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lauraneedstochill · 2 years

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The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson. warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW), with a sprinkle of softness. words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...) author’s note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I’ve been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven’t seen a single fic* using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart.

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did.

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm’s way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement,” Cole teased.

“Well, I would’ve volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I’ve read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn. Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least. That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but almost a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn’t fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That’s how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer.

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Strong boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it’s hard not to, with the way she’s been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There’s a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you are all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate?

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure. On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too. Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How’s your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I’m afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look.

“Is there anything troubling you?”

“Not when I’m with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond’s words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart. In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It’s the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it’s easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through. You sit by Helaena’s side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you.

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I’d like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out. You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you’ve known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice. The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum. “Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I’m afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look.

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face. “As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there’s a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn’t leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it’s time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first.

“I couldn’t help but notice your absence. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing.

“I’ve always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you’ve never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze.

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain. Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is. “Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read.

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time.

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of feet away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would’ve apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.”

“You weren’t thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth.

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye.

You don’t know if it’s a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that’s left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I’ve missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn’t stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast.

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile.

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your pearl, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly. “I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there’s an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don’t know what’s to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There’s a brief pause before he adds. “But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize.

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there’s something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again.

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently); — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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txttletale · 8 months

Note

Overly long disclaimer incoming: This is not anon hate. This is not an argument. This is not accusation. This is not agreement with anyone directly involved. Any feelings of hostility that may be gleaned from this ask are most likely because I struggle with maintaining a professional tone. Because this is not intended to be read as hostile.

This is solely intended as a statement of facts regarding who said what, mixed with light speculation on their intent. It is being sent because I feel that misinterpretation has occurred, and I firmly believe that one should always be as informed as possible on situations they are directly involved in. I hope this ask can make a positive difference.

Okay. Disclaimer over. Sorry it was so long.

I do not think roadhogsbigbelly accused you of being a pedophile yourself, and I don’t believe it was because of your stardew valley take.

I have seen several of his posts on this matter, and it seems he doesn’t like stardew valley (found it boring), his beef with your take was frankly minor and inconsequential, and it was intended to be separate from the larger critique he had of you. He made a few posts saying rather explicitly that they were separate issues, and I believe his initial post was a vagueblog that, on accident, conflated the two issues.

As for the main issue: if i recall correctly, you had reblogged a kink-positive post that turned out to have been made by an open zoophile (and also pedophile?). The zoophile in question is a clear danger to others, as they have a community of pedophiles and zoophiles that welcomes so-called “pro-contact” people.

This was where his accusations originated from, and this was what he focused on. He is concerned about how dangerous people like that are able to infiltrate into kink-positive spaces (is “infiltrate” the right word? I don’t know). His harshest critique of you seems to have been that you did not interrogate the intent of the person when you reblogged, and even that seems to have been mostly expressed in order to turn this into a learning moment for others. I don’t have precise wording (curse you tumblr mobile, for not letting me factcheck myself), but i believe he shared the sentiment that we all could stand to be a little more discerning?

- and I know he knows you have already responded to that criticism. For those unaware: txtlletale’s response was that she cannot be expected to vet the OP of every post on her dash, and that this criticism is thus unreasonable. His response to that response? … I forget, sorry. But I don’t think what you said was unreasonable. Again, my intent is to clear misunderstandings.

The point here is that, I don’t believe “accidentally reblogged a pedophile” and “is a pedophile” are the same statements, and roadhogsbigbelly had made the former statement. In short… I don’t think he was pedojacketing you. Whether he had unfairly judged you, and done so out of a transmisogynistic bias is, of course, a different question entirely. And if anyone else used his words to directly accuse you of pedophilia? Well, fuck em. Assholes.

I hope this makes sense. This ask is anonymous because I do not wish to become the focus of this issue. I am solely presenting information as I understand it. Feel free to fact check for yourself.

I think your anger is valid. These situations are infuriating, as is the culture of distrust that they bring. People on social media are, in general, far too swift to condemnation. You see it all the time, with pedojacketing, with qanon, with countless petty internet arguments. I try my best to reverse this tendency, at least with my own behavior. I don’t think you are a careless person, nor someone with a pattern of spurious accusations against people. I know you’re an intelligent and discerning blogger, which is why I trust you enough to send this ask. I hope I can have a positive impact.

have a good day, and take care of yourself.

(Considering sending an ask about this to him as well, so if you see a weird anon on his blog talking about misinformation hi its me)

i just don't agree with you--like, i don't say this aggressively either but this is just not an honest description of what he said. he called me, verbatim: "a tumblr user who markets incest and loliporn as an inherent part of queer sexuality". nothing in the screenshot mentioned "loliporn" -- nothing i have ever posted about in my fucking live mentions "loliporn" -- and for that matter, obviously, in none of my posts have i ever said that any kink, 'problematic' or not, is 'an inherent part of queer sexuality', and most fucking evilly of all, i don't 'market' these kinks.

like, think for two seconds about the implication of saying i, a trans woman, am "marketing loliporn". i think that goes beyond criticizing that i didn't vet my reblogs (which would obviously be insane in and of itself but i agree would not be pedojacketing). it's literal grooming/social contagion rhetoric. and again i can't emphasize enough he "just assumed" that "loliporn" was involved, despite it having no connection to anything i have ever posted! that + in his absolutely laughable double-down he says "99% of the people who make these sorts of posts are actual fucking pedophiles" as well as "pedophiles are agreeing with you! that’s not great!" which.

like wow that's crazy hey if 99% of people who make "those posts" (about "not being mean to sex freaks", or as i would phrase it, "criticizing the double standard leveraged to initiate mass sexual harassment campaigns against queer people but especially trans people for what they do privately and consensually with other adults" are "actual fucking pedophiles", what is that implying about me? can sherlock holmes get on this case with me?

idk i don't appreciate being told that "he never said 4" when he sure as hell was repeating "2+2" over and over again. & if his critique was 'intended to be separate' then why would he bring it up at all in his original post, multiple times, to clearly imply he doesn't think i should have 'takes' or 'opinions' on anything? regardless of what he did and didn't say about me i think it is pretty fucking clear that this:

is not 'seperate or unrelated'. i think it is really really difficult and requires totally unearned levels of good faith to read this as anything other than explicitly confirming that the point of this post is to use transmisogynistic rhetoric as a cudgel to shut up me up.

you can believe what you like but i know what i read and what was said about me and i will not be lied to.

#ask

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davycoquette · 3 months

Text

INTRODUCTION

Howdy! Call me Davy!

You can find my writing on this page of my blog!

This is my first foray into Tumblr’s writing community, so bear with me. If you see me committing any manner of egregious faux pas, please let me know so I can learn!

At this time, I don’t belong to any fandoms. Everything I write is fandomless, and every character I write about is original. While I am more than happy to interact with fandom writers, I’ll mostly seek out other original indie writers & their content.

A little bit about me:

She/her, born in ‘89

I’ve been writing since I could scribble

…but I have never submitted anything to be published!

At present, I just write. I am not working on a novel or toward publishing anything. Yet.

I want to follow:

Anyone whose writing I enjoy

Anyone who likes to discuss the craft of writing candidly

Writer’s writers

Folks who are willing to engage and have fun

I will not follow:

Blogs that post nsfw content (with the possible exception of spicy written scenes) simply because I like to scroll my dash in public places! It’s nothing personal!

Blogs that post excessive content unrelated to writing/things that interest me. Personal diaries etc. are totally fine!

