldn't he make his last moments a living hell? Wouldn't he crow in pleasure at his agony? Would you be able to even blame Ferris if he made Biehn's last moments hell?

You would expect that...but that's not how he reacts. At that moment, watching as the man who tortured him so much dies an awful death, he just shows sadness. He thinks about the possibility that they could've just worked things out. He just wishes that things could be different.

Despite everything his father had done to him, despite all the rage at the world Ferris projects, the moment he is put into a scenario he likely dreamed of he can't help but feel pity that this was the only route he could take. He never wanted to hurt even Biehn of all people.

And this, I believe, is Ferris's actual defining trait underneath his persona of cynicism and bitterness: kindness and a greater love for life than perhaps anyone else in the series.

Ferris's power, as Fourier once said, is the kindest in the world. At his core, Ferris is just as kind as his power.

Think about it. Despite Ferris's words, what is the thing that upsets him most?

People who waste their lives. Whether it be Subaru, Fourier, a random Vollachian guard, or even Witch Cultists...Ferris can't bring himself to watch life be thrown away. It just hurts him, regardless of how horrible the person is.

Just like Subaru, Ferris wants to help everyone, even if it costs him so much. The pain that he feels when he is unable to do so is immeasurable, as Subaru himself states in Volume 8. He is struggling with the same realization as Subaru: saving some people is impossible.

So where will this lead? What does this have to do with the themes of the story? Well, to answer that, I’ll have to take a little diversion to talk about one of the more…difficult topics involving Ferris.

Ferris and his relationship with gender is something that I feel a lot of the fanbase is really fucking weird about. Even ignoring the pretty deep-rooted transphobia in a lot of discussions involving him (he isn't trans, but he is heavily trans-coded and there really shouldn't be so much of an issue in letting people read into that), there's a feverish desire to deny that his status as a person not conforming to gender norms matters at all. All too often, people reduce it to just a fetish or something to make jokes about.

The reason this is such a bafflingly stupid take though is because of how blatant the importance is to anyone who has read EX 1. Even Tappei himself has stated that many of the things he wants to do with Ferris could not be done without this aspect of his character.

Ferris's non-conformance is part of a promise made with Crusch. Ferris took on her femininity while Crusch took on his masculinity. It's a promise between the two that proves their devotion to one another. It's the ultimate symbol of their affection for one another.

In Aganau IF Ferris dresses and acts more masculine, precisely because his connection to Crusch no longer exists.

I'd also argue it's why he continues to dress as he does even when Crusch no longer has her memories, desperately holding onto the literal symbol of the bond between them.

However, unlike Crusch who seems to love who she is both when taking on more masculine and feminine traits, finding a balance between them; Ferris can't do the same. He sees it merely as a means to show his devotion rather than something he does for himself.

He constantly expresses that it is all for Crusch and Crusch alone. If anything he seems to resent his inability to fulfill any kind of masculine role, as shown once again in his conversation with Biehn in EX 1.

When pushed to finally unleash all his true feelings to Biehn, what does he bring up as the main reason for his resentment? His abuse? His coldness? His murder of his mother? Any of the innumerable unforgivable things Biehn has done to him?

No. Ferris points at his body. He anguishes over his skinny arms, his inability to wield a sword, his lack of muscle, and his lack of fighting prowess. He hates his lack of masculine features and how he's unable to live up to his idea of what Crusch's knight should be.

He literally sees his masculinity as something stolen from him by his father; leaving him so empty that he needed something else to fill that void.

Crusch gave him something to fill that void. Crusch gave him a way to live. Crusch filled his soul...but he still resents what he "has" to be.

Now does that mean he resents Crusch? No, of course not. But he does resent that this is the only thing he can do for her; the only person he can be. Deep down, he doesn't seem to want to be the way he is, and instead of trying to change that he gives in to despair.

He's stuck in that hatred, in that desire to meet Crusch's expectations, and in that moment where a starving child begged to be released and was finally brought into the light. In many ways, he acts like a child.

This is quite literally represented in him preventing himself from going through puberty; a symbol in many stories of transitioning from childhood to adulthood. He sees his current form as a shackle whether he realizes it or not.

Now does that mean that Ferris should disregard his femininity entirely? Throwing away the representation of his love for Crusch and something that has defined him for so long seems as self-destructive as staying stuck. What's the solution? Where is his arc going?

