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#I can’t even get into it there are too many instances that make me want to commit violence
I swear to god it is impossible to exist for more than 3 consecutive minutes in this fandom these days without wanting to murder someone
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dreamed about [redacted] again :/
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kavehater · 4 months
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Truthfully it would be easier if I just isolate myself from everyone simply because after so long of just shoving things down and being told to shove things down and being told to get over it and stop being sensitive I’ve become so much more sensitive after being so unfeeling and it’s ruining everything
Not even having aventurine could fix this 😔🙏 LOLLL
#I cannot go a single day without that stomach drop feeling#for instance when someone says something vaguely allusive to another#when someone says something mean to someone else#when someone casually mentions something#that I have yearned for for so long or just genuinely really really want like it’s nothing and I’m like oh .#and the things I refer to are not material really they’re just some aspect of friendship#most of the time#Eris’ situation forced me to put a lid on me feeling this way so I can be more selfless to the struggles of others#I remember my heart just dropping when I was on the dash late at night and just seeing her talking with this one girl while she was activel#ignoring me and truthfully I got scared of myself for feeling that way because it felt sinful to be upset at something like that#I was so ashamed#but now this is daily#to me being friends doesn’t need such grand gestures I think truly the depth of things is measured the lack of hesitation to do the smalles#things#and truthfully I can do this for as many people as needed but it wouldn’t really be reciprocated#and it’s fine; me doing anything is kinda an act of charity I’m not expecting something back from someone specific#I just wish god could reward me with someone of my own is all#as the days go by I don’t even know how much more I can tolerate before things go awry#permanently#but I just get this feeling I won’t be around to find out what being normal feels like#I know life is unfair and acknowledge that I’m the first to do so#but there is no way it’s this unfair#it’s almost like knocking on a hollow object and you expect to hear some echo or reverberation but even that aspect is empty and soundless#uhhh yeah#so that’s on how I have such embarrassing and bad coping mechanisms#dora daily#because I genuinely do not feel comfort anymore with anything except a few random things and even those are constantly ruined#it’s why I can’t concentrate because I seek out those comfort activities just so I don’t panic but I get comfortable#but it’s too comfortable and doing anything apart from said things makes me panic again so I’m just stuck in a loop
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physalian · 3 months
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How to make your writing sound less stiff part 2
Part 1
Again, just suggestions that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice, as I sit here doing my own edits for a WIP.
1. Crutch words
Specifically when you have your narrator taking an action instead of just… writing that action. Examples:
Character wonders/imagines/thinks/realizes
Character sees/smells/feels
Now not all of these need to be cut. There’s a difference between:
Elias stops. He realizes they’re going in the wrong direction.
And
Elias takes far too long to realize that it’s not horribly dark wherever they are
Crutch words are words that don’t add anything to the sentence and the sentence can carry on with the exact same meaning even if you delete it. Thus:
Elias stops. They’re going in the wrong direction.
I need a word in the second example, whether it’s realizes, understands, or notices, unless I rework the entire sentence. The “realization” is implied by the hard cut to the next sentence in the first example.
2. Creating your own “author voice”
Unless the tone of the scene demands otherwise, my writing style is very conversational. I have a lot of sentence fragments to reflect my characters’ scatterbrained thoughts. I let them be sarcastic and sassy within the narration. I leave in instances of “just” (another crutch word) when I think it helps the sentence. Example:
…but it’s just another cave to Elias.
Deleting the “just” wouldn’t hit as hard or read as dismissive and resigned.
I may be writing in 3rd person limited, but I still let the personalities of my characters flavor everything from the syntax to metaphor choices. It’s up to you how you want to write your “voice”.
I’ll let dialogue cut off narration, like:
Not that he wouldn’t. However, “You can’t expect me to believe that.”
Sure it’s ~grammatically incorrect~ but you get more leeway in fiction. This isn’t an essay written in MLA or APA format. It’s okay to break a few rules, they’re more like guidelines anyway.
3. Metaphor, allegory, and simile
There is a time and a place to abandon this and shoot straight because oftentimes you might not realize you’re using these at all. It’s the difference between:
Blinding sunlight reflects off the window sill
And
Sunlight bounces like high-beams off the window sill
It’s up to you and what best fits the scene.
Sometimes there’s more power in not being poetic, just bluntly explicit. Situations like describing a character’s battle wounds (whatever kind of battle they might be from, whether it be war or abuse) don’t need flowery prose and if your manuscript is metaphor-heavy, suddenly dropping them in a serious situation will help with the mood and tonal shift, even if your readers can’t quite pick up on why immediately.
Whatever the case is, pick a metaphor that fits the narrator. If my narrator is comparing a shade of red to something, pick a comparison that makes sense.
Red like the clouds at sunset might make sense for a character that would appreciate sunsets. It’s romantic but not sensual, it’s warm and comforting.
Red like lipstick stains on a wine glass hints at a very different image and tone.
Metaphor can also either water down the impact of something, or make it so much worse so pay attention to what you want your reader to feel when they read it. Are you trying to shield them from the horror or dig it in deep?
4. Paragraph formatting
Nothing sticks out on a page quite like a line of narrative all by itself. Abusing this tactic will lessen its effect so save single sentence paragraphs for lines you want to hammer your audiences with. Lines like romantic revelations, or shocking twists, or characters giving up, giving in. Or just a badass line that deserves a whole paragraph to itself.
I do it all the time just like this.
Your writing style might not feature a bunch of chunky paragraphs to emphasize smaller lines of text (or if you’re writing a fic on A03, the size of the screen makes many paragraphs one line), but if yours does, slapping a zinger between two beefy paragraphs helps with immersion.
5. Polysyndeton and Asyndeton
Not gibberish! These, like single-sentence paragraphs, mix up the usual flow of the narrative that are lists of concepts with or without conjunctions.
Asyndeton: We came. We saw. We conquered. It was cold, grey, lifeless.
Polysyndeton: And the birds are out and the sun is shining and it might rain later but right now I am going to enjoy the blue sky and the puffy white clouds like cotton balls. They stand and they clap and they sing.
Both are for emphasis. Asyndeton tends to be "colder" and more blunt, because the sentence is blunt. Polysyntedon tends to be more exciting, overwhelming.
We came and we saw and we conquered.
The original is rather grim. This version is almost uplifting, like it's celebrating as opposed to taunting, depending on how you look at it.
All of these are highly situational, but if you’re stuck, maybe try some out and see what happens.
*italicized quotes are from ENNS, the rest I made up on the spot save for the Veni Vidi Vici.
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cordeliawhohung · 4 months
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Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [6]
pet!au part 6 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list | early access available on patreon
open wide
cw: overall theme of non-con, dub-con medication taking, mouth inspection, lots of exposition
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Everything hurts when you wake up.
Though you’re plagued by an ache that targets your hips, shoulders, and back, it’s namely your throat that hurts the most, which is something to be said considering you’ve been sleeping in a kennel for the last week. It’s a surprisingly spacious cage, tucked into the far corner of the bedroom across from the large bed Johnny and Simon sleep on. A small, foam pad fits perfectly inside of the bottom of the cage, providing you with some cushioning between your body and the frigid, metal bottom of the cage, but it’s certainly far from humane. There’s not enough room for you to stand up in it, but you’re grateful to at least be able to stretch the full length of your legs out.
It’s jerry-rigged, you’re sure of it. Not store bought, but handmade with spare metal bars and a half decent welding job. By the size of it, you’re certain it used to hold something much larger than yourself. As for what — or who — it was, you don’t even want to venture a guess. Every night, Simon locks you in with a padlock, trapping you for the hours everyone is asleep. You wake each morning with a full bladder, but he wakes you up no later than six in the morning, allowing you to use the bathroom before he starts getting ready for his day.
In some ways, Simon is considerate like that. Always ensuring you’re not going too long without any sort of need. Never starves you, or has done anything to intentionally cause devious harm. But there are many instances where he is not so generous.
Like last night, when Johnny got needy. He had complained something fierce the first night Simon locked you up. The man can hardly go a few hours without needing to put his hands on you in some capacity, and you took note of the way his blue eyes grew misty seeing you locked away out of his reach. Simon assured him it was only a temporary solution until he could get you fixed — which you’re still too scared to ask what getting you fixed means — but that could only quell Johnny’s emotions for so long.
He had lasted six days before he needed to put his hands on you again. To his credit, you had expected him to crack significantly sooner, and a part of you wished he had. Perhaps he would have been easier on your throat if you hadn’t pitifully shrugged off all his attempts he passed at you during the daytime while Simon was away. It all came to a head last night when Simon was getting ready to lock you away until morning when Johnny decided he just couldn’t handle it anymore.
Johnny has a way of begging that makes you feel bad for him, and Simon has a gaze that tells you it would be stupid to refuse his favorite pet. So you obeyed. Got on your knees like a good pet while Johnny abused your throat with his cock. You’ve gotten better at not crying when it happens, and he’s gotten better about letting you breathe while he uses you. Still, your eyes water on their own volition, blurring your view of Johnny above you and Simon behind him, going about his nightly routine as if you’re not being torn to shreds on the bedroom floor.
You’re still feeling the effects of it this morning as Simon unlocks your cage and allows you to relieve yourself in the restroom. In a way, it almost feels like strep. Raw skin sticks to itself, and you try your best to choke the ache to soothe the pain, but it always seems to come back. It dries and cracks, and you’re wholly surprised that you can’t taste blood when you swallow.
Breakfast that morning is the same as it usually is: eggs, toast, milk, bacon, sausage — everything fresh and homemade. Simon insists that the three of you sit at the table for every meal as if he’s afraid you’ll choke and die off without him. No one makes conversation, and if anything is said, it’s usually some sort of comment made by Johnny. He thanks Simon for the food, and compliments how juicy the bacon is before he silences himself by eating. All you do is keep your head down and attempt to keep the attention off of you.
It’s a strange thing, surviving in that place. You exist so quietly you hardly feel like you’re in your own body. In order to live, you have to play the part. The chew toy. The pet. Bonnie. It’s a balancing act between remembering who you are, and behaving well enough that Simon has no reason to punish you. Whether you like it or not, it’s easy math. You stand no chance of escaping that place on your own. Still, as you pick at your eggs and nibble on your toast, you quietly promise to yourself that you’ll get out of there one day. No matter what it takes.
Something’s different when Simon leaves for work today. Johnny’s not hounding you the moment the door shuts. Usually, he demands that you sit with him to watch a movie of some sort on the countless DVD’s and VHS tapes stored on old bookshelves in the living room. It’s not a terrible way to pass the time, and there are a few movies you rather enjoy. Every now and then you’ll fall asleep and wake up with his hands groping your chest or shoved down your pants like you’re some play-thing, but he’s oddly quiet this time.
Once breakfast is finished, he takes his plate, cleans it up and then leaves you alone after giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek. His figure vanishes down the hallway that leads to the back of the house — a place you have yet to explore. His disappearance is marked by the shutting of a very squeak door, and you finally feel like you can breathe easier. You’re not curious enough to follow him, and you’re certainly not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. A moment of peace and quiet in your life is rare these days when you’re too busy playing the pliable fawn so that you’re not hurt — or worse.
Enjoying your rare solitude, you take refuge by the open window in the living room. There’s an old recliner that smells vaguely like oak and grass that you like to curl up in while you read one of the old classical books Simon has stored next to the fireplace. It’s been a few days since you’ve really been able to get a breath of fresh air, but it doesn’t do much to calm your nerves. Though you’ve been there for a week, it’s strenuous trying to comprehend the situation you’ve found yourself in. Your fingers fiddle with your name tag as you rest your eyes from reading and look out at the trees that line the edge of the property, lush with the summer heat and rain.
It’s an enticing view with foliage that dances freely in the breeze. Grass and moss covers the field haphazardly, covering everything in a soft blanket of vibrant green. It whispers for you to run toward it and never look back. To soak in the feeling of the earth between your bare toes.
You know better than to run from a man who already has your scent memorized.
Your mind flashes back to the bath Simon gave you a few days ago, where he had you get dressed in clothes you already owned, and washed you with the same soap you’ve been using for years. How many signs did you miss? How long did you live in blissful ignorance to the insidious intentions that were being planned for you? Would you still be at home right now, safe in your own bed away from these freaks had you done anything different? Or were you always destined to be stuck there? Locked away in some home. How cruel and fickle fate can be.
Simon smells like blood and muscle when he gets home. You’ve gathered from the fresh nicks on his knuckles and old scars that litter his hands that he does some sort of blue-collar work. Judging by the fact he always seems to come home with some type of meat to cook up for dinner, you’re guessing he’s a butcher. You wonder if that’s why he’s keeping you and Johnny. Perhaps something in that twisted, stupid brain of his is unable to love the animals he tears apart limb by limb. Maybe he keeps you in order to cover up his guilt.
When Johnny emerges from whatever room he had holed himself up in for the entire day, he’s disheveled. Messy, black strands of hair stray flippantly from the shape of his mohawk, and the sides of his hands are darkened with some sort of grey dust. It reminds you of the graphite stains you would get as a kid practicing writing skills in school. Still, he’s all giggles and grins for Simon as he rubs up against him. Sickeningly loyal. Such a good dog.