Blogs that don’t tag content I need to filter, or that circumvent filters by spelling them creatively.

Anyone who hits on me in DMs, is incendiary, etc.

Mutuals, beware:

I am very likely to jump into your askboxes and reply to your posts. Feel free to ask me to stop if it bothers you. I don’t know how to act on this website.

Genres I Write:

Western, western, western. Historical, modern, fantastical, surreal — you name it.

Literary fiction

Science fiction

Nonfiction

Expect:

I write stories about fucked up fuck ups fucking up. My characters are heavily flawed individuals, and heavy, gritty subject matter can (and will) come up. I will do my best to throw in content warnings accordingly, but please let me know if there's something you need me to tag!

#introduction #pinned intro #blog intro #intro post #writeblr #writing community #creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #introductory post #introduction post #writer

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musamora · 9 months

Text

— 𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖞𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖝-𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖍 𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖙𝖘 ₊˚⊹

pairing: nikolai gogol (bungou stray dogs) x fem!reader

content warning(s): not-safe for work content (18+ MDNI), lingerie, sex toys, vaginal fingering, french kissing, choking, light bdsm, top!nikolai, bondage, blindfolds, impact play, bruises, vibrators, degradation, praise, cunnilingus, cum eating, overstimulation, subspace, creampies, aftercare

word count: 3k+

author's note: i don't know what demon possessed me while writing this, but i would like to thank it because MAN this came out steamy.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

"Do you like them? I picked them each out by hand."

A festive night of gift-giving underneath a star-sparkling tree twists into some spicy seasonal bedroom moments between you and a certain jester. Knowing Nikolai, he's always finding new ways to turn up the heat.

Within the heart of a festively adorned living room, lights sparkling upon satin furnishings and iridescent ornaments, a tree stood as its masterful centerpiece—the embodiment of holiday enchantment. An assembly of flashes adorned every bough, casting a warm glow against the bubbling couple that bundled together below the branches. The more lively of the pair, a snowy-headed jester in striped pajamas, tore open his presents with the gleefulness of a child. One after another, checkered pants and sweaters, dotted scarves and bows, and magician kits with decadent engravings sat in piles surrounding the both of you.

"Do you like them, Коля?" you managed to ask between giggles, your skin prickled by the fervent kisses from your boyfriend.

"Like them? I love them!" he beamed, rocking back and forth on his bum.

His nose nuzzled into your neck, trailing butterfly kisses that made goosebumps prickle on the side of your throat. "You're far too good to me, dove." He had a dopey expression on his face, so absolutely love-sick as he stared up at you between drunken lashes—and then he remembered that you hadn't opened any of your gifts yet. He shot up from the floor with the speed of a rocket.

"My turn!"

His feet pounded against the floor as he dashed to the tree, sorting through the mountains of presents with a struggle despite the obvious difference between his crudely wrapped boxes and yours. Some others ended up rushing out of his overcoat in waves, swirling into a large pile on the floor at your feet.

You struck him with a raised brow. "Do I even want to know where these came from?"

His only response was a smirk, and you decided the best course of action was not to question him any further—you'd rather not track down the list of people he had stolen from during the holiday season, so you rolled the brief guilt away with practiced ease. Instead, you began to open your own presents, most of which you had correctly guessed would be accessories and makeup. Nikolai loved seeing you all pretty for him; he always said he enjoyed dressing up his dove in fancy clothes. You had looked into the next box, assuming it would be the same—and in your defense, you were mostly right. However, you were not expecting to pull out a lacy baby doll top. You peered around its sheer cloth to look at a suddenly still Nikolai, his smirk deepening into something much more suspicious.

"Lingerie?"

"Like it? It was made especially for you."

You didn't comment, staring at the beautiful lacework before settling it into your lap with care, shifting the last box over. It loomed over, much larger than the rest, and your hands trembled. The box was quite heavy, despite the obvious crinkle paper shaking around inside. You cracked the lid open, slowly peering in, and your eyes widened—you certainly had not expected that. Without thinking, your thighs clenched together as your heart raced at the sight.

"Look through them, dove."

The entire box was basically a model display of sex toys—vibrators, dildos, restraints, blindfolds, lube—anything you could think of. Through the sudden haze of disbelief and lust, you thought you hallucinated the sensation stirring in your lower half, only to realize that a certain someone was thumbing at your clit. You didn't even have to glance down to know Nikolai was using his ability in his favorite way.

"Do you like them? I picked them each out by hand." A finger dipped between your soaked folds, tracing smooth circles inside your pussy as he gathered slick on one after another. You released an airy moan at the stubborn sensation, unable to buck your hips as Nikolai stilled them, sweeping his unoccupied thumb across your panted lips.

"You're so easy to rile up, dove," he muttered, taking advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue into your mouth, practically sliding it down your throat as his desperation became apparent, the need to consume you whole unraveling in his searing touches as he reveled in the way you slowly came apart.

"So pretty for me. моя гарна дівчина," he hummed like it was a little tune, twisting the straps of the lingerie in his fingers as he parted from the kiss with a string of saliva. "But you'd look even better in this little number."

You rose to your feet with his help, yelping as he pushed you towards the bathroom with a curt smack to your ass, his demeanor rapidly changing back to the comedic man you knew.

"I'll be waiting in the bedroom!"

The sheer material of the skimpy lace seemed to be woven from frosted moonlight itself, a subtle iridescence dancing along intricate handiwork. Its hem, a cascade of diaphanous layers, swirled underneath your bust to perk up your cleavage while maintaining a semblance of humility. You couldn't deny that it slipped on easily, fitting to your figure to flatter your breasts elegantly—who knows how much measuring Nikolai had to do to find the perfect size.

Your newfound confidence made it easier to slip out of the bathroom with a click, but your treacherous journey down the hall brought back your bout of nerves. You knew Nikolai was unexpected and kinky—two of his fondest traits—but you had not expected any of this in the slightest. With a deep breath, you peeked into your shared bedroom, mentally preparing yourself to enter a den of sin. However, your jaw dropped as your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, hysterical laughter leaving your lips.

"Y-You look so—"

The white-haired man had splayed himself on the bed in his whole naked glory, stiffened cock and all; a rose bit between his teeth and petals crumbled beneath the weight of his body, condensed into a huge pool in the center of the sheets.

"Don't be mean," he pouted between bitten teeth, swiping the flower and petals away from the bed. "I did this all for you."

"S-Sorry, sorry," you stumbled through shattered breaths, not apologetic in the slightest. He was absolutely ridiculous, but that only added to his peculiar charm. You placed a peck on his cheek, striking the sulky jester with a fond smile. "You know I love you, right?"

Nikolai's frown melted back down into that same airheaded expression from earlier, like that of a dorky puppy. His hands cupped over your own as your fingers traced his lashline, heart rate skyrocketing as he cooed at the sheer difference in size between your fingers. It would take a couple of your fingers to even—

"Hmm. You're just the sweetest little thing, aren't you?"

He pressed kisses along the wrinkles of your palms before dropping your hands from his grasp, his saccharine eyes hardening into a predatory stare. You froze as he circled around your body like a vulture, oogling at how the lingerie cupped your figure perfectly—he knew it would; you always looked beautiful in anything in his eyes. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, fists clenched as his mind raced with the dirtiest of thoughts. He hadn't planned this far ahead, but his body and cock acted before his mind.

"You're so beautiful, dove. Do you even realize how gorgeous you are?" he whispered, tipping you back until you were pressed flush to his chest. You tried to ignore the way his cock curved against your ass as if already prepared to take you, but it was too early. There was always some kind of game to play first.

