#the audience may love her more but that’s different | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

usedpidemo · 3 months

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Mistakes were made, but not you (Le sserafim Yunjin)

“Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!”

While Yunjin lashes out at you, grabbing at your shirt and using you as a proxy for the world and its ill-timed misfortunes, you can’t help but wonder if your presence would have changed the situation for the better.

Probably not. It’s one of those events that has to happen for character growth.

—————

Tonight is supposed to be a night of celebration—a commemoration to the achievements, accomplishments, and accolades of the past year. The numbers and statistics never lie. They love her work, they love her artistry. They love her for what she sells and what she represents. But truth be told, Huh Yunjin couldn’t care less about what they think.

Thunderous cheers and colorful lightsticks representing different fandoms brighten the arena as the five Le sserafim members climb up the stairs to claim their award. Minutes ago, they pulled off the performance of a lifetime—an eight minute masterclass that represents everything the group stands for. You could see the exhaustion in their faces; barely mustering the strength to smile and wave to the crowd shouting for them.

For the most part, the acceptance speech is nothing notable. Going through the motions, thanking the fans, the staff, the company, promising to do better in the future—it’s about as cookie cutter as it gets. As Yunjin tries her hardest to keep her tears from falling while she talks, the other four can only focus on her with varying weary looks. Chaewon looks especially worried; it’s her responsibility and burden to look after every single one of them.

From the audience’s viewpoint, it’s seen as a non-issue, but the five girls recognize deep down it’s anything but. The only noteworthy thing is how suddenly quick they are on their feet heading backstage. It’s funny how everyone chases fame: to be in the moment, the spotlight. It’s funnier, Yunjin thinks, that she’d rather be anywhere else.

Unfortunately for her and the other artists attending, they’d have to wait a little longer. There’s backstage interviews and other idol obligations to do before they are finally let go. It’s not even worth all that lost time—that one award they receive ends up being their lone win for the night.

—————

Yunjin storms into your hotel room without a word with a fierce expression on her face. She doesn’t have to say it; she’s thankful she doesn’t have to spend another minute in front of the cameras, another minute being an idol—at least for the night.

In a sea of anger and auburn, Yunjin walks past you without acknowledging you at least once. She hastily drops off her purse on the coffee table before charging straight to her room and slamming the door. It’s easy to chalk up her frustrations on the monotony of the awards season—the countless hours of practice specifically for one event, the hours spent in the makeup room, the hours of interviews and fanservice—but you know she never acts like this. Rain or shine, hell or high water, she’ll walk around with a pleasant smile on her face.

Tonight simply isn’t one of those nights. You saw the whole ordeal happen in real time, and you’re already regretting the decision not to be there. At times, watching her on screen was tough. You can tell she was visibly uncomfortable, more clingy to her members than usual, when it’s normally the other way around. Admittedly, you have to give her props for holding herself back from crying when she has every right to. It’s a cold winter night, but that’s not the reason she’s trembling and shaking. It should be a night of celebration; instead, her sullen expression resembles the aftermath of complete, utter humiliation and defeat.

And it may as well be. You look through your phone; you find the messages from friends and acquaintances telling you the exact same thing; it might as well be considered spam.

> Yo did you see what happened to Yunjin?

> Is Yunjin okay?!

> Yunjin fell! Fuck MNET!

> BRO YUNJIN FELL FROM THE STAGE WHAT THE FUUUUCK—

> Don’t tell her but I actually laughed when she slipped XD hope she alright tho!

Of course you know. It’s all caught on camera and in living color for the whole world to see. Even if it was cut from the YouTube edit, which is highly unlikely, it’s already out there on the internet spreading like wildfire. Numerous reposts with tens of thousands of likes, multiple articles immediately written after the incident—her name and her moment will remain immortalized in K-pop history for all the wrong reasons. It has the internet making jokes, it has the internet writing thinkpieces, it has the internet creating needless fanwars—it has the internet buzzing.

You want to throw your phone from where your room is located—all the way up on the 27th floor—and pray it lands directly on a hater’s head.

Sure enough, when you try to enter her room, it’s locked shut. The door won’t budge. All this awkward, quiet tension between you is terrifying, and sleeping her feelings off isn’t going to help anyone, not during these trying times. She needs comfort right now more than anything else.

You give the door a respectful knock, only to be met with silence. Trying again and again leads you nowhere. Calling her name does you zero favors. Each futile attempt cuts away at your heart, little by little. Yunjin would rather isolate herself from the world than open up to anyone with no exceptions. Obviously, you have nothing to do with what happened (that is on the production team more than anyone) but you bear the responsibility and burden of being Yunjin’s partner, always there for her during the good times and the bad.

Now is not the time to give up or sulk. She needs comfort and love more than anything. She needs a shoulder to cry on. She needs a special voice to reassure her that everything will be okay.

Rummaging through her purse, you find one of her countless hairpins. It’s the oldest trick in the book—one that she always used to get you with guaranteed success. Already bent and straightened, perfectly shaped for picking—it’s as if she wanted you to reach her. You remember the disaster that was teaching you how to pick locks; dozens destroyed, to the dismay of her apartment doors, but she knew you’d need it at some point, and tried to help you to the best of her ability.

The lock comes undone. It’s a miracle, but it’s short-lived. What welcomes you as you enter her bedroom turns your uncertainty into shock and utter disbelief.

It’s imagery you only see in nightmares. Her bedroom completely ravaged and in utter ruin. Pillows, clothes, and objects scattered throughout the room. Yunjin is curled up against the wall with a blanket draped over her, concealing everything but her eyes. Bloodshot red from spilling her heart out. Around her feet lay two opened half empty bottles of alcohol and a spilled over wine glass. It takes everything not to drop to your knees or yell out “fuck” from the depth of your lungs.

Instead, it only comes out as an airy whimper, with your throat choked up seeing the sorry state your girlfriend’s in.

Every little step you take may as well be tiptoed. Carefully treading into uncharted territory, who knows what you’ll end up meeting. The next words you pick will be the most important ones you’ll ever say. It isn’t as simple as telling her everything will be fine—that mistakes happen, life moves on, and this will be a memory she can laugh at a few years from now. She believes she’s ruined not only her career, but also her members, when anyone with common sense thinks otherwise.

With a deep breath and a gulp of your throat, you run through all the options. You pray you make the best choice.

“Jen Jen,” you mumble, crouching down in front of her, frowning. Try as you might, you can’t bring yourself to smile. You reach your hand out to peek through the curtain; she aggressively slaps down your palm. It’s as dire as you believe it looks. She sees the world crashing down before her.

Watching her cry and hide herself away plucks away at your heartstrings. You don’t want to see her looking this sorry, this deflated. If her members—the people she’s closest with—couldn’t get through her, then how much less can you? Even so, you have to keep trying. Not as a fan nor an acquaintance, but as her partner.

Again, you’ll have to pick your way through another lock. This time, her heart. And it’s more delicate than any physical door.

She’s drowning in her tears to realize the tug on her wrists. Little by little, you pull them apart. Yunjin’s bloodshot eyes glare right into yours, but she does nothing. Slowly, you curl your arms around hers, reaching around her back. For a moment, she appears vulnerable. Open. You press yourself close to her—

And then she hits you square in the face.