Well, before that, I want to cover one last thing before I have to delve into Arc 8 spoilers. There's a bit of a side tangent I want to go on.

With everything I've been able to point out up to here, it's clear that Ferris is a remarkably complex character. There's so much to read into and talk about.

So why is he so hated?

He's so similar to Subaru, possibly the most popular character in the novel fandom. Despite all the claims of him being the worst and me highlighting his character's flaws, he hasn't done anything more morally dubious than the vast majority of characters in this series, even when he was pushed to the edge. This is especially true when compared to some of the most popular characters like Subaru or Roswaal. Hell, characters even more directly belligerent than Ferris like Priscilla don't get half the hate (though Priscilla's perception has...its own issues).

Why does he get disregarded so often? Why is he often treated as shallow fetish fuel? Why is he just reduced to being an asshole in every discussion that involves him?

Well, I have a few I can point out.

The first is, most obviously, misinformation. A large portion of the novel reader base has not read Arcs 1-4 in the LN and has very warped views of some of the characters in that section of the story. Ferris is just the most blatant example.

I can't count the number of times I've heard people just blatantly lie about or exaggerate what Ferris did in Arc 3. From the "mana bomb" that has LITERALLY no basis in the text to the "brainwashing" scene treated as a comedy bit that is exaggerated to hell, people go out of their way to interpret him in the worst light possible.

Many of the people who haven't read those sections then see Ferris's ribbing of Subaru in Arc 5 and then run with those pieces of misinformation; spreading it to the point that many believe some blatant lies to be fact.

The second is simply that a lot of people in the fandom don't read the side stories. I don't particularly blame a lot of these people, as there is a lot to get through, but there are a lot of people who take advantage of this for...certain reasons.

This leads to the third point...shipping. Ferris suffers from "Die for our ship" syndrome (https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DieForOurShip…). A lot of people like Crusch x Subaru and Crusch loves Ferris so that ends up being more than enough for some people to hate him.

That's not representative of even close to every Crusch x Subaru shipper, of course, it's just a notable trend that it's hard to pretend doesn't exist with some of them.

All of these factors often go hand-in-hand with the final factor: the fandom's immense double standards when it comes to certain characters.

I'm not going to go into deep detail with this as it would distract from the main point of the thread...but you know what I mean if you've interacted with the community for a significant period of time. It also doesn't help that many of the same people in this category tend to be incredibly bigoted.

Ferris isn't the only character subjected to these double standards, as characters like Emilia and Ram often face similar purposeful misinterpretations, but his frequently unfair critiques have affected his reputation negatively perhaps more than any other.

This isn't to say that this is all true for everyone who hates Ferris. There are numerous reasons you may just not be interested in his character.

However, I feel it's dishonest to pretend Ferris isn't often targeted far more than other characters for often lacking reasons.

With that out of the way, I can move on to the last thing I wanted to cover in this thread. I have established a lot here, so I want to speculate about the future.

From this point forward there are unmarked Arc 8 spoilers, so...you can't argue I wasn't careful. I don't blame you at all for leaving now and I thank you for reading my ramblings.

Are you still here? Ok, let's start.

With all of the above established, I want to return to the question of where Ferris' arc will go in the future. My belief? I think it will be something similar to what Pre-Amnesia Crusch has already realized, with Felix’s closest parallel in Subaru being close to doing the same.

Crusch, as I mentioned before, has found balance in the two aspects of her life. Throughout the story, she switches seamlessly between the two without a second thought. She is comfortable and happy with both parts of herself.

Subaru is also on a similar path. He feels most comfortable in embracing his feminine side, idealizing it through Natsumi. All his confidence is channeled into that persona, while the other two aspects of his personality (his main self who has all the self-worth of an abandoned puppy and his child self who is representative of his more masculine traits) are imbalanced.

Arc 8 seems to be going in a direction where he realizes how important all of these aspects of him are. All 3 have flaws. None of them are "complete," just pieces of the coherent whole that is Natsuki Subaru.

I believe a similar thing will happen with Ferris.

He will need to find a balance between Ferris, his feminine side that has defined him for so long, and Felix the masculine identity he craves. He needs to find a role that makes him as happy as Crusch was, accepting who he is while striving to become who he wants to be.

I don't expect that to be easy though. In fact, I think the path to get there will be immensely messy and self-destructive.