"Can you feel what you do to me?"

"Коля—"

His breath prickled your skin, the hair on the back of your neck rising. "Fuck, dove." He trailed brisk kisses along your shoulder blades, a hand brushing up your cleavage to wrap around your delicate throat, making light squeezes that had your thighs clenching. "I'll be makin' you scream my name in a minute."

"A small quiz for you, sweet one." You shuddered as he nipped at your skin. "How many times can I make you cream on these toys until you begin to cry for my cock?"

The low timber of his voice made you shudder. "К-Коля."

You groaned out into the open air as he latched onto your throat. "Quiet, dove." His finger raised your chin, creating a sweet ache as you craned your head to peer into his striking, mismatched eyes.

Fuck. This had to be one of his favorite views. You stared up at him between hooded lashes; your lips parted as your chest rose between tense breaths, eyes blown out with lust as you hung onto his every word.

So fuckin' sweet.

"Only good sluts get dicked down." You gulped down your nerves as his grasp on your throat tightened. "So you better behave and lie down on the bed. Legs spread."

Without a moment of hesitation, you obeyed his request, lying on your back with your legs spread against the soft blankets. His mouth watered as he peered down at the wet patch evident through the fabric of your panties, beads of slick dripping down your thighs and the underside of your ass.

"Wider."

You spread them more, but it didn't seem to be enough as he tutted down at you with a mischievous grin. "Not wide enough, love." He smirked. "But don't worry. Let me help."

You eyed him carefully as he fished through the box of toys, eyes widening as he pulled out some of the silk restraints, testing their strength with a teasing tug. His fingers caressed the soft skin of your thighs, nails tracing down towards your ankles as he pried your legs apart, gleeful to feel you tremble beneath his slightest touch as he tied you to the bedposts. He copied the same actions with your hands, binding your wrists together over your head.

"Stay still," he muttered as a reminder, lifting your head to tie another strip around your eyes, forcing you into complete and utter darkness. You moved your fingers, your sensitivity heightened to compensate for your lack of sight. His nails traced the divots of your waist, drawing circles against the exposed areas of your breasts, hips, and thighs, adoring the meek whimpers that remained lodged in your throat.

He landed a harsh slap to your thigh, chuckling as you shuddered underneath him. "Be good, кохана. Be nice and sweet for me."

The sensation of his lips tingled your skin, caressing every part as if he was admiring a glorious Renaissance painting. He tongued and teased your flesh in torturous strokes, swathing your body in bruises as he took his time reaching your sweet center. The impatient part of you wanted to snap at him, to tell him to fuck you already, but that would only prolong the suffering, so you endured—the best rewards always came to those who held out the longest. He pressed his fingertips against your soaked panties, palming your pussy as he pushed them aside, musing at your honeyed whines.

Your heart echoed inside your chest as the room went still, those same heated hands drifting away from your skin, away from the place you so desperately wanted them to be. But then, through the thickened fog of panted breaths and subtle arousal, was a faint buzz, followed by the return of one of the hands pinning down your thighs.

"I need you to remain completely still, dove. If you can sit there and be quiet, you'll come closer to getting what you want. Understand me?"

You nodded quickly, head hovering up despite the blindfold as if to peer at the object between your legs, only to slam your head back against the bed, suppressing a moan as a rabbit vibrator circled your clit, collecting your slick on its silicon surface. It was pure torture as he repeatedly drew it away from your aching pussy, instead teasing the outside of your folds.

You were ready for him to fuck you already. You needed him to—but he never gave in to demands or pleas despite enjoying those desperate cries for more. You'd have to play his games. So you sat there and took it.

He hummed a gentle tune as he worked the toy around your clit in rhythmic, circular motions, occasionally messing with the speed before turning it back down. You let out a huff of confusion as it left your clit at the cusp of release, too hot and bothered to connect the dots as your mouth opened to question him—

"A-Ahn–! Коля, fu-fuck–!"

"Shut your mouth."

He shoved the vibrator completely inside, twisting it onto its highest setting as he worked it in-and-out of your weeping pussy, cackling as you sputtered and pulled against your restraints. Your thighs trembled under his bruising grip, slick leaking from your cunt as the dizzying sensation of bliss started to overtake your brain.

You choked down a cry as he smacked your thigh hard. "Have some self-restraint, slut," he murmured with a devilish coo, soothing your inflamed skin with a harsh grope. "I won't fuck you if you move again, so behave."

It took every part of your willpower not to buck your hips against the deliberately slow tempo of the vibrator, your muscles taut as you tightened your grip on your restraints, saliva slipping from the corner of your lips. You wore your bottom lip between your teeth, tasting metallic on your tongue to stifle your cries as you came on the toy. Without a moment to lose as you tried to breathe, your panties were pulled from their place nestled against your cunt, landing on the floor on the opposite end of the room as your pussy greeted the cold air, dribbles of cum spilling from your folds and staining the sheets.

Nikolai hated the idea of wasting even a single drop, his own body twitching as pre-cum spilled out from his throbbing cock, which he briefly palmed in his hand. His mouth attached to your clit like a starved man, feasting on your cum as he attempted to drink every last drop. You panted as his tongue dipped into your folds, teeth teasing your clit.

"Move. Fuck my mouth, sweet girl. Let me taste you."

He slurped at every last drop, relishing in the salacious swivel of your hips as you bucked into his mouth. "N-Niko—, please—p-please." Broken moans spilled out from your lips, begging him for more. "N-Need you, I need you—God, Коля–p-please–!"

Nothing seemed to be enough as the heated sensation between your legs intensified, your stomach coiling. His fingers dug into your skin, pinning your hips down as he feasted, devouring the sight of your pleasure-filled panic as you attempted to chase your own high, only for him to push against you harder. Your peak was brought about through slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, a loud sob leaving your lips as he swallowed your second orgasm.

He would take everything you would give him. Everything you could give him.

In those moments of blissed haze, his carnivorous eyes observing as your body attempted to recoup from the ecstasy—fingers twisted in their binds as you hung onto the last threads of reality, breath evening out as you were brought back down to earth, muscles slackening as you regained the remnants of your will—he knew what he wanted to do. Had to do.

You stiffened with a groan as the blindfold was untied from your face, eyes settling in dizzy circles as your arms and legs were unbound. Your arms raised to reach out to him, to touch him, but he beat you to it, fingers intertwining with your own as he pinned them beside your head, his face buried into your neck as he panted, trying to control himself. Soft, desperate kisses seared your skin once more, drawing a yelp from you as he bit down.

"So fuckin' good," he moaned. "God—dove, I'm gonna fuck you so hard. You'll have no choice but to unravel."

Your legs quaked as the head of his cock settled between your folds, teasing your entrance. "I'm gonna break you." He squeezed your hands as your breath quickened. "And you'll cry for me like a dumb whore, unable to move as you cream on my cock."

He buried himself inside with a stuttered groan, heaving at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him. You were more than soaked; your gushy pussy was practically melting around him. It felt so fucking good. His eyes rolled back as he felt your nails dig into the skin of his back, reddened lines trailing up his spine.

"F-Fuck—too much! T-Too much. Коля!"

He folded your thighs over, slamming you into a mating press, watching with fascination as his cock disappeared into your pussy with each thrust, creating faint divots in your stomach as he bottomed out.

He pressed down against your belly, cooing as you squirmed against his hand. "Look at you, dove." Tears streamed down your cheeks as choked sobs escaped your lips. He kissed some of them up, licking at the salty drops with a pant, cock throbbing at the sound of your cries.