He stays just as close and attached to Simon all throughout dinner, and just like you did that morning, you keep your head down while you eat. If Johnny wants to play the part of the devoted pet, that’s fine by you. Anything to keep Simon’s burning gaze away from you.
As he eats his meal, you wonder if he dreams of cutting you up. Shredding tendon from bone and shoving you into his maw like you’re a well deserved meal. You wouldn’t put it past him, that type of violence. He’s been more than content with collaring you and treating you like an animal, it would make sense. You wonder if he likes playing with his food before he eats.
“Bonnie.”
There’s hardly enough time for you to wash your plate after dinner before Simon’s demanding your attention. Despite the insane size of this man, he has an odd ability that allows him to sneak around the house nearly undetected, and by the time you turn around to answer him, he’s already in your space. You swallow as you look up at him. That terrible rawness still plagues your throat, but you know better than to stay silent.
“Yes?”
He has a small package in his hands that he keeps rotating, inspecting it closely, drawing your own eyes to it. It’s a thin sheet full of several small tablets that are meant to be poked through the foil encasing it. You count each row — seven tablets each in four total rows. An odd sensation tugs at your stomach as you realize what he’s got: birth control pills.
Relief floods through you as Simon fetches a small glass of water. You’re not sure how he got them — and you’re not sure you want to know — but if this is his idea of fixing you, then you’ll take it. It’s certainly better than your other theories of him potentially trying to perform an actual surgery on you himself. You’d wager he’s good with knives, but not that good. Though, he’d probably like tearing you apart like that, but you refuse to entertain that thought. You’ll take the pills.
Anything to not get pregnant.
Simon places one of the small pills in the palm of your hand, and you turn it over in your fingers. It looks legitimate. Not something that’s manufactured in someone’s basement, at least. You pray that your instincts are right as you place it on your tongue before swallowing it down with a gulp of water. It goes down just as easy as you anticipated, and it settles in your stomach without protest.
There’s hardly enough time for you to set the glass on the counter next to you before Simon’s fingers dig into your cheeks. You whine as you brace your hands against his chest, eyes already wetting from the pain as his grip grows too firm to be loving. You wince at the pressure and stare up at him with bewildered eyes.
“Open,” he demands.
You instantly comply, praying that he’ll loosen his grip if you do, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts to tilt your head side to side, inspecting every inch of your open mouth as he presses the inside of your cheeks against your teeth. He looks about ready to shove his fingers into your mouth, to feel every inch of your wet tongue and dull teeth, but he doesn’t. Once he’s determined that you’re not hiding the pill underneath your tongue or in the pockets of your cheeks, he relinquishes his grip on you. His fingers leave a lasting pain that throbs just underneath your skin, and you stare up at him like he’s betrayed you, as if you should have expected any better of him.
“Good girl,” he says, voice dull.
“Does this mean I can have her now?”
You hadn’t realized Johnny had been behind you, and when you turn to face him his eyes are full of wonder. This is the downside of birth control, you realize. Now that you’re on the pill — now that you’re fixed — Johnny’s going to have free rein of you. If he fucks you as often as he abuses your throat, you know you’re in for a bad ride. Your cunt already hurts at the thought of it.
“Down boy,” Simon snaps.
Johnny’s shoulders tense and he frowns at Simon’s harsh tone. The poor, pathetic thing looks wounded as Simon disregards you and approaches his favorite pet. His pale hands look out of place on the warmth of Johnny’s arms as he pulls him close. It’s uncharacteristically soft. Johnny melts at his touch and leans into him, lips parted in a silent plea for an embrace.
“Look at you. Poor mutt,” Simon croons. Despite the abrasiveness of his words, his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard from him. “Have I been neglectin’ you? Gone too long without a proper fuck? Want me to fix that?”
A switch flips inside Johnny. You can tell by the way his eyes widen and how he begins to paw at Simon’s chest, like he’s trying to tear his clothes off right then and there in the kitchen. Something freezes you to the ground. Forces you to stay still, as if they won’t see you and forget about you if you don’t move. Nothing but prey, hiding from the predators.
“Yes, please Simon,” Johnny whimpers.
“C’mon, I know you can beg. Used to do it all the time before we got Bonnie, yeah? Beg,” Simon demands.
“I’ve been so good,” Johnny says, words exploding out of his mouth before he can stop them.
“Have you?” Simon challenges.
He nods. “Haven’t fucked her, just like you asked. Didn’t even touch her at all today while you were gone.”
Simon smirks, and you avert your gaze like it’s blinded you. “That why you’re so worked up?”
“Please,” he tries again. “I miss you.”
The only thing you hear after that is the sound of their lips crashing together. It’s wet and hungry, and you flinch at the sound of Simon’s groan. Something terrible and sharp twists in your stomach, and you feel sick at their words. Despite the terrible things Simon does, and the grotesque words he calls him, Johnny seems helplessly in love with him. So starved for affection, he’ll take it from the very hand of the man who’s hurting both of you.
“Good boy,” Simon whispers.
Reality shifts, making the air feel thicker, and that’s when you realize that Simon’s attention has been brought to you. There’s no time for you to retract as he reaches his free hand toward you and slips a finger in the loop of your collar. With a swift yank, you’re tumbling toward him with your hands grasping his forearm to try and keep yourself steady.
He chuckles, and you realize you think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh. You don’t like the sound of it. It’s dark and grating. Gargled like a wolf’s laugh. Something that precedes pain.
“C’mon, Bonnie. Johnny’s hungry.”
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faithisyours · 2 months
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Can’t Imagine Losing You
Azriel x Fem!reader
Summary: Azriel’s been acting moody lately, and you've had enough.
Warnings: ANGST! but also fluff. Smut, smut, SMUT! possessive Az, whimpering whiny Az, sort of a switch dynamic between the two, P in V, coming inside, oral both receiving, some ass stuff, i think that's it, not proof read
Word Count: 4.5k
A/N: Hey y’all! Sorry for being MIA. Here’s another fic as a peace offering. I wanted to try some angst so hopefully I did it right. This whole thing took so many turns. Hope it's comprehensible. If you have any requests for fics you'd like me to write, I'm all ears (i need ideas, please I’m begging). As always, minors go away. Majors, enjoy!
“I have some work I need to do at the House of Wind today. It shouldn't take long.”
You were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast, enjoying the warm summer breeze coming in through the open window when Azriel informed you he had to leave. You were disappointed, but not at all surprised. It seemed like there was always something to do, some report needing finished or some training schedule needing tweaked. And it was always your mate who needed to do it, especially on his off days, it seemed.
“Can you stay for breakfast at least?” you asked, infusing your words with hope to mask the disappointment.
“I’m sorry, my love, I can’t. I’ll see you later.” He pressed a swift kiss to the top of your head before practically running out the door. There was no, “I’ll make it up to you later,” or, “How about breakfast tomorrow?” or even an, “I love you,” before he had disappeared.
Instances like this had been happening more frequently over the past couple years, but recently it had gotten out of hand for you. You had been mated to Azriel for over a century at this point, and had known each other far longer than that. You originally assumed that these instances were caused by Azriel being distracted by his work. Being the spymaster for the Night Court was a lot to manage. But more recently you had begun to wonder if the spark had dimmed for Azriel. If he had started to feel differently than he had when you two were first mated.
You decided that tonight you would bring up your concerns with him. You prayed to the Mother it was only because he was so busy and not because he had begun to feel differently about being mated to you. For now, though, you finished your breakfast, put away the extra food you had made for Azriel, and got ready for your day.
Since Azriel wasn’t going to be home until later, you figured you could get some errands done while he was away. Azriel had been running low on his sleep tonic for a while now, so you decided to stop by your favorite apothecary and pick him up another one. While you were out, you figured you could stop by the market and get some more wine to replenish the stash you and the other ladies of the Inner Circle had drained not too long ago. You also picked up some ingredients you would need for dinner tonight.
It was nearing noon when you decided to head back home, but as you were making your way back, you passed the shop you had gotten your favorite lingerie set from. It couldn’t hurt, you thought, to go in and look around. It had been a while since you got a new set, and you thought you should treat yourself. If you found something you liked, of course. And as soon as you walked in, a rich purple satin set caught your attention. It was perfect; simple yet sexy, and looked rather comfortable as well. It had criss-cross straps that circled around the back and waist, to connect to the bottoms, which were detailed with black lace on the hips. You didn’t have a purple set yet, and you thought maybe Azriel would like it too. Maybe if things went well tonight you would let him see it.
You made your way home, purchases in hand, including that satin set, and hoped by the time you got there that Azriel would be home. But he wasn’t. You entered an empty home, warm yet breezy from the window you had left open, and started unloading your purchases. You put the wine on the rack, the ingredients for dinner on the kitchen table, and Azriel’s sleep tonic on his bedside table. Lastly, you fished that purple satin set out of its bag and tried it on.
You didn’t bother trying it on in the store because you already knew your measurements and didn’t want to bother anyone anyway. Just like you suspected, it was incredibly comfortable, and it fit you like a glove. Exhaustion washed over you then, even though it was a little past noon. Going out to run errands always seemed to suck the energy right out of you.
You didn’t bother taking off the set, but instead rifled through Az’s shirt drawer to find your favorite one of his, a flowy black cotton button down, and threw it on. Even though Az wasn’t here right now, you still wanted to feel close to him, hence the shirt. You curled yourself up on his side of the bed, enveloped in the comfort of his scent, and closed your eyes. The last thought you had before falling asleep was hoping this whole thing was a misunderstanding.
You awoke to the sound of a door slamming. You sat up, wiped the sleep from your eyes, and made your way towards the kitchen, the most likely source of the noise. You saw Azriel, leaning over the kitchen sink looking out the window. You glanced at the clock above the hearth, noting you had been asleep for about 4 hours.
“Hey Az,” you said groggily, “Sorry I didn’t meet you at the door, I was taking a nap. Did you just get home?” you asked, walking closer to him. He gave you a grunt in response. You noticed his shadows swirling agitatedly around him, making you stop in your tracks. “Az, are you okay? Did something happen?” A million thoughts cycled through your head in seconds. Did something happen at work? Are Cassian and Rhys okay? Is he mad at you? Did you forget something he asked you to get at the market?
“I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it.” His answers were clipped, monotone. “I'll be in our room.” he pushed off from the sink and brushed right past you, not even bothering to look you in the eye, give you a kiss, or look even the slightest bit apologetic for his attitude.
“I got you more sleeping tonic. It’s on your bedside table,” you informed him. You got a closing bedroom door in response.
You had a lot of patience. You prided yourself on the amount of patience you had. But it was warring paper thin for your mate. You decided to make dinner to take your mind off it, and to hopefully give him time to calm down. It’s not like he’d never been moody before, but this was a little much. He was starting to act like a teenage son, not your mate.
Thirty minutes later dinner was done and on the table. You went over to your bedroom door, still closed, and knocked, then poked your head in.
“Dinner is done. I made one of your favorites,” you informed Azriel, who was just walking out of the connected bathing room when you had poked your head in. He had changed into something more comfortable since the last time you saw him.
“Be right out,” he responded, glancing at you as he said it.
You walked back out to the kitchen table and began to load up both your plates with food. Azriel joined you just as you sat down. He immediately started eating, seemingly not concerned that the food was still hot enough to burn his mouth. And it looked like you would be carrying the conversation this evening.
“Was everything alright at the House of Wind today?” you pried, hoping the question came off as inconspicuous.
“Everything is fine. It’s handled now,” he offered, still shoveling food into his mouth.
“Alright. Good. I just wanted to -”
He cut you off. “Can we just eat in silence please? It's been a long day.” The words were stern, but his tone was soft, tired. You paused at his words, letting them sink in. Maybe this was just a bad day for him. Maybe he would be better tomorrow. Maybe this conversation should wait, if he’s pretty tired already. But how long had this gone on? How long have you wanted to say something about it?
“No,” you said simply. He paused, a fork-full stopped midway between his plate and mouth. Finally, he looked at you. “No, we’re not going to sit in silence. I have something I want to talk about. And I realize you may have had a shitty day, but I also had a day. I did things I want to talk with you about. I’ve wanted to have a conversation with you since this morning. So, no, actually. I’m not going to sit here in silence. Okay?” You stayed staring into his hazel eyes until you got a nod, but you wanted his answer in words. So you kept gazing into those hazel eyes until you got one.
“Okay. Alright,” he said, lowering his fork and pushing away from the table slightly, keeping his eyes on you. “What did you want to talk about, Love?”
His use of that endearment almost makes you reconsider this conversation. Almost. “I wanted to talk about your workload. And how it’s affecting me. And your treatment of me.” He only nodded, encouraging you to continue. “I feel like your workload doesn’t leave time for us anymore. It seems like the amount of stuff you have to do on a daily basis is way more than it used to be. You barely get any time off, and even on your days off you still have to do something. Like today. And I want to know if that’s how you feel, too.” You gave him time to consider.
He cleared his throat. “I like to stay busy. You know that. I haven’t noticed an increase in my duties, but even if there has been, I’m not sure if there is anything I could do about it. Everyone’s plate is already full. I can talk to Rhys about allocating jobs, but I can’t make any promises.”