The idea of Ferris having a breakdown or lashing out has been well-foreshadowed throughout the story. He has had numerous smaller outbursts and has displayed similar problems to Arc 3 Subaru when pushed to an extreme. There's a large amount of toxicity in him that will rush out, sooner or later. It will likely take similar levels of suffering to force him to get a grip, possibly hurting Crusch in the process.

Who do I believe to be the trigger for this? My best guess is Capella.

It is quite possible Capella freed Sphinx and recreated her arms initially. Why would she do this? Why not? We're seeing firsthand how much of a monster Sphinx can be with the Sacrament of the Immortal King. Why wouldn't someone like Capella want something like that under her control?

Of course, Sphinx is almost certainly dying soon. Capella will need a replacement, and who's the only other potential user of the Sacrament? Ferris.

There's also the idea that Capella may have poisoned the Royal Family and, most importantly, Fourier. If Capella does become the main antagonist for Ferris, that could serve as motivation for him to want her dead regardless of his own reservations about killing.

Adding onto this is the fact that shapeshifting is a power with a long history of being associated with identity issues. Tappei likes making his antagonists strong narrative foils to his protagonists, so it would be interesting to contrast Ferris' identity issues with the potentially strong identity issues of Capella.

Finally, there's a lot of potential for her tragic past to parallel Ferris' past, with many implications that the Royal Family may not exactly have treated Emerada the best. The idea that the Royal Family may have locked her away is not implausible and it could make their connections even stronger.

Whatever that breakdown leads to, I expect Crusch and/or Subaru to be the one who snaps him out of it. This will likely be the catalyst that forces Ferris to find a balance. He'll need to let go of things like his self-blame over being unable to help Fourier, his internalized hatred of his current identity, his idealization of Crusch, and his need to save everyone. Ferris's love will finally allow him to grow and change into a person who is the middle ground between his desires and his true self.

After all, that's what Re: Zero is truly about: love and growth. Almost every character reflects this and, if my interpretation of Ferris is right, he could embody that theme just as much as Subaru himself does.

He could be a shining bastion of what this story is all about.

Of course, this is all just my interpretation and speculation. If you disagree with it, feel free to. I just hope I was able to make you appreciate Ferris a bit more/changed your mind on how much potential his character has.

I wish whoever is reading this a nice day!

#re zero kara hajimeru isekai seikatsu #re zero #arc 8 spoilers #ferris #re:zero #rezero

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sunnynwanda · 19 days

Text

The Game: Part 2

Part 1

Warning: manipulation, cat-and-mouse vibe, electricity used for restraining (I have no idea how to phrase this). Let me know if I've missed anything.

It's been 72 hours since Villain's capture, and Hero was on the verge of insanity. The sudden loud fits of laughter at any time of day and night and, as a result, the lack of sleep were getting the best of them. Besides, their mind was buzzing - they were curious about why Villain had made no attempts to escape yet.

Villain looked ecstatic in the most twisted way possible. Hero could not, for the life of them, figure out why. They were locked up in a cell with thick bars that they could never bend. Even if they were strong enough to do that, the electric current would leave them paralysed for a significant amount of time and would alert Hero. They had no reason to be this smug and satisfied.

"For the love of god, shut the fuck up!" They slam their fist against the wall right outside the cell, exasperation colouring their voice delightfully. "For once in your life, stay quiet!"

Villain's grin is so broad Hero expects their goddamn face to crack open. It's the fourth visit that Hero has paid them this afternoon, after a long sleepless night and even longer morning. "Aw, you love my laugh, baby!"

"I fucking hate you," Hero retorts, eyes blazing. They can test the bitterness of the lie on their tongue. "And your cackling laugh."

No, they don't. They don't hate Villain. Not in the slightest. They do hate how insufferable they can get, though.

Villain snorts, shaking their head. They take a step forward, and Hero's expression twitches for a moment. Villain's tone is cocky, almost mocking. "You love this."

You love the game.

"Stop. You better stop." Hero's warning flies right over Villain's head as they step up close to the bars, wrapping one hand around one and allowing electricity to course through their body. The hair on their arms stands, their fingertips buzzing with excitement when their hand reaches through the bars, ghosting down Hero's chest.

"Y-you're absolutely deranged," Hero's voice is quieter now, their concern evident in their furrowed brow as they glance at the hand travelling down the front of their body. "But, you're not a mad scientist."

"Oh?" Villain tilts their head to the side, smirking as they await Hero's explanation. Their long fingers reach Hero's belt, hooking into it to drag Hero closer with a sickening smile. They lick their lips, the action seeming to capture Hero's attention.