"S-Shit, I'm gonna—!"

"Cum f'r me, pretty." His pace increased, hitting your sweet spot. "Just like that."

He groaned as his thrusts stuttered, spilling his cum inside of you as he brought you back to the peak of bliss one last time, moaning breathlessly into his mouth as he twisted his tongue with yours. His brows furrowed as he settled himself, slipping out of your gushing walls, trying not to harden at the sight of your combined cum. He sighed, lying on top of you with a softened smile.

He pressed his hand to your cheek, eyes adoring your state of love-drunk bliss. Your eyes hazy and glazed over, your hair disheveled and tangled up, your words stuttered and muttered out—his pretty girl. Your body desperately attempted to recover, but unlike last time, it struggled on its own.

Seems like he'd have to put you back together.

He cooed. "You're floating, малятко." His lips pressed cold kisses into your feverish skin. "Come back down to me."

You groaned, tired fingers latching onto his own. "You did so good, dove." He pecked your temple, heart twisting at the small smile that managed to perk up onto your lips. "So fuckin' good. Took me so well."

His hands dipped into his overcoat, which he had set expressly for this occasion. He pulled out a water bottle and a wet cloth, bracing your head as you took small sips. "Sit up, pretty one." You barely managed to drink a drop, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to stir you. "Take a sip. Your throat will be sore tomorrow."

He pulled at the rag, wiping off some of the sweat and cum that coated your skin. "Shhh." He cooed, trying not to overstimulate you even more as he cleaned around your pussy, which was drizzling like a fountain. His hands settled you back onto the bed before swaddling you up in his arms, listening to your sweet babbles as you slipped into slumber as he twisted strands of your hair between his fingers. "Good night, кохана. Sleep well."

коля = kolya моя гарна дівчина = my beautiful girl кохана = dearest малятко = baby

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#f!reader #꒰ა ⎼ [nikolai]#₊˚ ❆꒰ muse's 2023 advent #౨ৎ˚ ⎼ [afterhours]#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai bsd #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai smut

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myidlehand · 1 year

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I've once again seen a post on my dash about how Joey had to "fight" for Jaskier being queer this season.

I didn't reblog it cause I don't want to target one post in particular but people who make those posts need to understand this is factually wrong and just keep the hate towards Lauren growing for no reason.

It was Lauren who approached him. Joey said so himself. He praised her in many interviews for going that road. He worked with her on making sure it was done right, his words again (he seems quite aware of LGBTQA+ culture and maybe his sensibilities are a bit more "up to date" than the average straight person. If Lauren and most of the writers are straight, it seems logical for them to struggle to make it not cliché and for Joey to help make it something the community would like more, but that is just my theory).

But he never said he had to fight for it as much as people say he did, on the contrary. He said in at least one interview that it was very collaborative. From what I understand in some of his interviews he possibly wanted more control over Jaskier's journey this season but he certainly didn't have to fight for it. People seem to have gotten that idea from Joey's "essay" but at no point did he say it was to fix what they did. He obviously had an idea of what he wanted to do and asked for re writes and cuts in the dialogue to add more music. Every interview where he mentions this he pretty much says he was helping and collaborating with the writers. This sounds pretty normal to me as every actor on this show (Henry in particular) seems to be allowed to participate with the writing of their own character.

I know most of the fandom loves to believe all the good parts come from the actors and all the bad ideas come from Lauren (she obviously hasn't always made good choices and I'm not excusing her for the mess season 2 was) but this is just deforming what Joey actually said and taking some of the credit away from other people.

I love that Jaskier is pan. It's one of my favourite parts of the season. But it was not just Joey's idea it was Lauren's as well. Credit where credit's due. She's not as bad as the fandom makes her to be and she's a big reason why season 3 is so good. I don't love the way she try to sell the show as something never seen before because it still is mostly adapted from the books but nobody can argue when it comes to Jaskier that she made him a lot better than Dandelion (who I love to death but he's a little shit and I think Jaskier is a much more interesting character).

#jaskier #joey batey #lauren schmidt hissrich #the witcher

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snorky · 11 months

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Verbatim

Hey y’all! I’m posting another story today as well because I wrote the last story at the same time I wrote this one. I saw a particular image of Swayman with his November mustache, and I must say it suits him well (maybe I just like mustaches). The confidence he exuded at the 11/11 Bruins v. Canadiens game was *chefs kiss* and I loved it. Title inspired by the song "Verbatim" by Mother Mother, mostly the intro guitar part. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and take care of yourself!

Pairing: Jeremy Swayman x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None

—

The chilly, familiar, cold Boston air came rolling in, making the apartment seem much more frigid than it had to be. Although it was her favorite time of the year, when alluring holiday lights were hung on street lamp posts, and the scent of baked goods seemed to linger around, the cold air was rather uninviting compared to the other joys of winter.

It reminded her of sweet childhood, full of color and happiness and innocence in a swirl of hot cocoa, dashes of marshmallows and with whipped cream on the top. As she grew into adulthood, that childhood never seemed to go away since she met Jeremy.

She shared an apartment with Jeremy, her friend since university, and it helped cut some costs off of the heart-issue-inducing price of rent in the area, although to compromise, she wanted to help with groceries and chores as much as she could.

“Hey, Jeremy—” She closed the door behind her with her foot, her hands occupied with the task of carrying paper grocery bags. “Let me know if we need any winter supplies.”

He was always a friend, first. He was someone she cared about much more than just someone she lived with and split rent. They both inspired each other to grow better, never putting one or the other down, but always uplifting each other.

Turning around the corner, he stood in the kitchen with his back turned to her, cooking up a simple lunch for the both of them. “I’ll let you know, but I don’t think Boston winter is going to be too rough this year.”

“They say that every year, until one day in the middle of winter, we suddenly get a foot of snow,” she sighed.

He turned around, placing the sandwiches down on the counter, and helped her with some of the groceries. She looked up at him and became startled, “Jeez, Swayman—” Her arms quickly grabbed the groceries that she had almost dropped. “What did you do?”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled. A dopey smile was plastered on his face. “Forgot to tell you that I was keeping the ‘stache for ‘Movember’ and I’m surprised that you just noticed it now.”

She felt slight embarrassment in not noticing, but it wasn’t every day that she stared at his face constantly, at least, she thought. “Well,” she paused before speaking again. “You know what, yeah.”

Grabbing the bags of produce and vegetables, she put them in a colander and began to rinse them in the sink as he put the other foods into the refrigerator. The thought of him having a mustache was new to her, especially since he was either clean-shaven or had a slight scruff. Taking a peek at him, she observed it, settling down on the idea that it wasn’t too bad.

“Do I have something on my face?” He laughed. Noticing her flustered expression, he gave her a slight smirk. “Ohh.” Closing the fridge behind him, he walked slightly closer to her. “It’s the mustache isn’t it?”

She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him on the surface, but it was evident that there was a live wire spitting sparks into the air between them.

The late weeknights when it was Jeremy’s rest days, spent on the couch with her, watching their favorite TV show with a bowl of Chipotle. Or the times when she made post-game dinners for him, seeing the genuine smile in his eyes when he looked at her.

It made her do a double-take when thinking about him, and she tried so hard to not let it get to her. For Pete’s sake, he was her friend and roommate for years. And it’d be so, wrong, in many more ways she could explain, yet it was beyond easy to fall for him.

Looking her up and down, he noticed the heat that seemed to drift to her face and neck. “Definitely the ‘stache,” he laughed as he took a step back from her, grabbing his sandwich from the counter and walking to the stools on the island counter.