You nodded, if only to give you something to do. That was not the answer you wanted to hear, but you could work with it. You wanted to broach your next point, but you were scared he wouldn’t take it well. You took a deep breath. “This… this leads me into my next point. I feel like…I feel as though you haven't been treating me how I want to be treated recently. Like sometimes I get my mate Az, and other days I get Azriel the shadowsinger. Or I get moody, likes-to-slam-doors Az who can’t bother to answer his mate in full sentences because he's too pissed off at something he doesn’t even want to tell me, his mate, who he should be able to tell everything to, even if it “doesn’t concern me.”” Your voice had started to rise, but you couldn’t help it. You were angry. “And this was why I wanted to talk about your workload. It feels like you’re getting upset more because you have more to do, which in turn makes you unintentionally take it out on me. you regard me as a permanent fixture in this house, but I am not. I will leave if I am not treated the way I deserve. And Gods, Azriel, I hope that this is the only reason, that it is only because of you working too much, because if it’s something else, if it has to do with your feelings towards me changing, I don’t…I don’t even…” you trailed off, holding back a sob that had started climbing your throat.
Azriel was now standing, making his way over to you. He knelt down right in front of you, taking your hand in his, his eyes, full of worry and confusion, searched yours for answers. “Okay, alright, you’re right. I have been acting like a jerk to you recently. And I’m so sorry for that. Truly. Work has been a lot to deal with recently, but that’s no excuse. I'll talk to Rhys about getting more time off. So I can spend it with you, alright? But how could you think my feelings have changed? How could you even think that?” His look was incredulous.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, or rather, tried to. “We’ve been mated for a century. A lot can happen in that amount of time. I thought maybe…maybe the spark was dimming for you. Maybe you changed your mind. About me. About us. And if you did, that would be alright. I would live with that, if it made you happy.” You work your confession out between sobs. “I just…I guess I just got scared. I don't want to lose you.”
His eyes were still on yours, but the emotion in them had shifted. Now they were full of anger. Not anger for you, but rather anger at himself. How could he treat you like this? In a way that made you think he did not love you anymore. He had failed, he realized. He was failing you, your relationship, your trust in him. He had to fix this, had to try harder. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said with conviction, no room left for argument. “I love you. So much. More now than I did a century ago. Every day I love you more. I didn’t even think that was possible, but with you it is. You’re not getting rid of me even if you wanted to, okay? I’m staying, and I’m going to try harder, get more days off, spend them all with you. You’re the love of my life, ya? Nothing will change that.” He pulled you into a hug, kissed away your tears, and kept kissing you until your cheeks were dry.
He kissed you one more time, hard, on the cheek, then went back to his side of the table and sat down. He thanked you for dinner, asked about your day, what all you did, and in turn told you what had happened at the House of Wind. Apparently one of the Illarian camps had started some fights with another camp over space and resources. Rhys had thought it was taken care of, but there was another fight today, which resulted in Azriel having to go over there, break it up, and be the peacekeeper longer than he wanted. Hence him coming home late and in a pissy mood.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he stated, cutting off your story of you in the market today. It wasn’t a conscious thought to cut you off. He had only just now realized you were wearing his shirt, and basically nothing else. He had been so distracted by what had happened today and you bringing up your concerns that he hadn’t even noticed. Possession coiled in his stomach like a serpent strangling its prey. Seeing you in his clothes, even though it was a rare occurrence, always made him hard. He couldn’t help it. Your strong, soft body wrapped in his shirt, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, exposing all that lickable skin. It made his knees buckle.
“Is that okay?” you asked tentatively. He was looking at you now like a starved man, which you knew he wasn't, given the finished plate of food before him. You rarely wore his clothes, mainly because you swam in them due to how big they were on you. You guessed he was just surprised to see you in something of his, but that didn’t explain the heat in his gaze. “I put it on after I got home from running errands. I wanted to take a nap and I figured you weren’t using it so…” you explained, trailing off.
“You’ve been wearing my shirt all day. Only my shirt.” It wasn’t a question. More like a repetition of the fact in order to understand. But it wasn’t just his shirt you were wearing. As he said it he noticed the purple strap poking out by your shoulder. A purple strap. You didn’t own any purple undergarments. “What is that?” he asked, his gaze burning a hole in your shoulder.
Before you could even answer him he said, “Purple. You don’t own anything purple.” His gaze was lighting you on fire, his eyes full of slow understanding, pupils blown wide with lust.
You got up from your chair, pushing your empty dinner plate slightly forward, and walked around the kitchen table to his side to stand right in front of him. “Well, while I was out,” you started, your voice low and seductive, “I passed by that shop, you know, the one I got that royal blue set from.” Azriel knew exactly what you were talking about. Remembered your squirming form underneath him while you were in that set. He was starting to feel lightheaded from how much of his blood had gone to his crotch. “And I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go in and see if they had anything as good as that royal blue set.” You were teasing him now, you knew it. But it was so fun, you couldn’t help yourself.
“Please, my love. Please let me see it. Let me see you,” he begged, winned. It was music to your ears. He was so hard it looked like it hurt. He had started slipping off his chair onto his knees in front of you, his scarred hands coming up to grip your hips. He was actually begging.
“You want to see it?” you taunted. He nodded, swallowing audibly. “Alright, but no touching. Not yet.” You pushed his hands off your hips, which was more difficult than you thought it would be, and began unbuttoning the shirt. Each button you worked to undo made Azriel’s breathing heavier, until he was practically panting. His hands were clenched so tightly at his sides you were sure his fingernails would leave marks on his palms.
You felt like a goddess; the man you adored more than anything knelt at your feet, completely enraptured by you, in awe of all you are. You reached the last button, undoing it achingly slowly, just to see your mate break out in a sweat. His hands were clenching his thighs hard enough to bruise, his chest heaved like a dying man, and the only thing shining in his eyes was need. Need for you, need to touch you, need to be buried in you until neither of you could tell where one ended and the next began. Azriel was a gentleman, but right now, here in front of you, he was the embodiment of pure animalistic lust. One word from you and he would snap. Just how you liked him.
You let the shirt part, giving him a nice view of the valley between your breasts, as well as the crossing straps and lower, to where those straps connected. You dragged one side of the shirt down off your shoulder, then repeated the movement on the other side. Finally, you let the shirt drop off of you, leaving you only in that purple set. You stepped closer to him, and caressed his face with your hand.
“Please.” It was barely a whisper, but you heard it, saw his lips part to form the word. His eyes were pleading with yours. He needed you. Now.
“Okay,” was all you said before he was on you, standing, gripping your hips, kissing you, running his hands over all that satin. He was everywhere all at once, biting your lips, coaxing moans from your throat, groaning over the feel of you, and you reveled in it all. His hands came around the back of your thighs, and suddenly you were being picked up and carried down the hall, towards your shared bedroom.
You were placed gently onto the bed, which was still rumpled from your nap earlier. Azriel leaned over you, taking you all in. “I love the purple, but I need you naked,” he said, peppering your jaw with kisses. You reached down to your hips and unhooked the straps from the panties. Azriel quickly figured out how to get your top off, and in a matter of seconds he was dragging the purple satin down your breasts just so his hands and lips could cover them again.
He took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolled the other between his fingers, and sucked and licked and pinched and bit till your chest was littered with marks from him. All the while, moans and whimpers poured out of you. Azriel reveled in the divine sounds you made, the sounds he made you make.
He made his way down your body, drawing closer and closer to where you needed him most.
“Please, baby. Please let me taste you,” he whispered, pleaded, begged. You gave him confirmation, that one word he needed to hear, then he was dragging those purple satin panties down your legs and throwing them across the room. He parted your legs, exposing your glistening core to him. The look in his eyes was that of absolute hunger. He didn’t bother with teasing you. He put his tongue right on your cunt, giving you no time to adjust or think before he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, spreading your arousal across his tongue.
You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could watch him; watch as he devoured you, drank from you, absolutely consumed you. He licked and sucked at your clit, brought it between his teeth, and eased the bite with more licks. Your head fell back as you moaned his name, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Sooner than you even thought possible, you were on the edge of release, that coil in your belly drawing tighter and tighter. Without warning, Azriel slid a finger into you, curling it in a way that had you falling apart. He added a second, and it was your undoing.
You came with Azriel’s name on your lips. He worked you through your pleasure, continued to lick and suck till you were shaking from overstimulation. You pushed his head away, but he wouldn’t budge. He kept on licking you, drinking every drop of your release straight from the source. You were boneless, soar from overstimulation, but you could feel another orgasm rising within you.
Azriel moaned from the taste of you, the vibration making your hips buck. He continued to work his fingers into you, curling perfectly to reach that spot that made you scream. Profanities and pleads and promises poured from your mouth, but Azriel didn’t stop until you were coming again, on his fingers, on his face, on his tongue. Finally, after drinking every last drop of your essence, he worked his way back up to your mouth.
He kissed you until you came back to reality, until your limbs regained function. You kissed him back, moaning from the taste of yourself on his tongue. And then you were pushing him onto his back, straddling his hips to keep him there. He struggled a bit, pointing to his pinned wings, but you only smiled at him. “Is the Illarian baby pinned?” you taunted him. He stopped struggling, but instead glared at you. So you dragged a finger down one of the veins in his wings, and a moan slipped past his lips.
“That's what I thought,” you muttered. He was still fully clothed, and the contrast of your nakedness only spurred you on further. You kissed him, long and deep and unhurried, while you unbuttoned the length of his shirt. He broke the kiss to shed his shirt, so you turned your attention to unlacing his pants. While you worked, he kissed and nipped your neck, working marks into your soft flesh. You worked his pants down his legs, aided with Azriel’s help, and eventually he was naked underneath you.
You pressed him down to lay flat on the bed, then started your journey down towards his hard length. As you worked your way down, you liked and sucked and bit until his skin was littered with marks, just like yours was. You scraped your nails down his arms, down his sides, till he was shivering from your touch.
Kneeling now between his legs, guided a hand towards his length while you kissed his hips and rolled the skin between your teeth. His hips bucked at the fist fell of your hands on him, which made you smile. “So responsive,” you purred, then licked him from base to tip. He let out a moan that had your thighs rubbing together. With your tongue, you licked up the bead of precum that had frond, then promptly took as much of him into your mouth as you could.
Azriel speared his fingers through your hair, not to control your head but to steady himself. Your mouth was a dream to him; warm and wet and perfect. Second best only to your cunt. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth until he was hitting the back of your throat. Az was panting at this point, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Your mouth felt so good, but he needed to be inside you.
“I’m gonna…please…I need to be inside you,” he panted out. You pulled your mouth off him with a pop, then gave him one last lick before you climbed your way back up to him. You kissed him, mainly just so he could taste himself on you. Then you positioned your hips just above his, readying yourself to sink onto his length.
Using his hand, he parted you, spreading your slick on you and on his hand. He eased you onto his cock slowly, letting you adjust to him. Every time you took him, it was an adjustment. You hoped that would never change. You both made an obscene noise when he was finally, completely in you.
“You want to be filled, baby?” he asked as he ran the fingers he had parted you with down between your ass cheeks. Yes, you wanted to be full of him, wanted to be overwhelmed by him, wanted to feel him everywhere. You nodded. “Words, love,” he chided softly.
“Yes, please Az,” you wined. That was all you had to say before he worked his fingers into you, using your slick on his fingers as lube. He gripped your hips with the rest of that hand and the other, a bruising grip that was sure to leave bruises.
Azriel was sitting up slightly now, and even though you were on top of him, he set the pace. Slow rolls of your hips guided by his hands started you off. All you could think about was how full of him you were, how overwhelming the feeling of him everywhere was. Your pace quickens, spurred on by your whimpers and his moans. Your eyes were locked with eachothers, and within Azriel’s you saw his bottomless pool of love for you. His pupils were blown wide, and so were yours.
You kissed him, hard, and he returned it even harder. You’re moaning into eachothers mouths, the only goal being to guide each other to your peaks. You could feel that ache building, that need for release drawing closer and closer. Azriel could feel it too, reveling in the way your walls gripped him. He shifted his free hand around to play with your clit, and then you were coming, harder than you had in a while, cresting on a silent scream.
Azriel was right behind you, fucking sloppily into you until you were gripping him so tightly he could barely move. He came, chanting your name like a prayer, until his voice went hoarse.
You both laid there, panting and boneless, for minutes or hours or days, you couldn't tell. Eventually he guided you off of him, pulling out of you with a hiss, to lay you next to him. He gave you a kiss on the cheek before getting up to go to the bathing room. You heard the sound of water rushing into the tub, and in the next minute Azriel came back in, picked you up bridal style, and whisked you into the bathing room.
He set you down gently into the warm water then joined you, settling in right behind you. He pulled you back so your back was against his chest, then proceeded to wash you with a soapy cloth. When he was done you returned the favor, batting his hand away when he tried to protest. You finished up in the bath, dried each other off, then slipped into some sleeping clothes and then bed.
“We’re okay, right?” he asked, pulling you closer to him. Your heart melted, warmed by the idea that he wanted to make sure.
Yes, Az. We’re all good,” you replied, giving him a kiss on the nose.
