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#making color sets for this show is a form of torture because it *is* colorful but only in the sense that it is mostly very yellow
slttygeto · 2 months
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tags: fem! reader, nsfw, taking pictures.
ft: hanma shuji.
you get shuji a polaroid camera for his birthday, something simple for a man with such an expensive taste—the rolex watch costs more than your monthly rent, without mentioning of course the expensive suits that he carelessly discards of in your bathroom to fuck you in the shower. you always end up freaking out on him that it costs so much, and he just waves his black card, reassuring you that it’s nothing.
(you also forget that there’s a 2023 black matte Bentley parked right in front of your apartment building)
and hanma shuji thinks this polaroid camera is the best gift he’s ever gotten in his entire life. white, a contrast color to everything he owns (phone, car, house decor…) and he holds it in his hands like it’s the most precious thing ever.
when shuji gives you his dress shirt to wear, buys you a new set of lingerie in his favorite color and tells you not to wear any makeup—you don’t know that it would end up with you two having a photoshoot on your bed.
“shuji… the light is blinding me,” your words are muffled as he presses his lips against yours in a quick, wet kiss. he’s shirtless and visibly hard in his slacks. his grey suit pants look so tight against his strong thighs, and everytime he tells you to look at the camera, you pout slightly that he’s making you look away.
“one more baby, yeah? mhm, you smell so good,” the kiss travels from your cheek to your neck and then chest. he bites onto your boob, right above your nipple—and something about the redness that it leaves drives him a little crazy.
so he does it again, lets you wrap your legs around him in a pathetic attempt to relieve the ache between your legs as he litters love bites across your skin. to you this is torture, but to him it’s art. his way of expressing himself, claiming you as his. you are his.
you hear the camera shutter and when he shows you the picture he took of your love bites covered chest, you hate to admit but—it did look hot.
his hand goes to grope one of your boobs, and your hand finds his as you wrap it around his wrist. the size difference, the obvious dynamic being shown in a rectangle piece of plastic. shuji loses his mind as he stares at the picture he took, his masterpiece.
he believes that this is the best form of foreplay. because you are breathing hard, there’s a wet patch forming in your panties and you’re giving him the eyes that he knows all too well.
“wanna take a pic of me with your cock in my mouth?” sounds tempting. way too fucking tempting, but shuji spreads your legs and pushes your panties to the side before pressing his thumb to your clit, toying with the bud until you’re writhing underneath.
“not until i’ve taken a picture of this pussy, hm? gorgeous pussy.”
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ivymarquis · 4 months
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A Little Death
Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 7k Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author has decided she can't be assed to edit this, Chubby!Reader, Kidnapping, nondescript mentions of torture. Ambiguous mentions of S/A (vague enough you can chose to ignore that part if you want tbh), Reader is traumatized from her ordeal but working through it. Fingering, PiV, riding, squirting, Simon has a moment where he's worried he triggered reader after sex but that is an incorrect assumption on his part.
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On days like this Simon can almost pretend he’s normal. 
The game’s on, a beer in one hand while the other has been commandeered by his girlfriend with a simple “Gimmie.”
Simon has never been one to worry about his nails beyond clipping them for practicality’s sake.
Having a SAS lieutenant for a boyfriend means she deals with what she insists is Simon’s paranoia and he insists is a healthy level of suspicion about the outside world. Having a nail technician for a girlfriend means every so often she’ll commandeer his hands to ensure they’re up to her standards. As it turned out, adhering to regulations wasn’t up to par for her. 
His neighbor is a popular woman.
It sets him on edge, all the traffic. One or two people at a time, usually other women- sometimes with a man in tow, other times not. They show up, they stay for maybe an hour or maybe 4, and they leave. Within 30 minutes someone else is knocking on her door.
Normal men humor their partners about things they don’t particularly give a fuck about when left to their own devices, as an acknowledgment of its importance to them. 
And so he sits, beer in one hand as she works on the other. Once she’s finished she gathers up the towel that acts as a catch for the various clips and trimmings before making her move to switch sides, Simon easily acquiescing to her whim.
“I’m not keeping you up, am I?” She asks one night. Music plays lowly from a laptop on her patio as he steps onto his for a smoke break. Just because he’s got his vice doesn’t mean he wants the whole flat smelling like it.
“Don’t sleep much anyway, pet. Bit of music won’t change that one way or another.”
Despite his insistence that he’s merely humoring her, he soaks up the attention she readily gives him. When she’s done and tidied after herself she returns with a small bottle of lotion.
He’s got one arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head as she massages his hand. If he plays his cards right tonight he can probably get her to soothe some of the aches and stiff muscles that always plague him. For now he melts as she seems to know exactly what points to hit in his palm and forearm. 
It’s domestic and normal and Simon can almost ignore the burner phone he keeps on him at all times.
It goes off at 5am on a Sunday, Simon already awake and having been watching the ceiling fan since 4:30. He can’t fall back asleep but can’t bring himself to separate from her. 
She burrows further into his chest as his shifting disrupts her. He’s fairly certain she would crawl inside his ribcage if she could, curl up right next to his heart and never leave. 
Simon would gladly let her. 
She’s a nail technician, he comes to learn. Sure as shit, he eventually memorizes the traffic that comes and goes on a roughly two week interval. Some of them are steadfast in their appointments. 2 o clock every other Thursday. 4 o clock every other Friday. Others not so much- they come around frequently but the days and times are random after the 14 day mark. 
The familiarity of some of the faces takes him slightly less on edge. He will never relax, not truly, but it settles him down now that he knows the pattern. 
It also explains why her hands have two completely different designs on each one. Color, pattern, the shape of the nails. Her left and right hand look like they belong to two different people. 
Simon doesn’t use social media, for obvious reasons. His little neighbor has formed an entire career for herself based off of it. 
But the phone buzzes on the nightstand, an omniscient presence that always hovers heavy in the air.
“Price?” Is all he gives for a greeting. Trying to keep his words short and concise. He doesn’t want to wake her, still under the lull she draws him into without trying. 
He keeps his work and his personal life separate with no intention of ever melding the two. 
“Laswell’s got intel. We meet in 2 days, back on base at 06:00.”
He is about to respond, both an acknowledgment and a hopeful end to the conversation, when she stretches next to him with a groan of protest at being awoken so early. 
“Tell your other girlfriend I said hi,” she grumbles, already knowing it’s Price on the phone and that the clock is officially counting down on the time they have left together. 
“You know at a certain point I'm going to just decide you’ve got a whole secret life with a wife and kids and a picket fence.”
He doesn’t want his work to ever follow him home. Not to her. He keeps them strictly separate. She knows he’s military- specifically SAS- and that he works in counter terrorism and that’s about all he’s willing to tell. She doesn’t need to know details. And more importantly the details don’t ever need to know about her. 
His past missions have haunted him in the worst way possible. He’s finally rebuilt something for himself as the ghost of a dead man, and doesn’t want anything to ever tarnish what he’s found. 
He can’t entirely blame her. It takes a leap of faith to accept the little he offers her. What does he have? A dead man’s name and most likely a violent end waiting for him. 
Eventually he does offer a small peace offering. Price is enough to settle the concerns that she hides as jokes. Provides enough credibility that she can let go of the concern that he’s living a double life.
Well, he is. But not the kind that nags at her. 
Price knows her; Gaz and Soap know that he’s got someone waiting for him at home, but Simon is already at his limit of how much intermingling he can handle. They’re both compromising, both making allowances for their comfort levels for the sake of the other. But he has to draw the line somewhere. 
If Simon had his way Gaz and Soap would be none the wiser, but a night of frantic coupling before he’d left had Simon bearing marks that are incredibly obvious in the changing room. 
“Steamin’ Jesus L.T.! You get jumped by a wildcat?” The chortle from the Scot makes it obvious that Johnny is yet again not afraid to push Simon’s buttons. 
There’s no denying what they are, nor how he got them. Neither Soap nor Gaz are stupid. 
Long, red scratch marks criss cross the broad expanse of his scarred back. He certainly hadn’t complained when his lovely girl had left her mark on him- those nails dragging across his skin had only encouraged him as his hips clapped wetly against hers, hands gripping her knees as he pressed them to her shoulders.
Most nights he is soft and gentle and strokes her skin while his lips press either in her hair or the soft expanse of her neck. He doesn’t roughhouse her tonight, but the knowledge he’ll be gone for weeks and tonight is their last together for the foreseeable future?
Well, the pair of them are a bit amped about the impending separation. It’s a good thing neither of them are particularly known for their good sleeping habits, because there’s not a lot of that usually happening on the nights before Simon leaves. 
Leaving without waking her up is an impossible task but he tries anyway.
Whereas Simon finds sleep difficult to achieve and eventually sleeps like the dead once he finds it, she drifts readily enough but will wake at the drop of a hat.
Usually she’ll settle soon after. Eyes following his form in the dark, waiting expectantly for him to come back after he dresses to kiss her goodbye. 
They carve out a routine for themselves. One for when Simon is home, and one for when he’s preparing to walk out the door until eventually coming back through it.
His therapist is equal parts shocked and pleased to hear that Simon is taking the leap and opening himself up emotionally to someone. 
His therapist is less pleased about the way he simply buries himself in her life when he’s on leave.
Simon is nothing- has nothing- when he is not acting in the line of duty. He is a dead man with nothing to his name and no one who gives a fuck if he ever walks back through the door that isn’t tied to his military career. 
He thrives on the stability and schedule on base. On the simplicity of nights spent out on the field. Wake up, piss, dont die, go to sleep. Wake up, repeat. 
Some days the only thing keeping him from trying to end it all (again, he bitterly acknowledges) when he’s gotten too far into a bottle of bourbon is his therapist and the thought of his team’s face at the news. 
Until, at least, he meets her. 
The mission is brief but successful. Simon is pleased. 
The deepest of the scratch marks has just finished healing and he’s already missing the sensation of her nails dragging against his skin- and he’s not picky about the context, either. 
There have been plenty of nights he’s fallen asleep with his face buried in her chest with one of her hands scratching gently at his scalp and the other tracing in broad strokes across his back.
Of course those nails also feel divine scratching at his abdomen while she is on her knees for him.
There’s a process he goes through when he gets home. It lets him shed the mantle of Ghost- to calm down as much as he’s able and be better equipped to deal with civilian life. Helps him give her the illusion that she is with a normal man who’s not holding onto himself with a death grip, desperately trying to keep the pieces together.
He feels fine when he leaves base and heads home. Everything is normal. 
Until he turns the corner and sees the door ajar.
Fear runs ice cold in his veins, hackles raised and on guard. 
I’m just being paranoid, he tries to self soothe as he steps towards the door. She tells me all the time.
Course, it was one thing when he gripes about how she answers the door without looking to see who it is. She doesn’t leave the fucking door open.
“Wish you’d at least look at the peep hole before just opening the bloody door,” he grouses into her hair, pulling her in so she’s tucked up to his side. 
“If I’m expecting someone to come at 3 and there’s a knock at 3, I already know who it is, Si.”
There are times when he is grateful that she has, by comparison, lived a life where she thinks he is paranoid and needlessly worries. She hasn’t had the experiences he has, and he doesn’t wish that upon her. He’s grateful with the knowledge that every time he’s sent out, thus far, that she’s been tucked away safe and sound until he returns. 
But of course the other shoe was always going to drop eventually. 
“Price?” Simon doesn’t know who else to call. 
He’s standing in the middle of his flat, evidence of an altercation scattered around the living room. 
She put up a fight if the state of the flat is anything to go by. He wants to be proud of that at least, use it as hope-
He just feels hollow. 
A group the 141 has dealt with prior are the ones all the signs point to. They wanted the team’s attention and by God they fucking got it. 
Simon doesn’t understand how they found she has any ties to him. He’s so careful- keeps her tucked away and hidden from any potential cross over with his work.
The next few days are a blur and Simon’s mental health has seen better days. 
He resigns himself, even when Laswell gets a hit and the 141 are loaded into a helo, to the fact that at best this will be a body retrieval mission. 
Even as Soap gives a reassuring knock into his shoulder- we’ll get her back, LT- as confident as ever. 
His sweet girl is dead, just like every other person Simon has ever cared about. 
He doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve losing them all. The only ones he has left are his team, and that’s a tenuous state at best. His family was good. They were normal people with normal lives. She is good and a normal person. 
Her only sin is being foolish enough to love him. 
Some time between getting on the bird and offloading, Simon forces the thoughts in a corner and blocks them off. 
Simon, the terrified boyfriend, gives way to Ghost so he can get through this in one piece. He just wants to find her, bring her home and bury her body. He’s numb to anything beyond the scope of the plan he’s formed in his mind. 
It’s laughably easy. A fringe group the 141 has had altercations with- she’s not exactly a high profile prisoner. They just wanted to fuck with Simon.
There’s no satisfaction or vindication as they clear the building floor by floor. 
He feels nothing.
The further they venture into the building with no sign of her, the pit in his stomach sinks just as far. There’s no sign of anything concrete or anywhere they’d keep a prisoner. 
And then there, in a corner of a hallway, Ghost spots it-
An acrylic nail lying broken on the ground, dried blood clotted on the tips. 
For the first time in days, Simon feels something. 
It’s not hope. He doesn’t dare hope. 
But it’s confirmation that she has, at some point, been in the building. 
It’s also confirmation that she gave it a fighting chance. 
She’s a civilian- nothing much she can do against professional criminals. But she tried and Simon has to find something in that.
They split into pairs down a hallway clearing rooms. Every door that opens only to not have her in it is like a knife that keeps twisting in his abdomen. 
Just let him have this one thing. 
It’s just as Ghost and Soap have called out clear on another room that he hears Price’s voice call to him down the hall. 
There’s only one reason Price would be calling for him specifically.
As he approaches he can hear the captain again, softer this time. Can’t make out what he’s saying but everything feels slow; like he’s moving under water. 
As his mind prepares him for every horrific potential image waiting for him beyond the threshold of the door- there’s nothing that prepares him for what he sees. 
She’s alive. 
Wide eyed and panicked, which is to be expected all things considered, but she’s here and she’s breathing.
Simon forgets himself entirely. He swings wildly from feeling nothing to feeling everything and it bubbles up all at once as he barrels towards her. 
He forgets that while she knows Simon is SAS she knows nothing of Ghost. Simon works in counter terrorism, yes, but she knows nothing about the mask.
So after being kidnapped and going through God-knows-what in her absence, she’s got no fucking clue the 6’4 fucker with the skull mask gunning for her is her boyfriend. 
The sharp, croaked “Stay the fuck away from me!” doesn’t cut but it does jog his memory enough to know she’s absolutely terrified.
Again there’s that part of him that is proud of her. After everything she’s been through even if she wouldn’t stand a chance in an actual altercation- She’s not huddled in the corner. She looks willing to fight him, until Simon rips the mask off his face. “It’s me, love! It’s me.”
“Simon? What the fuck is that?!”
Rather than scrambling to get away she turns to launch herself at him, a tangle of limbs as they cling to each other and reassure themselves that yes this is real and yes the other is there. That this fucking nightmare is over.
Simon buries his nose in her hair- was so certain he’d be bringing her home in a body bag he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. She’s shaking in his grip, sobs ripping through her as he shushes her gently and murmurs “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you now.”
“As much as I love a good reunion- we need to get going, Ghost.” Price is ever the voice of reason, because Simon’s head is not in the game right now. 
He wants to cling to her and never let her go- he needs to pull his head out of his ass. 
Price isn’t wrong. As much as he has to fight off the impulse to tuck her against his side and keep her there, they have shit to do. 
He won’t truly be able to relax until she’s safely stowed on the helo and they’re on their way back.
It’s a bit easier once he puts the mask on. His brain is trained to focus on work and not let his personal life muddy the waters. Where Simon can’t help but falter, Ghost is dauntless. 
Simon can barely string a thought together now that he has her back in his arms. Simon still cannot believe she’s alive and breathing even after touching, smelling and hearing her. 
But Ghost can focus on getting her to the helo. 
Everything is a blur as Price and Gaz lead with Soap bringing up the rear. 
Ghost can’t quite decide where he wants her- keeps alternating between keeping her behind him in the event they get blindsided, that he’ll take any hits that go past Price or Gaz, or getting her in front of him so he can keep an eye on her, and there’s two SAS soldiers in front of her and two behind.
The hostiles in the building wanted the 141’s attention. Mission fucking accomplished.
The ones they chance across are dropped with ease. Simon is no stranger to returning to a location and making his point. Right now he’s got bigger concerns to be worried about. 
A knot of anxiety lodges itself on his ribcage as they move through the building that doesn’t unwind until he’s got her strapped to her seat in the helo. 
For the first time in days he can breathe. The knot slowly untangles as they ascend.
It finally settles in for both of them that she is out and she is safe. She’s been quiet the whole trek to the helo but Price, Soap, and Gaz have been on enough hostage recovery missions to not be caught off guard as she bursts into tears and buries her face in Ghost’s vest. 
It’s finally safe for her to do so, the adrenaline wearing off as she sobs. 
For the most part the other three men try to avert their eyes and not intrude.
Simon’s always been reserved about his life off base and watching him soothe his partner is bordering too personal for the others to witness.