Oh, damn him. He knew the effect he had on her and she noticed it, but it felt like a jumble of mixed signals. Did he like her? Was he just teasing her? It was a whirlwind of mixed feelings and unsteady ground.

She brushed her feelings aside and grabbed one of the two sandwiches that he had made for the both of them and started to eat it, enjoying how pleasant it tasted. “This tastes pretty good,” she hummed.

“Thanks,” he responded, continuing to eat. “Tried out a new recipe.”

They both continued to eat in silence together, across the kitchen island from each other, the distance separating them. Awkward tension hung in the air as her feelings about him were slightly revealed, but not enough so that he knew something was definite. He moved his gaze from his sandwich to her, observing her like a hawk.

“I’ll do dishes, go relax after you finish your food.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Why?” she asked. It confused her as to why he wanted her to relax, especially out of the blue. “What’d you do?”

“You got the groceries and I think that you should just rest.” He smiled.

She hummed in response, content with the idea of relaxing on the couch after running some errands. “Thanks,”

Finishing up their sandwiches, Jeremy grabbed both of their plates and placed them in the dishwasher as she went out to the living room. Laying face-down on the couch, she let out a long exhale, relaxing her muscles and body.

“Long day?”

“Your mustache is unbearable,” she groaned.

He laughed at her, “I think you like it.” Crouching down to be at eye-level with her, he paused before he spoke softly, “Tell me what’s wrong,”

She turned her head to look at him, his face drawn with light concern. “What?”

“I can see it, you have something you want to say. And it’s not about my facial hair,”

Time seemed to slow as they remained in silence looking at each other. He searched her eyes for an answer to her silence. Was it in fear? Discomfort? Annoyance?

She held her pinky up to him, a symbol of keeping a promise. “Promise to continue helping me pay the rent?”

Jeremy let out a small laugh, considering how silly the request seemed, but at the same time, an odd feeling sunk within him when she said that. “Promise.” He wrapped his pinky finger around hers tightly.

Releasing a breath she didn’t know that she was holding, she buried her face into the couch, hiding from his gaze that he kept on her. “I think I like you,” she mumbled. Her face was hot with embarrassment, a mixture of fear and shame bubbling inside of her.

“Well I mean,” he paused briefly, “I hope you do, we split rent and live with each other twenty-four-seven if I’m not on road trips.”

“No—”

“Okay, I know what you mean, I was just messing with you.” He smiled. “Please look at me,”

She picked her head up off of the couch slowly, turning to look at him, he remained smiling, and it looked sweeter than before. He had the softest, precious-happy look in his eyes, the one that she’d see after a game win, but better.

His cheeks were dusted with a gentle pink tint, his face soft. “I like you as well. In the way of me wanting us to be more than friends,”

Smiling at him, she gently cupped his face, her thumb running over his cheek. It was the answer that she had preferred to hear from him, but it seemed better than she had initially thought, and it was relieving. Her own cheeks were a rosy shade, flustered and feeling all sorts of fuzziness.

“Let’s go out and grab dinner later this evening, my treat,”

“I’m sleepy though,” she sighed.

“You need a midday nap?” He asked as he stood up. “Cause if so, I’m grabbing some blankets and joining.” He let out an obnoxiously loud yawn, which she laughed at, as he walked away to grab the blankets from the closet.

This was routine for them from time to time since they were close, but it was slightly different now, knowing that they both felt like they were more than friends. When he came back, he gave her a few blankets and then laid on the couch beside her, head in her lap.

“We’re going on a date tonight, so let’s get some rest.” He let out another yawn, which in turn, caused her to yawn.

“What? A date?”

“The best for the best,”

She smiled softly at him, adoring his genuineness. Her hand drifted to his hair, playing with it gently as he drifted off to sleep, and shortly after, she started to fall asleep as well, peacefully in his presence, together.

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #boston bruins #nhl fic #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman x reader #jeremy swayman imagine #boston bruins imagine

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starlitangels · 11 months

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Redacted Boi Social Media Headcanons

Vincent only really uses Instagram, but is required by the Department to have it private because his human name is legally missing-presumed-dead and his face has a risk of being recognized if someone from his human life stumbled upon his Instagram. That said, he doesn't really screen people who request to follow him

Darlin' and Sam don't use any social medias. Darlin' has a Facebook from teenage years, but they deactivated it. But not fully deleted, so they can still be tagged in all the group photos posted to the pack page. In high school, Darlin' was the person who got a lot of unsolicited DMs because they were hot but they hate attention so they blocked everyone but their pack and deactivated. Darlin' reluctantly keeps their Discord for the pack server

David hates social media. He maintains the pack's private Facebook group and Discord server (though the latter is really more Asher's job, David's just in charge) but will not touch anything else. David's favorite social media is YouTube because he can lookup tutorials for anything and not have to ask anyone for help

Milo's a borderline Instagram influencer. He's got a gazillion followers (who all think he's hot, and he is). His Instagram is directly linked to his Facebook, so every picture and caption he puts on IG gets automatically posted to FB too

Marie comments only on Milo's Facebook (she has and kinda uses IG, but doesn't comment). She's the one that will leave the heartfelt comments with "Call me" at the end. She knows that's a meme among younger people that their older relatives leave "what a beautiful couple. Call me" comments, but she does it anyway. And guess what? She does it because it works. Milo👏 is👏a👏Mama's👏Boy👏 and he will call her when she leaves those comments

Asher doesn't use social media much, but is perpetually on Discord. He mods the pack's server, and like 6 others just for fun. He does post lots of pictures of Babe and selfies of the two of them together on the pack's Facebook though

Damien used to get into arguments on Twitter with randos. Huxley thinks it's funny to pull them up from when Damien was a teenager

Huxley was never much into most social medias but I like to think he'd be like that one TikTok dude who pops up on my Tumblr dash occasionally who explains how to do calisthenics and other workout stuff in a really simple, easy, modified way for people who are just getting started. People started following him because he's hot, and then realized he's actually like the nicest dude and doesn't know he's popular

Lasko's a Tumblr boy. I'm not taking constructive criticism on this

Gavin refuses to get an Instagram because he knows he'd get too addicted to it. He knows he's ridiculously good-looking and would amass a following supernaturally fast, and that's why he won't. But he has his old Facebook from when it first started to be popular. He got rid of all his old friends list and now just has Freelancer, Huxley, Lasko, Damien, and a handful of d(a)emon friends who also have Facebooks like Crux

Avior doesn't have any social media at all

Neither does Caelum and Gavin and Freelancer have decided not to expose him to the negativity of the internet

Vega refuses

Cam keeps a few things for professional purposes, but doesn't use them much

Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is

Aaron's favorite is LinkedIn. This is a joke.