“Okay. good,” was all he said before he tucked you tighter into him and you both fell asleep.
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slvttyplum · 9 months
Text
satoru is aggressive as fuck during sex:
thirty mintues in and you already have to go to the emergency room for a neck brace.
he just doesn’t know when to stop, he takes his strength for granted.
we all know he’s strong, thats nothing new, but satoru doesn’t think he’s THAT strong.
for instance, he’ll throw you over his. boulder and toss you on the bed, the next thing you know, you and the ceiling are best friends.
many trips to the hospital.
he’ll calm down sometimes, but if he’s gone for a long time… just pray and brace yourself.
wear a helmet and knee pads, this man does not play.
sometimes you’re into rough play, especially when the sex is getting intense, so a little slap or squeeze around the neck doesn’t faze you.
satoru takes it way too far though.
he’ll slap you and send you to another dimension, you now have whiplash and your eyes are making different colors.
or when he has you pinned on the bed, you’re trying to scream but at that point i don’t even think you’re on the brink of survival.
even with the vanilla sex, he’ll always find some way to incorporate his strength.
pinning your thighs back he’ll make bruises, face fucking you he’ll bruise the back of your throat, pressing down on your stomach he’ll have you peeing.
“it’s too much! you need to stop, people are going to think you’re doing things to me.” your eyebrows furrowed and your jaw clenched.
no like seriously, you have to cover up bruises because you don’t want weird stares and people thinking satoru is doing something to you on purpose.
“i… i don’t mean to! it just happens.” his mouth forming into a pout and his crystal eyes getting bigger.
that damn pout and puppy eyes. even though you know he’s not doing it on purpose, you can’t keep getting hurt.
“when you calm down that’s when we can have sex again.”
satoru had to take a couple of days to reevaluate himself and see what it was that made him be so aggressive with you.
he wasn’t always like this, he was firm but never aggressive, but there’s just something about you.
maybe it had something to do with cute aggression, you just looked so damn good all the time and your scent sent him to heaven.
a squeeze on the thigh one second fulfilled him, but the next second he needed more.
that’s why he dug his nails into you, suck your neck like you were the last thing he could taste, slapped your ass like a drum.
if he wanted to keep you and respect your boundaries he had to tone it down, and that he did.
he eventually took time to just savor you and run his hands down your body for mintues on end to satisfy his hunger.
of course this didn’t stop the aggressive sex, but it was way more comfortable for you, and that’s what satoru wants.
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babiebom · 5 months
Note
bachelors and their weird kinks/turn ons perhaps 👀
A/N: it took a LOT for me to find weird things that arent gross(literally shit or dead people sorry if you’re into these) and even then I don’t even think these are weird but there’s only so many sites that I can go on to find weird kinks or even kinks in general. Fun fact there’s a kink for watching people fall down the stairs!! Keep in mind I’m talking about these fetishes and kinks from my own memory from looking them up lmao.
Tw:nsfw like all of it, cursing etc let me know if I should tag anything else!!
Bc: at least 4 for each? One for what the kink is and one for the explanation?
Stardew Valley Masterlist
Sebastian
Dacryphilia the kink or fetish for watching or causing someone to cry(positive or negative). A kink for tears if you will
I don’t know if I’ve talked about this before (I might’ve?) but dude has a major crying kink. Like he needs to make you cry while having sex. In this instance it’s a good crying. Like from how good his dick feels inside you. How good it feels when he moves, when he touches you. It’s like overstimulation but the crying is the main thing he wants.
Somnophilia the kink or fetish for having sex with someone while they’re asleep.
AGAIN this is all consensual but he likes the way you look when you’re asleep. You’re fully content and relaxed, no troubles or worries. He just wants to make you feel even better to send you to a new level of paradise. And the way that you are free in your reactions instead of holding everything back. All of your sounds and the way you move…it just gets him off in a different way.
Sam
Katoptronophilia the kink or fetish for watching yourself or others have sex in a mirror
I think this kink more so has to do with his partner. I do think he would get off with watching you or him fucking you in a mirror. Like you both can see your own faces and it’s just hot how you can see how good he’s making you feel and the other way around. It’s like his recordings kink but in real time.
Claustrophilia the kink or fetish for tight spaces literally the opposite of claustrophobia
I think he would like the whole stuck in a small closet together thing or the whole (if you’ve seen kdramas bc this is the only time I’ve seen it) hiding from someone in a tight space and being forced to be close or touching.
Shane
Shibari the fetish or kink of Japanese bondage. It’s more artistic than regular bondage and can sometimes be nonsexual(meaning it can just be for the act of being tied/tying someone up)
I do think Shane might have a artistic side to him, he loves his blue chickens and even though he hasn’t particularly shown that he likes art I think he’d appreciate this form. Like yeah it has bdsm tones and he likes that, but he likes the time taken to tie you up, the time it takes to make the ropes look pretty on you. It gets the both of you riled up so the sex might be more passionate.
Electrostimulation the fetish or kink to being stimulated or stimulating someone with electricity
Oh dude is definitely a sadomasochist. He wants to shock you, he wants to be shocked (partially because he wants to feel something other than mental and emotional pain). It’s never so much that it hurts too much but it’s a little stinging sensation that he can’t get enough of.
Harvey
Quirofilia the kink or fetish for hands, but well taken care of/pretty hands
Oh I think Harvey HAS to take of his hands. As a doctor I think he would be happy if someone complemented how soft his hands were or how clean they looked. And on the other hand(heheheh) he would appreciate how nice your hands look, how soft they feel, how good they feel when touching him.
Breeding/Pregnancy the kink or fetish for pregnant people or getting someone pregnant. It has nothing to do with the child itself but the person carrying the child.
NGL I think once you two come to an agreement about pregnancy(in this case you agree to start trying for kids) Harvey is absolutely going to go batshit insane with this new development. Before he would’ve never said that this is something he’s into but once you two agree he’s so pumped up and actually starts talking dirty if he didn’t before. It’s crazy how different he is during this time.
Alex
Anasteemaphilia the kink or fetish for extreme size differences so either a giant or a dwarf(I hope this word isn’t offensive it’s what the website used)
Dude would NEVER reveal this but actually would love a giant girlfriend. I think because of the lowkey misogynistic views he has he would like a bigger woman and a smaller man. He would LOVE lady dimitrescu from resident evil. Like bffr.
Food Play the kink or fetish of involving food during intercourse so either eating it off each other or involving it in some way
Oh absolutely would love to eat food off of you and would want you to lick stuff off of him. Like whipped cream and chocolate syrup are MUSTS if you’re having a particularly long night. He thinks it’s so erotic to eat and consume stuff off of each other that don’t really have anything to do with sex.
Elliott
Psellismophilia the kink or fetish for stuttering
One of the weird ones I found. I think he would think it’s cute and if you do have a stutter or happen to stutter when you’re nervous he’s going to have such a confidence booster because of it. Like YES keep stumbling over your words and stuttering it actually is cute to him and he feels like he’s in a book or a movie or something.
Podophilia the kink or fetish for feet
I think this one is obvious? I think he’d prefer beautiful people and that includes feet. In a lot of erotic movies and books and even in romance books feet have some sort of importance to them. Whether it’s used to dominate someone or to pleasure someone he likes beautiful feet. He wants you to step on him(not in a rough way) and tbh I could see him wanting to recreate the scene in that one tarentino(is this his name) movie where he casts himself in the role that drinks I think alcohol from that woman’s food after it runs down her leg.
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tiredfox64 · 4 months
Note
Can we shower Tomas and bi-han with some pampering after he's had a bad day? <3
A Well-deserved Rest
Prior notes: I'd give my attention to Tomas. Bi-Han can care for himself. Or let the other ladies in this world take care of him. It won't be me.
Pairings: Bi-Han x Gn reader, Tomas x Gn reader
Warnings ‼️: Nah
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Bi-Han
Being the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is not an easy task. It never was. He had to observe many men while being summoned by Liu Kang at random times. It’s a constant runaround with little to no time to rest. Not to mention Bi-Han would never allow himself to relax. Always on guard and alert in case of anything. He’s only relaxed when he sleeps yet there were times when he would shoot straight up and be alert for nothing.
This day was somehow worse. Nobody in the clan was doing anything right. Their forms were off. Some of the new initiates were acting scared and backing out of fights. Bi-Han didn’t even have his brothers by his side to help find another way to correct these fools. For once, he gave up. No more for the day. He ended training early, had something quick for dinner, and went to the bedroom to finally rest. You were folding the laundry as he walked in. The instance he did it was like you already knew something was off.
“Today wasn’t too good, huh?” You casually asked.
He groaned as a response which was all you needed to hear. You stopped what you were doing and got right to work.
“Take your clothes off.” You commanded.
“I don’t want to-“
“That’s not the reason I am asking you to take your clothes off.”
Bi-Han wasn’t sure what you were planning until you went into the bathroom that was connected to your room. You walked over to the freestanding bathtub and turned the water on. The water began to fill the tub and you began putting in a little bit of soap. Can’t have the bath too bubbly, he doesn’t like it that way. You put a few drops of lavender essential oil in it to make it more relaxing. Light some scented candles and you just made a relaxing atmosphere. You called Bi-Han in and he was somewhat surprised with how quickly you prepared everything.
 As he slipped into the tub you started grabbing other stuff like towels and fresh clothes for him. The warm water was already doing him wonders by relaxing his muscles. He leaned against the side of the bathtub and you came up behind him. You knelt down and started unraveling his hair from his tight bun. His obsidian hair flowed down and you shook it up a little to relieve the scalp. You got right to work with wetting his hair before pouring some shampoo in your hands. Your fingers slipped through his thick strands, carefully as to prevent accidentally yanking on it. Bi-Han can’t lie, he prefers if you were the one to wash his hair. You take better care of it and massage his scalp at the same time.
In a matter of five minutes you got him to relax, almost forgetting the frustrating day he had. You washed the shampoo out of his hair. Careful, don’t get it in his eyes. Then you went to focusing on his face. He’s not big on you doing something with his face with your fancy and pricy products but you always insist. He gives in because he loves you enough to do so. You started rubbing your face washes on his face. He keeps jerking his head away but you reposition his head to get the job done. Hey, at least you’re not doing a clay mask on him. He should be grateful this is the only thing you are doing for him.
Some time passes and he’s about ready to get out. You practically took care of everything for him. He never realized how tense his muscles were before. You passed him a towel and left the fresh clothes in the bathroom for him to change into. Bi-Han was ready to hit the hay but you had one more thing to do. When he sat on the bed you came up behind him and told him to sit still. In your hand was a comb which you started to use on his hair. It helped take the potential knots that were in there. Another example of you taking better care of his hair than he does.
You finished quickly. Now he can sleep. He was much more relaxed than when he first walked into the bedroom. You did the simplest things to him yet it did wonders. Bi-Han began to lay in bed and so did you after putting everything away. The tub was drained, candles extinguished, clothes folded, and a happy partner. You brought him close to you, resting his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you closer. He took a deep sigh before saying,
“Thank you…” He whispered.
You know him so well. You knew he wasn’t the type to talk about his day. You never had to say a word you went right to taking care of him. For that, he is grateful to have you in his arms.
Tomas
Building a new clan was hard. Finding the right initiates was like hunting a snow bunny in Alaska. The only luck Tomas had was with Hanzo but he was his own challenge. Getting him to listen or calm down was a hassle. That’s what happens when a teenager is dropped into the care of someone who doesn’t have a clue about how to handle a raging teen.
Some days had their ups and others had their downs. Some days were a breeze with little to no casualties. Others…not so lucky. This day was one of those unlucky days.
Tomas was hungry and tired. He didn’t even have the energy to cook himself a meal. Luckily, you were just finishing up in the kitchen area. You smiled once you saw him. You were planning on surprising him with his favorite meal.
“Aww, you ruined the surprise. I thought I would have more time before you were finished training the initiates.” You acted like you were upset but that smile on your face betrayed your tone.
He looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side as he waited to see what you meant. Once he saw you place the slow braised pieces of beef on the plate he knew what you meant. His stomach growled like a plea to Tomas to take a bite out of that delicious piece of meat. You had him sit down at a nearby table and placed the food in front of him. It was still hot but he couldn’t wait. He dug in before you could place the basket of bread slices in front of him. The poor man was starving. You were his savior that blessed him with amazing food. His mood had already improved.
Once he was done you both made your way to the bedroom to get ready for bed. For some reason you were clinging onto Tomas a lot. No wait, there was a reason, you wanted to make him feel better. Even when he was brushing his teeth you were hugging him from behind while leaving kisses on his neck. Don’t worry, he was absolutely loving it. It got better when you both got into bed. You brought him close to you and had him lay his head on your lap. Your fingers ran through his hair as your other hand went to hold his hand.
“Do you want to tell me about your day?” You asked.
He sighed at first before deciding to let out all his frustrations. You were always to listen anyway. He ran through everything, the training, the initiates, trying to calm Kuai Liang down from his frustration, helping train Raiden, the usual struggle. Throughout that whole rant of his, you kept looking right into your eyes while your fingers ran through his silvery hair. Your thumb rubbed over the top of his hand to keep him calm and reduce any instance of him getting worked up from talking about the issues of the day. What also helped keep him grounded was your words. You assured him that he was doing his best, that nobody expects perfection, and that everyone appreciates him. He does so much for everyone and though that can be overwhelming it also felt good to know that he is appreciated for his efforts. Especially to hear those words come from your lips.