It comes and goes in waves; Simon will settle her down, crooning quietly in her ear too low for the others to hear. She’ll stifle her tears for a bit as he soothes her. They go straight to medical after landing to have her looked at. She starts up again while waiting for the nurse to come back, trying to apologize to Simon through choked sobs. 
He won’t hear it, softly but firmly brushing her apologies to the side and assuring her everything’s fine now, love. No need to apologize.
He feels physically ill when the nurse delicately asks if she needs a rape kit or screenings done.
The rest of the 141 gives them a wide berth- which is a marked accomplishment because all too often Soap and Gaz are trailing behind him and finding some sort of shenanigans to get up to. Simon is perfectly content with the arrangement. He wants to focus his attention on her and that’s easier to do without the sergeants under foot.
His room on base is much like his entire apartment was before she moved in.
It’s 3am, Simon needs to take a piss and as he’s doing so, he’s not-quite eye level with a sign that says
“★★★★★ -
Would poop here again”
He’s got no idea when or where she found that, let alone put it up, but rolls his eyes good naturedly as he tucks himself away.
Normal people have bathroom decor.
Simon can appreciate a bit or a joke as much as the next person- but while this space is his it’s not something he’s ever felt the need to decorate. It’s a bed for him to crash on in between missions or if he’s too bloody exhausted to safely make the trek home.
There’s only one piece of any sort of personal touch to the room- a framed photo of her.
Simon intends to see her through the next few days- they’ll head home in the morning and realistically there’s only so long John can hold off on calling the boys in again. But the captain says he’ll do what he can to keep Simon home while they settle back in. He’s been due for some leave anyway.
He doesn’t sleep the first night. She swings drastically between being knocked out and jolting awake screaming and crying. Even once she’s gotten over the initial shock of her rescue it still takes time for her nervous system to calm down.
“I’ve got you, love- you’re safe here” he murmurs into her ear as she trembles like a leaf. “We’ll be home soon, yeah? You’ll feel better once you’re in our bed.”
The question is twofold- it is to soothe her, and also to gauge her reaction to the prospect of going home. Simon won’t hesitate to set the flat ablaze if it makes her feel better. 
Start fresh.
For now she seems to sleep better if he’s got her pinned up against the wall- the bulk of him a physical barrier to anything that might enter the room.
He’s always slept between her and the door so that’s no hardship- it just takes time to realize she feels safer trapped between him and the wall.
They make it through the first night in one piece, although the next morning she will not stop chewing on her nails. With someone else, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised- but she’s never been a nail biter.
It dawns on him, as she sits on the couch and bursts into tears, that she wants the nails (or at least the ones that survived the ordeal) off, and is winding herself up too much to take them off the way she knows she should.
Simon goes to her office; he’s watched her enough that he knows the steps and the materials she’ll need, gathering them up before coaxing her to the table.
There’s no interest in redoing them but Simon manages to get the current sets off of her so she doesn’t damage her nail beds- assuming she stops chewing on them (which she does).
Over the next few days he lets her set the pace. She’s jumpy at home and calmer when he takes her out to run errands or just to stretch their legs. 
Maybe he will propose moving sooner rather than later. Their building is a shithole anyway.
He puts her in therapy after a week. It’s the only time he’s away from her. Realistically he knows it’s not good to have her so used to always being within arms length or eyesight of him- it’s not sustainable when eventually he will be called back in. But he has no qualms for the coddling he subjects her to while he’s able to. She’s quiet and comfortable with his hovering in a way she’d never tolerate before she was abducted- he figures he’ll know when she’s feeling a bit like herself again when she starts complaining about him not giving her any space.
Knowing she’s got the therapist gives him some security on how she’ll mentally cope when eventually he needs to leave again.
Her bursting into tears occurs less frequently. If Simon has to pry himself away from her to take a piss in the middle of the night she’s not up, back ramrod straight and waiting for him to come back with wet, teary eyes.
As the days tick on, bleeding into months later, Simon idly acknowledges that-short of when he’s on deployment- this is the longest they’ve gone without having sex. There’s nothing else that goes with that acknowledgement- he’s far more concerned with her well being than he is getting his kicks. He’s just taking stock of all their ‘normals’ and prior to her abduction they’d had quite the active sex life.
It’s one day as they’re watching a movie that it’s apparent Simon isn’t the only one aware of their dry spell.
They’re laying on the couch, her back pressed against his front with one of his heavy arms draped across her rib cage to keep her snuggled up against him as they watch the screen in front.
At first he thinks that she’s repositioning- thinks nothing of it and lifts his arm just enough to allow her the freedom to wiggle to a more comfortable spot. She keeps wiggling though and Simon is trying to keep his mind off the sensation of her arse grinding into his groin. Trying to ignore the way his dick twitches in interest, because- God help him- he's not dead and the love of his life is grinding her arse on him. Bodies are going to do what bodies do, and he can feel himself stiffening in response.
“Sweetheart, you need to sit still,” he whispers the plea into her ear. 
Her head tilts back towards him and lust jolts through his body at the look in her eyes while she still continues to grind against him.
“I miss you, Simon,” and given how he is rarely further than grabbing distance from her, there’s very few other ways to interpret what exactly it is that she is missing.
He’s a goner when she gives him that wide, doe eyed expression paired with the prettiest “Please?” he’s ever heard in his life.
One moment they’re quiet and content laying on their sides on the couch- the next Simon’s gripping her arm and pulling her on top of him as he settles onto his back. She follows his lead and moves so her weight is settled on his hips as his hands grip hers.
It is no hardship on his end to wait for her- the patience never truly even registered in his brain. She can have as much time as she needs and Simon will give it to her gladly.
But his pretty girl batting her eyes at him and pleading softly for him? His patience isn’t the only thing he’s willing to give her.
“Are you sure?” He doesn’t mean to second guess her or make her question herself but he does want to make sure that she’s not acting on obligation.
“Yes, Simon- Please,” and who is he to deny her?
His hands are on her immediately- pulling her towards him and encouraging her to grind, knowing her sweet clit will light up at the friction of her soft panties dragging across the rough material of his jeans.
His lips find hers, separating only briefly as he hauls her dress up and over her head, happily discarding the material in a heap on the floor.
His hands grip her hips, Simon relaxing into the couch while his fingers dug into the pillow soft skin perching above him. He’s straining against the fabric of his jeans- knows the tip of his erection is leaking clear pre and it’s not just going to be her being the reason the fabric has a wet spot.
The couch is certainly not the worst place to be, his beautiful girlfriend’s tits in his face as she grinds down in his lap with little hitching breaths.
“Just like that, pretty,” he encourages, kissing down her jawbone, the length of her neck and across her collar bone before happily mouthing at her breasts which are blessedly right in his face.
Simon groans in pleasure as he teases one nipple, her sweet mewls and the grip on his hair only spurring him on.
Grabbing a handful of her plush arse, he groans in anticipation while switching from one breast to the other.
It’s been a fair while since his back has been shredded by her nails and he can’t wait to feel the bite of them dragging down the length of his spine.
“Lift up, sweetheart,” he instructs, somewhat loath to release her plump bottom but eager to get her dripping for him.
She pulls up enough for him to slip one hand between her legs. Exploring fingers are quick to spread her wetness, dipping between her folds and dragging back up to circle her clit softly.
“Fuck- Simon!” she whines in his ear.
He knows enough by now what makes her tick. Once she’s all warmed up and ready to roll, that sweet cunt of hers could take a thrashing. But warming up involves feather-light touches to get her squirming and squealing for him.
“Feels good, pretty?” he asks despite knowing the answer in the way her arms wrap around his neck and she sags against him, hips twitching as she lets him tease her.
“Ye-yeah,” she murmurs, and presses her lips against his neck as he takes another pass- finger pulling away from her clit just to draw shivers from her as he traces back down her folds and presses ever so lightly against the entrance on her- just to the first knuckle- and making his way back to tease her clit.
Each pass has her rocking her hips more as he slips more of his finger inside, eventually adding a second that has her mewling and squirming in his lap.
He’s going to have one hell of a hickey from how she’s sucking on his neck, but Simon can’t bring himself to care. Not when his ears are graced with the delightful little noises she makes- whimpers of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her, the shaky inhales as he circles her clit and the trembling moan when he once again slides his fingers inside of her to give a few pointed strokes to her g-spot just to get her shivering and blinking up at him with lust-blown eyes.
“Fuck you’re wet,” there’s absolutely zero resistance now, even when he slides a third finger inside her. 
“Please,” she mewls into his skin, hips rocking in time with the thrust of his fingers into her.
“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.” He’s always found her an absolute delight to tease- she gets so flustered and stares at him with that doe eyed, betrayed look- how dare he make her ask for anything when it’s obvious what she wants.
“Please let me cum,” she pants as her eyes screw up in pleasure while his fingers trace and circle her clit for several passes.
“You wanna cum, love?” His tone is just a bit too soft to be a mocking tease despite the way she glares at him. Spoiled little thing so easily sliding back into her old habits.
“I’m going to bite you,” she grumbles in bemused annoyance, brows furrowing as she tries to follow his hand while teasing her.
He doesn’t doubt his little viper for a second, mollifying her displeasure with three fingers digging for that spot that makes her see stars.
“Oh~,” she mewls against him as he stokes the fires of her orgasm with a vengeance. He doesn’t stop, angling his hand so his thumb can stroke against her clit and enjoying the way she trembles against him like a leaf caught in a windstorm.
“That the spot, hm? Right there, innit?” He rumbles low in her ear, a satisfied smirk on his face as she nods in a big sweeping motion against his neck. “Come on, pretty. You wanna cum so badly? Do it.” he baits.
Mission accomplished.
Fuck he’ll remember the vision of her crying and cumming and trembling in his hold, soaking his forearm and abdomen as she squirts, for the rest of his days. His free hand runs soothingly down her back for a few passes before pulling both hands away from her.
She’s immediately whining against him, upset at having his touch taken away. “Simon, please-”
He shushes her with a kiss to her temple, “I know what you need, sweetheart,” he murmurs while deftly undoing his pants and freeing his cock.
It only takes a few strokes, already straining and ready to perform, before they’re shuffling as he pulls and maneuvers her so she’s hovering above him and Oh fuck has Simon missed this as she sinks down on him.
It always takes a couple attempts- he’s not a small man, and doesn’t want to risk injury. Not to mention there’s just something fucking delicious about only giving her a few inches, pulling back and feeding her just a few more. Slow, short, steady thrusts that get deeper bit by bit, having Simon ready to melt into the couch at the bliss of being buried in her by the time she sinks all of her weight onto him, her groin pressing against his.
She’s so fucking warm and wet, clinging to him as she shuffles to get good leverage on top of him to bounce.
Bloody fucking hell does she feel good. “That’s it, pretty. Take it all,” he encourages her while she whimpers above him- if he angles himself just right he can grind her clit against him in a way that has her sucking down air and shivering.
She’s so good for him but he knows there’s only so long she can bounce in his lap- even resting on one knee on the couch and her other foot on the floor so she can shift her weight and give leg a break every now and then, Simon throwing his head back and groaning loudly.
It’s one of the only times he’s particularly verbose- Usually content to be silent and broody unless he has a specific question in mind, the bedroom (or in this case the living room) is the one place where he is a chatterbox. The mouth on him is surreal at times, and while one would think his sweet girl would be use to the filth every now and then he’ll catch her off guard with some particularly out of pocket comment.
For now though, he’s a bit reserved- doesn’t want to go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.
No, for now his attention is focused on the goddess bouncing on his cock, wondering if he can get her to squirt a second time if he just- he shifts underneath her, changing the angle and fucking hell does that seem to do the trick for her. Swiping one of his thumbs across his tongue before pressing it to her clit and circling again, Simon can’t help the smug look on his face when she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts up into her. From how those pretty thighs are trembling, her legs are about to give out as he fucks into her. 
“Simon!” She’s yelping his name with glassy eyes and a clenching cunt “Fuck- Simon! Please-”
She doesn’t have the energy to get herself back up again- poor thing, her thighs must be burning, and he can’t help but be a cocky fuck about the fact that she loves riding his dick to the point that she physically can’t keep going.
“On your back, sweetheart,” he instructs with a light swat to her ass- appreciating the way her body jiggles at the impact.
His sweet girl has done so well and worked so hard, it’s only right that he rewards her. Once she’s on her back he grips her under her knees and folds her legs back- gives himself room between those gorgeous thighs.
“Fuck, baby- please don’t stop,” she pants underneath him, back arching in pleasure as his mouth drops to her breasts again. Her arms wrap loosely around his neck, and he twitches in anticipation at the feel of her nails tracing ever so lightly against his back.
“Not gonna stop, pretty girl.” he groans against her skin, alternating between which nipple he has between his teeth.
Fuck she’s clenching down on him like a vice. He knows she’s getting close; squirming in his grip, keeping her legs nice and spread for him. The feel of her nails reaching down his back and dragging up his spine pulls a groan that would be embarrassing if Simon could find it within himself to care in the slightest. The slight pain encourages him as he cants against her.
“Simon!” The sound of his hips knocking into the back of her thighs is loud and messy. Fuck he’s such a goner when she looks up at him with that sweet expression on her face- pure adoration and wonder in her eyes.
“Just like that, sweetheart. Fucking hell, love,” he grunts out, a second wind reinvigorating him when she starts shaking. Those plush thighs shaking in his hold as he knocks the sense out of her pretty head, he’s so fucking close he can taste it but is determined to get her across the finish line first.
“Such a good fucking girl,” he purrs in her ear, “You feel fucking perfect taking my cock. This wet cunt’s all mine, innit?”
All she can do is chant “Yes! Yes! Yes!” over and over again- Simon’s not sure if even she is certain if she’s repeating the word to answer him, or if she’s just babbling because he’s making her feel good and she’s getting close.
“You gonna cum again love? Gonna soak me, hm?” He’s just running his mouth now- knows the shit she likes to hear, reaffirmed by the way she’s shivering in his hold and crying for it with a glassy eyed gaze.
Whatever she is going to respond with is cut off with a squeal. Simon rears back, enjoying the show as she makes a mess all over his cock with her eyes rolled back. He lets go of one of her legs in favor of teasing her clit just shy of overstimulation to prolong her orgasm- she lets him for a time before her hands abandon shredding his back in favor of wrapping around his wrist in a plea for mercy. 
“Simon it’s too much,” she laments with teary eyes as he pulls his hand away with a chuckle and a chaste kiss. 
He stays curled over her, hips driving into hers. “Tell me where you want it,” he instructs.
“Inside! Please, I want it inside!” Her answer is sharp and immediate, the leg not pinned to her chest wrapping around his waist like she is daring him to even try to pull out.
And fuck there is something cathartic about his orgasm when it hits. Burying his face in her soft body while his hips snapped into hers a few times, Simon groans as his vision damn near whites out for a second.
Simon knows better than most that there’s good days and bad days- and a presumed good day can become a bad day quicker than one can blink. But overall he feels like consistently she’s doing better all around. They take their time calming down, Simon showering her in attention and getting a feel for where her head is at. Praising her for how well she did and making sure she feels stable.
He lets out a breath, feeling confident that she’s settled, having a good day, and everything is fine for now. 
And it is. Until about two hours later.
One moment they’re finishing the movie they’d initially started before the impromptu romp on the couch, and then Simon has a 3 second warning of her sniffling as she obviously tries to fight back the tears and then she’s sobbing harder than she has in weeks.
Simon goes from content to concerned in a second, his blood turning to ice in his veins. His immediate assumption is that their prior activities finally caught up with her mentally and now that she’s had time to think it over it wasn’t good. It was too fucking soon to have sex. He should have told her no, should have been gentler, should have-
“Sweetheart? Talk to me,” his voice is tinged with a thinly controlled concern (not panic he convinces himself) and while he means to comfort her, she can hear his tone and that just sets her off anew.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she blubbers, turning to face him. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”
That settles Simon’s nerves somewhat, stroking her back and pulling her close to comfort her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” he soothes her, listening to her sniffle against his shirt after shoving her into the crook of his neck.
“I just want to feel normal again,” she sobs into his collar.
“You will, love,” he assures her- never mind that ‘normal’ is something that even he struggles with on a near daily basis. “It’ll take time but you’ll get there. I promise.”
He’s a bastard for making a promise to her that he can’t guarantee to keep. There’s a part of him that knows that- hell, he’s been working on his shit for years and he still doesn’t feel normal most days.
But while he can’t promise that she’ll ever get back to feeling exactly the same as she did before all of this happened, he can promise that he’ll be by her side and ensure she’s adjusting. It will take time, and work, but Simon will make sure she gets there one step at a time.
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paristheonewhoreads · 2 months
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Cowboy and the Tigress
Chapter three 🌷☁️ 4.9k words
Warnings: torture. Heavy mentions of blood, and cutting. Physical pain is inflicted on character. A bit of a whirlwind or emotions. If I’m missing any tw please let me know. <3
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Spring 2023, Central Boston QZ
It’s staring to get warmer. Either that or you’re just too hot. The trip down to central Boston took two days and one night. Hank was right, whole place is crawling with FEDRA soldiers. Apparently, the reason for this was the fact that rations had been lower than they’d been in years and they needed to reinforce their man power just in case people start to riot. That and the fact the fireflies had started to make quite the spectacle themselves. And it’s been far from just a pretty light show.