Yunjin assaults you with a relentless barrage of fists, with one jab directly clocking your lips. They’re not the playful ones you’re used to. The kind that’s usually thrown after a serious argument, and you’ve only experienced a handful of squabbles. She sends you staggering back to the floor, violently screeching and attacking you. “Fuck you! Leave me alone!” she yells, punching you repeatedly with no sense of direction, only rage. You try to lift a hand in self-defense, only to be sent knocking down, to the point where you just give up and allow her to rip through you.

Looking into her eyes, having turned from grim to cruel, she looks as if you were there. As if you were the stage director. As if you were the one who pressed the button on the control panel. Her punches, aimless as they are, fucking hurt. You’re on the floor, defenseless, but you deserve it. You weren’t there when you should have been. The one award show you opt not to attend happens to be the one that ends up sideways. Of course she’ll pinpoint the cause back to you. That’s blind passion. That’s love.

She grabs you by the collar of your shirt, screaming right in your face, “Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!” Angry as she is, you can tell she’s trying to restrain herself. She wants to humiliate you, but she also doesn’t want to smash your head through the marble floor. You have this ragged but innocent look on your face. The stubborn kind that would tell her that you won’t give up on her. That you’d happily take all the beating just to see her smile again.

As it turns out, all she really needs is an outlet to air out her emotions. She has moved past her tears, and she has stopped beating you down, but everything else still remains. The glare. The dour frown. The fingers gripped to your collar. The room is silent, with the only sound filling the air is your low, airy hush of “Sorry.” Your hand rubs against her arm, conveying a message of reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.

Yunjin freezes. Unsure of how she feels, unsure of what to do. The moment stretches beyond the perception of time. You end up getting caught unprepared by what happens.

She doesn’t apologize for throwing you to the floor and verbally and physically assaulting you. You don’t really mind. A kiss is more than enough of an apology. Even more when it’s passionate, humming into your mouth before letting her tongue slip right between your lips, and her hands now pressed to your cheek. Lovemaking is how she speaks to you. Her lips do most of the talking.

Her body does the rest.

Yunjin pushes you down to the floor. You watch her shed her leather jacket, in awe of her radiant beauty. Her skin is porcelain, gleaming from the bedroom light. She’s a star, and shines like one. The reverence soon turns to amusement, mostly at how nonchalant she’s behaving. Minutes ago, she was hostile, out of control, threatening to turn you into a ruined mess. Instead, she’s about to leave you a ruined heap, but in a different way.

She notices. She always does. Knows you like a book. She grins.

“You know I can’t be mad at you,” she says, lifting an eyebrow as she straddles on your lap. Smirking playfully, she’s making you double take and wonder if this was an elaborate ploy or if she was really upset. And if it’s the former, then you’d really feel betrayed and manipulated. “Sorry dear,” she adds, accompanied by a peck on your lips. “I know it’s not your fault nor mine, it’s just that we prepared so much and—”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt, placing a hand on her bare shoulder, “I should have been there. I mean, what are the chances the one time I’m not there, this shit—”

“Shhh.” Yunjin plants a finger on your lips. “Babe shouldn’t worry about his Jen Jen’s performance. At least I looked cool falling, right?” she asks, both sweet and playful.

“Sure you did,” you chuckle, almost sucking on her fingertip as she points it directly at your lip. “Definitely the coolest fall I’ve ever seen. Will never be replicated. Ever. And I mean that.”

She laughs, heartily, even though she knows you’re flat out lying. “Yeah, because they won’t do stage designs like that ever again.” Then she kisses you again; she kisses you as if your lips are her lifeline. “I swear I’m gonna tell management not to do elevated stages when we go on tour!”

This is the Yunjin you know and love; the one that everyone knows her for. Laughs at her own jokes and her own mistakes, and smiles through it all. You’re amazed at how joined to the hip you both are when the cameras aren’t on. When you’re the only ones in the room—when she can truly be herself and not a fragmented version tailored to the public. You both have this special connection together that only you two can understand.

Her smile is so radiant, distracting even, that you recognize too little too late how tense you’re feeling.

“Jen Jen,” you tell her, looking down at her legs. She has a hand between her skirt, and her underwear is already partially down.

“What is it?”

“Can we take this somewhere else,” you tell her, flustered by your own request. There’s no skirting around the thought that you’d rather take her anywhere except for a cold floor in a messy bedroom. She hasn’t realized it yet, but you know Yunjin well; she would never let your imprints stick anywhere in her bedroom, hotel or her apartment, let alone make a mess. That, and for as much as you love the sight of her on top of you, you want to keep things on even footing—for now.

The expression she makes is priceless; it's all part of the charm. She rolls her eyes, scoffing at the thought, as if the very suggestion offends her. She takes a moment to let the notion sink in. “The audacity,” she thinks to herself, the idea seemingly harder to digest if anything else.

“You’re so unserious,” she comments, in the most blunt tone possible, it may as well be condescending. Her thighs press deeper into your jeans to further prove a point. If that’s what she wants., then you’re fine with that. It’s probably a better idea than yours, too. “You shitting me right now?”

“It couldn’t have hurt to ask.”

“Well it wouldn’t have hurt you to be here sooner,” she retorts, grinning, like those words are your biggest mistake. “Then maybe I would absolutely consider it.”

In reality, there’s nothing to consider, because you end up rolling on top of her after she first pounces on top of you. It’s how she usually greets you after a busy day: jumping straight into your arms, then it’s on to the bedroom.

But not tonight. You don’t make that far, just the table by the foyer, the chair she usually reads in, nearly tripping over the coffee table and landing somewhere more comfortable for you both in the living room. In your wake you leave behind a trail of clothes, yours and hers entangled together—mostly yours. It doesn’t take much to undress Yunjin when she’s dressed for the occasion, and by the time she’s halfway unbuttoning through your shirt, she’s on her knees, completely naked.

She kisses you, leaves strawberry marked lips on your tummy, looking so wanton, so needy. Your eyes follow along as she continues down to your pants, before looking up to you with doe-eyed curiosity. She’s got an edge to her, they say, which really just means, “she’s really fucking hot.” Everything about her, from the attitude to the wardrobe screams fierce, someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t care about what others say.

But behind closed doors, she’s more like the other girl you know. Someone she tends to look after. She looks vulnerable. It’s cute to watch her act like someone she’s not.

It’s impossible not to help yourself, to stroke your own ego, even at Yunjin’s expense. There’s no hiding that devilish grin; it’s way too obvious. Nodding, you brush your hand through her autumn colored locks as she undoes your jeans, reminding her who she really belongs to.

“Fuck—oh God—” you moan, allowing Yunjin to do what she does best: use her lips to praise your cock. No preamble, no foreplay—just immediately taking you straight into her mouth. You were already hard, so it doesn’t take much effort for her to swallow you up. Both of you using your pent up frustration and impatience after weeks where it seemed as if you were worlds apart.

Leaning back against the wall, you can only imagine how Yunjin looks taking it. Your hand firmly grips the back of her head, while she rubs her fingers along the length of your shaft. She forces out every curse and word of appreciation out of you with a deep tone, it’s almost concerning.

“Slow down,” you mutter, knowing full well she won’t listen. Not for anything. Not for you. She wants this as much as you do.

At first glance, it doesn’t really show—not in the playful, satisfied hums while she blows you nor in the slow, deliberate pump of her fingers around your base. It’s a little too leisurely for someone to act desperate. Then you peek through the curtain of sensory overload, and that’s when everything becomes clear. The furrow of her eyebrows, the fixated attention on your cock, the spread of spit and precum all over your erection.

Maybe she does have a point after all.