By the end of his rant he felt mentally lighter. Only when he was done did Tomas realize all the things you were doing. You looked at him so lovingly with no sense of judgment or annoyance. He started to relax more to the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp.
“Thank you, my dearest. You have no idea how much you mean to me.” He said.
“Even if I didn’t know, that wouldn’t stop me from caring for you every day.” You smiled at him before giving him a kiss that he needed and deserved.
At least Tomas knows now that even if he has a bad day, coming back to you means his day will end on a good note. His love for you increased. He knows for certain that he wants you by his side all the time. He never wants to let you go.
After notes: I hate posting late I’m sorry. I was trying to take multiple naps but each time I tried I would end up panicking in my sleep. Also sorry it took long for me to get to this I hope i didn’t upset you. Adiós!
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brianwashere · 1 year
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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night
I was wondering if I could request the spiderverse characters (Miguel, Hobbie, Noir) meeting and reacting to male spider reader who abnormal tall (like 7 foot kinda abnormal) and morally grey for instance will kill if it means that it could be beneficial rather than having the villain go to jail???
(Also who would end up falling for reader?)
FIRST ATSV REQ LETS GO
I made Miguel so submissive and breedable real lmfaooo. Also ignore how many HCs are in Noir’s, I’ve actually never written for him before lol. Oh and since it’s not extremely clear, Hobie’s is platonic
**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from marvel or sony**
Summary: go to req
Tw: cussing, death, discussion of murder, stuff like that
~Miguel~
Color Miguel intimidated bcc oh my god
You’re taller than him. With his same morals. He’s fucking reeling
When you stand next to him he’ll cross his arms and puff out his chest
You’ll notice and be like “What’re you doing…?” And he’ll act all ignorant like “hm? What? No I’m not doing anything…”
Once he gets over your sheer largeness he’ll become more comfortable and relaxed around you
He falls HARD and QUICK
Even doing missions with you becomes difficult for him, the first time he got choked up or distracted he immediately stopped doing any missions with you
It was like whiplash for you because you were doing all these high risk missions with Miguel regularly then he suddenly drops you with no explanation
You corner him one day and demand to know why he’s acting so weird
You literally corner him…
Standing over him and all angry
He’s feeling 5 different conflicting emotions all at once
He tried to web away from you and without thinking about it you grab him by his neck and shove him back against the wall
He whimpered. WHIMPERED.
You immediately know what’s up and laugh at him some then tell him you feel the same
And that’s how Miguel O’Hara got a shredded gigantic boyfriend
~Noir~
When he first glanced at you he couldn’t help but stare a bit.
I mean. DAMN. What’re they feeding you?
He couldn’t help but say something
“They make them big in your universe?”
The joke surprised you bcc a Spider-Man dressed in all black and a sick hat and coat just teased you.
You laugh some and respond.
“And they make ‘em cute in yours?”
He chokes some.
You smirk at him and introduce yourself
He collects himself quickly and introduces himself too
When you find out he’s from an older timeline
You can’t help but flirt a bit more
“Oh so I should take you to dinner first?” You say with a grin.
You came on so heavy he stayed silent for a bit, just blinking at you
He avoids you for a bit, not because he doesn’t like you or is weirded out. He’s just trying to learn how to respond to your flirting in a way that isn’t staring owlishly
You two are on a mission together and long story short the villain didn’t need to go back to his universe to restore the timeline and was beyond the standard villain evil
while he was fleeing from you two he flung a child into the air and let them drop, expecting them to distract the both of you
“Noir!” You yelled
“On it.” He immediately responded and caught the kid, taking them to safety and comforting them
When you caught the villain you couldn’t hold yourself back.
Needless to say Noir came back to find you covered in blood and dangerously quiet.
It was a sight to see and not one he’ll forget.
“If you’re gunna give me the whole ‘killing makes you as bad as them’ lecture you can save it. I don’t regret it now and I wont regret it ever.” You said firmly, still not meeting his gaze
He just walked over to you and rested a hand on your shoulder. “Good. You shouldn’t.” Was all he said. The return to the spider society was silent
There was a silent agreement between the two of you not to discuss that mission with anyone else. That it was something too personal, somehow.
A few weeks later he asks you out
“Do you want to go out for egg creams sometime?” He asked
“What the hell is an egg cream.”
It’s like the olive theory but with egg creams
He loves your size and secretly loves it when you rest your arm on his head/shoulder.
~Hobie~
He laughs when he sees you
“You been drinking your milk, mate?” He chuckled
You rolled your eyes at him.
You talk with him when you next see hi ma few days later
He just sort of appears around you and you don’t question it once so ever
Someone asks why you two are always seen together in a rude tone and Hobie just throws an arm around your shoulder and says “see this lad right here, he’s my best friend. We actually sleep in the same bed—“
You scoff at him and push his arm off
You know he’s being sarcastic and just trying to get the person to fuck off but calling you his best friend made something in your heart flutter
Protectiveness? Loyalty? Endearment? Who the hell knew.
All you know is from then on you started seeking him out more
You sort of became a older brother figure to him
You started checking in on him semi regularly
But one time he stopped responding and you hadn’t seen him for over a week
Obviously, you got worried
You decided to go visit his universe to see if something happened
When you got there your eyes were immediately violently assaulted with flashing images and constantly changing scenery
It threw you off mid-swing and you crashed to the ground
You had to shut your eyes so you wouldn’t get nauseous
Then you felt a hand on your shoulder and squint up to see Hobie who looked confused and concerned
He helps you back to his place and basically tosses you down on his beat up couch then asks why you’re there
You just grumble something about him not responding and not seeing anyone for over a week
He flops down next to you and lays his legs on your lap
“Aw you big bloke, you were worried ‘bout me.” He says smirking
You shove his legs off and stand up
“Don’t get used to it” you say with a grin
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ghostchems · 7 months
Text
thief - silco x female!reader
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desperate for shimmer, you steal some from the last drop and make your escape
me less than an hour ago:
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tags: first time writing silco! let me know what ye think. PLEASE CHECK OUT THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS: drug addiction, drug abuse, shimmer, shimmer abuse, p in v sex, fingering, silco is a bad man and reader is v desperate but also kinda into it? 2.2k words. ao3 link.
The pavement thuds beneath your feet, running like your life depended on getting away. You’ve stolen something, something so small it couldn’t possibly be missed, right? Your hand grips it so tight, afraid that if you can’t feel the smooth glass it will somehow disappear from your fingertips. Small pieces of rubble start to get into the holes in your shoes which leads to you slowing your run to a steady jog and then peeling off into the next alleyway. You are panting, trying to catch your breath as you slither deeper into the dimly lit street. A success. It was a success. You were surprised by how easy it was. You slipped into The Last Drop at peak business hours (12am) and mingled within the crowd, pickpocketing one of the servers of a “shimmer shot”. You hung around for about fifteen more minutes and then peeled out of there.
You only took enough to give yourself a little push. The withdrawal symptoms have been intensifying over the last few day, to the point that this small instance of thievery seems justified. Money is tight. You’d buy some if you could. What is the harm of taking some from the largest producer in the lanes? They wouldn’t miss one small vial. They probably don’t even know it’s gone. You open your hand to look at it, the purple liquid glowing in the darkness of the alleyway. A shattered breath leaves your lips, feeling the familiar shaking in your hand and the buzz in your head. You could take it right now, swallow it down in one gulp, instead of saving it for when you get home. It would give you more energy for the remaining trek, wouldn’t it? You’re too trapped in your thoughts to notice him emerge from the shadows.
“Give that here, girl.” There’s an edge to Silco’s voice but also an air of exasperation. You’re wrenched from your thoughts only to meet his mismatched glare, one eye cool blue and the other black with a fiery orange iris. The Eye of Zaun. Your breath catches in your throat, your hand immediately closing around the purple vial.
“This is mine.” You’re not convincing anyone.
“You think I don’t recognize my own product?” Cold and unamused. Silco steps closer to you, his orange iris fixated on you as he holds his hand out. “Hand. It. Over.”
“Please. It’s so small. I… I went through a lot to get it.” You are sputtering, the idea of the vial being ripped from you almost bringing you to tears. He can see it in your eyes — you’re addicted. Addicted to his drug. An opportunity has presented itself to him, should he be in the mood to take it. Silco says nothing, his hand still outstretched to you. You give a strained whine and hand it over, your hand shaking as you drop it into his palm. “Be thankful I am letting you off with a warning, girl.” He hisses, closing his hand around the vial.
“Wait.” Your hand latches onto his coat, a bold move but you don’t want him to leave. Silco’s face twists in annoyance but he stays silent, even as you close the distance between the two of you. A last ditch, desperate effort. Your hand feels the soft material of his jacket lapel under your fingers. Silco’s jaw tightens, his mismatched glare boring into your face. You exhale, drifting your fingertips to the collar of his shirt and stroking where it meets his neck. He doesn’t stop you, which makes you push the boundaries further, touching his neck and then his jaw. Silco has seen this many times before but… but it’s been a while since he’s let himself indulge. He’s a busy man — ensuring the successful distribution of shimmer hidden beneath legitimate business dealings all while trying to raise a daughter. Your desperation is so delicious to him in this moment, his lips twitching into a barely perceivable smirk. You chew on your lower lip as your hand creeps further up to his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. He hasn’t shooed you away yet, much to your surprise. You wonder why but the thought is clouded by your extreme awareness of the vial of shimmer in his hand, so close to you now. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you raise yourself up on your tippy toes in order to reach him. You lean in, the tips of your noses touching before you press a chaste kiss to his lips.
“P-please, Silco.” You’re begging now, your lips against his, feeling his soft breath start to pick up. You tilt your head and kiss him again, starting off with light, sensuous pecks before licking into his mouth, tasting the smoke on his tongue. Silco’s mouth drops open further, allowing you more access, his tongue curiously working against yours but letting you lead. Your spare hand moves up his chest then closes around his hand that holds the vial. All you have to do is work it out of his hand or make out with him enough to make him not care anymore. Easy, right? You embellish a moan into the kiss and then drag your teeth along his bottom lip.
Silco’s arm shoots out and seizes you by the neck, driving you back into a nearby wall. Your fingertips brush against the vial just as you’re thrown backwards, your hands moving to clutch at his arms. Air depletes from your lungs while you gasp, your eyes bulging from their sockets. Silco is strangling you, squeezing the air from your body but his face is cold, indifferent. He lifts the vial so that it’s in your view, secure between two fingers. Your grip on his arm loosens and your eyes fall to the shimmer, once again within your grasp. He tilts his head, watching your reaction to it — expecting nothing short of you reaching out to grab it yourself.
“All that trouble for the smallest amount — not even enough to keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay for long.” Silco hums and starts to unscrew the cap of the vial with his fingers. *You must need it.” He brings the vial just short of your lips, your breath catching in your throat. Your mouth waters from how close it is, practically able to taste it on your tongue. A groan rumbles up his chest and he loosens his grip on your neck and slips his hand behind your head, fingers knotting in your hair. He tilts the vial up, the shimmer flowing steadily down your throat. You’re barely able to swallow it down before Silco’s mouth is crushed against yours, the vial shattering on the ground as his hand moves to squeeze your butt. It feels like he’s devouring you, losing yourself in him and the shimmer that explodes in your system. Your body lurches forward with a shriek, your nerves firing on all cylinders but he keeps you caged against the wall with his strong arms.
“Turn around.” He demands in a low growl against your lips. You find yourself doing as you’re told without thinking twice, clumsily moving your body while your head feels like it’s floating off of your shoulders. Even from the small amount your vision is already blurred and your limbs are loose, disconnected from the orders your brain is giving. Silco grows impatient, his large hands grab you by the shoulders and forces your chest against the wall, a shiver running through him at just how pliable you are beneath his fingers. You groan, your head spinning from the sudden movement, lolling to lean back on his shoulder. His breath is hot in the shell of your ear as his hands start to tug at your waistband, fingertips brush along the sensitive skin on your hip giving you goosebumps. Your face flushes, heat spreading through you as you start to fully comprehend that how badly he must want you. You arch your back into him and you can feel him already half hard against the curve of your ass.
His cock pulses at the movement, a low grunt in your ear as he starts to work your pants down. A slender finger strokes along your slick folds, earning quiet whimpers from you. Each stroke applies more pressure than the last until his finger is deep inside you, massaging at your inner walls. You can’t help but moan, the shimmer heightening some senses yet dulling others at the same time but you know that this feels unbelievably good. Silco slips two more fingers in, easing you open to prepare you for his throbbing cock, giving a satisfied groan by how receptive you are.