Arriving to the apartment you’ve got down here isn’t at all pleasant. It does however, conveniently happen to be close to the underground tunnels. You’ve started asking around for more information on Robert, apparently you’re not the only one the fuckers been nagging.
Setting down your bag on the old bed you’ve got, you start to look around the apartment. You’ve stashed quite the bit of goods all over this place. A hole behind the swan painting in the living room. That has a whole box full of ration cards, along with some fake documentation of your identification cards.
Another in the loose boards of the ceiling above the toilet, and two more under the floorboards. One in the bedroom closet and the other under the couch. All of which containing even more ration cards, all collected through the years, along with a couple of small hand guns and ammunition.
Once you check and confirm that everything is where it should be, you decide to take a much needed shower. You reek of blood from infected you’d had to kill on your way here, alongside dirt and sweat that’s accumulated on your body. This part of Boston, unlike the other you’ve made a home of, doesn’t have the peasantry of hot water, or much if any electricity.
You step into the cold water, your body tensing at first but inevitably adjusting to it and relatively relaxing itself into its harsh fridgedness. You let it run down your back and soak your hair, then begin to wash away all the filth. At first the water that goes down the drain is absolutely disgusting. A terrible color of swamp water is the best you can describe it.
Eventually however, once the water is just as clear as when coming out of the shower head, and your hair has been washed twice and conditioned, body free of any grime, do you finally turn the valve off and step out.
The cold draft in the otherwise empty apartment doesn’t help warm you up with the fresh cold water still beading down your skin. Yanking your towel off the hook on the door you wrap yourself up.
Taking a look in the mirror, you see yourself for the first time in what must be weeks. You look paler than usual, probably due to the winter. Your cheeks still hold their fullness. Curious, you let the towel fall from your form.
It’s been forever since you’ve looked at your body. You do a lot to keep it fit although not necessarily purposefully. All the walking, running, sometimes even climbing and swimming do you a favor in keeping a pleasurable figure. Sometimes you don’t feel as feminine as you would like, but in a world like this, with the line of work you’re in, that’s the least of your worries.
You brush your hair and lotion yourself up, finally settling in as you dress in some clean comfortable clothes. One of Hanks old hoodies and a pair of old shorts you’ve had for ages. Sitting yourself on old worn out couch, you gaze at nothing in particular.
You miss Ellie. Thinking back to how sad she sounded when you’d said your goodbyes before leaving, tugged at your heart strings. It feels selfish, and perhaps you were, for even coming on this trip. All because of the fact that you wanted to show this asshole who the fuck he was messing with.
You’d make it up to her, you decide. You’ll get her the book she wanted and maybe a couple other trinkets you can find. Bring a hand up to your neck you feel your locket. It had belonged to your mother once. You’d taken it from her as she lay dead in the floor of your living room as something to remember her by. That was a long time ago.
Now, in present time, it holds a picture of Ellie and yourself. It’s a fond memory frozen in time by the photograph. You remember it to the ‘T’. It’d been the first christmas after a year of getting into the business your so indulged in now. You’d worked your ass off for a year and it had paid off.
You were able to get Ellie actual presents for the first time. She was 10 at the time, she’d been so ecstatic when she saw an actual tree with lights on it and presents all wrapped up under it. The sound of her laughter and excitement fills your ears as you reminisce.
Smiling at the photo inside the small locket you start to drift into sleep. A much needed rest after your journey here, and for what’s to come.
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You’re awoken by knocking at the door. The sun was setting, practically gone behind the horizon. Sky becoming dark and cold without its warmth. You get up from the couch, grabbing the hand gun on the small side table besides you. Second nature at this point really.
Walking towards the door you peer through the peephole and see that it’s Amy. A dear friend, Hank must’ve let her know you’d be coming. You hurriedly open the door, smile wide and bright on your face.
Once the door opens and she sees you she too smiles brightly at you. “Hello you.” She says in a terrible British accent. It’d become your own little greeting between the two of you. Putting the gun in the waistband of your shorts you open your arms and embrace her. “Hello you.” You say back in a just as terrible British accent.
She giggles at your impression, and tightens her arms around you. Both of you stay in this embrace for about a minute until you break away, taking her in you feel relieved that she seems healthy.
“Here, come in.” You tell her and she walked past you into the living room as you look down the hallway, double checking to see if anyone else is around, before going back inside yourself.
“Well I see you’ve settled in. I was supposed to stop by earlier but I thought you’d probably just want to settle in by yourself.” She chatters, taking a seat on couch you’d just been napping on prior. You hadn’t noticed she’d had a plastic bag with her until she starts to take tupperware out and places it on the coffee table. “I also thought that maybe you’d be hungry. It’s quite the trip from all the way over there to here.”
“Lucky for you I am actually starving.” You laugh softly. Walking into the kitchen real quick you get both of you plates and some glasses along with a bottle of old wine you’d had stored away god knows how long ago. Trailing back into the living room you see her starting to open the containers.
“How’d you even know I was here?” You ask, while sitting down beside her and passing her her plate and glass. “Hank gave me a heads up last night that’d you’d be here, and I obviously wasn’t about to pass the opportunity of seeing you up.” She shrugged. You hum in acknowledgment and open the bottle of wine, pouring her a glass and yourself one.
Taking a sip from her glass, “God that’s good, haven’t had wine in who knows how long.” She jokes, and begins to serve you a plate and then herself. “This smells so good, when did you make this?” you’ve stuffed some of the baked potatoes she’s made along with some chicken and veggies.
“About an hour ago, that’s why I was late.” She says sheepishly, but you shake your head and continue to chew “mmm don’t be sorry, this is apology enough.” You say through a full mouth while pointing at your plate with your fork.
You both talk and catch up on what is is you’ve been up too. She tells you how she’s met a girl, and that they’ve been dating for about 10 months. “She’s so sweet and caring. At first I was nervous, she’s the first girl I’ve been with so, it’s all kind of new in a way. But refreshing for sure.” You’re happy for her, and tell her about how your still as single as ever. She jokes that it’ll take either another apocalypse for you to find someone or that you’ll probably end up like Hank, old and with absolutely no love life.
She asked about Ellie, to which you inform her of how she’s back home, probably giving Hank a run for his money, poor thing. The good, and the bad. Both of you talk about everything and nothing at the same time. Well into the hours of the night. Once both of your bellies are full and your empty plates are left abandoned on the table, you begin to get into serious conversation.
“So,” she begins, “Hank told me you’re here because some dickhead has been taking from trades?” Quirking a brow and taking a sip of her wine. You hum and let out an exasperated sigh, “yeah, son of a bitch has been crossing me for a couple months now. Had to come down here to deal with it.” You shrug
Amy nods in understanding “well if there’s anyone who knows what he’s in for it’s anybody but him. God knows people on your bad side don’t tend to have the best time.” She laughs. “Or the longest time either” you add, laughing yourself.
She makes a noise once she remembers something, and starts digging trough her bag again and pulls out a file, you sit up at this. “Hank told me to give this too you, said it have pretty much everything you need to know about your guy.” Handing it over to you you grab it and open it up to look through it.
As you’re reading, it has everything there is to know about him. His age, who he associates with, who he’s been seen talking to within this past week. The trades he’s been making on his own accord, and the amount of supplies he’s been taking from yours. It’s mostly been pills, and a couple crates of guns and ammunition.
Amy looks over your shoulder and rests her head on it. She sees the photo of Robert and picked it up from the file. “This him?” She asks, you nods you head. Humming, “He’s kind of cute. Maybe you can enemies to lovers your way with him.” She jokes.
You face become one of pure and utter revulsion “There is actually no way you just said that.” you deadpan. She lets out a giggle before looking at the photo again. Shrugging, “Eh, your right, his eyes are too far apart.” she notices, before tossing the photo back onto the pile of papers in the file.
She stands up from the couch “Well, it's getting late, I'll leave you too it.”. You look up from the paperwork and quickly close the file, getting up aswell and following her as she walks toward the door. “Thank you for coming over, and for feeding me.” you smile and hug her and she returns the gesture.
“Of course, anytime. Make sure to save the left overs for tomorrow so you can at least have breakfast.” you nod and open the door for her. “I will,” you smile “and be careful, try to get home quickly.” There's a final hug between the two of you, before she's walking down the hall, you wait until she's out of sight before turning back into the apartment and locking up.
You walk back to the living room and sit back down. The file says that Robert will be at a warehouse in two days. That's where you'll find him. Two days. You could work with that. More time for you to find Ellie’s books and other things. After storing the food back into the tupperware and putting the dishes in the sink you go back to bed. Two days. You’d wait till then.
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During said days, you do indeed end up getting Ellie a spiderman comic, along with some space pins so she could add to her backpack that you think she’ll like. Once it’s about 11am you head out with a group of men to where Robert is hiding. Hank had set it up to where their only job was to get you to Robert and you’d take care of the rest.
After making sure to avoid FEDRA within the city you take a route to the outside where you make your way to the warehouse. This place is riddled with men. Men that don’t know they’re getting paid nothing to risk their lives for this prick.
On the top floor of a building not too far away you stand with the group of men that have come along. It’s only four of them plus yourself. “My guy says that Robert is in the very back of this quadrant.” You explain as they all get ready to head out. “That means we’re going to have to make our way across the yard. Try to refrain from shooting. Last thing I need is letting this guy know we’re coming. Everyone and anyone that gets in your way is to be terminated. You guys get me to Robert and I will make sure you all receive twice the amount of what we agreed on. We clear?” a chorus of ‘yes ma’am’s’ go around and you nod once before you’re making your way out.
As you all make your way building by building, room by room, you eventually make it to an office. It’s empty, but by the documents scattered on tables along with a useless car battery and an ashtray you know this is his office. You decide to wait until his return. Making sure there’s two men posted by the door to tackle him once the bastard steps in. The other two stay by the desk while you sit in his desk chair and make yourself comfortable.
You’re mindlessly reading through some documents until rapid footsteps reach the door. You send a look towards the man by the door as you sit up and he nods. As soon as the door bursts open Robert comes stumbling in until he’s landed face first onto the floor.
Your men by the door yank him up by his arms as he thrashes against them. “Who the fuck do you- let me go! You Fuck faces have any idea who you’re-“ he goes dead still once he meets your gaze. “Oh shit.” you hear him mutter to himself.
“Hey-tiy-I’m ma’am I- what-“ he stuttered “That name,” you get up from his chair and make your way to where they’re holding him. You not to one of them, and they kick the back of his knees so that he’s kneeling. “are for those whom I trust. You are no man I trust.” You say calmly. You were never one to immediately shout or scream when making a point. You’ve found over the years that this tends to unnerve people much more.
“I’ve heard you’ve been making quite the deals here recently.” You say, looking around the room. You smile “It’s quite the place you’ve got here.”
“Tiy-“ he starts, but you’re quick to reprimand him. “DONT” your voice thunders through the doom accompanied by a loud crack of skin to skin. The back of your hand stings, but you can only imagine what his cheek must feel like.
You’ve busted his lip, you notice. As blood begins to dribble from the open cut. He looks at you with a pure furry. You take a breath. “You know, I could have made this so much more easier. I could have just sent someone down here to kill you without having get my hands dirty,” You shake you head to yourself, “but no. I wanted to hear what excuses a dumb fuck like you could possibly come up with.” you snicker.
Before he can open his mouth you speak “tie him to the chair” is all you say. “NO! Wait ti- MA’AM hey! Please man c’mon-“ he’s cut off by one of the men growing a punch at him to which it gives them a chance to man handle him into the chair. They go at him, throwing punch after punch. Some to his face, others towards his stomach. It isn’t until he’s hunched over, blood dripping from his open mouth, and his face swollen and bruised that you finally tell them it’s enough.
“Everyone out,” you turn to the men “stay by the door. Kill anyone who gets close.” You shrug off your jacket. This going to get messy. You think to yourself.
Pulling up another chair in front of Robert you sit while snapping your fingers in front of his face. “C’mon now baby don’t go all delirious on me yet.” you fake pout. “Fun hasn’t even started yet.”
He looks up to you, eyes fuzzy. “Now, why on earth out of all the people you could’ve fucked with, did you decide I would be your best option?” you question him again once you don’t get an immediate answer “hm?” You tilt your head. No answer again.
“Christ, and here I thought you’d make this easy for yourself.” you sigh. Grabbing an extra rope you wrap it tightly around your knuckles. Before grabbing the other end and walking around him quickly, the rope constricting his air way as you tug back harder, making him gasp.
It takes everything in you not to just snap his neck and be done with it, go home, and go see your girl. But no, you want him to pay. Once he starts thrashing against the ropes holding him to the chair you let the one around his neck loosen. He gasps for air and coughs, greedily sucking in air. His face is red, even slightly purple now.
“I’m not going to ask you again.” you wait patiently. He eventually stops coughing and looks at you, “I-I didn’t think you’d notice. Look-I’m sorry okay- I- I’ll pay back everything I owe you I swear it. I-“ you click your tongue and shake your head.
“See, now if I did believe you which I don’t. It still wouldn’t matter whatever lame ultimatum you’d try and offer me. I think we both know you’re not leaving here alive rob.”
“God no- please! I swear it to you. I-I’ll pay it all back ALL OF IT! I SWEAR.”
“For fucks sake..STOP WHINING!” You yell again. This time you take the knife on your belt and slash him across his face. Blood splatters from the wound that’s open from the bottom left of his jaw all the way across to his right temple. He lets out a shout of agony. His blood landing on your clothes from the gash.
You grab a fistful of his hair and tug it back harshly. “You and me both know that your not getting out of this one Rob so why don’t you just do us both the favor of making this nice and quick.” you let go of his hair and shove his head back.
“Now, next question is really important for you to answer, okay?,” you ask “and if you don’t answer it, you lose a finger. Deal?” You take the knife and jab it into the middle of his back palm. He grunts in pain and barely nods.
“OK! Okay- fuck- I’ll tell you an-anything.” you give him a smile at that “okay, see? Good. Now, I need to know, who exactly it is you sold off my merchandise to.”
“I-I sold it to a lot of different people. I-I can’t remember everyone- I don’t know-“ he’s cut of my his own blood soaked scream as you pull out the knife from his hand as slice off not one, but two fingers.
“I didn’t like that answer. But it’s okay maybe you didn’t hear me correctly. I asked exactly who did you sell the supplies to. I want a name Rob cmon.” you chastise.
He’s full on sobbing now. Tears running down his face as he chokes on his own breath. “FUCK- I told you I don’t- I don’t know! I-it was multiple. I-I sold some to the-the fireflies- some to random people along the QZ I- I can’t remember their names.”
Him mentioning the fireflies has you perk up. You lean back in the chair your sitting in and hum. “Fireflies? What did you sell to them? Guns? Ammunition?”
“Y-yeah I sold them some ammunition- I-I sold them some guns too but those weren’t yours I swear.” your brows furrow. “Not mine? Who’s guns were they?”
“T-this one lady- s-she gave them to me f-for safe keeping and I sold em” you nod at what he says.
“And the fireflies, they know it was my shit you were selling them?” he shakes his head. “N-No they t-thought it was mine. I-I didn’t tell them it wasn’t my merchandise.”
Sighing, you get up from the chair. Thats enough. You think. As you go to call the men outside there’s gunshots outside. You tense, there’s multiple people, way more than your initial four guys.
Time to go then.
You storm over to Rob and jag his right thigh with your blade, while again yanking his hair back, forcing him to look at you. “When you came in you were running. From what?” You ask through gritted teeth. He starts to wheeze out a laugh and this gets your blood boiling. Grabbing onto the knife you twist it. While you give his hair another hash yank. “FROM WHAT?” You ask again
He grunts out and lets out a breath. More gunshots fire outside and shouting starts. “Those people who’s guns I sold off to the bugs. They ain’t take to lightly to me doing so, they’re looking for the battery, I tried selling it to em” He takes another ragged breath before continuing, making direct eye contact with you, “what? D’you think you were the only bitch that got her feathers ruffled?” He laughed as he finished his sentence. Jesus, he's going crazy.
The shouting and gun fire gets closer to the door. You grit your teeth again and untie the fucker from the chair and yank him up. He can hardly stand. “Get up.” you grit out, showing him towards the back door of the room.
You run and he has to practically be dragged by you. You run through the corridors till you make it to a back door that’s a dead end. You hear voices shouting behind you for rob. You look at him, he’s bloodied, from his face to his hand to his leg. It’s a mystery how he’s still even alive let alone standing.
Deciding that he really doesn’t hold any more value to you and that he’s just dead weight you kick the back of his knee and he tumbles over. You don’t think twice, you don’t flinch, you just aim your gun at him and pull the trigger. Good riddance.
You hear footsteps approaching you as you start to walk away. As you go to turn around the corner of the hallway, you see someone that you haven’t seen in years. Your gazes lock onto each other at the same time. On instinct you reach behind you and pull out your gun, pointing it at- “Marlene?” her name is coming out of your mouth before you could bite your tounge.
In seeing her, you falter for a second. Taking a step back, your eyebrows furrow. How many damn people knew that Robert would be here today of all days. “Well, this is a surprise.” her voice in monotone, sounds as if you being here was anything but a surprise. You start to slowly shake your head to yourself, not believing that she’s standing in front of you.