Elliott uses Pinterest a lot for aesthetic inspiration for dreams. He doesn't use much else

Blake is on like every social media all the time. Mostly for CloseKnit. But he also stalked Bestie from afar for a long time

James had to get rid of all of his when his job started getting more secretive and he had to have limited contact with the rest of the world

Morgan doesn't have any social media just as a way to keep himself and his magic safe. The Department protections didn't require it, but he thought it was for the best

Porter totally isn't jealous that Vincent has a higher IG follower count than him and his account isn't even private. He's always trailing like 20 behind

#I know I'm missing some boys but meh I don't care #Redacted ASMR #Redacted Audio #Redacted Headcanons #Redacted Vincent #Redacted David #Redacted Sam #Redacted Asher #Redacted Milo #Redacted Gavin #Redacted Avior #Redacted Elliott #Redacted Porter #Redacted Morgan #Redacted Huxley #Redacted Damien #Redacted Lasko

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verycharismaticdragon · 1 year

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@mandlien: Op where is the essay 👀 @latitudeoctopus: An essay I would like to see 🙏

Glad u asked! <-guy who was totally angling for someone to ask

OG post this continues from, for those just tuning in now:

actually SQQ's first encounter with LQG perfectly illustrates which of SY's idiosyncrasies perfectly converged to make him absolutely obsessed with Binghe, in this essay i will

So, to start with, the explanation for why I think this scene in particular is more illuminating than all of SQQ's interactions with actual LBH.

That's because there's not a single scene in the novel where his interactions with LBH-the-person are not colored by pre-existing bias of already being obsessed with LBH-the-character. Like, consider the scene where he appraises Shen Qingqiu's looks, and finishes it off with:

He still couldn’t compare to Luo Binghe. (vol.1, ch.1)

despite not having seen Luo Binghe in person yet. But no, he's already convinced his beloved blorbo is of course The Handsomest Ever!

Simply speaking, we never encounter Shen Yuan pre-Binghe Syndrome (when instead of brain there's binghe). So it's difficult to tell whether any particular way he thinks or feels in Binghe’s presence is the standard for him, or owed to the fact that he already likes Binghe in at least one way.

But the same can not be said of Liu Qingge: while SY did have some interest in his character, he didn’t really think of him before encountering him in Lingxi Caves. Plus, unlike Binghe who seems to have fully aligned with SQQ’s expectations of him, LQG had given him a little shock — which prompted some re-evaluation of his prev thoughts on SQQ's part.

(cont. under cut)

Now is a good time to mention that I arrived at thinking about this scene while considering Shen Yuan's relationship with toxic masculinity — and remembering I jotted down 'Shen Yuan's fascination with masculinity' in my reread notes for this scene.

[Bai Zhan Peak] was the most warlike of Cang Qiong Mountain's branches, as well as the branch with the greatest martial ability. Every single generation's Bai Zhan Peak Lord was a world-class swordmaster, a victor of countless battles, an undefeated legend. How hot-blooded—how dashing! Male readers always fervently admired strong characters. Even though Liu Qingge never officially debuted on page, he hadn't lacked for fans, and Shen Yuan had been especially fascinated with him. In his headcanon, Liu Qingge had been a sharp and manly man, powerful and magnificent. A war god, right?! (vol.1, ch.2)

So, Shen Yuan’s fascination with Liu Qingge’s character — or rather his headcanon version of it — is about Liu Qingge being someone who (in SY’s mind) embodies masculine qualities. And what qualities are those? From this section, being “strong” (has to be physically powerful) and “undefeated” (can’t be a loser) — yeah, pretty standard toxic masc starting kit.

And something of interest here: though SQQ describes it mostly as his own feelings, even in this excerpt, he slips in a “male readers always [...] admired” — which, when considering everything else we know about his relationship to masculinity, kind of gives off an insecurity vibe. He seems to be either trying to justify his own feelings (i.e., ‘other men feel the same way, i’m in-group not out-group, i’m not failing at being a man by feeling this way [admiring another man]’), or else emulating other male fans and trying to convince himself he relates to the story the same way they do (i.e., ‘male readers admire strong characters and im a man therefore i definitely also admire the same things’).

Speaking of emulating other male fans, there’s another quality that SY seems to associate with masculinity, this one not very related to Liu Qingge — though SQQ does make a mental detour into it in the same scene, when talking about other Peaks.

Yeah, when he mentions Xian Shu, and the fact that the popularity of self-insert erotic/lewd fics about Xian Shu "compared to that of the original work” in PIDW fandom, or possibly even in general on ‘Zhongdian’ (since afaik you can publish fanfiction on Chinese webnovel sites alongside original works, you just have to tag it as such). In other words, among male fans.

But we know SY doesn’t like sex scenes, right? Hell, his favorite wife is Liu Mingyan at least in part because she doesn’t have sex scenes:

There was one more appeal factor. Liu Mingyan was the only female character for whom Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn't write detailed sex scenes. (vol.1, ch.2)

Of course… that’s what SQQ says in his head where nobody can hear him. We actually have evidence of him singing a different tune when among other fans:

Most of the female protagonists are stupid sexy lamps, and the male lead doesn't even bed Liu Mingyan, the only breath of fresh air? He doesn't bed the rightful empress? Are you fucking kidding me? (vol.4, ch.26, part 1)

(speaking of, this is why ‘peerless cucumber is SY’s true self’ takes baffle me. his toxicmascsona is his true self, really?)

So SY has another qualifier for ‘manly man’ in his head: being sexual (of course, in a straight way). Which is not something that comes naturally to him, as evidenced by him cringing away from any actual action even when he tries to emulate the thought pattern, e.g.:

Qi Qingqi? She was indeed slightly junior to him, and their first meeting...he'd long forgotten how it went. "Often together" wasn't quite right, though. Perhaps he at times dared to think about going to Xian Shu Peak so they could be "often together," but while he had the wicked intentions, he lacked the courage required to follow through—and he could never commit an act as depraved as stalking. (vol.4, ch.23)

Riiiight, SQQ, you totally have those 'wicked intentions' that you merely can't follow through on because you just invented reasons not to.

But that does give us an image of SY’s ideal of masculinity. Extremely powerful, undefeatable, and hypersexual… yeah no points for guessing who. I’m pretty sure SQQ even directly equates Bing-ge with masculinity somewhere, I just can’t remember the exact spot. And he also believes that any man should definitely want to be in Bing-ge’s place, like for example here:

Every man dreamed of being caught between an angel and a devil. To watch them jealously vie with each other over him one moment, then risk life and limb for his sake in the next—that was the highest, most sacred, perverted fantasy of every male organism. (vol.1, ch.2)

…though I must note, once again, “every man”, “every male organism” — but does SQQ actually feel the same way? I think that the answer is he thinks that he should, and is trying to convince himself that he does.

Which must be difficult considering he finds men more attractive than women, returning back to that scene with Liu Qingge.

In any other state, Shen Qingqiu might have declared, "What a beautiful man!" (vol.1, ch.2)

Really bestie? You would've declared it? Because I don't see you show the same enthusiasm about women. In fact, you usually jump right into how they were described in the novel, as if you don't have your own opinion.

Now, I must note that I personally don’t think finding someone attractive equals actually being attracted to them. But this does imply which way SQQ's tastes veer. In fact, we can even see that he has a type. First, he describes LQG's face as "as beautiful as a fine woman's"; then adds:

This was clearly the face of a charming young master who arranged flowers and plucked farewell willow branches! (vol.1, ch.2)

Of course, if we are talking about charming young masters with feminine looks, their bearing that of a classic Chinese gentleman (warrior-scholar ideal who’d ‘pluck farewell willow branches’)...

That firm yet humble countenance, demonstrating his noble and unyielding spirit. That pencil-straight back and stance, evincing a proud core that would rather break than bend! (vol.1, ch.1)

[SQQ] saw a glimpse of the future Luo Binghe's unique grace, that of "eyes like cold stars, a soft and radiant smile, with muted words and quiet laughter." (vol.1, ch.1)

In truth, deep down, Bing-ge's fair and clean pretty-boy type didn't really suit the tastes of "Great Master" Airplane Flying Towards the Sky. He had only assigned this sort of configuration to the protagonist to meet his stallion hardware specifications. The art of growing stallions was grounded in science, and the research was clear: women preferred men who looked cultured, pretty, and even a bit soft and feminine. (vol.4, ch.26, part 2)

…there’s no question who is superlative in SQQ’s heart. To boot, he doesn’t even realize that he’s biased about LBH’s attractiveness, as we can see from Airplane-bro’s musings above. So that’s Cucumber-bro’s type: cultured, pretty, a bit feminine.