“An obedient little whore, willing to do anything for a taste.” He hisses in your ear while he removes his fingers from you, his other hand working down his slacks. You feel how wet you are, your juices running down the insides of your thighs. Silco gives himself three quick strokes, spreading your slick along his shaft. You try to angle yourself as he lines up with your entrance, raising yourself up on your tippy toes and keeping your front press against the wall. “Good girl.” He hums right as he plunges himself inside you, your walls stretching around him to adjust to his size. You curse under your breath, the only coherent sounds you’re able to make. Silco manages a few strong pumps before he falls out with an annoyed grunt, fingers digging into your hips and pushing you further against the wall. The head of his cock presses against your entrance but when he thrusts, it slips and runs along your wet lips. You whine and grind against him, seeking out his touch so desperately. The shimmer amplifies it and she feels everything, from each throb to the veins on the understand to his neat pubic hair that brushes her with each thrust.
A strangled growl rips from his throat and he hooks his arm underneath one of your legs and raises it to pin it against the wall. You’re fully exposed to him now, spread apart and vulnerable — but you don’t care, you’re committed and into it now. You’ve stolen from the Eye of Zaun only for him to let you off with a quick fuck, presumably as a warning. Silco positions himself again and fucks into you with a sharp breath, holding still as he presses his nose against your ear. His hips snap again and your mouth drops open, a deep moan tumbling out of it. He fills you so perfectly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your head spin and your muscles contract. You push back against each of his hungry thrusts, his thighs slapping against your ass loud enough that it echoes down the alleyway. Silco’s hand finds it’s way to your hair and pulls at it, twisting your head to face him.
He wants to see you. He wants to see the purple in your eyes, how heavy your eyelids must be by now, and how clenched your jaw must be. You meet his gaze and he sees most of what he’s looking for but your jaw is looking slack, relaxed even. Silco pounds into you once more and holds himself still, a huff leaving his lips as he watches your eyes flutter, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. You are so ripe for the taking that he can’t hold back, he has to chase it, to break you down in his arms and spill his poison inside you. His thrusts become frenzied, so deep and reckless that you can hardly see straight. Your eyes squeeze shut and you give another quiet moan, nails digging into the cement wall. He watches as the immense pleasure twists your face, making him growl and press his forehead hard against yours, feeling his sharp breaths on your lips. Silco doesn’t kiss you but he keeps his eyes on yours, the gentle lull of his teal eye and the combative danger of his orange one, both of which have a small tint of purple from your blurred vision. Two more thrusts and he’s there, flooding you with his cum as you feel his shattered breath on your face.
He slinks away, leaving you quivering against the wall, dropping your knee so your feet are on the ground. There’s nothing left for you to focus on, nothing more for you to feel and you start to spiral, your head leaning into the cement wall. Is he gone? It’s all too much. You’re head spins and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ground yourself as a shiver downs your spine. Just as you’re about to sink to the ground, you feel his warm breath against your neck. Silco slips something into your jacket pocket.
“For your troubles.”
You’re not sure how much times has passed since the words filled your ears. When you turn around he’s gone, but you feel like the rush is finally wearing off. You shamefully pull your pants back up, your gaze darting around with the realization that anyone could have seen. The same rubble in your shoe stabs into the balls of. your feet. You lean against the wall, still dazed when your hand settles in your pocket.
You pull out another vial of shimmer and you’re left with the same dilemma.
Take it now? Or at home?
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starsandhughes · 1 year
Text
Didn't Know What Love Was— Quinn Hughes
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summary: you were somewhat of a cynic when it came to love. you didn't believe in it, and if it was real, you didn't want it. that is, until your best friend sets you up with a certain hockey player named quinn.
warnings: swearing, fade to black smut (like extremely fade to black), fluff
word count: 3.9k+
MASTERLIST
this is inspired by the song 'didn't know what love was' by kane brown!
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You weren’t expecting to feel this way. 
You didn’t think this feeling was real. 
Love.
You’ve said it, you’ve been told it, but all of those instances weren’t real to you. You get to a certain point in a relationship and someone says it first and you think, yeah, I guess that’s what this is. It was nothing like how it was portrayed in the movies, because they were just movies. Movies are fake, so you thought love was, too. It always ended. It always included drama. And then you’d find someone new.
You’ve never been more wrong. 
February 20, 2021
“Mack, have you ever thought of the fact that I’m just not meant for a relationship? It’s all bullshit anyways,” you grumbled. You were laying on your back horizontally on bed with your feet hanging off the edge, settled on the floor. Your best friend, Mackenzie, was once again setting you up on a date. “You’re single now! Find yourself a date!” 
Mackenzie rolled her eyes and sat next to you, “I’m not ready to get back out there! It’s only been two weeks since Jason and I broke up and we dated for seven months. You, however, have been single for almost a year!” 
“You’re only proving my point, Mack!” you said, sitting up. “Relationships end. They’re messy and leave us heartbroken. And maybe the magic blinds you for a while and you get married, but I’ve met more people with divorced parents than married ones. And I’ve seen so many loveless marriages that the couple only sticks together because they wouldn’t know what else to do. I’ve seen couples break up in restaurants. I’ve seen couples fight and scream at a public park.  Love isn’t real. And if it is, I can live without it.” 
Mackenzie looked at you with the most pity filled expression you’ve ever seen. She believes in love. She believes in the shitty romance novels and shitty movies. But you’ve picked up her pieces too many times to even contemplate believing in it. 
“Love is real!” she exclaimed. “How else could people have written sonnets and movies and books and songs about it?”
“People write stuff about monsters, too, but you don’t see any people bursting into flames in the sunlight,” you said. 
“In Twilight they sparkled!”
“I don’t give a shit what they did, they’re still made up,” you laughed. “It’s called fiction for a reason.” 
“You can’t make up a feeling. You can’t make up being so enamored by someone that you miss them so bad it hurts when they’re not with you!” 
“You’re just repeating things you’ve heard in movies about love!” you argued. “You haven’t even been in love. Not truly. You told me so when you broke up with Jason.” 
“So go on this date, and if it all works out, you can tell me what love is. They even call oxytocin the love chemical! You believe in science! And I believe that this guy is the perfect match for you,” your best friend continued to beg. “Think of it as a science experiment.” 
You ended up caving, more so to get Mackenzie to stop begging. It’s not like you were against dating, you’ve had plenty of relationships, but after so many failed ones you stop seeing the point. You could get your needs met without being tied down and risking becoming attached. That’s all that “love” really was. Attachment. Sure, it’s nice to have one person that’s somewhat of a best friend to spend your life with. But adding all of that “girlfriend and boyfriend” stuff to it is destined for failure. And you were done with it. 
When you found him at the restaurant, you were taken back. You’d seen pictures of him so that you’d know who to look for, but he looked so much better in person. His hair looked unbelievably soft, and he somehow made the locks seemingly out of place look perfect. His soft eyes were to die for, and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up made the veins in his arm visible. All you wanted to do was trace them. 
“Y/N?” the boy asked when he noticed you staring. He stood up to greet you, helping you slip off your jacket to hang on the back of the chair as he pulled it out for you. He waited for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. “I’m Quinn.”
“So I’ve heard,” you chuckled. “I’ve been told that you’re the sweetest guy Mackenzie knows and are bound to change my mind about my stance on relationships.”
“I’ve heard you don’t believe in love,” Quinn countered. 
Your eyes widened, and if you were taking a drink, you would’ve choked on it.
“Wow,” you said amused. “Mack jumped to the nitty gritty then? I take it this means that you do believe in love?”
“I do,” Quinn confirmed. 
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Not yet. But I’ve seen it. My parents have the purest love I’ve ever seen. They spread it to everyone they know and everyone my brothers and I know. They make it hard to not believe in it.”
You couldn’t help but feel soft at his statement. You’ve never heard anyone tell you that they believe in love because of their parents. Hell, you haven’t really had a guy firmly tell you that he believes in love. It was always your girl friends swearing up and down that “the one” is out there. 
“Are you going to teach me how to love, Quinn Hughes?” you said flirtily, placing your hand under your chin.
Quinn reached across the table and grabbed your other hand, “I’m going to show you what a romantic date is supposed to be like. And if you like it, I’ll take you on another. And another. And if we get there, I’ll show you how a real man acts as a boyfriend. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll fall in love. And I won’t say it until I know it’s there.”
“How will you know it’s love?” you asked. He already had you melting at his advances. 
“I’ll know when it’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. I’ll know when it’s a feeling that can’t be described as anything but love. Are you in?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. Quinn was serious. He didn’t want a fling. He wasn’t here to get sex at the end of the night. He was here to see if he can find the real thing with you. He was here for a challenge. 
“I’m in.”
Over dinner you two did the usual small chat about yourselves, but that quickly developed into telling full out stories. It wasn’t awkward with him like it had been on some other first dates. You were strangely very comfortable with him. 
He told you about his summer at his lake house with his family and friends, you told him about your trip to London with your cousins. He told you about how he first met Mack when she was drunk off her ass at a party back when she was still dating Brock, the only ex she ended on good terms with and is still friends with, and you told him about how she was not her drunkest at that party, and that one time you two snuck out of a party to have a lightsaber fight but didn’t have lightsabers so you used traffic cones. 
“You did not!” Quinn laughed. 
“We did!” you shouted over your laughs. You were definitely getting stares, but you didn’t care. “I beat her ass, too.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow. 
“Oh yeah. I totally had the high ground.” 
Quinn walked you to your car at the end of the night. You two shut down the restaurant, neither one of you desired to leave. You boldly grabbed his hand as you started walking and were relieved when he looped your fingers together in response. 
“Did you have a good time?” Quinn asked you when you arrived at your car. 
“I really did. I’m not sure I want it to end,” you admitted. 
You wanted so badly to ask him to come over. But he told you that he wanted to give you a romantic date, not a pre-sex affair. He’s looking for something real. Something that isn’t just sex. 
“Me either,” he smiled. 
As you two looked at each other, your eyes started flickering from his to his lips. He noticed, but you knew that he was doing the same. 
Your hunger ended when Quinn finally leaned in. His hands slid down your waist and settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Yours went up and around his neck, happily content feeling the ends of his hair.
Quinn kissed you in a way that you’ve never been kissed before. It was soft. Sensual. It had you aching for more. The feeling that people describe as “sparks flying?” You were pretty sure this was it. 
The kiss wasn’t rough; it wasn’t filled with primal need. 
It left you breathless. Lightheaded. Warm. 
It was the type of kiss that told you there was more to him. And all you wanted to do was learn. 
“That was—“
“Don’t describe it,” Quinn cut you off in a whisper. He reached his hand out to cup your face, “Just feel it.” 
All you could do was nod your head. You felt your entire body quivering at his touch. 
Quinn smiled and opened up your car door for you, “Tell me when you get home?”
“Y-yeah. I will,” you stammered. You couldn’t stop looking at him. 
“Goodnight, Y/N. Drive safe!”
“Goodnight, Quinn,” you smiled. 
You watched him walk away in your rear view mirror, smiling madly. Quinn left you feeling like a giddy little girl. It was something that no one else has ever done. 
March 16, 2021
You were going on your fifth date with Quinn tonight, and Mack was swearing up and down that Quinn was going to make things official. 
“Y/N/N, trust me!” she said while dramatically shaking you by the shoulders. 
“I want to!” you laughed, shoving her off of you. “I just don’t want to get any hopes up. We’re going out to have a good time and that’s it!” 
“Hopes up you say?” Mack asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Does that mean you want Quinn to ask you? Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, WANT a boyfriend just mere weeks after saying you were done with dating forever?”
“I didn’t say forever!” 
“Alright!” she surrendered. “I’m keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to jinx anything, but just know that I am a very happy girl right now!”
You shook your head at your best friend’s nonsense. Okay, maybe you were hoping what she was saying will turn out to be true tonight, and maybe you were liking the goodnight calls and good morning texts and mid day updates. And maybe you relish in the smile Quinn gives you when you stand at the glass during warm ups at his games while you wear his jersey. And maybe you’ve never felt like this before, and it was making you the happiest you’ve ever been. But you weren’t sure if it was love. Love was still a weary and scary concept for you at this point. But maybe… maybe this is pre-love? Maybe this is the build up. Maybe this is the jump before the fall. 
You weren’t scared of jumping.
Whatever it is, you’re pretty positive it’s too early for love. You’re just now open to the idea of love because of Quinn, so you certainly were skeptical at the notion of “love at first sight.” Although, it’s been a little too long to count as “first sight.” Love at fifth date? Love at hundredth facetime? Call it what you want, but it still felt way too soon. 
You were still doing your makeup when there was a knock at the door, signaling that Quinn was here. 
“Mack, could you—“
“I’m already on it!” she cut you off, rushing down the stairs to open the door. 
You tried to finish up your mascara really quickly, but that only resulted in your dropping it and smearing some across your cheek. 
“Shit!” 
“Shit?” you heard Quinn ask. You gasped in surprise, and he just laughed as he approached you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed the top of your head before taking a look at you, “Ahh. I see the source of the shit.”
“It’ll wipe off, it’s fine,” you shrugged. “I’ll just need five more minutes?” 
Quinn smiled, “Take all the time you need to feel happy.” 
If you were alone and that was a text, you’d probably be kicking your feet at Quinn’s comment. He didn’t say anything teasing that you take forever, he didn’t use the cliché “you look pretty without makeup” or whatever, he said that he wants you to feel happy with your appearance. You didn’t know why that felt more romantic than a compliment; it just did. He was focusing on your emotions and confidence. He was validating you. Validation and understanding feels a lot more intimate than a compliment about your appearance. 