She takes a scan of you too. Almost as if she’s admiring how much you’ve grown in a way. Like a parent seeing their kid after being away at college for a year. Marlene sighs at you, nods and walks past. You watch her move like a ghost. And in a way she is, a ghost from the past come back to haunt you. “I needed him alive.” She tells the you.
You realize you’re standing there like an idiot, and snap yourself out of it, and stand up straight. “He would have been a waste of time if you were looking to talk to him.” She lets out a breath, before turning back to you. She’s injured, bad. Clutching her side as blood seeps through the thin material of her tank top.
“You look like shit.” you say, taking her in. The bags under her eyes don’t do her appearance any good; her bleeding out also doesn’t help. Marlene laughed through her nose and nods her head in agreement “yeah. You look…grown.” stating the obvious.
“Considering you haven’t seen me since I was 14, yeah, I have fucking grown.” You bite. Her eyes fall to the floor at your jab.Sighing, you move past it and try to make conversation “You still running this shit show?” you ask gesturing to the firefly symbol spray painted on the wall. She meets your gaze again, nodding again. “Yeah, or y’know, at least trying. Whole thing seems to be blowing up in front of my face” She breathlessly chuckles but winces half way through.
You cringe at how more blood seems to be flowing out of her wound. You point your chin at it, “you going to get that fixed up?” she looks down at it and then back up at you with a raised brow, “you offering?”. She can’t be serious.
Scoffing at her for even fathoming you helping her is delusional, “yeah not a fucking chance. I got what I came for,” you pause, “goodbye Marlene.”. You turn around and start to walk away, but she’s quick to take a couple of steps in a weak attempt at following you, “wait.” She rasps out.
You don’t know why you stop. You don’t know why you turn back to face her. But you do, and when you’re fully turned to her you can see the eagerness she has in her eyes. She wants to talk to you. “What?”
She licks her lips, and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, “there’s- there’s something that I need to tell you. It’s about-“ you cut her off “Look, no offense, but talking to you is the last thing I need right now.” with that you turn once again and walk out.
“It’s about your kid.” your head turns harshly to look at her, eyes furrowed, getting defensive “My kid? Is back at home safe. Not that that’s any of your business.” but she just shakes her head. “God you don’t even know.” She mutters, staring down the hallway.
Your eyes narrow at this, “I Don’t know what?” you prod. She sighs, “Your kids not safe. And she sure as hell isn’t home.” the grip on your gun tightens, a wave of unease suddenly flowing through you. Your change in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by Marlene, “Now don’t go making any rash decisions.” She slowly puts her hands up.
You ignore her request, “Answer my question. What don’t I know?! What the hell are you talking about? I swear to got if you’ve done something to her I’ll-“ she cuts off your threat, “Woah woah,” she tries to calm you down, as if your a fucking bull ready to charge, “I never said I did anything to your girl. Would you really think I’d stoop that low?” you scoff “Is that even a question?”
Her jaw ticks, “Alright, fine, I deserve that,” “oh you don’t have even the slightest idea of what you deserve.” You spit. “I’m done playing games, tell me what the hell you’ve done with my kid or I shoot.” You ease your gun higher, making your point.
“Your kids with me. I was out on a mission outside the QZ I was going through the abandoned mall, and I heard a commotion. Thought it was infected, and it was, but your kid was also there.” you can’t believe what you’re hearing. Ellie? Outside the QZ? No. It’s can’t be. She- she’s lying, she has to be.
“Alright look I don’t know what type of sick plan you’ve got or how you knew I’d be here but whatever this is your trying to do I-“ “I’ll take you to her.” She cuts in.
She lets out a painful breath, “she's been going crazy trying to get out of here. But she's smart, didn't give me her real name, said it was Veronica. Hasn't really talked either.”
Veronica.
Your mothers name.
“And before you go all mama bear on me, remind yourself that I am currently the only one that knows where she is and that I am also currently bleeding out.”
There’s a pause,
“Take me to her.”
Next Chapter
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Chapter three omggg 🙈🙉🙊 This took forever to write and also I don’t even really like it… so I might come back and rewrite this chapter. I’m also working on expanding my vocabulary when writing as I feel sometime it sounds repetitive. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed!! 🫶🏼 again if you have any feedback I’d highly appreciate it! 💗 Thank you for reading 💌
P.s MY 100th POST 🥳🥳🥳
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classificationhell · 1 month
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Setup for the 2p Universe My take
While it is mostly the same as normal hell there are a few key differences in this universe. I'll go by character through character to explain the major ones. Firstly,  Charlie essentially has Vaggie’s personality and classification (Alpha Neutral) she wasn't the one who came up with the idea for the hotel. Vaggie (Omega Caregiver) has a personality closer to Charlie's but but she isn't quite so optimistic about heaven, think Charlie's personality with the knowledge that angels can also be uncaring jerks. Vaggie was stripped of her wings during her first extermination as she wasn't cut out of the life of an exorcist. This Charlie might be brash but she isn't the type to leave someone bleeding out in an alley. Despite what she's been through Vaggie believes that if the rest of heaven saw redemption was possible things could work out better.
Angel Dust (Beta Master) isn't a porn star. He's in a mafia his father formed in hell along with his brother Arackniss. He doesn't really know about all this redemption business, but he's still a drug addiction so a free room away from his oppressive father most of the time? He's down. Besides that he knows his sister is in heaven and maybe he might want to be able to see her if redemption is possible. He's a closeted homosexual in this AU because his dad and brother are extremely old school and homophobic. 
Husk (Beta Neutral) is a gentler soul, less gruff and more fatherly, but he is still a massive gambling addict and most of the time drunkard. He cares about others but could give less of a shit about himself. Niffty (Alpha Master) is actually mostly the same chaotic little gremlin with one key difference, she keeps the bugs she catches in terrariums and such to form her mighty roach army! 
Alastor (Omega Caregiver) the most different in my take of this universe. His suit is blue and he's a typically melancholic fellow, not that he doesn't smile, no he still always does but now he's often seen crying and is very emotional. He is softer spoken and sweet, but once he gets attracted and close to a person he is worse than canon Angel Dust with flirting and becomes almost hypersexual towards them. He's still a mass murderer, but now he murders those who would harm Omegas, Pets, or Littles seeing them as the fairer classes in need of protection. Speaking of Omegas Alastor is the only Omega Overlord to ever exist in either version of hell. Unfortunately, during his seven year absence the porn industry has become rife with exploitation of both Omegas and Littles. He is too busy helping with the hotel for a frontal assault just yet, but he won't stand for this mistreatment.
Sir Pentious (Alpha Caregiver) remains mostly the same except for the fact  he is actually competent and his death machines can be a threat, but Alastor is just too strong for it to be effective. Also he's a smooth talker in this universe. Still, a nerd with his emotional support egg bois though.
Vox's (Beta Caregiver) signature color is red and matches his loving partner Valentino's (Alpha Caregiver) own. Both Vox and Valentino are sickeningly sweet to each other and when together often show their overflowing affection no matter the setting. Velvette (Alpha Neutral) is like their estranged niece or something, she's not quite as close as a daughter but they treat her leagues better than anyone else. Vox and Valentino have odd tastes in entertainment, well actually sadistic, torture pron and odd painful game shows are their personal favorites. Both only care about the V's and their bottom dollar. Valentino could care less about Littles if it meant he could make thousands in profit every week from using them in rough scenes. He was able to distance himself because they weren't his, though he did want one.
Both Vox and Valentino want a Little but they haven't found one that's spoken to them yet. Sure they had felt the usual instincts, but after those calmed there was nothing. It bothered Both of them going through every Little in hell, caring for them for an hour or so before the novelty wore off and they ended up as another porn star. Why couldn't they find a Little they both felt as much for as they did each other? Vox was more affected being the more emotional of the two, despite not acting like it, and Valentino was often comforting his partner that it would only be a matter of time before they found the perfect Little to complete their little pack. After all, sinners fell every day, surely one of them would appeal to them; they just had to be patient. In the meantime they had enough love for each other to tide themselves over.
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ofc-fics · 2 years
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Alma Peregrine Yandere Alphabet
Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
When the kids are around, null. When it’s just you two, she more than makes up for the privacy with intensity. She has so much heart to share.
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
Miss Peregrine is willing to get pretty messy for the ones she loves. And living in another time gives her a safe haven from the law. So she will go pretty far. 
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
No! She would never mock you for her outsmarting you. It’s to be expected. She’s the mistress of her domain. She wants you to want to stay, to be happy in your new home. She’s very kind and patient. 
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
She may force physical contact, holding is the farthest she will go. She may feel the need to hold you to calm you or her or as a guise to wipe your memory if you get too hostile. 
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
She’ll tell you everything. She’ll start before you’ve accepted your fate, but the floodgates open the more open you are. 
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
That is unacceptable. She’s not been violent to you and she won’t have a hostile guest. This is when she pulls out a feather. 
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
She hates it when you try to escape because it disrupts her routine. It’s only to be expect and either book or movie Alma will be able to just know when you’re trying to run. She doesn’t let you get far, keeping you safe at home. 
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
If you ever hurt her. Despite being scared and probably pissed, you never want to hurt her. She’s the perfect caretaker and her children deserve her caretaker persona. You’d probably stay with her until you’re certain she’ll get better. 
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
She just wants you to be happy in your little family. Forever, all of you. 
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
In the beginning, she gets antsy at anyone in the real world paying too much attention to you. While a lot of it is paranoia, there’s definite jealousy. In her own time, she knows you only have eyes for her. But the real world has pulled many of her loved ones and wards away from her. 
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Minimal affection in front of the kids, but she always wants to be touching you. Sometimes she can manage it, others she’s your little leech and you’ll be with her to help all day. 
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
She’s very slow and subtle. Showing off her loop is her main form of peacocking. Little intimate moments are as far as she can go with her schedule and her kids, but she’ll shower you with them if she can. 
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
She always comes off as hard to those outside of your family. She gets stern with you when you’re disobedient, but she isn’t all that two-faced. 
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
She understands most of your escape attempts, but she occasionally has to confine you to the house. If you’re violent and dead set against her, her feather won’t work on you. She’ll keep you in her room, possibly restrained to the bed until you’re calm and malleable. 
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
She’s very willing to keep you by her side all day, knowing you won’t lash out around the children. The only time the prison feels like torture is when you’re confined to her room. 
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
She’s soo patient. She knows it can take decades to settle into new roles. She enjoys letting her loved ones grow to love their home and is very persuasive in convincing you. She’ll never hurt you and she is fully willing to play the long game. She’s willing to wait until it’s too late for you to leave if that’s what it takes. 
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
She won’t find another partner within a millennium, but she won’t follow you. She loves her children too much to leave them for an extended period of time. Bad things happen when she does. 
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
She hates when you get emotional and defiant. Not just from a disciplinary standpoint, but she hates how unhappy you are at those times. 
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
Losing her other kids is what made her crack into this point. Possibly Jake deciding to leave if I’m writing it. She uses the things her brothers did to her on you when she has to. 
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
If you get too inconsolable and she can’t wait it out, she’ll whip out the feather. If it’s fixable, she’ll ride it out to see if you can be convinced. 
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
She will never hurt you. She just wants someone to cling to tighter than her children. Some who will actually stay. 
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit to escape?
Her children. You’ll hate yourself if you threaten one of her little monsters who had wormed into your heart. If you are at your own wit’s end, you can always use them. 
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
No. Never harm physically. She will do some majorly messed up stuff, though. Like slowly erasing the memory of your other loved ones. 
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
When you follow her expectations and meet her desires, you’ll be the most loved and worshiped person of all time. She will always love you and remind you, even if you forget how marvelous you are. 
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
Alma can wait. She’s used to her long life, understanding how much time you have outside the loop. She’ll slowly be working you into her home until it’s only logical for you to stay with them. 
Psychologically, she’ll stay with you until you need serious intervention. Then, she puts her foot down with her control. 
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
She wants you to realize you are home now, but she doesn’t want you scared of her or any of them. She wants you for you, not some shell of yourself. 
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wepsi · 1 year
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Eyes on the road Mammon(smut)
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Gender neutral reader, established relationship
Tw: 69, car sex, public sex, exhibitionism, riding, power struggle
Scenario: Lucifer finally releases Goldie from captive, and Mammon decides to take you to the human world and show you a good time!
"The waves on the beach were killer today!"
"Haha just don't splash me like that again!"
"Say, I'm starvin, let's go grab a bite real quick."
There was soft music playing on the radio, and the sun was setting, the beautiful colors decorating the sky. Mammon was driving laxly with one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped over the seat. Occasionally glancing at you and flashing a toothy grin. With his white hair flying in the wind, and tan skin illuminated by the sunset. He looked so handsome, and each glance sent butterflies to your stomach. You've been dating for a while now but he still makes your heart flutter with each glance your way.
With your hand resting on his thigh a wicked idea emerged in your mind. You creep your hand up his thigh, earning a questioning look from Mammon but he also has to pay attention to the road. You sneak your hand finally to the forming bulge.
"Oi! What are you doing!?"
"You want me to stop?"
a evil smile on your face
"I..I never said that!"
You fondle his member through the shorts, making him hold his breath while trying to concentrate, nearly missing his turn. You tell him to continue to drive to the fast food place, and have no intention of stopping. The sun is set by the time you reach the joint, but his cock was definitely not set. Mammon knew not to question you, and decided not to say anything about your hand torturing him.
With the angle on the car and the sky being dim there was no way the lady at the window could see, but the thrill is still exhilarating. Mammon pulls up to the mic and tries to order, but his words were stammering and his face was getting even redder because of it. You calmly place your order, and inch your hand under his waistband.
Mammon pulls up to the window to get the food, his heart is beating so much he thought he might die. Your hand is now firmly grabbing his unclothed length. You strategically pump as he was grabbing the food and had it between the window and the car and almost drops it. You take your hand away, and make him wait impatiently after turning him on.
Mammon speeds off definitely not the speed limit after getting the food, finding a remote corner on the beach. The sun has almost completely set, and just about everyone has packed up their things and gone home. He climbs on top of you in the passenger seat and flustered,
"Oi, what was that all about!"
"Because I love teasing you baby boy."
"Well then you better be prepared, my treasure!"
Mammon clashes his mouth into yours, and starts roaming his hands on you. Pushing a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing his hands past the back of your neck, circling to your chest to give your stiff nipples a flick. Then down to your ribs and thighs which he gave a squeeze. Because there wasn't enough space, he throws you over his shoulder and puts you in the back seats of the car.
Did he forget who was in charge? You get on top of him instead, and clash your mouth onto his, nibbling his lip and dancing with his tongue. This time it was your turn to feel him up, you immediately went for his delicious chest, and gave his nipples a tug which made him moan in your mouth. What can you say his chest is full on displayed. You trance your hands down to his firm abs, tracing them with your finger. Hands finally roam down towards his crotch but his hand grabs onto your wrist.
"Don'tcha think you've played enough baby?"
Mammon sits up and easily picks you up, he is a demon after all, and rotates you so your parts was at his face,and your legs caging his head, he pulls at your bikini strings on the side and your bottoms fall off, he licks a streak up your crotch and starts to please you. Mammon pulls away a second to say,
"D..dd..do m...me too."
You oblige and pull his throbbing length out, and start sucking, struggling because of the position. It tasted slightly salty from the ocean, with the sweat and muskiness he tasted intoxicating. Mammon expertly licks you, causing you to whimper and wiggle, and clamp your thighs around his head. Reaching your limit, you struggle out and push Mammon to lay on the car seats, straddling him. You line him up with your entrance, not being able to wait anymore and have to have him right this instance. You sink down onto him, earning a satisfied sigh from both of you.
Between his precum and saliva it was sliding in and out with ease, he grabs your ass and helps you with relieving himself, The rhythm almost matching the music that was still playing on the radio,
"What if someone sees us, goldie?"
"So what Mammon, let them see, I'm yours."
"T.t..tt..that's right! Your the great Mammon's! I hope they see how good I can please you."
"Oh my devildom! Mammon it feels so good, you're doing such a good job!"
Fueled by the praise, Mammon holds onto your waist and starts thrusting up into you. Both of you moaning loudly now, without the restraint of one of the brothers hearing,
"You feel so good baby!"
With the sweet words and the excitement of possibility of being seen, combined with the car and the love of all your worlds, you quickly reach climax, beckoning Mammon to join.
"Cum with me Mammon, be my good boy."
You throw your head back, and with your walls spasming around him Mammon cums up into you, with the cum spilling out of you. You fall over onto him of exhaustion, riding isn't always easy. Mammon cuddles you sweetly, nuzzling his face into your hair and smelling the faint salt from the sea, then panics
"Ah shoot! We can't get any cum on these nice leather seats!"
He scrambles up to clean both of you up, but don't worry he'll be pleasing you all night at the hotel ;)
..............................................................................................................................
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thefloatingstone · 9 months
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Ok I know you probably never want to hear about high guardian spice again (and honestly fair if I were to put so much time into something I disliked I wouldn’t want to touch it ever again) but I just finished watching the 5 hour complete saga compilation of your essays (which has been added to my comfort video essays playlist bc I watch it so religiously now) and you make the point of the characters failing because Raye Rodriguez was too emotionally attached and saw them as OCs to the point where he couldn’t stand to see them do wrong.
But here’s the thing - isn’t the whole thing about being an artist or writer with OCs is to endlessly traumatize or torture them (or at least from my internet experience)?