She catches you staring, catches you slipping. Her eyes flutter open, then shut. In a flash, she goes from sipping on your cock to choking on it. Forcing you deep in her throat without your input. It leaves your head spinning, back at square one, with no control of Yunjin nor yourself, clinging your hands to the walls for support.

“Jen Jen, shit—” you mouth, but it's near silent in comparison to the sloppy sound she makes gagging. It’s as if she’s laughing at you for looking so helpless against her.

The sensation of her slick mouth burns. Her ever increasing tempo and lack of care or comfort relentlessly pluck away at your resolve and restraint. Her eyes water as she violently pushes her own boundaries, her own limits. Stains gradually pile around her lips and chin, a mixture of her spit, seed, and lipstick. You have her hair wrapped around the print of your fingers, holding loose strands away from her gleaming face. Despite your best efforts, you aren’t able to see her beyond blurry little flashes and brief snapshots. Deep down, you’re set ablaze, with nothing to extinguish you. You look to the ceiling, to the side, anywhere but beneath you, trying to find some reprieve from the agony and tension pulling at your loins.

You end up finding it down there, where you want it the least.

Yunjin has you right where she wants you to be—tightly sealed between her strawberry lips as you helplessly cry out her name in a sea of curses and praise. Anticipating the moment you finally break, she zealously works around her gag reflex to keep you deep in her throat. It doesn’t help that she has your balls around her hand, rubbing away and humming in satisfaction at the big hot load that she’ll receive soon. At points, she’s pouting at the fact that you refuse to surrender yourself entirely to her, that you’re still fighting.

It’s a losing effort that ultimately delays the inevitable.

An echoed shout, a wide drop of your jaw, and right there, lightning strikes—you come undone. Yunjin welcomes you with an open mouth; your thick hot load spills down her throat without a single wasted drop. You’re left wide-eyed, shuddering, panting as your orgasm washes over you. Even so, she continues to squeeze away at your balls without remorse, pumping your cock to unload more cum down her thirsty, needy maw.

Yunjin can’t hold in her delight and laughter after she licks your underside for any leftovers. You cushion back against the wall, your energy completely drained as she laps her lips and chin clean. Just like that, any remnant of what transpired hours ago, completely forgotten. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism—not in the slightest—but if it works, it works.

That’s one department where Yunjin won’t let you down.

“I wasn’t ready,” you huff, palming a hand on your thumping chest, cumbrously catching your breath. You mindlessly stare at the living room light, struggling to gather yourself. “Shit, Jen Jen, that was—”

“And we’re only getting started,” she interjects, quickly rising to her feet, pushing you upright. The grin on her face doubles down on the intent. “I’m not going to bed in a dour mood tonight, and you’re gonna help me feel better.”

God, she’s so damn good at this whole setting the mood thing.

You’re no different than anyone else, folding so easily as her fingers map out your body. Continuous circles around every part that belongs to her: from your hair, to your shoulders, arms, chest, down to your tummy, around your back, and everything else in between. Yunjin demands everything about you, her fiery gaze keeping you in tow. You’re tensing up, letting out these strained gasps, watching her watchful eyes dictate your every little move, reminding you who’s carrying the stick in the relationship.

She has you by the balls, quite literally—pumping you back to hardness—and she’s enjoying every moment of it. Teasing you with her flattering mien, she has every intention to leave you more tired and spent tonight than any day she’s worked in her life.

Then, a phone rings. It’s not the hotel landline, but from the pile around your legs. Suddenly, a lightbulb appears over Yunjin’s head, and the smirk on her lips is anything but subtle.

“Would you look at that,” she teases, her grin growing an extra inch wider, and her ironclad grip loosens. Still, you have no room to breathe when she crouches down to dig your rumbling phone out of the pocket of your pants. She makes it a point to act shocked in response to the incoming caller, then shows her to you.

Kim Chaewon.

It’s an open secret within the group—how important of a piece she is between you two, the perfect reprieve and voice of reason when the other isn’t around. You’ve gotten tangled up with both Chaewon and Yunjin a few times, under the same guise of stress relief. In a way, they’ve grown closer together thanks to you. But the rather scornful frown she has tells you otherwise. As if she’s going to lose the one last thing keeping her head straight. Forget that Chaewon is respectful of your relationship; if she gets in the way between her and your dick, she’ll cut her down, and that goes for anyone else too, friendship be damned.

“Be a good boy and take care of the call, will you?” she asks, tone playful, handing the phone over to you. You have no say, other than to follow her command. In the process, you feel your groin tense up. You look down and find your cock sandwiched between her heavenly thighs, choking up from the new sensation of her creamy skin.

When you try to look away, she redirects your eyes back to hers. Her palm meets your chin. Hard. She curls her lips, expressing disdain and reinforcing her control. There’s your first and last warning.

You’ve never struggled so much just opening your own phone. It’s not that Yunjin just hacked into it; her imprints are everywhere. The very lockscreen is her kissing you, your face cropped out of frame and your homescreen is a candid photo of her more bold outfits. If not for the texts from the other members and loved ones, you’d look like the creepiest, most obsessive stalker ever. You can feed tabloids and news outlets day-to-day information, down to the most intricate details. She’s a huge part of you, and it’s gonna eventually ruin you—

“Hurry up, dipshit.”

Yunjin’s stern tone snaps you from your daze. Hard to maintain a steady head when she’s slowly choking you out and she’s thrusting your cock in and out of her legs, still sore from her blowjob and while you’re still reeling from your orgasm. She’s perfectly built for fucking for hours on end; you’re surprised you hasn’t caught on after so long.

“Hello?” Chaewon’s voice pulls your focus away, but only briefly. Almost instinctively, Yunjin’s legs press tighter against your hard cock in response. She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head, demanding you answer the call. No context clues, no verbal cues, just wing it.

“He-ey, Chae.” Your voice comes out gruff, airy. A brief glimpse down and you find the growing stain on Yunjin’s thighs. Your cock entering and exiting the comfort of her legs. She doesn’t appear satisfied, not even a little.

“Is Yunjin there with you? She’s been gone after we got back to our rooms. She's not been herself after—you know—and we’ve been trying to comfort her to no avail.”

“Yeah, she’s here with me—” you say, looking directly at her, and she nods, still stiff and sour. She leans forward, her tongue pressing against your skin, mumbling something incomprehensible on your neck. Somewhere along the lines of “If you tell her, I’m going to fucking kill you,” and she sounds like she means it.

Try to suppress your gasps and whine, you can’t hold yourself back. It affects your inflection, from gravelly and small to high-pitched and nasally. You’re one wrong move away from meeting disaster, and Yunjin is the one goading you to your own pitfall. She revels running you around in circles, leading you like sheep to a shepard. You can’t think straight from all this built up pressure. “She’s good! She’s doing just fine—”

Out of nowhere, she moans. Loud. Her tone is so obvious, it can’t be anyone but her. Any sort of illusion or pretense is immediately dashed, right then and there. You almost drop your phone, barely managing to save it with a glint of clarity.

You don’t hear from Chaewon for a bit, letting you indulge in Yunjin’s seductive motions. Your body is the perfect outlet for her pleasure: kissing and marking around her neck, her fingers tracing your arms to your chest, and your cock comfortably snug between her sculpted legs. You regain some semblance of control by pumping away between her warmth, but it’s hollow; she lets her thighs press down while you thrust quicker and quicker. At first, she’d been the one bringing all the friction, until your hips begin to glide involuntarily, the wetness dripping from her thighs and around your cock making the transition near-flawless.