“I’m ready!” you sing-songed as you climbed down the stairs. 
Quinn was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands behind his back and a soft smile on his face. 
You jumped from the fourth step down to the second step. You reached out gently to tilt Quinn’s face towards yours and leaned down to crash your lips against his. You stepped down to the final step to become level with when he deepened the kiss. He released one of his hands to place it at the small of your back in order to draw you in, but the other remained. 
“Whatcha hidin’, handsome?” you asked cheekily. 
Quinn’s other hand quickly whipped around in front of his center and revealed a bouquet of daisies and lavender. You gasped and kissed him quick, taking the bouquet from him and inhaling its sweet scent with a smile after your lips parted.
“They’re beautiful,” you told him. 
“They’re not the only thing,” he whispered. 
“You flirt,” you blushed. 
You both bid your goodbyes to Mackenzie and walked out the door. Quinn rushed slightly ahead of you to open up the passenger door for you before making his way to the driver's seat. It was a quick drive to the mini golf place, and it was filled with you two goofily singing along to the radio. 
When you got there, you were surprised at how many people and families there were. It was a Saturday night, but still. You didn’t know this many people went mini golfing at any given moment. 
You picked out a pink club, and Quinn grabbed a green one. He held out his hand for you to take, and for once, you didn’t feel weird holding somebody’s hand in public. It was a small act, but it was still a big deal for you. You used to do it with previous boyfriends, but that was because you felt like you had to in order to try and feel like you were in a normal relationship. You want to hold Quinn’s hand. You love the way your hand fits in his and how warm his hands are. You love how rough they feel compared to your soft ones. Just this simple action made you feel safe and less overwhelmed by the amount of people. It made you feel like it was just you and him. 
“Ready to lose, Y/L/N?” Quinn taunted you.
“Don’t be so cocky,” you teased back. “I’m a pro at this.”
“You said you haven’t been mini golfing in years!” he pointed out with a laugh. 
“I’m trying to speak me winning into the universe, Quintin!” 
Needless to say, you were terrible, but Quinn gave you two extra puts each round to try and get you more points. It didn’t make much of a difference for how badly he was beating you, but it made you feel good.
“What ever happened to letting the girl win?” you groaned. “Some gentleman you are.”
Quinn softly smiled and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the small of your back, he kissed you gently, “I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t fake sucking.”
You dramatically threw your head back, groaned, then gave him a pout when you looked back at him. Quinn laughed and kissed you again, effectively wiping the pout off your face.
This was also something big for you– kissing in public. PDA. You’ve never done that. You always pulled away or forced the kiss to be a quick peck instead. You were worried about people staring and judging. But not with Quinn. You didn’t care who was around, you wanted them to know that you were happy. 
Unsurprisingly, Quinn won. He cheered with his club in both hands being held above his head, sending you into a fit of giggles. 
“Stop parading around like you just won the Stanley Cup!” you shouted. 
Quinn whipped his head towards you in mock offense. He walked towards you and kissed you again, much more firmly this time, “I’m sorry you sucked.”
“It’s okay,” you chuckled. 
“I do believe me winning deserves a prize!”
“Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind?” you smirked. 
You were expecting his answer to be something along the lines of another kiss or going out for ice cream, but what he said proved your best friend to be correct.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked you softly. He was confident in his question. He had the biggest smile on his face that was filled with so much hope and admiration. 
“I’d love to,” you answered. 
Now Quinn really looked like he won the Stanley Cup. His eyes lit up brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and his smile looked like it hurt. You should know, because your smile was so big that it did hurt. Quinn hugged you so tightly that your feet kicked off the ground and he spun you in a circle. When he put you back down, he kissed you passionately. It was different than every other kiss you two have shared, given that is a small number since this was only your fifth date. This one meant more. This one said more. 
When he walked you to your door and kissed you goodbye, you reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned around slowly, and you knew that the look in your eyes said all that you wanted to say.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
“Positive.”
Mackenzie was already in her room for the night, much to your relief. You and Quinn kissed all the way up the stairs and into your bedroom. The second your bedroom door closed; clothes began to be thrown off. He threw you on your back onto your bed like it was nothing, then he climbed on top of you and began to pepper kissed up your stomach, through your neck, across your jaw, until he finally reached your lips again. 
“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he said low.
“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please don’t stop.”
April 14, 2021
You were pretty sure you were feeling it. No, you knew you were feeling it. 
Love. 
You were feeling just like the movies and love songs and poems said– you were enamored by Quinn. You missed him so bad that it hurt when you weren’t with him, especially when he was on roadies during the season (you were selfishly glad that it’s over for the time being). You felt like the best version of yourself when he was around. But you were also learning that your definition of love was so much more than that.
“OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN! I KNEW IT!” Mackenzie screamed when you told her. 
“Alright!” you giggled. “You knew it, you did it, congratulations! Now how do I tell him? Do I wait for him to tell me? What if it goes away and I don’t–”
“Are you sure it’s love?” she cut you off.
“I am. It’s new, and it’s freeing, and it’s–agh! It’s perfect. It has to be,” you said, covering your hands over your face so that she couldn’t see how wildly you were blushing and grinning. 
Mack grabbed your wrists and yanked your hands off your face, “I don’t think that’s going away, babe! Now tell me! The deal was that you’d tell me what love is! Spill it! And don’t quote the movies!”
“I think love is different for everybody. I’m feeling the stuff that they say in the movies and the sonnets and the songs, but it’s so much more than that. Love is… wild. Love is like a never-ending joy ride with the windows down and your favorite songs blaring on the stereo. Love is like that feeling you get in your body when you hear a new song, and it absolutely consumes you to where you heat up and feel like you're vibrating. Love is feeling like you could do the impossible as long as your person is right there beside you. Love can feel like you’re flying.
“But love can also make you feel safe. Love is feeling at home with your person, no matter where you are. You could be in the backseat of a car, but if you were with your person? That could be home for the time being. Love is like that feeling of pride and relief when you deep clean your house for the first time in forever. Love is like sitting by the ocean and watching the waves crash against the sand, and none of the sand ends up in your shoes. 
“Loving Quinn feels like a breath of fresh air. Loving Quinn makes me feel like I finally know who I am and who I could be. Loving Quinn makes me feel alive for the very first time. It’s everything.”
Mack looked like she could burst into tears then and there. You were about to hug her when an all too familiar voice ceased your movements.
“Did you mean that?” 
You turned around so quickly that your head spun. There, standing at the edge of your living room, was Quinn.
“Yeah,” you whispered with a nod. “Every word.”
Quinn rushed towards you and cupped your face, slamming his lips onto yours. You heard Mack clap with glee, but you didn’t care. She was slipping away, and only you and Quinn existed in the world at this very moment.
“I love you,” you breathed when you two had to come up for air.
“I love you,” Quinn echoed. “You described it perfectly. I felt every word. I am helplessly, irrevocably, completely, and utterly in love with you. I’ll never stop saying it. Not now that I know what it means.”
“I didn’t believe in love before you. I didn’t know what love was. It’s you, Quinn. My love is yours, and only yours.”
The smile on Quinn’s face was contagious, but your face was already painted with one. You didn’t expect to fall in love, and you certainly didn’t expect to say it first. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was a god, maybe it was the stars aligning. You didn’t know why, but you did know that you were made to love Quinn Hughes alongside all of the other things you were made for. 
Love was real. And you can’t live without it. And you’re so glad that you learned that. 
———
reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3
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the way that some people talk about jason and batman and the joker is so jarring to me because it relies on some unspoken assumptions that i will never buy into
1. the assumption that taking a life inevitably always makes the person who did it worse. killing someone isn’t always this earth shattering thing that harms the person who does it and fundamentally changes their outlook on things. i guess if you have never met a veteran or someone who survived an armed robbery or any number of other things you might make that mistake, but like some of the people who fought in wwii came home and were normal members of the community and the times that their bullets hit the mark were not necessarily the parts of the war that kept them up at night. these assumptions that once you kill you are wicked and have to feel bad and do this whole show of repentance are insidious. if you are gonna look at all this through the lens of christian morality you should at least be aware that that is what you are doing but you cant have just one character be wicked and unclean because of his actions when the bible says that everyone is wicked and unclean by our nature and all sins are equal. a lot of people object to that view but if thats how you see it batman and jason and the joker are all sinners and are all as bad as each other so at least be consistant about how you apply that moral framework.
2. the assumption that being robin or being taken in and trained by bruce means full agreement with and acceptance of every part of bruce’s personal philosophy on justice and morality. jason was a homeless child and even if all this was explicitly laid out for him he could not have agreed since he needed bruce as a matter of survival. bruce’s ideology is extremely important to him and he can teach it to his children all he wants but they are not beholden to it above all else the way he thinks they should be. jason has to live according to his own beliefs regardless of how unacceptable bruce finds it and it is unfair and hypocritical of bruce to get bent out of shape about it.
3. the assumption that killing is always bad. maybe i have listened to too many episodes of behind the bastards but some people will do significant and appalling damage to others no matter what unless they are dead. those people can’t be allowed to keep causing harm. it isn’t glorious and there is no honor about it but it is right and just that they be stopped. there is no reason to strive for purity or ideological high ground when you can provide a measure of safety and justice to victims and prevent future harm instead.
4. the assumption that bruce didn’t have to answer to jason. parents have a duty to their children and it is my opinion that that duty does not end when the child dies. bruce adopted jason and made himself responsible and accountable for everything that happened to jason under his care. that responsibility was ignored over many instances. i am not going to detail the things that led to jason’s death here but it was not good or effective parenting. after jason’s death the disrespect starts pretty immediately with bruce compromising evidence of his murder in order to preserve his ability to continue as batman and continues with bruce getting rid of pretty much all traces of jason’s presence in his life. he is only spoken of as a mistake, a lost cause, or a cautionary tale and is assigned blame for his own death, a death that batman never bothered to fully investigate since he was buried next to the woman who led him into the trap. a new kid is endangered and the joker and batman both continue doing whatever they want as if jason’s life only matters for the way it affects them. bruce needs to answer for all of this, as his son jason has a right to expect more from his father. now the extent to which that extends can be debated but it is clear to me that jason deserved better from bruce.
conclusion: killing is accepted in society in certain circumstances, you may or may not agree with this but self defense laws and even things like jury nullification exist because people knew there should be some wiggle room since no one could have the full context of every situation that would ever arise. ending a life is not normal or ideal but it is not an unfathomably rare experience and it does not always weigh on the person who does it. bruce has never to my knowledge killed someone so he has no idea how he would actually respond but that still isn’t even what jason was asking him to do. all he had to do was be present and not move and he would have been the only parental figure who didn’t let jason down.
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corruptedcaps · 8 months
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You’ll Do
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Amy’s boss Mia was as cruel as she was beautiful & made Amy nervous whenever she was around. Despite this somehow Amy found the courage to interview as her replacement. For some reason Mia was leaving the company & hiring her own successor. Needless to say the interview went awful.
Adding insult to injury, Amy had to ride the elevator with Mia directly after the interview and Mia didn’t hold back on her comments.
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“You see Amy you lack what I need in a successor, you don’t have the killer attitude needed to succeed. On top of that you have a terrible dress sense and are a 5 at best. Yes I could ‘improve’ you but why put lipstick on a pig when I could pick someone who needs little work at all.” Mia said with a sharpness to every word that plunged Amy into a deeper depression than she already was.
“That’s why I’m giving the job to Kali, she’s so perfect for the role I didn’t even interview her. Im going to meet her right now and by tomorrow she’ll be your new boss, although I’m sure she’ll remind you of me.” Mia continued with a knowingly smile.
Amy knew Kali and was dreading her promotion. She was no where near as bad as Mia but she was certainly only a few steps away. Knowing she would be taking over made Amy want to call in sick for the rest of the year.
However just as they were nearing their floor the elevator suddenly shunted to a halt, stopping dead. Amy just stood there, knowing she couldn’t do anything while Mia rolled her eyes.
“I’ll have the maintenance team hung for this.” Mia snarled as she took out her phone and contacted the elevator technician.
“2 hours? No this is unacceptable! I need to get to my meeting! I’ve already waited too long!” Mia screamed down the phone.
Amy had never seen Mia so agitated, she figured Mia had some sort of fear of tight spaces. Amy let herself have a brief smile knowing that Mia was human like the rest of them.
However as an hour passed without much progress, Amy started to get worried about Mia. She was sweating and pacing like crazy and even seemed to be twitching now and again.
“M-Mia it’s alright, we’ll be out of here soon. Just breathe.” Amy said calmly to her boss.
“Oh shut up you twit, this is beyond your understanding, this body is expiring and I need a new one!” Mia snapped back. She looked at her watch and fear etched her face.
“Oh fucking screw it, you’ll do.” Mia said and surely lunged at Amy who was too quick to react. Mia grabbed Amy’s face in her hands and planted her lips on her lowly employee’s.
Amy’s eyes went wide as she felt something slither from Mia’s mouth to her own and down her throat. Mia’s body went limp and collapsed to the ground. As it hit the ground it immediately turned to dust, leaving Amy to wonder what the hell just happened.