So not only is Raye bad at writing characters, he just doesn’t know how to have OCs other than “yeah I draw them in cute setting and ship them because their color palettes go together”
(Also love your videos, love your art, please make a million more ok thank you goodbye)
askhdkasjkdjs THIS IS SO SWEET THANK YOU????
When I saw the notification I thought I was gonna get yelled at for a recent post I made saying "tumblr is actually fine right now" so this was a really nice surprise to wake up to 😂
And I get what you mean but i think I would word it differently;
I think the whole thing with OCs is to push them into situations that forces them to act in extreme ways they wouldn't otherwise, most often for the best (they can heroic, they can emotional, they can say the things they've been holding back, they can be open to be cared for, they can be emotionally honest, they can show weakness, they can show strength) but also sometimes for the worst. (they can become enraged, they can lash out, they can become violent, they can become selfish, they can harm others etc etc). Or more often than not, a mix of both (they can be selfish and therefor decide to heoricly protect the people they are selfish about because those people belong to THEM.)
But I don't think this is the be all end all. Some people may just want OCs to have as comfort characters. Some people NEED those OCs to be comfort characters, for whatever reason in real life, to just have characters who live gentle, quiet lives, form bonds with their friends, forms close connections with the community, and just live peacefully.
I think in HGS' case, the problem is not that Raye is too attached to his OCs to "put them in situations", but more he is too attached to his OCs to allow them to make mistakes in a way that might put them in a bad light. Of course, in doing so it makes the characters come across as HORRIBLE people. When his OCs make mistakes, they tend to be mistakes that stem from them actively being bad people (or just nonsensical like Rose being the one to kill the sea dragon for no real explained reason at all). But the resolution to these mistakes is most often to acknowledge "I did something bad" but then go "BUT it's because I am struggling with x y or z" and turn the apology into excuses and explanations in a way that makes the person they're apologising to have to make THEM feel better.
"Wow I'm so sorry! I never knew you were going through all that!".
But I'm going off track here.
Basically I don't think all OCs need to be pushed into extreme situations or emotions to be "good". Not at all. I just think the situations that the HGS characters are put in are not handled correctly in the lead up to those events, nor the follow through to those events.
But I do think that you cannot write characters in a professional tv show and still treat them with the same mentality as "these are my deviantArt OCs who I ship together and like drawing cute outfits in".
There has to be a certain level of criticality to the characters. You have to be able to recognise flaws they have. And that's not even a problem! Because those flaws are what make a character INTERESTING.
I'm busy having fun watching people watch Unicorn Warriors Eternal, and it's been a lot of fun seeing what people make of my favourite character, Edred. Some people REALLY fucking hate him, but most people really enjoy him. Because he is an EXCEPTIONALLY flawed character. But he's likeable because he is very obviously a good person who deeply cares about the people close to him. And also because every fuck up he does in the show comes back to bite him in the ass a few episodes later and make his own life harder.
lol YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF, EDRED!
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You cannot write your characters as if their flaws are insults when pointed out. Even if you're only writing cute, slice of life stuff without any extreme situations or emotions.
My favourite Slice of Life anime are the OG classics, Lucky Star and Azumanga Daioh. Nothing extreme happens in either shows, but their characters, especially Azumanga, are still alowed to have flaws which are treated AS flaws.
And it's fine. It's ok to treat those flaws AS flaws and not try and excuse or quickly justify the things the characters do wrong.
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fiendtheanonymous · 3 months
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Greens genderqueer posting hours let's go because the brain worms never stop, headcanons for my (still unnamed) AU time:
• HIM knew they were both trans the entire time, from the very beginning when they first found out about their existence, HIM knew instantly. The moment it clicks for the greens and they talk about it with one another for the first time, HIM pops up from their lair and congratulates them. The greens are not happy about the fact that HIM knew this entire time and didn't tell them. Why? Because it was funny and also an entertaining form of psychological torture that they didn't have to do anything to set up since it was all Butch and Buttercup. They proceed to kick HIM's shit in for this.
• They are T4T (GQ4GQ/NB4NB specifically) 💙💖🤍💖💙/ 💜🤍💚/💛🤍💜🖤 (yes I am a self indulgent bastard making one of my childhood OTPs explicitly T4T, what are you gonna do about it? I'm not only a trans greens propagandist, but a T4T greens one too MUHAHAHAHA!!! >:3c Cringe is dead!)
• Buttercup gets a lot more comfortable with wearing stuff deemed to be more "feminine" such as dresses and makeup once they come out and transition. A large point of their discomfort regarding these things came from the fact that they were seen as a girl/woman, not due to the clothing and makeup itself. They still do majorly present in a way that would traditionally be read as masculine but they will fuck around with options they once pushed back on.
• Neither Butch or Buttercup change their names. Butch due to the fact that they're a genderqueer/non-binary butch and their name is perfect and Buttercup due to the fact that they built and constructed what their name meant given that they were only given it due to the fact it started with a B. They do also go by Bud though (which fun fact: was Buttercup's original name before Craig McCracken decided on Buttercup).
• The greens both specifically paint their eyelids the same shade of dark green to hide their eyelid color. Canonically, the Puffs and Ruffs show sexual dimorphism via their eyelid colors (which are purple and red respectively, unless talking about the digital seasons which I prefer to ignore LOL). These eyelids darken during puberty into much deeper shades of purple and red, and the Greens being dysphoric about this fact both chose to paint their eyelids a uniform green and make something distinctly genderqueer out of their experiences, have something shared between them, and make something out of their unique species biology.
• Butch doesn't really wear dresses for the most part, but will do so for special occasions and big events. It isn't really a gender thing and they don't think that butches shouldn't be able to wear dresses because you can do whatever you want with your gender forever, they just find them really uncomfortable.
• Buttercup isn't a constant binder due to the fact that their chest dysphoria fluctuates. Butch got them their first binder.
• Honestly both of them don't really have much body dysphoria I'd say, main ones I can think of would have to be chest dysphoria for Butch and hip dysphoria for Buttercup. Most of their dysphoria more so manifested socially, pertaining to their voices, facial hair, and various non human aspects of them:
ex: in my AU, Adrenaline-X (the main type of X found in their species bodies that's used for powers and healing) is a finite source that can be used before it has to be replenished via rest. In testosterone based systems, Adrenaline-X runs out quicker but can be used for more powerful high energy attacks, in estrogen based systems, Adrenaline-X runs out more gradually but cannot be used for super powerful high energy attacks. This is a point of dysphoria for the Greens which mostly (but not completely) levels out once they start HRT. Given that they were running on the prior system for so long, remnants still remain so they almost have this mixed system of sorts leaning toward the effects of the HRT they're on, both beneficial and also... once again, distinctly genderqueer.
• The greens would talk about their dysphoria which each other constantly prior to them realizing they were trans, but they both had the mindset that "hey, everybody's like that" so you'd just have conversations where one of them would bring in obvious gender dysphoria and the other would be like "oh hey me too! I think everybody's like that though", repeat ad nauseam until they were 18.
• Speaking of facial hair, Buttercup lasered off Butch's facial hair with their eye beams during a scuffle a year or two before they realized they were trans. It never ended up growing back much to the delight of Butch, and interesting to see they reacted so positively to not having facial hair anymore in hindsight.
• Given that they were kids and teens during the 90's/2000's, they did not have the language to describe their experiences as genderqueer growing up and just thought something was wrong with them. Townsville's bad record regarding GNC/trans people was also a big influence on pushing back their feelings.
• Another factor into why they didn't realize they were trans: when they did find out about trans people, it was explicitly binary trans people. While they related to these experiences a lot (to a point in which it scared them), they could not related to the idea of wanting to be a woman/man at all which made the process of finding out they were trans to be much harder. They were! Just not in any binary sense. Not MTF/FTM, not even transfem or transmasc (which are much broader terms which they wouldn't have been able to have access to regardless given that they're newer). Given modern language, I'd solidly place them as atrinary (even more specifically, maverique) regardless of the fact that they do present in ways that could be read as fem/masc and transitioned in ways traditionally ascribed to transfems/transmascs (because presentation and transition goals do not equal gender!)
•Genderqueer clicked for them pretty instantly once they actually found out about the term especially given their heavy connections to trans experiences they'd read about, which also made them recontextualize being trans and their experiences with dysphoria (which were not an "oh everybody experiences this" thing like they brushed off for so long). This initial realization was complicated, while they were happy to have language to describe them, they also had to come to terms with the fact that they were trans in an environment that would not accept that and that brought a lot of grief. Especially given that there weren't nearly as many accessible online resources and any in person resources they'd try to get would just... out them to everybody.
• The greens stayed closeted for two years after it finally clicked for them, mainly out of fear of losing what they have with their families, fear of rejection, and fear of backlash from Townsville given their high profile status as supers (even with the Ruffs not being superheros and just... existing for the most part nowadays they still have eyes on them at all times). Their suspicions were right and it was a difficult process for their families who had their own ingrained negative beliefs about being GNC or trans along with how important of a concept sisterhood/brotherhood was to them. Also Townsville fucking sucked about it truly just so atrocious. But it was the best choice in the end and they managed to get through it with their families. Townsville still sucks about it btw given that their ideas of queerness come mostly from queercoded supervillains in the city.
• The greens are the worlds worst communicators regarding their feelings/struggles and also have truly atrocious coping skills about being closeted. The only reason they came out in the first place was because they went on a bender and their families dragged them back and questioned them about it. They kept shooting various theories out as to why they were acting like this until Boomer of all people ended up guessing that they were trans. Some of the other theories included them being in a cult (suggested by Brick), them having a drug problem (suggested by Blossom, Miss Keane, and The Professor), and them being conspiracy theorists (suggested by Bubbles).
• Once they transition, sometimes the two of them will dress as one another post transition specifically to fuck with people. They will also sometimes dress as they would have pre transition to fuck with people. The lengths they will go through to do this are absurd, some highlights of these extents include: Butch also now having a binder, Buttercup specifically doing voice training so they can talk at their pre T voice range, binding/tucking not for euphoria purposes but for mischievous gender purposes, and convincing the Professor to get them access to colored contacts in their eye colors so they can use them solely to fuck with people. Now that they're a lot more comfortable with themselves post transition, they're more than happy to be explicitly genderfucky.
• The two of them end up shaving their heads at the same time to signify the beginning of their transition and to see how they change alongside one another. They do this once more time a couple years later, however it isn't for trans and rebirth symbolism reasons that time, I will get into this in What Once Was. :)
•Given the amount of transphobia they've been subjected to, the both of them are basically experts at turning any sort of transphobia flung their ways on its head. Transphobes have zero wiggle room they've heard everything and will be delightfully spiteful and petty towards anybody who attempts to be a bigot.
• Given that they'd were coming to terms with being trans in the late 2000's/early 2010's, they have attachments to terms that would be seen as more archaic now. While they mainly refer to themselves as genderqueer (also another example of them IDing with terms they had available to them as non-binary hadn't gained traction yet when they realized they were trans) and trans if asked, they also often refer to themselves as transsexual.
• A pretty solid reason as to why they prefer calling themselves genderqueer over non-binary is for the fact that the genderqueer flag has green in it. Yes, seriously. They fall under both categories though.
tl;dr These green bitches are trans and spiteful about it!!! Good for them!!
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nyxelestia · 7 months
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7, 11, 18
(from this "get to know your writer" meme)
7. How do you choose which POV to write from?
I have a soft spot for outsider POVs, so I usually aim for a POV of someone who isn't at the center of the story, but is still very close to it (ideally having their own story that in some way contrasts or complements the actual main story). I also enjoy using multiple POVs, mostly outsider POVs, to "triangulate" a story without relying on the main character of the story to tell it all themselves.
It started out as a way to challenge myself, because I was prone to over-relying on introspection and characters thinking about things. Using outsider POVs became a way of pushing myself to "show" rather than "tell" a lot more. Then I realized I enjoyed outsider POVs for opportunity of "color commentary" on whatever's going on, how different perspectives or biases might shape people's understanding of a certain character or story, and generally exploring different understandings of what is or isn't going on.
Outsider POVs also make it easy to focus in on one part of the/a main character's arc by zeroing in on it and excluding the rest. In a way, it lets me highlight the "real" story when I get to temporarily remove or cover up a plot that obfuscates the underlying relationships and emotions. (e.x. I have a Captain America/Teen Wolf AU in which Steve Rogers sees a lot of the Teen Wolf canon events, but without knowing about the existence of werewolves just yet. It let me focus on the teen characters' trauma and character growths before all the supernatural stuff started cluttering up the fic 😅)
11. Link your three favorite fics right now
Aaahhhh this one's so hard 🥺😩 And slightly confusing because I'm not sure if it means three favorites out of my own fics, or in general/other people's fics? How can I pick only 3?? I've read and written so many, do I even try to narrow down by fandom or year or something???
Setting aside the fact that I don't really do favorites in the first place, I'm going to feel self-conscious about all the fics I didn't pick if I try to link to three fics by other authors, so I'll by my top three out of my own fics:
1.) Frost Bite - the aforementioned Captain America/Teen Wolf crossover. Stiles is Bucky's grand-nephew (Bucky's sister's grandson), and the closest thing to a living relative Steve has in the 21st century.
2.) For the Dust and the Dirt - time-travel Untamed fic, though none of the characters know it yet. Cloud Recesses student Wei Wuxian was attacked and tortured by what looks like a crazy, old, and powerful copy of himself, for no good reason. Though the attack has left a lot of people sympathetic to him...and left him with strange "visions" about things that haven't happened yet.
3.) Virtues, Chicken, and Destiny - technically a series, a rewrite of Season 4 of the BBC show Merlin. It started out as an off the cuff frustration with the the show's writing, but turned into a lot of character exploration of Arthur, as well as the nature of friendships, trust, and Arthur's various relationships with the people around him.
18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?
After. Sometimes I don't come up with a title until I'm staring at the New Work form on AO3. 😅 I generally have one of two titles:
1.) A reference of some kind, quoting something either from the canon work itself, another classical/famous work altogether, or a song (though I rarely use whole lines if I'm using song lyrics). Regardless, I still use the words as a title (i.e. capitalizing everything), and try to pick titles that would still make sense or have some connection to my fic even if you've never heard that song or whatever, aka a lyric clip or title that can stand on its own (but will convey extra vibes to anyone who does know the song or reference). In that regard, I usually try to pick titles with some kind of imagery in them that acts as an allegory for the story somehow. e.x. "Drowning Like a Stone" is both a quote from the English version of Why Don't You Stay, but also describes Chay: he is a stone for much of the fic due to trauma/depression, and sinking fast and hard into his new life.
2.) Something that works with the chapter titles, typically in some thematically relevant way. One of the reasons I'm proud of Frost Bite is that the chapter titles are also the steps for treating Frost Bite - Steve's emotional state is frost bitten, the story is about his psychological recovery, and the chapter titles are usually a metaphor in some way for his emotional development or experience in that chapter (e.x. "Skin Will Blister As It Thaws" - a frost bitten limb needs to thaw but will hurt in the process, and similarly recovering and reconnecting is something Steve needs to do, but not without emotional pain in the process).
3.) A bit of both. "To Belong With Fire" is indirectly quoting Kinn from the show, but the chapter titles are the different chemical stages for the production of fire, and metaphorical for what's going on in those chapters, e.x. "Fuel" is both Porsche's body being 'fuel' for fire, but also Kinn being fueled by grief in his desperate actions. I picked the song that "For the Dust and the Dirt" quotes from because it conveys the arbitrariness and hopelessness of grief, surviving war, and lost dreams, but those specific words/that specific line was because of the usage of dust and dirt in the fic's inciting incident; the chapter titles are just POVs, but sometimes it's singular (if the whole chapter is one character), but otherwise it's thematic (such as the chapter titled "Zongzhu", which was various sect leaders' POVs, both to show the cultivation worlds' varying reactions and attitudes about what happened, but also show parts of the story that I want the reader to know but the main character would have no way of knowing).
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willsnerdcorner · 3 months
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So, I’ve been playing D&D since 2014ish(?), and as one could guess I have created a lot of characters since then. I also love getting art of them (something I didn’t start doing until 2018/2019) as well as notable NPCs and villains. So, I’m going to post the art and talk about the characters because why not? Let’s talk about my gunslinger Kate, not my favorite but still second as well as my longest running character (3.5-4 years I believe?).
Anyway, this lovely piece drawn by my friend Veronica (ArtStation in the link) is of my high elf gunslinger Kate. Quick description of the character since this is more of a discussion of the thought process of the character:
Katelyn Evelyn Sulyvahn Van Doren was born to the Van Dorens, a noble house run by a fair family and mostly beloved by their people. When she was 60, her family were overthrown by rebels and killed off mostly. The only survivors of this massacre were her, and unknown to Kate her older sister. The people who overthrew her family enacted an old punishment so cruel most people thought it was an urban myth (more to come on that since I want to make sure I TW that section). Eventually she was freed by a man named Oberon who took her under his wing as a bounty hunter as he showed her new weapons he had stolen/replicated, guns.