Soon, the room fills with the sound of her moans, till it becomes oh-so clear you’re fucking her. The call remains active, but you still hear nothing from Chaewon’s side. The phone in your hand is what’s holding you back, but even you feel your control slip away again; against Yunjin’s demand to pretend everything’s normal, when there’s nothing normal about the position you’re in. The only thing unusual is the fact that Chaewon isn’t there to watch, preferably while pleasuring herself.

“Shit, Yunjin, you feel so fucking good—” you sputter, clutching Yunjin’s nape as she curses and whines against your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear Chaewon again, but you’ve practically stopped caring. She’d understand.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame her for going to you. I’d do the same right now, but I gotta take care of the girls as the leader.” Chaewon sounds so diplomatic about the matter, it’s almost surprising. “Just—” she pauses when Yunjin loudly kisses you, cooing and moaning about how big you are in the direction of your phone. “Please tell her to come back here by morning, all right?”

“Sure—thing.” Your tone jumps on the second word, as your cock hits a particularly deep stroke that teases the outline of her cunt.

“Oh, and Kkura said hi, by the way.”

You’re amazed at how understanding she is.

“Okay.” You look down and you see Yunjin adjust your cock around the entrance of her pussy with her hand, impatient and done with the teasing. All the possible replies to maintain normalcy and your best response ends up being a simple, hurried “Hi.”

“Bye.”

You drop your phone right as Chaewon hangs up the call. Yunjin immediately kisses you straight in the lips, sliding her tongue between your lips. She lets out this strained whine when you grab her ass, lightly pushing her away. Miraculously, she doesn’t fight back or lash out.

“Don’t you wanna cum right in my pussy?”

“No, Jen Jen. Let me finish right in your thighs.”

Yunjin flashes this sad, deflated frown, but she ultimately concedes. She’s this multifaceted character only you might ever hope to understand. She's a perfectionist and wants things her way, but she’s also soft and vulnerable. You feel guilty making this rather huge request, but she reassures you by pressing your cock comfortably between her legs. Your worries soon disappear when the friction of her heat keeps your hips moving. The sight of your dick moving in-and-out keeps you preoccupied.

Even she forgets about her disappointment too, hypnotized by the continuous rhythm of your cock. She pulls your head in, moans all these profanities of varying tones in your ear. The way you both pull each other’s bodies apart, your expressions twisting in pleasure, demanding more—you might as well be in bed, and not breaking your knees and backs against the living room wall.

You’re not sure what’s going to break first—your legs, your back, your hips, or your cock.

“Oh—fuck—Yunjin,” you groan, losing yourself in her asphyxiating heat of her skin, on the verge of another climax. You have one hand marking her ass as you both grind into each other’s bodies. God, you’re both made for one another. Drowning in her tightness, you thrust deep between her legs. Same spot, same stroke, same result. You remember where and how well you’ve fucked her, it’s almost muscle memory to you. It drives Yunjin crazy.

She senses your incoming orgasm and shouts. The need for you to cum isn’t a request, but a full demand. Something to be expected. Her voice hits those familiar high notes that aren’t far off from her usual recordings, and she firmly clings to you. As if you ever had any other thought than to finish on her pencilike legs. You let yourself succumb to the sensation, let all the pent up pressure set itself off while you bask in that delirious high.

The way Yunjin clenches her thighs around your cock, she may as well have snapped it off.

You both mirror each other’s expressions; eyes completely shut, jaw completely agape, resting in each other’s bodies. The only difference being that Yunjin is way, way louder than you. Your mind goes completely blank, with nothing but her name drawn out from the curve of your lips. Your back is aching; your knees are tingling, ready to fail at any time. Nothing registers for you except her voice, her endless moan that rings in your ear. It’s only after her legs involuntarily slacken their grip that you fall.

To the floor, that is.

And you stay down—a minute, maybe several, completely shaken up and your head still riding that high. Somewhere in limbo. One hand gripped to her waist, the other on her leg. You forget to breathe. Your brain doesn’t register the concept of exhaling, only taking in air. The world around you appears to pause completely.

And then your phone beeps. Still dazed, you completely ignore it.

Yunjin brings you back to life. She has one hand gripped against the wall, the other on your hair—which you now just realize—gasping for much needed air. She can’t muster up the strength to open her eyes, so you assess the damage. It’s as disastrous as it looks: a huge splatter of cum around her legs, dripping down to her feet. To the floor. To your pants.

You don’t say a word; you don’t really have anything meaningful or productive to add. The simple question of whether or not she feels better, but you know she’ll say it won’t be enough. That she wants your cum right in her pussy, no matter how spent or sore you are. Maybe you can quietly weave your way out of a nightlong bedroom session.

So you look at your phone, removing yourself from the situation. There’s two new messages, both from the same person—Chaewon. Nothing noteworthy, just the reminder to send Yunjin back early in the morning. The idol life never really stops.

Yunjin calls out to you, abruptly intercepting your attention. “Hey.”

You look up and find her looking down at the details, slowly gathering her bearings. She runs a finger on a sticky patch on her skin, then tastes your seed with her tongue. “What’s up?”

She ignores you for a moment to gather more cum to lap, then stares directly at you. “We should have done this in front of a mirror.”

You pause. It’s hard to believe Yunjin telling you this, when she’s been the biggest skeptic. She’d rather have it in bed, on the table—anywhere that won’t allow her to see herself. The uncanny image of a prim, desirable idol bent over while someone uses her.

With that in mind, you chuckle. “We do it all the time. Give it a break.”

—————

You both end up doing it anyway.

It’s two in the morning, and you vividly have Chaewon’s request at the back of your mind. The group’s flight back home is in six hours, and Yunjin has to be there with them for breakfast. It’s not like you’ll be away long term; she has three days-off after today. Days when you can spend all the time in the world together to your heart’s content. But fuck, Yunjin is so goddamn insatiable, she can’t go at least three hours without your cock somehow around her. You don’t end up getting sleep, because she’s so needy for your cock she can’t help but stroke it or blow it back to hardness.

Your suggestion? A late night coffee run that ends in predictable fashion: you, fucking Yunjin from behind in the comfort of a cafe restroom.

Yunjin’s outfit barely qualifies as casual; if anything, it’s her performance fit (a sports bra and a short skirt) from earlier, topped only by the leather jacket she went to your room with. Yet none of that matters when they’re pooled on the floor, with your hand squeezing her bare breast and the other pressed on her shapely ass. And there’s your hard cock, pounding away at her soaked cunt like it’s second nature—which it is—and it’s quite the motivating sight. Watching it appear and disappear in her pussy, hearing her hushed pleas, echoed cries, and every lewd sound in between.

The cafe across your hotel is completely empty, which is to be expected. You can count the number of working staff on one hand, and most of them are fast asleep or busy on their phone. You’re not making any excuses for fucking Yunjin at a place like this; you’re merely laying out the scene.

You can blame Yunjin for your precarious position. Any attempt to make some small talk she makes it about you. About missing your cock so much, about how she wants you to fill her pussy up and make her feel better. As if two orgasms wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t be surprised if she asked you to fuck her right then and there, in front of the cafe where everyone can see. You end up agreeing to a compromise, but it’s merely delaying the inevitable. The door is locked shut, nobody’s around to hear, and no one really cares.

If only it were that simple.