Hero's throat is drier than the dessert. They inhale deeply through the nose, their lips remaining sealed shut.

"What am I then? Mmm?" Villain moans out, eyes rolling into the back of their head as they slide their hand around Hero's waist, fingers digging into their flesh before gripping their belt again.

"You're just mad," Hero snarls, entirely done with their bullshit. Whatever this act is, it's still an act, and they will be damned if they fall for it. They push Villain's hand off them, feeling its shameful absence almost instantly as they back away. "Without the science part."

"Wanna bet?" Villain muses, their voice dripping with honey. It's unsettling and eerie - it sends a shiver down Hero's spine despite the bars separating them from their nemesis. They step back, winking at Hero before trailing towards their bed.

Hero shakes their head with a sigh as they retreat into the office, trying to ignore the lingering memory of Villain's hand on them.

Villain chuckles, twirling the tiny key between their fingers as they lay on their ascetic bed. They cannot wait for the night to arrive.

It's pitch black in the corridor, with no light penetrating the tiny window under the ceiling. Villain takes a deep breath to contain their excitement as they sneak along, their back pressed to the wall. They can't make out anything in the total darkness, instead counting their steps. Once they get to the general area, they use their sensitive palms to detect the change from stone to glass. Villain feels for the keyhole and, upon locating it, pulls out the key they stole from Hero's belt. They glide in and start searching for a switch when the lights flash on, illuminating the entire laboratory and Hero, sitting on one of the tables with their hands crossed over their chest.

"Holy s-" Villain jumps, clutching their chest with an exaggerated gasp, earning a chuckle from Hero.

"Hello," they smirk, satisfied with the effect. Villain's alarmed look brings more pleasure than they expected. "Did you think I'm that stupid?"

Villain quirks an eyebrow at them, tempted to say yes solely for the noble purpose of annoying Hero into oblivion. They shake their head with a wide grin. "No, you're worse."

Hero huffs, sliding off the table and taking a - hopefully - intimidating step towards Villain. "You think I didn't figure you wanted to get me worn out? So I would lose focus and miss you stealing the key?"

"Well, why did you let me take it then?" Villain counters, their expression becoming unreadable. They can't deny Hero is smart enough to understand they would not remain in the cell for that long had they not had a secret agenda. And an agenda they have. They need that goddamn device.

"Wanted to see what it was that you so desperately wanted," Hero explains, maintaining a calm demeanour.

"Apart from you?" Villain fails to keep the words from rolling off their lips. Hero appears unamused, so they sigh, raising their hands to indicate surrender. "Okay, fine. I want that little thing over there. So, let me take it, and I'll be out of your hair."

Hero follows the direction they are pointing in, and their jaw all but drops. "OD-8? As in, the deadly nerve gas with unknown effects? Are you insane?"

"I thought we had established that..." Villain trails off in an attempt to seem nonchalant. "But I really want it! An-and I can promise not to use it on you?" They plead, going so far as to muster up a puppy-eyed look.

"Do you think I'm a complete idiot?" Hero snorts, unimpressed by both the promise and begging. "No way in hell."

"But-" Villain looks nothing short of a kid deprived of their favourite candy. Hero would laugh if they didn't know better.

"No buts. And no way you're getting it." They cut, their voice devoid of emotion. Villain's face falls, causing Hero to sigh. They rub their eyebrow for a moment, thinking. "Fine. You can take one can of paralytic. That's the only thing I can offer you."

Villain's eyes light up immediately. Hero chuckles, handing Villain the promised can and ushering them out of the lab. They take the key back and make sure to lock the door before turning to face their nemesis.

"Now, get out of here before I change my mind," Villain darts up the stairs with a jump in their steps, and Hero starts to doubt their decision. They knew succumbing was not the best bet, but their dimwitted genius needed something to play with, and they felt safer choosing what to give them.

A part of them suspects that was what Villain had initially wanted and that they are going to end up paralysed and kidnapped in the upcoming days in retaliation for the arrest. But, as long as they get a good night's rest and Villain's stupid cute laugh, they don't mind it all that much.

And the game goes on.

Part 1

A/N: I seem to have a problem with the tags for some reason... If I fail to tag you in this, I'm sorry 🙏 If you happen to read this, let me know what you think. Thank you!

Love you 💛

xo Sunny ☀️

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpific @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

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