She suffered through intense PTSD and it was only through Oberon she was able to go from unfunctional to functioning somewhat. A ten year process that would have felt like a flash of time for someone who would be as long lived as Kate. She wanted to kill her tormentors, but not out of a sense of vengeance. She wanted to be able to sleep at night without worry they would bring her back to these people. Eventually, Kate would meet up with the party and travel with them after a scuffle landed Oberon in hot water so they had to travel separately. Thus began her adventure…
From this point onwards I will discuss the making of her character as well as potentially upsetting things. For those in need: trigger warnings of torture, body image issues, and mental illness. You have been warned.
When I designed Kate I knew that there would be some comparison to a much more famous gunslinger, Percy from Critical Role. I’d be lying if some of his story beats didn’t form the base of this character. It’s only natural, but the key was to have the same beats differently. Percy is a character driven by vengeance that threatens to consume him. Kate I wanted to make a character that needed to kill some of these people to be left alone. Kate never really wanted vengeance but these people who tormented her were extremely present and powerful in the setting. With the main one she interacted with being one of the major antagonists of the last arc. She could not just let them be, they would always come to find her unless she could prove that was a bad idea or just remove the ones who would hunt her most of all.
This is a character colored by her traumatic past, and while I did try to include things in that made her a character versus a pizza cutter (jury is out if I did that or not) it informed a lot of her attributes so that she was only her traumatic past. When creating this character, I included a lot of little details that tried to show a softer side to this character that might not be readily apparent. A love of oranges, a desire to still be able wear dresses, finding an owl familiar she named Jareth, and eventually taking up guitar. She couldn’t be all trauma or else that would just make for a poor character.
We do need to talk about the source of her trauma if we want to discuss the character overall. During the 30 years her captors kept her imprisoned they were merciless in how they tormented her. I do not want to go into details, since outside of the DM as well as one player, I didn’t not super disclose those details to the party since I didn’t think it was needed because it was always way scarier to have them guess and also I did not think she was a character who would want it brought up. All the party knew was she was covered from her neck down in scars and magical chain tattoos that no one until one Yuan-Ti shaman later could remove as well as she been tortured by these people. The chains were the most concerning and distressing to her as they were a constant reminder of the fact that she never would be truly free of them. In the same way, I often had her in pain for long treks or needing to lean on things to rest when she had to exert herself often. The weather playing havoc when the pressure dropped and her body was in constant pain as a result.
The body scarring and tattoos did come from a slightly personal place, body image. I have a lot of them, and this sort of informed the character. Both Kate and I wear a lot of clothes to hide our skin so people can’t see it. Albeit for different reasons (her’s are the result of intensive torment), a part of her journey was slowly becoming more at peace with what she was dealing with as she looked for a way to fix the damage done to her. To at least not be freaked out whenever her clothes ripped or anyone saw her old wounds. This played a part of a person who was sort of hampered by pain that eventually managed to overcome it by the end. Overall, how she handled it was inspired by how I have hidden my own insecurities. So I don’t want to say this is a great allegory for handling body image issues overall, but the how was at least personally inspired on what I’ve had go through my head.
Kate was also special since she was the first queer PC I had ever made. It took me a long time to accept my bisexuality, and I only came out to my family in the last year or so. So, I tested the waters by making my characters LGBTQ to sort of prepare for that. Kate is a lesbian, and her story ultimately ends with her raising her niece on a nice plot of land with Oberon, a gnome named Crawshack, and her girlfriend later wife Inari (who didn’t take Kate’s last name since they would have run out of room on the marriage certificate). She gets her happy ending, with a loving souse and a family on a farm somewhere where she can live undisturbed.
A lot of folks have also asked me why a gunslinger? I was playing a lot of Red Dead 2. That’s literally it. Some things don’t have a deep reason.
Probably should stop here, but if folks like this I might write up more of my characters later. Let me know!
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andie-orion · 10 months
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Loving him was the most purest form of torture and I was a masochist who apparently loved the color red.
I rarely hate choices I make. I'm a firm believer that everything, good and bad, leads you to where you're supposed to be... eventually. And Lord, I hope that's true.
I will never regret the way I loved him. Because I love unconditionally, to a fault, and that speaks volumes about me more than it does about him. But I do regret loving him, wasting that love on someone like him. He was undeserving and I can never get those 6 wasted years back.
He just told me he had checked out so very long ago but didn't have the guts to let me go, to let me find someone else that could make me happy. That I was just a warm body so he wouldn't have to be alone. Queue the new heartbreak I thought I was over.
And even worse. I did, in fact have people begging me to leave him, to let them show me how I should have been loved. But I couldn't let him go. I wasn't ready to give up on a love that was so very, obviously dead. I wrote a very angsty Shoto fic under my pen name of one of these instances.
But hopefully whatever comes next will be better. I think the bar is set kinda low tho. Lol.
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sersi · 3 years
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I would never treat me like this.
LOKI (2021 - ) | Episode 2: The Variant
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pspspsp can I just request an immortal reader who's life is just dull/sad as hell since they've seen their loved ones leave or die in front of them so many times
but when they meet SBI or anyone, their life just suddenly brightens up? (Platonic and it can be any type of fic!)
(A/N): I got waaaayy too carried away with this. Star god reader my beloved (also, I’d imagine that your cloak looks like this guy’s but on the inside with the outsides being any color of your choice (credit goes to original artist))
If you want more god!reader content with the dream smp, @wooloo-inc has a really good series about a male!nature god!reader (aka, the god of dilf collection)
In the beginning when DreamXD created you (which if you think about it, that makes him your father, but I digress) from stardust and meteorite shards, you were a ball of fun loving sunshine (well, starshine?)
You loved watching over all of humankind, admiring their determination and bonds with other humans (both romantic and platonic)
Your older brother, the god of the moon, told you about how they viewed you and you were amazed
“Oberon?” You ran up to your older brother and tugged on his cloak making him hum in question, not looking up from his parchment scroll. “What- what do the humans think of me?”
He scoffed and glanced at you with his lily white irises, “why are you on about them again? They are lowly creatures compared to us, filled with greed and misfortune.”
“They worship us and that’s how you speak of them?”
“(Y/n) believe me, you have not seen the brutality they are capable of. War, famine, greed, plague, genocide, it’s all something you have not witnessed before. You have only seen the good in those things.” 
“But Oberon, I wanna-” he lightly smacked the side of your head, “use proper English. We are gods and you will behave as such.”
You huffed, “I want to know about how they view us! I do not care about the bad things they have done! Plleeeaaassseeeeeee Beri?” You willed the stars that constantly gleamed in your eyes to shine brighter as you fluttered your eyelashes at him. He may seem like he hated everyone and everything (especially his siblings), but he had a soft spot for his youngest sibling. He just stared at you for a bit before he sighed and shifted in the massive throne so that you could hop up onto his lap. With a wave of a slender pale hand, he conjured up various images of humans with stardust gazing at the stars and the moon with carefree swipes of his hand. 
“They view us as… poetic of sorts. They compare us to romance,” an image of two human males kissing then gazing into the stars laying down on a cliff came into view, “fortune tellers,” an image of the Aquarius and the Capricorn constellations popped up making you squeal in happiness. He chucked and changed the picture to a mother and son standing over a grave looking up in amazement at a shooting star, “and most importantly, as a sign of hope. 
“They see us as complementary, the moon and the stars cannot be as beautiful without the other. We hold the power of the night and everything it touches, (y/n). This is our kingdom, do not forget that,” the image changed to the moon surrounded by stars and swirling blues and purples of nebulas.
You looked at the images with awe, absorbing every word that fell from his mouth. “Beri?” He once again hummed, his deep baritone voice sending vibrations along your back. “Will we be together forever?”
His lanky arms wrapped around your much smaller frame, “for all of eternity. The moon is nothing without the night sky and all of the stars it holds.”
Centuries passed and your fascination with humans only grew from there
When you eventually asked if you could meet a human Oberon reacted angrily and forbade you from speaking of humans again in your shared palace, worried for your safety
When he caught you attempting to sneak out, he locked you in your room for months on end
Humans wondered why the stars hardly appeared in the night sky anymore, forming the theory that they had somehow angered you
They prayed to you more and more, begging and groveling for forgiveness
They left more offerings at shrines
You heard their every word, feeling your heartbreak with sorrow and guilt for your lovely humans
You snuck out of the palace that night determined to make it up to the humans
You quietly snuck past the main room where you and Oberon used to sit on your thrones together and control the night. The large doors were cracked open showing your older brother watching the night with boredom. As you passed, his voice startled you, “I just cannot stop you can I?”
He appeared in the doorframe looking at you emotionlessly, his eyes glinting with hidden pain. “Do you realize how cruel of a place that world is? How cruel humans are?”
“I do not care, brother! They are in anguish because they think I am angry with them! Because you locked me in here!”
“I have told you time and time again, they are ruthless creatures. Humans are constantly clashing with their own kind for the slightest bit of power, they’re greedy creatures! Have you forgotten what happened to Arachnia?”
A shiver went down your spine at the mention of your fellow deity. She wanted to be with humans but they stripped her of her grace and virtuosity, torturing her when the moon would rise. That is the reason spiders attack humans in the night when the moon and stars show themselves and are dormant in the daytime. However, that did not deter you. 
“I have not forgotten what happened to Arachnia, her tale fills me with grief. But not all humans are like that! They are compassionate, loving, and sweet creatures deep down, each and every single one of them!”
“They were not showing compassion or love when they tore Arachnia limb from limb! When they languish in riches while millions die around them! What part of that is compassionate?”
“Sure they do bad things sometimes, but have you forgotten the love they hold for each other? The determination and hope shining from within them when they pray to us? Have you forgotten that?”
“THEIR ACTIONS ARE NOT JUSTIFIED IN ANY WAY!”
“AND OURS ARE? YOU ARE BLIND, OBERON. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE CRUELTY THE GODS HAVE SUBJECTED HUMANS TO? WHEN OUR FATHER TOOK YEARS AWAY FROM THEIR LIFESPANS SOLELY BECAUSE THEY STOPPED WORSHIPPING HIM AS OFTEN AS THEY USED TO? WHAT PART OF THAT IS JUSTIFIED?” 
He just stared at you with angry irises and his chest heaving before he ran a hand through his long ivory hair and turned around, the flowing white cape flowing wildly behind him with unseen air. He walked back into the observation room and back to his throne. Without a second glance to you, he worked on the transition of power between the sun and moon. You could imagine your sister Aelia grinning brightly as she rose the sun for the day.
“You are to never return here if you step foot out that door. You will still have control of your duties of the night. However you will never return. Do not come back groveling for forgiveness when I have given you constant warnings of their cruelty. If I see your face show up here, I will make sure father smites you down. Now get out of my sight.”
You huffed and whipped around to the front entrance, the stars that constantly twinkled and the nebulas that constantly swirled in the inside of your cloak illuminating the white floors below you as you ran. You left the palace without a second thought, leaving your old life behind in favor of spending it with the humans.
When you came crashing to the Earth in a shooting star, you were amazed by the beauty of it up close and in person
It was everything you expected and then some
You heard the humans cheering and thanking you in their prayers when the stars returned brighter than usual
You being completely enamoured by all of the humans, even if they recognized you or not you loved them all unconditionally
You set up a little cottage in the tundra where you could see the night sky clearly with the occasional aurora borealis 
From the roof, you controlled the stars
The tales of you defecting from the heavens was a popular one, and you became somewhat of a symbol of the hope that humanity should hold for themselves and compassion
Occasionally sending shooting stars over humans you knew were stargazing
You have met many lovers, friends, and even your own adopted kids over the next millenia, all of them accepting your immortality and everlasting duties
But it’s all the same in the end: they come, they leave, and they die
With each death of your loved ones, you could feel your will to keep going dissipate
The stars grew dimmer gradually in the night sky
The humans gradually stopped worshipping you as you disappeared from the night skies
You became a distant memory for elders to tell children 
Disappearing from the face of the Earth for a few centuries when you could not take the constant deaths any longer
Nobody knew where your cabin laid so you were undisturbed for centuries on end, left to your grief
That was until a knock sounded at your door
The knock startled you out of the comfort of your bed. Reluctantly, you left the warmth of the multitude of blankets and donned your cloak to hide your unkempt appearance. When you passed the mirror hanging in the hallway, you could see that your face was shrouded by darkness with the exception of a single glint where your eyes were caused by the lone star that was a constant reminder of your position. Before you fell into a deep depression, the stars would illuminate your entire face if you put your hood up. 
You opened the front door without a care in the world. If the beings on the other side were humans that would take you away and torture you, you didn’t care. You’re long past the point of caring for your own well being.
On the other side was a man of average height and long shaggy blond hair pulled into a slick ponytail. He was dressed entirely in green with a green and white striped bucket hat placed on his head. Past you would’ve been cooing at the object, but now you dully looked at the man in front of you. You glanced behind him and your eyes widened at the huge black wings sprouting from his back. You know who he was the second your eye caught the black feathers; he was the Angel of Death.
“Hello, Angel of Death.”
He tried to peer into your shrouded features, only seeing two pinpricks of light where your eyes should be. He gave you a friendly smile, brushing off the snow that gathered on his shoulders. “(Y/n), the God of the Stars and the Night Sky. Giver of compassion to the human race, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“Why are you here? Last time I checked, my last lover died centuries ago.”
“Yes, my condolences. They were lovely when I guided their soul to the afterlife.”
“You still have not answered my question, Angel of Death. Why are you here?” You grit out the last sentence through a clenched jaw. He has no right to talk about them when he assisted in taking them away from you. Him and your cousin, the Goddess of Death Kristin. They took everybody you loved away from you. You knew that their deaths were unavoidable since they were human and you were immortal, but you still couldn’t help but resent them.
“The Goddess of Death sent me. The God of the Moon and the Goddess of the Sun sent her a request to send me to check on you.”
You stared at him for a few moments before you saw him shivering slightly and sighed. You always had a soft spot for humans, even if the being in front of you was not a human in the slightest. He reminded you of an old friend. You stepped aside and gestured lazily inside the house, “come in.”
He started to visit more and more over the next century
He eventually befriended you about half a century into the visits
It was extremely difficult to do because of how guarded you were, but he managed to break you out of your shell
You realizing how kind he was and how much he cared for you
You quickly came to the realization that he was immortal as well after reading up on the Angel of Death
After another fifty years, he became your best friend
You both opened up and comforted each other about everybody you both lost over the years
When he adopted Technoblade and then Wilbur not long after Techno, you were extremely hesitant to get close to them
Even going as far as telling Philza that you thought that it was an extremely bad idea
Mortals always end up leaving in the end anyways, it’s best to avoid the endless cycle of hurt that came with having mortals around
You told him about your own adopted children that have died over the years
You refuse to meet them, cutting off all communication with Philza for a year or two
Eventually meeting his three adopted kids when you reluctantly accept a dinner invitation one day
You attempted to appear cold and uncaring, but your love for humans (especially baby humans) shone through when an infant Tommy started to play with your cape
It seemed that the stars and the moving nebulas within the fabric entranced him
From then on whenever you visited Philza, you always held Tommy until he was too old for you to do so
Becoming very attached to the blond with your strong innate parental instincts
You introduce Techno to mythology, sharing stories of your personal interactions with certain gods and entities throughout the years
You teach Techno how to cope with the voices as you constantly hear multiple prayers to you from humans at the same time
You arrange a meeting for Wilbur with the Goddess of Music when he asks you about her
Arranging for her to start giving him lessons in exchange of a favor that will be cashed at a later date
You help raise all three of them, often taking them off Philza’s hands for a night or two 
Their favorite activity with you is watching you raise the stars and turn the sky dark
They always loved to watch you move the stars and summon shooting stars for them
The stars gradually returned to your eyes and a constant ecstatic smile slowly became synonymous with your face again
Humans started to worship you again when the stars in the sky became brighter
You became your old self again after centuries of feeling lost 
To repay them for everything they’ve done for you, you decided to rearrange the stars for one night 
One night of having a different star pattern couldn’t hurt 
Sure, it’d make a few theories pop up among the humans, but those are fun to overhear sometimes
The young boys and Philza behind you watched in awe as your eyes started to glow brightly and you slowly moved your hands gracefully raising the stars with the moon, your cloak starting to flow with nonexistent winds. They’ve seen you raise the stars thousands of times, but it never ceases to amaze them. It was just so… entrancing. 
You broke into a slight sweat and started to move the stars from their original positions in the sky. Shaking slightly, you pushed back against the strain and slight pain that it brought you. You’ve never done this before, so you really didn’t know what you were expecting. You felt someone put a hand on your shoulder.
“What’re you doin, mate?”
“Uh Dad?”
“Not now Techno. Mate, are you alright?”
“Dad, look up. They’re rearranging the stars,” Wilbur breathed out.
You could hear Philza gasp slightly as he watched star after star move until they locked into place. There in the twinkling night sky was each of their names gleaming brightly in small lettering. When you were done, you fell into a kneel onto the ground and rubbed at your aching head panting lightly. 
You could hear the boys around you panic slightly as you regained your breath. As you heard them approach you you looked up at them and smiled, the stars gleaming brightly in your irises. “Do you like it?”
“Y-yes but gods, (y/n) are you alright?”
“I am fine, but stars, I have never done that before. Are you four ready for stargazing?”
“That was so pog, (y/n)! How’d you do that?”