“Fuck—so—fucking—big!” cries out Yunjin, as if you were in the privacy of your hotel room and not in front of a public restroom. She gives it to you again, praises you in both murmurs and screams, her hands glued on the edges of the sink, eyes fluttering open and closed with her jaw agape on the surface. It’s as filthy as you imagined, if not more. Only you can see the full extent of the damage you’re making, and it is breathtaking.

She beckons you to fuck her harder, give her more, tells you not to stop. The idea never crosses your mind. When she yells and mewls, she’s making sure each one is louder than the last. You can tell she has nothing to lose. If she’s going down, she’ll drag you down with her.

“You’re so fucking tight, Jen Jen,” you groan out, looking at your entangled bodies in the mirror, at her arched back, at the curvature of her ass, at your cock spearing her hard. You puncture each of your next three words with increasing emphasis. “So—fucking—tight.”

As the sex dissolves into deeper madness, so does your restraint. You’re fucking her through the sink, pounding away with reckless abandon, with zero care for comfort. Thoughtless, impulsive drops of ‘tight,’ ‘fuck,’ and even a single ‘slut’ bomb—words that can get you cancelled on-air. Yunjin shudders, letting out this drawn out ‘yes’ in response, as if admitting the truth—to your utter surprise (sarcasm). Her core clenches against your cock, stretching her out. So wet, so needy—

It’s a strange thing to believe, but this is Yunjin’s first orgasm of the night. Her lands lay flat on the sink, and her mouth lolls wide, screaming your name like you’re the most important person in the world. The intense heat, the suffocating pulse of her cunt, drowning your cock—

Fuck, it’s too much for your already aching cock. And her thighs and lips were brutal in their own right.

Moments after hers, your very own climax follows. You’ve already struggled holding back twice; whatever amount of resolve you had left is non-existent. Moving from her chest at some point, the hand on her hair yanks harder. Pushing your hips as far as they can go, wishing your cock can somehow enter her womb—you ignore the possibility that you might be hurting her.

‘Hurts so good’ exists for a reason.

The remnants of your orgasm continue to leave Yunjin in shambles. A brief look at the aftermath, and the first impression is that you didn’t fuck her hard enough. Your hot cum spilling from her splayed, ruined hole, her clothes on the other side of the restroom, and your pants receiving some of her hot slick. Yunjin remains bent on the sink, huffing through her own climax, your hand deeply imprinted on her ass, and marks, scratches, and rosy patches on her back—vestiges of hours gone by.

You remain like this for a little while longer: cuddling up against her frame while she rests on the sink, softly kissing around her ear, brushing strands of loose red hair. She’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that. When she performs, when she’s being herself, when she’s getting pounded hard—but she looks best when she’s calm, when she’s at her softest, at her most vulnerable. When you’re all alone and you both have nothing to hide. At the end of the day, you both need each other. For everything.

—————

You and Yunjin might as well be strangers.

It’s as if the past seven hours happened in a different timeline. Both of you casually lounge in the still lifeless cafe, drinking the nonexistent traces of your iced coffee. You scroll through social media; Yunjin still dominates the trends and new reposts of the viral accident pop-up like they’re produced from a factory. She’s doing the same, reading through all the comments. Some memes, some praising her professionalism, some simply to get that verified ad revenue.

This will be completely forgotten in a week. Yunjin’s career will come out unscathed. People move on. She will, too.

Yet you still remain awkward with her, completely undecided on the words that she really needs right now. She needs you more than just your body.

“Jen Jen,” you whisper, before you freeze up at her anxious gaze. She waits for a follow-up, a sentence, anything. It never comes.

She frowns. She’s not mad, only disappointed.

The sun begins to rise over the city, signaling the start of a new day. Knowing this, Yunjin adjusts her jacket and rises from her seat. You never told her once.

She walks through the door, and steps outside—but not before turning and taking one last concerned look at you. You quietly mouth ‘Love you,’ and surprisingly, she smiles. The Yunjin you know and love.

‘Love ya.’

—————

(A/N: againsorryfornotpostingmuchlatelyohgodivebeensobusy—

Ginger/red hair Yunjin didn't grow on me at first. Then the Good Bones teaser dropped. The strut. The attitude. The fact they allowed her to walk around in her bra and panties. What the fuck. I've been so down bad for her lately, and so are you. Looking forward to their new music! Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #le sserafim #yunjin #huh yunjin

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stary-darlin · 3 days

Text

LOVE DUEL

— boxer!ellie williams x reader

TROPE: strangers to lovers

SUMMARY: when work calls and you have nothing to do than follow your boss's rules, going to the WWE match that had a boxer you never saw before, same in her chillness when she fights and when she flirts with you infront of camera — basically fearing no one, and that what attracted you to her. Not knowing that she already had you in her wishlist of the life.

OTHER: mentions of misogyny, and just two horny mfs daydreamin' about each other :3

Ellie walked in with her coach behind her, with nothing more than the screams and chanting of her name echoing around the boxing match, her fans all around waving to her and trying to get her attention as if she was a goddess in front of them. And she loved every bit of it.

Her smirk wide from both sides of her face as she looked up at the audience, waving to them all, loving how all of their eyes were on her. She was not an attention seeker but she was an attention eater if you may say, the only difference between them both is that attention seekers are desperate for attention but Ellie? she receives it everywhere she goes, she doesn't have to work for it, the world itself was the one who needed her attention. I mean, come on, she's hot, she's smart, and she has the power of 100 men by herself. Of course, she didn't want anything after that, right? wrong. She wanted—she needed you. he interviewer who looked like a deer in the headlights with all the flashes going around the room, and she loved that about you. she loved how you looked like you were a masterpiece in an old man's house, his ass too old to even look at you for a second; overall just in the wrong place, and she would love to make herself your right place.

She took a seat on the bench infront of the boxing ring, taking her bottle from her coach and taking a sip, everyone's eyes were on her while her eyes were on you as you talked to the camera infront of you with that fake smile on that you thought you perfected but not to ellie though, she knew you. She knew you were holding your annoyance inside of you and smiling, acting happy as if you weren't scared of the men yelling by her side and chanting Ellie's opponent's name, thinking that ellie would lose because she is a women while the most gorgeous women is next to them, trying to hear through the ear-headset as you nodded. very misogynistic of them.

She smirked and waved to — you — the camera, winking as you kept the smile on, speaking about the information of ellie that you memorized from the day you got the papers sent to your desk. your hand gripping the microphone and the other brushing your hair through your fingers when the camera turned to the hallway as ellie's opponent came out, the man buffer than any man you ever saw in your whole life — which was full of skinny tired employees — gazing back at ellie, seeing that she already was looking at you with that same face-eating smirk of hers, not giving a flying fuck about the 10x sized man that was supposed to be her opponent.

All the cameras were on the opponent and ellie to catch their reactions to each other but Ellie was very much not there, waving and giggling like a little girl when she knew she catched your attention. walking to you, your team noticed it and used it to their advantage, pointing the camera at her and you before you started interviewing her.

"the infamous death-doer is here all of a sudden, i see." you spoke with a light tone, raising your brows as she smirked and tilted her head to the side, not even glancing at the camera.

"the infamous death-doer and ladies-attracter, y'know." she winked before laughing, her confidence over the hills. you giggled — a genuine giggle that ellie took as a compliment to herself — looking at her with those sweet-looking eyes that she would do anything to keep them in her direction.