See, a fun little discrepancy here: what SQQ sees as a masculine ideal and therefore can admire plainly — again, powerful, undefeatable, and hypersexual, — and what he finds attractive in a man, under all those layers of denial, are two pretty different things.

Liu Qingge, despite his appearance unveiling a side of both to us, doesn’t actually fully embody either type: on the masculinity side, he is missing the hypersexuality, on the attractiveness side, his looks fit but his bearing doesn’t match.

But you know who hits all of SY’s qualifications on both counts?.. yeah, once again no points for guessing, it stars with "Bing" and ends with "ge".

So: the source of Shen Yuan’s obsession with LBH-the-character is the intersection of those two factors. Like you know that old wlw joke “I can’t tell if I wanna be her or date her”? Thats Shen Yuan with Luo Binghe, but, yknow, unconsciously. He admires LBH as an epitome of masculinity, an image of a Perfect Male to strive for; he also very much finds him attractive in a gay way.

In fact, I would even say that an important component of Binghe brainrot is that he is an acceptable target for admiration. How can SY be accused of being gay over liking a horny stallion novel? So it’s totally normal that he thinks of Binghe a lot, obviously that’s just because he looks up to him! Because Binghe is such a perfect iteration of a male stallion protagonist! Who wouldn’t want to be in his place, thinks Shen Yuan, never ever having imagined being in Binghe’s place even once. Ofc that’s only because Binghe got insane game though! Shen Yuan couldn’t hope to compare. LBH is just so admirable and sexy,, for the wives of course, the wives find him sexy, not Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan is just stating facts— etcetcetc.

Point is, LBH is a man that Shen Yuan can like without shame, because he has a whole bag of above-the-board reasons to prove that he's not liking him the wrong way. A perfect target of convergence for Shen Yuan’s conscious and unconscious thoughts (and desires).

And this is how SY ended up with the years-long hyperfix we see in the beginning of the novel.

#shen qingqiu #shen yuan #bingqiu #svsss #svsss meta #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain's self-saving system #mxtx #danmei novels

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mjjune · 2 years

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How To Have a Good Beta Reading Experience (or: what I've learned from 3 years of beta reading)

So lately I've been having a lot of discussions about beta reading with my discord groups so I thought I would write it out here and also share some resources I've used over the years.

This is mostly by and for writers, however readers can learn from this post as well!

DISCLAIMER: I'm by no means a writing expert, but I have been either beta reading others' books, or having my own stories beta read consistently since 2020. THIS IS ALL PERSONAL EXPERIENCE/OPINION. Others may agree or disagree ❤️

Here are the main points I'm going to talk about in this post, and I'll do it under the cut to save your dash space:

Understanding Alpha vs. Beta Readers

Choosing Readers

Being Clear About Feedback

Swapping / Compensation

The Importance of Writing Community/Groups

Websites/Resources for Finding Beta Readers

1. Understanding Alphas vs. Betas

So this is extremely important and for me, this may be the difference between me finishing your book or not. Many times, especially from new writers who had never had anyone read their work before, had extremely rough drafts that were barely coherent and were NOT beta ready, but asked me to beta read. I am not a person who can look past extensive grammar errors, nor am I the kind of person who will sit and fix all your grammar line-by-line for you.

Alpha Readers - for first/second drafts

Beta Readers - for polished drafts

It is ok for alpha reads to be unpolished and have grammar issues, and it's even ok if they have plot issues, continuity errors, etc. Because alpha readers are there for that purpose: to be the first eyes on your story and help you find and fix those issues.

The issue I have had over and over, though, is people asking for a beta reader when what they really needed was an alpha. I went in expecting a polished draft and got someone's Draft 0. In some cases, I got 100k drafts where the writer obviously had no idea how to format dialogue grammar and every single dialogue was wrong. Obviously this made me slow and in many cases, unable to finish.

Alpha readers will go in expecting it to be unpolished, and will be prepared to look past grammar/stylistic errors in order to focus on the big picture issues (plot holes, character consistency, pacing/engagement issues, etc). A Beta may be too frustrated by an unpolished draft to finish it or provide the feedback you're looking for. If you have been experiencing a lot of betas backing out and not finishing your work, you might consider this as a possible reason why.

I would also recommend, if you have never had anyone read your work before, even if you have had multiple drafts, it might be safest to ask for alphas rather than betas.

A quick way to see if your work is beta ready (again, personal experience): Pick up a published book from the shelf in your genre. Does your book read similarly? Does your formatting & grammar look the same? Bonus: read it out loud! If reading the published book out loud is significantly easier than reading yours out loud, you're probably in the alpha stage.

TL;DR: Understand your draft and which level of reader your draft is ready for. Know the difference between polished and unpolished, and be upfront about it.

2. Choosing Alphas/Betas

You may not like it but: Just because someone is your friend, real life or online, does not mean they will make a good reader for you.

#1 MOST IMPORTANT: GET READERS WHO LIKE & REGULARLY READ YOUR GENRE!

I cannot stress this enough. As someone who writes vampire content, I cannot begin to express to you the amount of useless comments I got from readers who had clearly never read a vampire book in their life.

You need someone who is familiar with your genre and you likes your synopsis/blurb.

Caveat: that said, I did find a few great betas who had never read vampire content before and gave awesome feedback. However, these readers knew and admitted they knew nothing about the paranormal genre, and because of that did not make any comments on worldbuilding, instead sticking to plot and character development only. Some readers can't make this separation.

Another thing I would recommend, especially if you are swapping or the beta reader is also a writer/on writeblr, I would recommend reading their writing before having them beta read. If you read their excerpts and see that it's really unpolished or a style that's vastly different than yours, that might change whether you want them to read for you.

In my most recent beta round, I used a google form to do a quick survey to see who was interested in beta reading. This worked really well for me and I would recommend it! You can also use this to make all potential readers agree to not share/distribute/plagiarize your work, so you have it in writing just in case someone were to try something.

This was also a great way to see which genres they usually read and how many times they have beta read in the past!

TL;DR: Get readers who LIKE your genre. Read their writing and see how they write. Use an online signup form to narrow down.

3. Be Clear About The Type of Feedback You Want

This is perhaps the second most important thing when you get readers. Many readers will shy away from reading your work if you have nothing in mind for them to look out for. Also, being clear about this shows that you 1) know it isn't perfect and needs work and 2) you have insight into what the issues already are.

For Alphas, these traits are what I have found to be the most helpful:

Immediate inline reactions - particularly emotional engagement and pointing out lines that resonated with them

NO grammar/stylistic comments (unless incomprehensible)

Questioning of worldbuilding, character decisions, and character development - particularly if confusing or unclear

Comments on action sequences & their readability

Comments on believability of the plot points/progression

For Betas, these are what have been most helpful to me:

Comments on grammar, especially if repetitive

Stylistic comments, particularly for over-used words or noticeably repetitive sentence structures

Comments on pacing

Comments on plot initiation point and buildup/execution of the climax

Not questioning my worldbuilding/plot and trusting that what I have written is intentional. Only pointing out areas that have on-page evidence of inconsistencies.