“I hold the power of the stars and the night sky in my hands. My brother once told me that the night is our kingdom.” You laid down onto the grass and took off your cloak to cover up a shivering Tommy and Wilbur next to you. You sighed as you thought about your siblings; you wondered how they were doing. 
“I will gladly move the stars themselves for you four. You are my family.” There was a stretched out moment of comfortable silence as you five watched shooting stars blaze by. Eventually, you saw an aurora borealis materialize above you. Furrowing your brow, you looked at it in question. They don’t appear this time of year, so why-
“Aelia,” you breathed out as you watched the greens flow above you. She must’ve sent a gust of solar wind your way. 
“Isn’t Aelia the Goddess of the Sun?” Wilbur asked you.
“Yes, she is my oldest sister. She must have redirected the solar winds over here.” 
“Damn, what’s with the gods changing everything tonight? You guys need to fuckin chill.”
“Tommy!” Philza scolded and was about to continue before he heard you start to laugh. They’ve only heard you genuinely laugh only a couple of times, so the sound that left your mouth immediately brightened the mood. 
“Yes Tommy, I suppose we do need to ‘fucking chill’.”
“You swore! Fuckin pog,” Tommy cheered to himself as the others looked at you in slight shock at your words. If you’re being completely honest in all of the years you spent alive (which is since basically the beginning of time), you’ve never sworn once. You were raised differently than that. When you realized that the others were staring at you, you smirked at them. The stars twinkling and giving your eyes even more of a mischievous glint, “what? Have you never heard a god swear before?”
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magnificent-nerd · 3 years
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How James Gunn subverts generic male gaze in The Suicide Squad (2021)
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Image description: poster for The Suicide Squad (2021), showing multiple cast members inc. John Cena, Idris Elba, Margot Robbie and Joel Kinnaman) in a bright explosion of color.
Minor spoilers ahead for The Suicide Squad (but if you weren’t interested in watching the movie especially after the sexist 2016 version, perhaps this will sway you!)
The Suicide Squad movie has just released in both theaters and on HBO Max streaming. It is an indirect sequel to 2016′s Suicide Squad directed by David Ayer. No, you need not have seen the 2016 movie in order to watch this one. Yes, this new sequel is way better than the previous movie.
I saw a few non spoiler reviews online from fans saying this movie felt like it had a female gaze. Now, after having seen both of Gunn’s Guardians movies for Marvel and the way the women were treated, combined with David Ayer’s 2016 Suicide Squad movie and how Harley was treated, I admittedly dismissed this notion that James Gunn could make a movie that wouldn’t have me rolling my eyes at least a dozen times.
Well, I was fortunate enough to see the movie in the theater and all I can say is, huh. What a pleasant surprise!
I’d like to do a longer post about this movie at a later date, but for now I simply must address who the audience is invited to ogle/appreciate in near-naked form...
And it’s not the women, they are all fully clothed at all times. (Thankfully.)
It’s the men.
Two scenes in particular stand out to me, and both are very different.
And without getting too much into spoilers, I’ll briefly describe the tone of them and how one feels more typical generic male gaze, and the other more subversive and female gaze. (Also, if you’re queer like me and enjoy looking at men, you’re in for a treat with both gazes!)
The first scene is framed as funny/comedic, when the team are at their camp. They’ve been disturbed from sleep and while all of them are dressed, John Cena has a full screen, lingering shot of him in just his tighty whities.
In case you wondered why this was trending...
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Image description: screen shot of a twitter search for John Cena, showing that ‘John Cena bulge’ is the second result showing above ‘John Cena peacemaker’. (Fans are thirsty.)
Even played as a comedic moment, Cena looks a-maz-ing and the camera spends a lot of time on his near-naked body, inviting the audience to look. (Thanks, James Gunn!)
You can go check the pictures for yourself if you want, or watch the movie. It’s a very funny moment that plays into the macho rivalry between Peacemaker and Bloodsport. As I said, this scene felt more typical male gaze because it was centered on male rivalry and comedy, but it’s just another example of how this movie doesn’t shy away from showing its men off. 
The rivalry between John Cena’s Peacemaker and Idris Elba’s Bloodsport is played for laughs through most of the movie, and later becomes more serious with opposing views on morals and was shot in unique and interesting ways. Very nicely done, in my opinion. 
We do also get to see a shirtless shot of Joel Kinnaman, though I disregard that standard shot, because even Disney/the MCU does some generic and brief abs out shots in most of their movies. It’s nothing unusual for the genre, right?
So let’s move onto the scene that surprised me. 
James Gunn subverted expectations in so many ways for this movie, but giving us a thirst shot of actor Juan Diego Botto coming out of a pool like a male Bond girl? Inspired.
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Image description: gif of Juan Diego Botto emerging dripping wet from a picturesque pool against a sunlit window, wearing a pair of tight black Speedos.
Now while this scene is over the top, it’s incredibly unusual to see a handsome man like this in a comic book movie, especially from The Big Two (Marvel or DC), presented in such a fashion: a Bond girl moment.
We haven’t been fed this well for male thirst shots since Fox’s Wolverine! And even then most of those near-naked Hugh Jackman scenes were set against violent/torture/medical horror backdrops. Probably the only one that compares to this scene in The Suicide Squad is that just-out-of-bed scene in X-Men: Days of Future Past... and even that soon erupts into violence.
In contrast, this shot of character Silvio Luna played by Juan Diego Botto is peaceful, gentle, and meant to be seductive. (Again, thanks James Gunn!)
The trope of sexy actor emerging wet from a pool is usually reserved for actresses playing the new Bond girl in James Bond movies. How many times have we seen that over the years? A lot.
Here, James Gunn flipped that trope on its head because the person ogling Silvio Luna is a woman: Harley Quinn, and the audience is invited to ogle him with her.
And even though Silvio Luna is a villain (everyone in this movie is a villain, technically), he is shown to be non violent (toward Harley Quinn, at least).
What follows the pool scene and initial meeting are more romantic/seductive scenes, very over the top and visually pretty. You may have seen a meme of one of those online recently: 
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Image description: Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) and Silvio Luna (Juan Diego Botto) are on a balcony together in soft lighting/golden sunshine, acting every bit the loving couple sharing a happy moment as they gaze into the distance.
These scenes were some of my favorite Harley moments. It begins with her character being spoiled and treated like a queen, a high contrast to how Task Force X/Amanda Waller uses Harley, as an expendable soldier.
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Image description: gif of Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie) having her hair and make-up done, looking very elegant, tasteful, and pretty. The context is, she is shown her reflection in a mirror, and she says in surprise, “I’m a princess.”
I must impress how pleased/pleasantly surprised I was with all of the clothing/costume choices for Margot Robbie’s Harley throughout this movie. She is very much clothed the entire time (in amazing outfits that fit her character), and even when in battle or peril, the most she shows is bare arms, neck, or a knee/lower legs.
She also gets boots to fight in! Flat heeled boots! 
Such a welcome relief after the sexist/impractical outfits in 2016′s Suicide Squad, and all its thirsty male gaze that felt more gross than anything.
In contrast, 2021′s The Suicide Squad provides a really beautiful journey for Harley’s character, and I felt it was a nice continuation from 2020′s Birds of Prey directed by Cathy Yan and produced by Margot Robbie, which I loved.
I felt like BoP Harley influenced this Harley quite a bit, showing Harley’s whimsical nature but without her being sexualised. Also her action scenes felt similar, and her recovery/healing period felt in line with how she was portrayed in BoP.
And for any fans concerned that her arc is all about ‘a man’ in The Suicide Squad, fear not! Their scenes together, while significant, are also brief. Despite Luna’s romantic seduction Harley ultimately disagrees with his viewpoint on something later on, and ends her fling with him. Following that comes a very heartfelt scene about how she is feeling in her recovery after an abusive relationship (the Joker), and going forward in her life.
It really felt like a natural continuation from Harley in Birds of Prey. Overall, such a pleasant and welcome surprise.
Now, I have seen some straight male fans complain that all these Harley scenes felt like ‘a side quest’ from the main plot. All I can say is, so what? After how appallingly 2016′s Suicide Squad treated both character and actress with its sexism, I say she deserves all the screen time and character development she gets in 2021′s The Suicide Squad.
Harley Quinn, and Margot Robbie, are a big audience draw for these movies. Imagine calling good character development for Harley ‘a side quest’. They truly can’t grasp what’s important to women characters or Harley fans at all.
Anyway, I hope this post has given fans a little insight into a movie they may not have considered watching otherwise! Throw out everything you saw with 2016′s Suicide Squad, this sort-of sequel is a redemption on so many levels. (Even Rick Flag gets better character development.)
If you like to be (pleasantly) surprised, enjoy classic Sci-Fi B-movies, comic books bursting with colors, and really funny but violent action comedy, this is the movie for you.
It is unexpectedly charming.
Originally posted on my blog, magnificentlynerdy.blogspot.com
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bee-eoofcringe · 3 years
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Call Me Daddy
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❀ a/n: please be kind to me. I wrote this in under 48 hours after my dumbass realized that the due date was today. It’s not super rough or violent, cause that's not me. This was for @kaijime​ ‘s dilf collab. Also, props to @half-baked-biscuit​ for revising and editing this last minute for me. I love you 💜
❀ wc: 3k
❀ who: DILF!Teacher! Sugawara, Fem!Reader
❀ what: smut (oral f-receiving, fingering, squirting), tw: noncon, tw: drugging, tw: blackmail, d a r k c o n t e n t
It wasn’t every day that someone as young as you got an opportunity like this; at age nineteen, you were presented the opportunity to be a student-teacher at Karasuno Elementary. When you first received the news, you were ecstatic and then nervous. Who would you be paired with to teach? What age group were these kids in? Would they even like you? These fears only grew as you prepared for your first day.
You showed up more than an hour early due to anxiety and prayed for no awkward instances while you sat on a bench near the front entrance. Those prayers weren’t answered. The most beautiful man you had ever seen entered your field of vision, slowly at first and then all of a sudden; his honey brown eyes were the only thing you could see. Deep dimples made themselves known to you as he smiled, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching a bit with the motion. It took you a moment to notice that he was talking to you.
“Hey there, I’m Sugawara Kōshi. I teach preschool here.” His introduction to you was all but lost in the way his gentle voice had reduced you to a puddle. “You look a little young, are you the student-teacher we were told about at the last meeting?” Suga tilted his head inquisitively, his eyes searching for answers that your mouth didn’t seem keen on sharing.
After /discretely/ calming your racing heart, you replied “yes, I am. I know school doesn’t start for quite a while, but I figured I would familiarize myself with the layout of the school beforehand.” Patting yourself on the back for being able to reply at all, you stood to bow in respect and gave him your name. “Do you always show up so early?”
He laughed softly, ruffling his grey hair and nodding. “I’m an early riser, so I usually elect myself to morning duties. I help the little kiddos switch their shoes and sign in for the day.” He hikes the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and gestures towards the front door, “shall we?”
You follow him into the main office and make note of where everything is - principal, vice-principal, nurse, etc. It takes you a second to zone back in, but you quickly notice that he’s giving you a tour of the school, jokingly throwing your way a “take note”. You roll your eyes and smile, enjoying the tour and doing your best to memorize the important locations. By the time you make it back to the front, other staff members and some older students with morning clubs began filing in.
“Are you our newest member?” A sweet voice asks you. You turn to see that one of the office attendants had made her way behind the front desk. “I’m only assuming because I’ve never seen your face before.” When you confirm that you were, in fact, the student-teacher coming to spend the year with them, she beckoned you over to the desk and handed you a name tag and a set of keys. “I’m so glad you already met Suga-san, that makes everything easier. You’ll be spending the year in his classroom.” At this revelation, your soul left your body. Unbeknownst to you, a certain Sugawara also had a strong reaction to this remark; though he was outwardly cheery, the thing he felt the strongest was a warmth pooling in his gut at the thought of having you to himself.
After a few months, you had fully settled into your role. You helped kiddos swap their shoes in the mornings and got them checked in for the day. During class-time, you observed Sugawara’s teachings and made sure the children were paying attention - along with occasionally giving help where it was needed. In the afternoon, you made sure all the kids were set and ready to go home. It was a simple and easy routine, and honestly you were having fun. The fact that Sugawara was so kind and handsome definitely sweetened the situation.
From what you had picked up, he was a thirty-nine year old divorcee with an ex-wife who taught his son to hate him. You couldn’t even fathom anyone wishing any ill will towards the teacher; Sugawara was, without a doubt, one of the best people you had ever met. When the subject was brought up, he would deflate slightly and his usual smile would falter. You had made it your personal mission to bring him any happiness that you could while you were with him. Something you knew he deeply appreciated.
On this particular day, there was no school. Well, no school for the kids. It was a staff in-service day. When you arrived at the school, Suga was waiting for you at the front gates as usual. The two of you clocked in, dropped your stuff off in his classroom, and made your way to the boardroom where all the stuffy teacher meetings were held. You did your best to listen during these, but they were so boring. You often found yourself grumbling quietly under your breath and fidgeting. This meeting seemed to be especially torturous. Something about a new policy they were going to put in place. Something mind numbing. You let out a subconscious huff, not knowing that you had caught the attention of your superior.
Sugawara knew you hated these meetings, but if you wanted to be a teacher, these were something you would have to learn to deal with. You were a promising future prospect for their school. Your grades were stellar. Every recommendation they had received for you was glowing. You were so good with the kids. But even with all of your excellent traits, you couldn’t sit through one little meeting. When he heard the noise escape you, he did a quick sweep of the other teachers to make sure that they hadn't noticed. With that confirmation, he took it upon himself to correct this behavior; he was a teacher after all. Suga leaned back in his seat slightly, taking one of his hands off the table in front of him where they had been folded neatly. He, inconspicuously, slipped his hand under the table to rest on your knee - the one that hadn’t stopped bouncing since you sat down. He then proceeded to give your knee a quick squeeze, making sure to dig his nails in just a little bit to get his point across. Sugawara knew his methods were working when not a second later you sat up straight and focused your attention on the principal who had been speaking the entire time. This had been the first instance of Suga using a more forceful and less pleasant means of correcting your behavior, but it was far from the last.
The longer you stayed with him and continued to be a part of his classroom, the  more wary you became around Sugawara. That first instance of him digging his nails into your knee to get you to pay attention, completely inappropriate by the way, had left you rattled. At first you tried to brush it off as an accident; maybe he had meant to pat you on the knee and underestimated his strength? Though, as time went on you realized you were sorely mistaken.
Not a week after the in-service incident, he cornered you in the teacher’s lounge when it was just the two of you in there. Apparently, you were getting along with the art teacher a little too well and he didn't appreciate it.The second Hana-san left to go prep for his next class, Suga was on you with poorly concealed fury in his eyes. “So, Aito huh? Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a fan of the arts?” He spit at you, the smile on his face none too convincing, “I can teach you a thing or two about art. Did you know that while the color red is mostly associated with violence and anger, it’s also translated as passion and seduction. Is that why you wore that top today? Are you trying to catch someone’s attention?”
You were completely dumbfounded; while he had been crossing the line a little bit at that meeting, this was completely unacceptable. Although, you did need this job. Not only were you getting experience from being in an actual classroom, you were also getting paid because Suga’s class was rather large. The school was already in the market for a second pair of hands in his class when you showed up, so they gave that salary to you. You needed this job to pay rent. With this in mind, you carefully crafted your answer. “Sugawara-san, I’m a bit offended that you’d think so poorly of me. I would never go after a married man.” You gave him a pointed look and tried to come across as stern, though on the inside you only felt cold fear.
The anger bled from his face first and then the rest of his body as the tension it held had been released. Suga laughed and rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, saying “you’re right, I definitely don't think that lowly of you. I was just looking out for Hana-san. His wife is a kind woman and I wouldn't want to see another marriage become ruined.” He glanced at the clock and walked over to where he had dropped his lunch bag. “Come on then, let’s go get our kids from their meal.” His phrasing made you a little squeamish then, but again - this was only the second red flag, and red looks an awful lot like pink under rose-tinted glasses.
The final straw was on another in-service day, though this time there was no meeting to be had. Some teachers checked in and left to work from home for the day, but Suga had insisted that the two of you stay to grade the kids’ tests from the previous day. You wanted to go home and get back into bed; grading was one-person job when the questions were 1+1=2. Instead, you were bribed with a hazelnut mocha latte even if the almond milk was a bit gritty. 
As soon as you walked through the door, you started feeling off. Call it what you want, the vibes, the energy, the mood - something was wrong. As you turned around to see if maybe Suga had a suggestion to help, dread began to form in your stomach. Suga had locked the door from the inside. You took a step back at this revelation, a bit wobbly as your coordination had started to wane and your dread changed to fear. “Suga-san” you started, but no other words left your mouth - it felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. Your head was aching and everything was hot. The strength in your body was quickly fading, so it was no surprise to anyone that you didn’t fight when Sugawara walked forward and took you into his arms.
“Oh, how sweet, are you gonna make this easy for me, sugar?” He asked, with a laugh that you might’ve found charming a little while ago. “I’ve been wanting to make you mine since I first came across your student profile. I was the one that suggested you, did you know that? Imagine my surprise when they actually put you right into my hands. Don’t you worry darlin’, I’m gonna make this nice for both of us.”
The way he spoke should’ve triggered more red flags for you, more fear, more something - but you couldn’t feel anything. You were pretty much numb to the outside world. Though your vision was blurry and everything sounded like it was underwater, you were still very much conscious. Conscious, but a prisoner of your own mind.