"ladies-attracter, huh? why that nickname?" you crossed your arm, being comfortable for once since the whole time you were here. Ellie's fans screaming as they heard the nickname that ellie gave herself all of a sudden.

Ellie watched you smile with those lips of yours, oh how desperate she was for those lips of yours. "i mean aren't i one?" she raised a brow, looking up at her audience and back to you; half of the audience were girls, screaming from the top of their longs for her. you looked at her audience and chuckled, "guess it's your trait isn't it?" Ellie nodded proudly.

"well is being not scared from buff men one of your traits?" you asked, bringing the microphone to her. "you could say that, i just don't see what is so fearful about them. you only get the idea of scary because they take much space unlike what we usually see in a normal day, besides if it wasn't for their muscles and buffy arms they would be like any other man, useless, that's why they get that figure of theirs, to obtain dominance cause they don't have it without all that." she spoke confidently as she looked at the opponent and back to the camera for a second before shrugging her arms and looking back at you. "so that's your answer, darlin'"

"oh, that–" you stuttered as you looked at her with widened eyes, her words leaving you stunned. you let out a giggle, "i cannot give my opinion but you very much spoke my mind." you nodded. Ellie smiling as she heard your reply and seeing your reaction before seeing her coach waving to her to get ready. "well i will have to go, love. here," she took your hand and wrote on her number on it with the pen that you had in your cards, her handwriting cursive and rough with sharp edges like her routine in boxing that you watched last night to get to know her. Ellie turned your hand and kissed your knuckles before looking at your for the last time and walking to her coach.

You sat down as you watched the match begin, Ellie sitting in her corner of the boxing ring, manspreading with her eyes keeping an eye contact with her opponent, a smirk forms on the corner of her lips as she sees her opponent growl — trying to act scary, I guess — But it didn't work on her. She got up as soon as she saw the host standing infront of her, starting the match.

The size and height difference between the man and Ellie was very obvious, everyone doubted that she would lose except you. You believed she could do it if she had that real confidence and speed to hit her opponent at the right time. You were no expert in this but Ellie sure did, you watched four matches of hers since her debut and you saw that nothing changed. Same confidence, the same smirk, and the same hate for men. Maybe that was the thing that drove her to be who she is now; as professional as other boxers who said that no women could outstand them since they were stronger and took much longer to be who they were but Ellie pushed all that behind her it's nothing. You loved it, loved how she is who you want to be, who you desire to be with; and you wanted to know more about her.

Ellie raised her chin to the man, her expression calm, mocking him while he looked at her with an angry expression looking like a Buffalo getting ready to punch someone's ass, and no it wasn't her ass, it was his own.

Ellie let out a chuckle after the man tried to punch her straight in the face, which she dodged easily like it was a fly. Ellie took two steps back and he followed her by as if he was her little pup. Ellie quickly moved to the side, pulling his leg and making him fall so easily. The man let out a roar — yeah, maybe he was indeed a furry... — quickly getting himself up, throwing himself at her to pin her on the floor. Ellie noticed and moved away in a second as he fell on the floor like a cartoon character, she quickly sat on his back and twisted his arm behind his back with her other arm around his neck. Such an easy act that can make a bull weak in a second.

Everyone gasped at her sudden dominance over the guy who was supposed to win but didn't. The host quickly ran to the boxing ring and started counting down, Ellie keeping the man on the ground with all of the strength she had, her opponent unable to move his face slowly turning red as the host finally counted to zero. Ellie's audience stood up and screamed, chanting her name. Ellie stood up and jumped off the boxing ring like it was another Tuesday.

Every reporter watched her with their jaw on the ground. "That was– unbelievable! One round, just a couple of minutes, and the man is down!" You spoke as you looked at the camera. "For the first time, in boxing history, something like this happened before!"

Ellie's name echoed through the roof of the room, her bodyguards standing around her to portect her from the crowd that was running towards her. The spotlight was all on her, leaving the man with the failure of his own. She walked out through the hallway to her backstage, the guards closing the doors of the hallway to not let anyone get it, leaving you and the team to record the scene before it calms down.

You looked at your palm that had her number and wrote it down in your card, putting it in your bag so you could call her when you get home.

This seems like it will be a long journey, but hopefully it will be worth it.

Requests are open!! <3

#MARI'S WORKS ꒰͡ ི ༏ ྀ͡꒱⭑๋܂#this will be a series cause i'm picturing this to be slow bec they still have their way in building their relationship :3 #MAN HATER ELLIE WORLD DOMINATION!!!#ellie williams fluff #ellie williams #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams series #ellie williams smut #the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams headcanons #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader

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goldsbitch · 4 months

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Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: please don't be offended by weak ass feminism debate, swear words, minors do not interact, just generally don't take this one too seriously, smut (that's what we came for)

He radiated stupidity. Reckless, annoying, careless and just plain stupid. Blood boiled hard and fast in Y/N when he entered the room. Cocky smile, as if he was the shit. And those poor fans did not even realize, because his PR managers worked around the clock to stop the scandals getting out and to remain his bubbly, down-to-earth image he seemed to hold in general public. Now, she never doubted his driving genius. It was honest respect on that part. No, this was about everything else. Even the way he grew his "so called" beard annoyed her.

She radiated arrogance. Being the first female driver on the grid had everyone looking differently at her, as it would be the opposite if she was just another rookie driver. He could not stand that. It felt strangely misogynistic. But what sent him to levels of annoyance he had not discovered prior to meeting her, was how she did absolutely nothing about this. Danced around as if she did not see it. But Lando could see through her, she was a calculating bitch that knew exactly what was happening.

It's not like either of them got it wrong really. Lando had his personality that did not correlate with the desired persona the public wanted him to maintain. For as long as he remembered, he had to be a grown up, missing his young adult experiences completely. Sometimes, it just got the better of him. Lando was not exactly proud of that or anything. Y/N was indeed calculating. But it would be hard to argue that she could have chosen not to do that - yet, the world was simply not ready for any kind of female driver to enter the grid. She had to be smarter than an average rookie. There is a possibility that this was all just in her head, but it was hard to prove it at this point.

They avoided talking to each other like they would avoid the plague. Lando felt like all the years of media training lead to the moments where they shared the interview room. Their disenchantment with each other was not exactly a known thing, they were deceitful enough to do keep it between themselves. Well, the more observant drivers and members of their team were well aware of the truth. There was not a single member of the close inner circle that would dare to speak about how when these two had to share the pre race interviews, it would be the driest interview of them all. Frankly, drivers dreaded that. Daniel would be the one to try and break the ice. George found it mildly amusing. Max could not give two shits about them.

And to the luck of everyone involved, there was Lando, set next to Alex Albon, who was sat next to Y/N. He sighed heavily before taking hold of the microphone.

First interviewer asked about the lasted updates on Y/N Aston Martin car. The second one went to Lando, with a request to address the bad strategy the team had on the last Grand Prix, which he answered very diplomatically.

Third interviewer asked Y/N on whether the talks have started regarding her contract for the upcoming season.

"Yes, we are talking about that. I love racing and I'm planning on staying here," she laughed lightly. "I want to be here to...possibly to inspire and attract young girls, same as those like Fernando was a role model to both Alex and Lando. The female audience of F1 is growing and that is absolutely amazing. And perhaps now will the female fans have an opportunity to cheer for one of their own."

"May I have a question?" Lando entered the chat. His tone was indicating fire being lit within him and him intending to spread it wide. The game was on. Y/N tensed up. Alex smiled nervously.