Everything above is simply personal preference. You might find other comments to be better for alphas/betas. However, being upfront about which comments you want or don't want can drastically change which people want to read for you!

Some readers are obsessed with in-depth inline grammar/style comments, some aren't at all. Some writers LOVE these in-depth grammar comments, and some don't. Being clear about what you want is the best way to make sure you and your readers are compatible for the stage of editing you're at.

4. Swapping / Compensation

So this one I might have a bit of an unpopular opinion, but I wanted to cover it because so many people talk about it on here and other sites.

Again, based on my personal experience, swapping and compensation does not mean you're going to get better feedback or have a better experience or relationship with readers.

For the record, for everyone who beta reads for me—and finishes—I always offer to read theirs, even if it's a genre I don't like.

Personally, I have never tried compensation (re: money) for beta readers. However, there are a few issues I've come across with swapping:

Mine was beta ready and theirs was unpolished first draft

Our types of feedback didn't align

Our genre preferences didn't align

Their feedback was nowhere near as high quality or constructive as mine

In these cases, one or both of us burnt out on reading the others' work, and then we'd both bail. Especially with #4, it was very disheartening for me to spend hours finding their plot holes, helping them come up with ways to fix them, for them to then write 1 paragraph about what they thought of my story that was extremely surface level. To me, that wasn't even a swap, and was practically worthless. There was even one who got sensitive about the feedback I was providing (which was a queer sensitivity read) and then left almost identical comments on my story, which weren't even relevant. It was like revenge-commenting.

All this to say: I have had positive experiences with swaps. My alpha for twtr was a swap and I really enjoy her work and she enjoys mine, and we will probably continue to swap forever.

This goes back to #2 above: be picky & choose your readers well. Your story is your baby, and it deserves to be critiqued by people who value you and your story, and want to help you make it the best possible version of itself.

To summarize, I have had two good swapping experiences. I have had 10+ good uncompensated betas—with an offer for me to read their stuff when it's ready. Do with that what you will.

5. Writing Community / Groups

On to a more positive note! I have had the best experience here on writeblr, and this is coming from someone who has tried multiple other communities (which I discuss in the last section below). Having my own discord server from tumblr, joining a few other writers' discord servers, has completely changed the game regarding finding consistent betas, more resources, and just having an overall much more positive time writing and editing.

Writeblr keeps me grounded, keeps me hopeful, and even if I share something that doesn't get tons of notes, it's so nice to have interaction. It's so nice to give and get back, consistently.

I do want to emphasize the importance of giving to get back. If no one is liking/interacting with your excerpts, tag/ask games, etc. then that's probably because you're not interacting with them! It's very important to show interest in other people's work!!

I'm not saying you need to jump onto everyone's taglists for all their wips, but join the ones that genuinely interest you the most. Play in ask/tag games consistently. Follow writers back who follow you (if they post things you're interested in, ofc).

I have the same amount of followers as the people I follow right now, and I think that goes to show that people reciprocate here on writeblr! It's a lovely community and don't be afraid to reach out ❤️

I have found almost ALL my recent betas from my tumblr and discord groups. They have been lovely so far and I would highly recommend building up community here if you are interested in finding betas.

6. Websites/Resources for Finding Betas

Alright, last section. Thanks for bearing with me. I'm going to go through the sites I have used, and why I still use them, or why I dropped them.

Scribophile

So, for starters, this is one I don't use anymore. This was the site I first used when I had a polished draft in 2020 and had no idea how to get feedback. Essentially, they have a point-system. The more comments you make, the more points you get, and then when you have 3 points, you can post a chapter. It continues in a cycle.

Pros: Personally, I think the site helped me a lot in realizing what a bad critique looks like (which is helpful!) and also helped me learn which comments/feedback types work for me, and which don't. I don't regret my time there by any means, and I found one life-long friend and beta reader there I wouldn't trade for the world. It also allows you to post/remove your story and the readers don't have direct access to it—meaning if they want to download/steal/plagiarize, they'd have to copy and paste or screenshot chapter by chapter. It's a little safety precaution.

Cons: It's not the best place to get constructive feedback. The issue with their system is it encourages quantity over quality in critiques. Because of that, you'll get strangers rewriting your entire chapter in their own style so they get 2-3 points for one critique, but... was any of it actually helpful to you? Maybe, maybe not. It's also random, so you can't control who comments on your stuff, and they might just comment to get points even if they hate your genre. I also don't think it's fair to have to do 3-5 chapter critiques in order to save up enough points to post ONE chapter of your own. And if you want to post your story for full beta reads and control who reads it and who doesn't, you have to subscribe monthly.

So I keep an eye on it occasionally to look through their forums on writing, agents, publishing, etc. But most of the forums gets nasty, because there are a lot of really pretentious writers who think they know all the rules. If you join small groups (e.g. sub-groups based on diversity, etc) they tend to have better and more meaningful discussions.

Personally, I would never use it for beta/alpha/feedback ever again. This is the site where most of my bad swaps came from. But you might find it useful! So I thought I would share it.

Nanowrimo Forums

This is another one I don't use anymore, but might consider reusing in the future. The biggest issue I have with nanowrimo is that a lot, and I mean A LOT, of these participants are first-time writers and have no concept of what polished vs. unpolished even means. I did find two really good swaps there (actually the only two good full swaps I've had) but those were very hard to find.

There is also the issue that a good chunk of them only write during November, not year round. So for finding consistent, year-long partners, this is not the best option. I'm a member of 2 discords that have all fallen silent as soon as Nano actually ended.

Also, in my experience, asking questions about anything related to "controversial" topics (especially trans and minority ethnic groups) becomes toxic very quick, which is unfortunate. There are even a few moderators who seem to be contributing to the toxic/immature discussions rather than fixing them/shutting them down, which is the main reason I stopped using it.

However, it's a GREAT place to get free, simple covers! Their artisan section is fantastic and there are a lot of people there willing to make basic covers/banners for you for free.

BetaBooks

I've only been using this one about a month so far, but I'm really liking it. It's set up that you can invite betas to your story specifically, or you can look through a beta reader library, read their profiles, and invite them to see if they're interested.

This is essentially an alternative to Scribophile. It allows you to post your story online and find betas and become a beta.

Why I like it better than Scribophile: it's not a point-based system, meaning it's uncompensated so the readers have nothing to gain other than enjoying/helping your story. There's no hard feelings if someone bails. It allows you to see all comments in one place (which Scrib can't do). (And with discount codes found through google, it's cheaper, too. Message me if you need help with this 👀)

It also is all online, easily removable, so readers would have to copy/paste or screenshot chapter-by-chapter to steal it. So again, just a little safety net that makes me feel better.

Writeblr

Yep, that's right. Right here. Actually right here on tumblr has been where I have found the most beta readers and in the shortest time. I talked about this in the section before so I won't regurgitate. But there's a reason why this community is so long-lasting. It really is the best one out there I've found.

TL;DR / IN CONCLUSION:

Know where your book is in terms of reader-readiness. Know the difference between alphas/betas and polished/unpolished. Know the types of feedback that work for you and specifically request it when recruiting betas.

Interact with a community. Give interaction in order to receive, and don't expect people to reblog/like your content if you don't reach out first. Join small, niche writing community discords. Find like-minded writers.

Decide to swap or not, but this won't make or break you.

There are many writing communities out there designed to help you not only find betas, to provide beta-reading feedback forms and commentary. Try them out and see what works best for you.

And above all, thank Writeblr for being such a lovely community ❤️

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