“Ugh I can’t believe I had to take your pathetic body.” Said a voice that sounded like it was coming from inside Amy’s head. It was a deep ethereal voice that sent shivers down her spine.
“W-who said that?” Amy nervously asked.
“Not that it matters but I have gone by many names. Abyzou, Hecate, Morrigan, and most recently, as you can see, Mia but you can call me Lilith, all others will call us Aimee, once I improve you of course.” The voice said with a cackle.
Before Amy could ask a follow up question, she doubled over in pain. Putting her hands on the glass mirrors of the elevator to steady herself, she watched as her nails grew long and sharp, like wicked talons.
Radiating down from there her pale skin turned sun kissed, as if she never spent a day in the office. The tan ran up her arms, making them tingle in pleasure in the process. Her body began to change as the tan ran down her figure. Every inch that it touched she felt a warm sensation that came also with a tightening of skin or modification of fat. Her boobs for instance once a meagre B cup ballooned out into an impressive pair of double d’s.
“Mmmm yesss this never gets old. This feels so fucking good doesn’t it Amy?” Lilith purred in Amy’s head. Amy wanted to plead with her to stop whatever magic she was doing but to her shame she found her pussy getting increasingly wet. It helped that it too changed, becoming tighter and more sensitive.
Staring at her shifting face, she watched as her lips grew into a bitchy pout, her hair became incredibly sleek and straight, and smoky makeup appeared on her eyes. It was now a face that commanded authority, a stern but sexy facade that would have others eating out of the palm of her hand either out of fear or of lust.
“I was going to take Kali’s body but now I’m glad I took yours. It’s been decades since I transformed Mia from the worthless house wife she was into a bitchy and powerful CEO, I forgot how much pleasure it gives me to turn a goodie goodie nobody into a wicked whore. Kali was too like me already but now I can’t wait to make that split bow down and lick our pussy.” Lilith said but this time the voice was starting to change. It was starting to sound eerily like Amy’s.
Amy for her part was feeling increasingly calm about the apparent devouring of her soul and merge with Lilith. As the seconds ticked by her mind was filled with wicked memories of Lilith through the centuries. She had been a witch, a queen, a faux goddess, a homewrecker, a trophy wife, a queenpin, and everything in between. The one constant was she was always in charge. For Amy, as someone who always took a backseat the idea of being on top scratched an itch she never knew she had.
“Oh god! Yessss! Kali will be our little simping slut! Change us more! Make us a hawt fucking bitch! Merge us into one!” Amy moaned loudly as she felt her new bigger tits with her perfectly manicured hands as the magic worked its way to her ass flairing it out. Her stomach crunched as it became slimmer and body toned all over to give her a delightfully flexible and athletic body.
Finally her demure gray work clothes became darker, tighter, and more revealing as they clung to her new body. Her pants hugged her legs as they became intimating leather and 6 inch heels sprang out of her flats lifting her to new heights. As the changes reached their apex, her eyes rolled back into her head as the two minds merged into one new evil persona.
“Mmmm much better. It was about time there was for a change in management.” Amy smirked to herself. As if on cue the elevator shunted to life again and finished its descent to the bottom. Amy picked up Mia’s left over purse and phone beside the pile of dust and took out lipstick from the bag.
Amy just finished applying a shade when the door dinger open and two sweaty maintenance workers stood there. Amy enjoyed their lingering looks at her ass as she capped the lipstick and put it back into her bag. She brushed past their stunned looks.
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“Sorry miss but where is the CEO? She called us in a panic.” One blurted out. Stopping in her tracks Amy turned her head back to them.
“That’s me. I’m Aimee, the CEO of this company and if you so if you don’t want to lose your job I suggest you clean up that pile of first that’s in there immediately.” Aimee snarled back at them. The two men quickly jumped to attention.
Aimee however had already forgotten about them, she had her sights on a gorgeous woman sitting in the lobby looking anxiously around. Approaching Kali with all the menace of a predatory lioness, Aimee snuck up on her new lowly employee.
“Kali, what time do you call this?” Aimee said angrily. Kali looked up at was stunned to see who the voice belonged to.
“Amy? You look… wow. I’m waiting for Mia, she wanted to discuss something with me.” Kali said somewhat flabbergasted.
“Mia is no longer your concern. She has put me in charge and my first order of business is to hire you as my assistant. Follow me.” Aimee said strutting off back to the elevator where the men were finishing up. Aimee stood at the elevator door and beckoned Kali in.
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“I- I don’t understand, I thought I was getting a promotion or something.” Kali said but Aimee just stared at her without saying a word. Kali felt the new bitch’s eyes burrow deep into her soul and she felt compelled to get into the elevator.
Aimee pressed the button for the executive suite and the doors shut sealing them in. Only once they were alone did Aimee finally speak again.
“This is a promotion, you get to taste the pussy of a goddess from now on. You’re going to be the executive simp. So kneel down like a good little slut.” Aimee said as she towered over Kali.
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yuri-is-online · 2 months
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I'm asking this question because I find it an interesting topic. It relates to the criticism the Tokyo Debunker MC receives.
It's not just TD's MC—it's a common theme in otome and gacha games. Genderless MCs in games like *Obey Me!* and *Twisted Wonderland* face less criticism than female MCs. Even though the genderless MCs get some hate, it’s nowhere near the backlash female MCs receive. For instance, *Twisted Wonderland* had debates about a female MC being unsuitable for an all-boys school, despite the presence of monsters and robots. This debate ended with a female MC in the *Savanaclaw* manga.
Another example is *Tears of Themis*, where the female MC is well-received in my opinion due to her having a character. I am very happy that she isn’t a self insert and people seem to agree.
In contrast, female self-insert MCs like TD's MC and *Love and Deep Space*'s MC get a lot of hate for what seems like trivial reasons. TD's MC is often criticized for being ordinary, while LADS's MC, who is strong and brave, also faces backlash, with some claiming she's rude despite evidence to the contrary.
In conclusion.
woman mc in this day of age can’t have flaws now….wait no they can’t be prefect either! As then they are Mary sue! What do you mean that LI are grey sue as well? No that not true Leo having a backstory would justify his actions don’t you get it? What do you mean we should hold the male characters as same standard? Jin treating mc as a servant is her fault as she didn’t say no…..😐 
... so I have two lines of thought about this particular topic, it is something I have thought about for a while because I am working on my own game/games and pay a lot of attention to what people think.
It isn't personality people like it is competence
The love and deepspace MC and Rosa from tears of themis actually have very similar personalities. They are bad at/hate studying. They really love food. They both are sort of dorks and known for being kind. What people like about them isn't any of those things, what they like is that both of them are adult women who you can believe live on their own. They actually have skills related to their jobs, you can believe Rosa is a lawyer and that MC is a hunter, the love interests aren't the only competent people in the narrative. I think this can sort of relate to the target audience for both of these games being working women, but that's for a different post. Right now I really want to focus on that concept of competence: the two other otomes I really love and want to bring up are Amnesia: Memories and Hakuoki. The Amnesia MC makes a lot of really stupid decisions, but as the game title gives away she has amnesia. There is an underlying explanation for why she's a bit dim so I don't see too many complaints about her personality (outside of Toma's route but that is a different story) because you don't exactly expect her to be competent. The same goes for Hakuoki's MC whose name escapes me at the moment, she is the daughter of a doctor so she is never made out to be incompetent in medical matters, but she isn't the best fighter. And she doesn't need to be that's the male love interest's role in this particular story.
The problem with MCs like our dear Luna? I believe you said her default name is, in Tokyo Debunker is that we don't exactly have anything she is stated to be good at beyond boosting Stigmas. The various ikmen games get around this by giving their MCs a job, but we don't have that for Luna so we don't have anything to show some backbone or character so people read her as being a bit of a doormat. Like I have said numerous times before, I don't mind this and think that so long as they keep allowing us to see her thoughts this the writing will be good. A relatively easy fix to this could have been to make her someone who really loves music and constantly talks about it, she was going to a concert at the start of the game so that little bit of character would go a long way for her to be more of a human for people to project themselves onto. Generally speaking, when writing an MC, it is perfectly acceptable to give them certain personality traits and a history. But if you do that you need to make sure the narrative respects that interest and does not use it as an excuse to make the male lead look cooler.
Gender Neutral MCs
*sigh* so you bring up Twisted Wonderland and I uh... have some experience with that fandom! And I have observed the gender wars over Yuu with a weary heart. I genuinely could not care any less about how people identify or the type of o.c.s they make, but some people really really care and if I am honest I find that a bit disturbing. It honestly makes me sad to see fanfic, which used to be a really accepting space, fight over writing... well anything really. m/m blogs screaming about how they don't want fem aligned reading their things, f/f blogs screaming about men, the f/m fic writers feeling the need to defend themselves writing for a female reader- doesn't that exhaust you? Why do you care so much? I do not have the energy to care about people writing fanfic I am not interested in reading, is this because I am anemic or have I managed to be normal about one singular thing?
My personal theory is that the commodification of fanfic and fandom has made people think there is something fundamentally wrong with properties that are marketed towards people who are not them. The reaction to Love and Deepspace not having a male MC option sort of cemented that for me, there is nothing wrong with wanting a game where you can be a man or non-binary and date anime boys. There is also nothing wrong with writing m/m fanfic for a property like lds, or wishing you could play as a man in it. I think there is a genuine market gap in good games for people who aren't fem aligned, but you do not get good games by harassing people or implying they suck for wanting games where you can play as a woman. You get that by financially supporting projects aimed at you! There is a blog I follow on here called @amaregamesdb. They post a bulletin of projects, both vn and if, with an emphasis on making people aware of projects that aren't simply otome (ie male love interests with a female protagonist.) I think the people who run it are also the people who coined the term "amare game" to use for games where the MC isn't necessarily female. They also ran a blog to help people like me learn how to code if/vns so I am very grateful for them, so please do give them your support.
I write for a gender neutral reader because I wanted to write interactive fiction and felt like I needed to practice doing so. I have continued to do because honestly? I really enjoy it. I love seeing how many different people identify with my writing and are moved by it. There are some projects I want to do in the future (original works, not fanfic) that I probably will lock the MC to female for, but I want to continue providing gn fic for people for as long as I write. And original projects too! I have two in particular I am working on behind the scenes. The solution to the problems like "what gender is yuu really," if you will permit me to preach for a second, is to not care. Yana said Yuu was meant to be you, and dear reader I don't actually know who you are! So you can be whoever it is you wish to be in your heart and I will make room for you to sit next to me. I'll even make tea (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
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Clothes maketh the man, they say. And they do indeed make you look amazing. Would you be opposed to a suitor who isn't as fashionably conscious as you, sensei? If you wanted to play dress-up and choose my outfits each day too, I would- I mean, I'm sure any of your suitors wouldn't mind.
Just want to quickly clarify that the self-insert here is an adult referring to Crewel by his job title as a teacher, NOT a student referring to Crewel as their teacher ^^;;
If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.
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“Even the least fashion conscious mutt has enough wits about them to know a well-put together man when they see him. You should commend yourself for at least recognizing that.”
Crewel’s smile was devilishly smug. Some, you suspected, would label it completely unprofessional. Your heartbeat quickened, pulse racing, agreeing with those sentiments.
“You’re curious about what I look for in love? Hmph, rather nosy of you to stick your head into such private affairs—but since I’m in a good mood today, I will kindly enlighten you.”
You swallowed, not aware that your body was arching forward in anticipation of his answer. “And that’s…?”
“I don’t have a preference one way or another.”
The words fell so nonchalantly from his lips, like bread crumbs scattered for the pigeons. Your spirits soared and hope flooded you.
“Of course, I would enjoy a companion who is familiar with fashion and its workings—but there is also a thrill unique to dote on a partner who lacks that sense for aesthetics. It opens up many opportunities to experiment and to help them find their style. I find it so rewarding to witness someone come into their own and to be a part of that journey.” Crewel paused, then clarified, “Permitted, of course, that said partner grants me their blessings to do so.
“Ideally, I would like a suitor who can match my pace and desire for adventure, regardless of how sharp or dull their fashion sense is. Alas, I’ve had no luck thus far. Regrettably, I am still single”.
“Really, sensei? You, single? I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t immediately get snatched up. I think…” you stopped, catching yourself in the midst of another mistake. “I mean, people must think you’re a great catch!”
“No one has been able to keep up with me.” Crewel’s icy gaze caused your heart to leap and lodge in your throat. “What do you think?”
“Wh-What?!” you squeaked. “Me?!”
“Yes, you.” The cold support of his crop guided the tilt of your head up to his eyes. Your mouth went dry, and you froze on the spot. “Might you know of someone who can satisfy me?”
“I… I don’t know,” you confessed dumbly.
“Come now, I counted two instances of stuttering earlier. The same error on two separate slips of the tongue. You’re not being entirely honest. You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you?”
“M-Maybe…”
He inched closer, but remained coyly hovering over your lips. So close, yet so far.
“Bark for me, and you’ll be handsomely rewarded and praised,” came his sweet coaxing. “Wouldn’t you like that, pet?
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