Both Lando and Y/N shot a look at the interview moderator, who was prepared for many scenarios, but not this one exactly. Once Lando received an unsure nod, he continued. "We both know the numbers, we sit on similar meetings. The percentage of female audience is now nearing almost half, is that correct?"

"Well, we are nowhere near that - more like 30-40%"

"Right. And this trend has started prior to you joining the grid, right?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Are you saying that the female viewers did not have anyone to connect with before that?"

"I'd be brave enough to assume so. Where are you heading?"

Alex wanted to stop them, he shot looks to multiple people who had the power to end this. Members present from both teams woke up from their slow mundane afternoon. But the conversation was too fast for anyone to interrupt.

"So, what was the motivation of the female viewers to watch F1? Why were they watching?"

"Um, well the sport is fascinating and can capture one. The quality of our media teams has risen greatly, social media and-"

"Yes. So are you saying that young boys and teenagers were watching this for a different reason that girls and any other genders?"

"Like I was saying, it might be hard to connect. Young boys and teenagers can relate and even imagine themselves as the future F1 driver."

"So why do, in your opinion, little girls and female teenagers watch races? Are you saying that prior to your start, their reasons were less valid? Less noble? Does miss misogyny over here think that female audience is now validated due to her representation in the sport?"

The room went silent. Y/N took a deep breath and without missing a beat she replied.

"I'm sorry, there must have been something foul in your cornflakes this morning. After all, even in these progressive times, some of the people involved did not get the memo about the way how to interact with the fanbase in a healthy manner. It must be hard hard to think straight and not draw over-the-top conclusions when one's mind is stuck in an endless cycle of "Hello, gorgeous" and "Sure, I'll text you back.""

Alarmed looks were shared accros the room. Alex tried to laugh it off. The moderator ended the discussion. The pair kept staring at each other, until their prompted their exits orchestrated by their team.

Asshole. Obnoxious idiot. She wanted to slap him. The social media was on fire, this topic clearly resonating among fans. It was clear the opinions were divided and this was just not good to have on your track record. She was mad at herself as well. Got caught up like a fly to a spiderweb. He won this one. She'll just have to beat him during the race or shoot him in the leg at the next opportunity.

"Stay true to your beliefs" was the caption under his newly posted photo. Smiling as ever. Some photographer with under-appreciated talent managing to capture him in the perfect light. Total thirst trap. Her PR team was figuring out how to salvage this, but everyone knew Lando stuck a good one this time.

But that was not the opinion of the McLaren media team, who really did work their butts off the last few months. This was not good, as his haters were currently busy pointing out holes in his argument, making Y/N the hero they wanted to have. PR team picked the photo of him they had in store in order to play it safe and nonchalantly. Lando got a big threatening talk right after the press conference. McLaren was not letting the word misogyny be connected to their brand. He defended himself for a while, but at the end agreed to avoid bringing these subjects to light prior to the knowledge of the team. In his eyes, she won. He got her free attention. The nickname miss misogyny was not going to stick. The only thing this brough him was a headache and built up anger.

She was bursting with anger and was not about to leave it in for herself. "You can stick this bullshit up you ass, Lando."

"Don't assume I like the same things you do," was his immediate response.

Confidentiality. That was the only thing she believed he could uphold. Both of them had too much to loose.

They were bad for each other. Bringing out the worst traits, putting others in discomfort and creating drama out of nowhere. But the once the night covered the daily routines and worries, the truth would start crawling out. Once the chequered flag got packed up after a race, it was time for a parade of red flags to begin.

It was suppose to be a one time mistake. Party that go out of hand. Club bathroom sex that was better than they'd be willing to admit. They never spoke of it. Nobody knew.

Like magnets they circled towards each other on the quiet nights on the road. Always her place, never his. As if she'd make the effort to come toward him. Like he would ever let her invade his private safe space. It worked for them, transforming the anger into rough bites and hickeys. Lando enjoyed leaving them on her, just at the line where he knew she'd have to think about how to cover them up and made sure she never made any mark on him. Hate fucking, that's what that was.

Once again, his hot breath cut through the crispy Monaco night air coming from the opened window of her bedroom. He had her handcuffed to the bed side and legs wrapped around his toned torso. He was driving her crazy, not letting her stay on top this time, robbing her of the pleasure of watching him submit to her moves and direction. He watched attentively, making sure he changed his tempo whenever she was about to climax. She was not one to enjoy delayed gradification, not when this obnoxious idiot was watching her and having fun with it. One thing he had to admit was that she was fucking hot, mainly in the way how she able to carry herself around. From the first moment he had the misfortune to see her in person, it had been the one thought unable to leave his mind. What did she look like when she was just about to come? Was she the one to make any sounds? Did she like it rough or soft? Would she be able to dominate him? During the day, he let his frustrations out verbally, during the night he thrusted into her as if there was no tomorrow. Like a drug addict getting his hit. She was even more mad at him when he was fucking her. Because it was just so good. They had the same rhythm and their bodies spoke in a language no one would have understood anyway. So she just surrendered. It drove her crazy, not being on the top. He licked and bit her nipples and did forbidden things - like stopped fucking her out of nowhere and buried his head in her waist, slowly twisting his tongue around her clit. When he felt like she adjusted to that, he continued back with thrusting in her. He moved so fast that she started get dizzy from the motion, the heavenly kind of dizzy. Lando watched her like and animal would observe his prey. Not often did he manage to get completely under his control, but tonight was one of the precious days he'd be recalling in the shower days after. He delayed his own orgasm for as long as he could, but there was a point where he just gave in and released him into the condom. There was always a hint of disappointment in the joyous moment. His darkest wish was to have her walk the day after with his cum dripping out of her. She was his little work slut, his nemesis, his Vegas girl.

Y/N never wanted to cuddle afterwards. She appreciated that Lando always swiftly got up and left without a word. Because what if he had spoken, what if the oxytocin started flowing in and she'd loose her guard and get herself in even bigger of a mess than this little game was. She was the first female driver. There were things she had to prove to the world. Fucking one of the other drivers was not one of them.

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writingwithcolor · 4 months

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What Makes an Ethnic Villain "Ethnic" or "Villainous?" How Do You Offset it?

anonymous asked:

Hello WWC! I have a question about the antagonist of my story. She is (currently) Japanese, and I want to make sure I’m writing her in a way that doesn’t associates [sic] her being Asian with being villainous. The story is set in modern day USA, this character is effectively immortal. She was a samurai who lost loved ones due to failure in combat, and this becomes her character[sic] motivation (portrayed sympathetically to the audience). This story explores many different time periods and how women have shown valor throughout history. The age of the samurai (and the real and legendary female warriors from it) have interested me the most, which is why I want her to be from this period. The outfit she wears while fighting is based on samurai armor, and she wears modern and traditional Japanese fashion depending on the occasion. She acts pretty similar to modern day people, though more cynical and obsessed with her loss. She’s been able to adapt with the times but still highly values and cherishes her past. She is the only Asian main character, but I plan to make a supportive Japanese side character. She’s a history teacher who knows about the villain and gives the protagonists information to help them, but isn’t involved in the main plot otherwise. Are the way I’m writing this villain and the inclusion of a non-antagonist Japanese character enough to prevent a harmful reading of the story, or is there more I should do?

Why Does Your Villain Exist?

This makes me feel old because David Anders plays a villain with this kind of backstory in the series Heroes starring Masi Oka.