Suga pulled you closer to his body, pleased that you sunk into his warmth, even if it wasn’t of your doing. “Did you enjoy your coffee?” He questioned, not surprised when he received nothing in reply. He laughed softly to himself and slipped one arm under your legs, the other secured itself around your shoulder. He picked you up and walked over to the reading area he had in his classroom; there he laid you down on the low couch. 
You began to internally panic when he started undressing you; you knew what he said, but people say a lot of things they don’t mean. You tried to fight his advances, but the most you could do was turn your body slightly and groan. “No,” you whispered, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, “don’t want this.” Unfortunately for you, Sugawara wasn’t listening. No, he had you completely undressed and underneath him. 
You flinched when he raised his hand to your face, brushing away the hairs that had fallen out of place and petting softly at your cheek. “You’re so lovely,” you heard him say, though you wish you hadn’t. He continued in this way for a while. Running his hands over various parts of your body and cooing softly at you in a way one would to their lover. He stopped once his hands made their way to your hips, and he kneaded the flesh there. You frowned and tried to twist your body away from his ministrations, and almost immediately you were rewarded. Whatever he gave you must not have been very strong, because while your movement was weak, it was still there.
Just when you thought things were starting to look up, you heard him say, “you should start coming back to yourself soon, I made sure to give you a low dose. Until then, let’s give you an orgasm or two, yeah?” The blood in your veins turned to ice and you began to shake your head as hard as you could. Maybe if he could see that you didn’t want it, he would stop? Instead, he spread your legs, and sat between them; judging by the look on his face, he was extremely pleased with whatever he saw.
“God, you’re soaked.” You were able to pick up his whisper, but just barely. It made no sense to you, you were terrified, there was no way in hell your body was providing an aroused response. Once again, you were proved wrong when his thumb petted at and spreaded your folds gently, eliciting from you the most wanton moan you had ever made. It shook you right to your very core. Whatever he gave you was causing this reaction - this sensitivity. It had to be.
You wanted to panic when Suga laid on his stomach; you immediately knew his intention was to eat you out. What would he gain from this? Why was he doing this to you? Neither of these questions were answered, instead you gasped when you felt his tongue dip into you. The way he ate you out was entirely selfish, but still managed to feel amazing. It seemed that his primary goal was to drink up as much of your essence as possible from the way he kept pressing his tongue into you and groaning at the taste. You were almost relieved that he wasn’t actually trying to get you off - maybe you could walk away from this encounter with a little bit of dignity? Whatever entity was listening to your thoughts that day must have hated you because almost immediately, his tongue shifted courses.
Suga pressed his appendage flat against you and dragged it up to your throbbing clit. He must’ve been feeding off of your reactions because as soon as you whimpered, he closed his lips around it and sucked hard. The bastard smirked against you when you cried out at the stimulation. He continued to drag his tongue against you, starting at your entrance and flicking his tongue at your clit. The rhythm he picked up was sinister in the way it had made your legs shake. He introduced a finger in your soaked entrance right when your thighs were tightening around his shoulders, and he wasted no time sinking it into your heat. 
That added stimulation was all you needed for your first orgasm to wash over your body. Your thighs squeezed his shoulders and your cunt his finger. You almost didn’t notice that your body jerked a little stronger than before; the drugs were finally starting to wear off. You didn’t say or do anything, hoping to keep this secret to yourself while your chest heaved. Sugawara wasn’t going to let you catch your breath, it seemed. Not even a minute after your first orgasm had taken hold over your body, his finger - excuse me, fingers - started to move within you once again. You whimpered and twitched, whining “too much,” and attempting to bat his hand away. He only chuckled and continued to leisurely finger you, enjoying the warm, wet feel of your walls. Suga crooked his fingers up and made a beckoning motion, immediately reducing you to a babbling puddle. 
As soon as he found that spot inside of you, he abused it - pressing his fingers into it and rubbing relentlessly. Around the same time, he had dipped his head back down and began to lap at your overstimulated clit again, causing your body to jerk without your consent. It was all too much for you to handle. Not long after the first one, a second orgasm began to build in your core, though this one felt different. There was more of a pressure behind this one. To your horror, Suga pulled away from you with a grin and immediately began thrusting his fingers into that spongy patch repeatedly and harsh. You wailed and tugged at his wrist, hoping to make him stop, but nothing was going to stop him now that he was determined. With one hand pistoning into you, and the other reaching up to thumb at your clit, your end was nearing fast. After one more calculated thrust, you squirted all over his fingers, soaking his lap and the couch. Taking mercy on your poor, spent body, he withdrew his fingers from your cunt and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your sternum. 
It took a while for your mind and body to catch up with each other, but eventually free movement came back and the haze of pleasure lifted from your mind. You arrived in the present to find Sugawara cooing at you and whispering sweet words, his hands creating a warm path along your sides. “There’s my girl,” you heard him say, obviously pleased with the mess he made of you. “How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice soft.
“You drugged me,” you accused, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.
“Details sweetheart, details. How do you feel?”
“Exhausted. Warm. Kinda fuzzy in the head - wait no! This was not consensual!”
“Yes it was,” he quipped, confusing your still hazy mind. “And if you argue that it wasn’t, I have everything here recorded. It would be a shame if you lost your scholarship after your mentor at Karasuno found porn of you online.”
All of the pieces slowly started falling into place. With every word he spoke, dread returned to your body. He was blackmailing you. “What do you want from me?” You asked, body and mind tired from the extraneous activities. “I obviously don't have money.”
“Let me do this. Let me pleasure you. All I want is for you to lay back and let me have you,” his words seemed suspect, but his eyes spoke of honesty. Against your better judgement, you nodded. Sugawara beamed at you, his sunshine smile slowly melting away the fear that should’ve stayed in place. “One more thing?” He said, flipping you onto your stomach and raising your hips, “call me Daddy.”
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strsburn · 3 years
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destiny led me to you | loki
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pairing - loki laufeyson x female reader
synopsis - driven by the heartbreak of losing your entire world by the hands of thanos, you set out to find him, leaving destruction in your path in multiple universes; thus creating a horde of branches in the timeline and catching the attention of the TVA.
but you would do it all again if it meant you could see him once more.
notes - this is hopefully going to be a series, depending on the feedback i receive, i plan to follow the episodes only slightly because i dont want it to be an exact copy of the show.
[THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR LOKI SERIES]
idea credit ( @horrorisunknowntoyou ) thank you for the inspo and allowing me to run with it!
warnings - death, violence, angst, and possible smut (in later chapters?)
wc - 2.4k
MASTERLIST • AO3
"Dread it, run from it. Destiny arrives all the same." A wrinkled hand reaches for your chin, running prune colored fingers along your jawline, doting; mockingly.
Your heartbeat pulses loudly in your ears, eyes glazing over with exhaustion and pain as you attempt to glare, the notion in vain as the titan merely chuckled amusedly.
"I can see great power in you, little one. An infinity stone pulses beneath your every vein. Tell me, where is the tesseract?"
You remain silent.
"We don't have the tesseract, it was destroyed along with all of Asgard." Thor interjects weakly from where he lies, his body held tightly in the arms of the black order.
Guilt sweeps across your being as you make eye contact with Loki, sharing a single nod as you both know what you must do.
Thanos grows annoyed with your unwillingness to comply as he walks over with loud steps, his footprints visible as he raises his gauntlet up, the power stone shining threateningly close to Thor.
"The tesseract, or your brother's head. I assume you have a preference." It's not a question. Merely a statement, one that Loki knows he must prove unbothered.
"Oh, I do. Kill away." To anyone else it would seem he couldn't care less about his brother's demise, but you know your love better than he does himself and you catch the glance of fear that washes over cerulean eyes.
You can only watch in trepidation as the stone makes contact with the God's head. Agonized cries escaping as his skin is burned by the mere power of the stone.
Loki does his best to look unaffected, but you catch the hitch in his breath as he batters inner turmoil. the universe, or his brother.
"Alright, that's enough!"
Loki turns his palm up, as a familiar blue cube materializes in his hand. The eerie blue glow casting a shadow upon his face.
Thanos steps away, smug. You force yourself to look away from Thor's accusing gaze.
"You truly are the worst, brother." Thor shakes his head, eyes disappointed but not surprised.
As Thanos moves to take the stone from his hand cerulean blue eyes make contact with your own and you feel a wave of fear wash over you as you recognize the look in Loki's eyes.
"I assure you, brother. The sun will shine on us again." He does not move his gaze from your own and you can't help but feel this is an unspoken goodbye.
"Your optimism is misplaced, asgardian."
"Well, for one thing, I'm not asgardian. For another, we have a hulk."
In a blur of color you are shoved from where you lie, a slithe figure covering your own as you breathe in the familiar scent of cinnamon and leather.
"We don't have much time, my love. I just want you to know that I love you dearly, and I am grateful for the time I had with you. May I see you again, in Valhalla." His eyes are teary and you barely process his words, as his hands grab hold of your face and pull you into a kiss.
The kiss is desperate, filled with love and grief and you can only briefly kiss your love back as he steps closer to Thanos, rambling on about undying fidelity.
You catch a glimpse of silver behind his back and you gasp as realization sets in.
You move to reach him just as he leaps for Thanos, the knife poised for his head, frozen in mid air as the stones across his knuckles pulse.
"Undying fidelity, you should choose your words more wisely."
You cry out as Loki struggles in his grip, his skin fading blue. You crawl forward, legs aching as you reach for him, your progress hinged by your inability to walk.
"You will never be a god." The rasped words are followed by a snap as his neck gives out beneath Thanos' hands.
A tortured scream rings out and it takes you a second to realize it's your own. A broken sob leaves you as you crawl forward to reach where Thanos has carelessly thrown the body of your love.
You heave as your shaky fingers caress his face, his lifeless eyes staring ahead as you clutch him to your chest.
You rock back and forth knotting your fingers in his hair as you plead for the nightmare to end.
"No resurrections this time."
A portal opens and closes behind you, yet you make no motion to move.
You simply close your eyes and welcome the sweet release of death as the universe explodes around you.
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N E W Y O R K 2 0 1 2
"'Coordinates for search and rescue, on my way now.' I mean honestly, how-" Loki is promptly shut up by the mouth guard that decorates his face, courtesy of his brother.
Displeasure makes an appearance as Loki is led to the elevator followed by the avengers that quickly file in. The only source of entertainment being the temper tantrum the green beast throws as he is denied entry. Loki can hardly contain his glee as he waves mockingly as the doors close.
As he is led to the ground floor his cuffed hands clinking annoyingly with every step he glances wearily around himself, dreading the lecture that is sure to come once he reaches asgard. He has no doubt in his mind that Odin will find perfect reason to throw him to the wolves, lest his mother get involved.
As he contemplates, his attention is caught by the sound of his brother calling for help, the guards holding him, attending to what he perceives to be a heart attack, to none other than the man of metal.
He watches, confused as a small stature kicks the case holding the tesseract away from view as the others tend to Stark.
Looking around bemused he watches to see what will conspire next. Before any other move can be made a shout is heard as the doors to the staircase along with the wall is torn apart, the hulk making his distaste for the tedious activity known.
For once since meeting the beast he feels thankful, as the case holding the tesseract is knocked open, the familiar cube sliding towards his foot.
A beat passes and grabbing a hold of the familiar cube he glances around, vanishing in a thin cloud of blue.
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T V A U N K N O W N
Hurried footsteps echo down the corridor as the man moves with barely contained excitement. Tie swinging to and fro, a slightly wrinkled hand pulls at the collar of his neck nervously.
Mobius had seen many variants in his time at the TVA. Yet, none had ever come close to interesting as the file he currently held in one hand. Variant L1130 or Loki, as he was called, was perhaps one of the most complicated cases he had come across.
Born as a legend of mythology it was quite unbelievable to know that not only was he real, but he happened to be in their custody for creating a new branch in the timeline. Mobius could only hope Renslayer would agree to allowing him to be the God's superior.
Entering the courtroom, Mobius sits down and watches with rapt attention as Loki attempts to bargain with Ravonna. His plans are foiled as he tries to call upon his magic in a last effort to escape.
Mobius feels it's time to intervene when Renslayer makes it clear he is to be executed.
"You have no idea what I am capable of!"
"Actually I might have an idea of what he is capable of." He offers as he makes his way up to the stand.
His plea must be written across his face as Ravonna leans over to look at him directly.
"Whatever you're planning, it's a bad idea." She warns.
Nonetheless she reluctantly lets him go and Mobius has to fight off the urge to fist pump the air as he escorts Loki down the hallway.
"Oh, I'm Agent Mobius by the way." He offers a hand that is quickly ignored.
He can practically see the distrust written on Loki's face, his eyes calculating every move he makes.
Mobius is hardly surprised that as soon as he enters the room, his back turned to the God as he adjusts his projector, Loki is surging forward to attack. He doesn't even bat an eyelash as he clicks a button on his remote, resetting the God as if the action never even happened.
"C'mon, let's take a look at some of your greatest hits." Mobius waves a hand, as Loki curiously sits down, eyes trained on the projector.
He finds himself staring back at a hologram of his attack on New York. His blue eyes darting back and forth with glee as chaos erupts around him.
A feeling of something akin to shame runs down his spine as he recalls his reign of terror on the city, an illusion of preying on the weak to hide his own fear, lest he fail and succumb to Thanos and his minions.
Loki clenches his jaw, arms crossing over his form in an attempt to hide himself as he turns to avoid the screen.
"I see no point in this-"
"No, no wait, this is just getting good." Mobius grins as he points to the screen and Loki finds himself once again face to face with another variation of himself.
He briefly recalls the time he had lost a bet to Thor and had to change his form into that of a ginger haired man wearing a clean three piece suit, claiming he had a bomb and required over two hundred thousand in midgardian money just to see if he could pull it off. He did, in fact, pull it off, but his mother was not happy as well as the midgardians who failed to solve the case, naming him D.B. Cooper as they had no clue as to his real identity.
His attention is pulled to the screen as a familiar voice of silk enters the scene and he watches as his mother speaks to his future self, his eyes drawn into her face.
"Then am I not your mother?" He hears her ask. Yes, you are.
"No. You are not." Loki's eyes start to mist as he watches the look of hurt pass over his mother's features before she schools her expression into one of contempt.
"Always so perceptive, about everyone but yourself." She decides.
The screen flickers and he sees himself talking to an intruder, his voice amused as he suggests the monster to take the stairs to the left.
Then, his mother, Frigga, lying on the cold ground, a puddle of red growing rapidly beneath her body as her eyes remained closed.
His breath hitches, anger now licking up his spine. He turns sharply to Mobius who smartly remains silent.
"What is this! Some cruel joke? Where is she?! Where do you have her?"
Mobius steps forward, expression neutral as he speaks.
"She's dead Loki. This is the future, it's destined to happen, again and again because that's how it should be."
Loki falters his eyes narrowing as he spits "You're lying! I'll kill you!"
"What? Like you killed your mother."
There's a split second of silence before an angered shout is heard, a chair splitting the air as it crashes into pieces along the floor.
Before anything else can be said Mobius is summoned by Hunter B-15, his eyes falling to Loki who remains silent and he leaves with a slight tinge of guilt burrowing in his chest at the haunted look in the God's eyes.
"You think yourself so sly don't you." Loki looks up at the unfamiliar voice as the projector suddenly comes to life, a new image flicking gently on screen. His eyes catch upon your form and he watches in awe and wonder as you sit beside his future self.
"I don't think, love. I know." He grins leaning in to steal a kiss from you that leaves you both breathless.
He watches as your eyes are filled with nothing but love and adoration for him as you lean into his side.
"Loki?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Do you believe in soulmates?"
Loki tilts his head in contemplation as he looks to you, before a soft grin pulls at his lips.
"I didn't until I met you. I know that no matter who or what tries to tear us apart, we will always find a way back to each other."
A smile breaks out onto your face and Loki watches in stunned silence as the clip ends with the two of your voices fading into laughter.
"You two are meant to be together."
Loki turns as Mobius slowly comes to a stop behind him, his expression thoughtful.
"I don't enjoy hurting people you know." He responds, motioning towards the screen in reference to his attack on New York and the death of his mother.
Mobius doesn't respond, and he takes that as a sign to continue.
"I do it because I have to. Because I've had to." He looks down as he fiddles with his fingers.
Mobius hums as he replies.
"Why? Why do you think that is?"
"It's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."
Realization lights up in Mobius' eyes as he answers back.
"A desperate play for control. You do know yourself."
"A villain." Loki sums up.
"Not the way I see it."
There's a mutual silence between them before Mobius sighs.
"Look I can't offer you salvation but I can offer you something better. A fugitive variant has been killing our minutemen."
"And let me guess, you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him."
"That's right."
"How could I possibly be of use to you?"
"That's the thing. The variant we are hunting, we believe is y/n." Mobius looks towards the projector where your image is still.
"I beg your pardon?"
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U N K N O W N
Mutilated bodies line the floor as a hooded figure steps over them, eyes glowing an unnatural hue.
"Is it finished?"
"Yes."
A wicked laugh fills the empty space as a portal opens in the deserted land, a set of footsteps following through.
"I'm coming for you, my love."
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