I think you want to think about what you mean when you say:

Villainous (In what way? To whom? To what end?)

Harmful (What tropes, narratives and implications are present?)

I’m relatively infamous in the mod circle for not caring too much about dimensions of “harm”. The concept is relative and varies widely between people and cultures. I don’t see much value in framing motivations around “What is less harmful?” I think for me, what matters more is:

“What is more true?”

“Are characteristics viewed as intrinsic to background, or the product of experiences and personal autonomy?”

“Will your portrayal resonate with a large audience?”

“What will resonate with the members of the audience who share the backgrounds your characters have?”

This post offers additional questions you could ask yourself instead of “is this okay/not okay/harmful.”

You could write a story where your antagonist is sly, sadistic, violent and cold-blooded. It may not be an interpretation that will make many Japanese from combat backgrounds feel seen or heard, but it’s not without precedent. These tropes have been weaponized against people of Japanese descent (Like Nikkei Japanese interned during World War II), but Japan also brutalized a good chunk of Asia during World War II. See Herge’s Tintin and The Blue Lotus for an example of a comic that accurately showcases the brutality of Japan’s colonization of Manchuria, but also is racist in terms of how Japanese characters are portrayed (CW: genocide, war, imperialism, racism).

You could also write a story where your character’s grief gives way to despair, and fuels their combat such that they are seen as calculating, frigid and deeply driven by revenge/ violence. This might make sense. It’s also been done to death for Japanese female warriors, though (See “Lady Snowblood” by Kazuo Koike and Kazuo Kamimura here, CW: sexual assault, violence, murder and a host of other dark things you’d expect in a revenge story).

You could further write a story where your antagonist is not necessarily villainous, but the perceived harm comes from fetishizing/ exoticizing elements in how her appearance is presented or how she is sexualized, which is a common problem for Japanese female characters.

My vote always goes to the most interesting story or character. I don’t see any benefit to writing from a defensive position. This is where I'll point out that, culturally, I can't picture a Japanese character viewing immortality as anything other than a curse. Many cultures in Japan are largely defined by transience and the understanding that many things naturally decay, die, and change form.

There are a lot of ways you could conceivably cause harm, but I’d rather hear about what the point of this character is given the dilemma of their position.

What is her purpose for the plot?

How is she designed to make the reader feel?

What literary devices are relevant to her portrayal?

(Arbitrarily, you can always add more than 1 extra Japanese character. I think you might put less pressure on yourself with this character’s portrayal if you have more Japanese characters to practice with in general.)

- Marika.

When Off-Setting: Aim for Average

Seconding the above with regards to this villainess’s story and your motivations for this character, but regardless of her story I think it’s also important to look specifically at how the Japanese teacher character provides contrast.

I agree with the choice to make her a regular person and not a superhero. Otherwise, your one Asian character is aggressively Asian-themed in a stereotypical Cool Japan way (particularly if her villain suit is samurai-themed & she wears wafu clothing every so often). Adding a chill person who happens to be Japanese and doesn’t have some kind of ninja or kitsune motif will be a breath of fresh air (well, more like a sigh of relief) for Japanese readers.

A note on characterization��while our standard advice for “offset” characters is to give your offset character the opposite of the personality trait you’re trying to balance, in this case you might want to avoid opposites. You have a villainess who is a cold, tough “don’t need no man” type. Making the teacher mild-mannered, helpful, and accomodating would balance out the villainess’s traits, but you’ll end up swinging to the other side of the pendulum towards the Submissive Asian stereotype depending on execution. If avoiding stereotypes is a concern, I suggest picking something outside of that spectrum of gentleness to violence and making her really boring or really weird or really nerdy or a jock gym teacher or…something. You’re the author.

Similarly, while the villainess is very traditionally Japanese in her motifs and backstory, don’t make the teacher go aggressively in either direction—give her a nice balance of modern vs. traditional, Japanese vs. Western sensibilities as far as her looks, dress, interests, values, etc. Because at the end of the day, that’s most modern Japanese people.

Sometimes, the most difficult representation of a character of color is making a character who is really average, typical, modern, and boring.

- Rina

#writeblr #Japanese #Japanese women #Villain #antagonist #tokenism #characterization #representation #stereotypes #immortality #superheroes #supervillains #asks

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kentobb · 4 months

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‘I hate you’

Character: Husband!Iwaizumi x Wife!Reader

Warning: Angst with no comfort (I know you guys hate me at this point).

A/N: I am a fan of angst w/ no comfort in case you guys didn’t notice. I will be releasing more angst and different scenarios. Be free to send a request babes!

The night was dark, the only source of light being the faint glow of the the city’s skyline as Iwaizumi parked his car in front of his home. The weight of a grueling practice session hanging heavily on his shoulders. His muscles ached, his mind was a whirlpool of strategies and his heart was filled with unspoken longing for the comforts of his home, but hey, nobody said that training the Japan’s Men’s Volleyball Team was easy.

As he opened the door, the warm glow of the living room light washed over him, a stark contrast to the cold darkness outside. You, his lovely wife, a beacon of love and support greeted him with a tired smile.

However, your six-year old daughter, Yuki, a bundle of energy and joy, ran towards him, her tiny arms wrapping around his tired legs.

Dinner was a quiet affair, the only sound being the clinking of cutlery against the plates. Yuki, however, was a chatterbox, her excitement about her upcoming ballet recital bubbling over. “And we will be doing the Swan Lake!” “I have been practicing a lot daddy!” She spoke animatedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, her voice filled with hope. She turned to her father, her innocent eyes searching his. “Daddy, will you come to my recital?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Iwaizumi looked at her daughter, his heart aching at the hopeful look in her eyes. He wanted to be there, he really does, to watch his little girl twirl and dance, to be the father she deserved. But he knew the harsh reality of his schedule, the relentless demands of his career. “We will see,” he said, it’s all he says, his voice heavy with regret.

Your smile faded, replaced by a look of disappointment. You knew your husband words for what they were— an unfulfilled promise. Yuki’s face fell, her excitement replaced by a quiet sadness that you were quick to notice. It was a scene all too familiar, a bitter pill you had to swallowed many times before.

After dinner, you cleaned the kitchen, the silence of the house echoing the heaviness in your heart. But you were determined to make this right, as you ascended the stairs into your shared bedroom, you made a silent vow. To take manners into your own hands. To ensure that your daughter recital would not be another missed milestone, another broken promise.

You husband may be a national hero, a symbol of strength and resilience, but to your daughter? He was simply ‘Daddy’. And she deserves to have her ‘Daddy’ cheering for her from the audience, not from miles away. She deserved to have her hero by her side, not just in spirit but in person.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in your lap. You turned to look at your husband, eyes reflecting the turmoil in your heart.

“Hajime,” You spoke, voice steady despite the storm brewing in your heart, “We need to talk about Yuki.”

Iwaizumi, still in his practice clothes, looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion, “What about her, babe?” He asked, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

“You know she needs you there, Hajime. She needs her father,” You replied, voice barely a whisper.

Iwaizumi just sighed, raking a hand through his hair, “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m working hard for her, for us.”

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips, “That’s not what she needs, Hajime. She doesn’t need the money, or the fame, or the glory. She needs her father. She needs you to be there for her, to support her, to love her.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes hardened, his patience wearing thin. “There will be a million recitals, I’ll go to one of them.”

His words hung in the air, a harsh reality you both had been avoiding. Your eyes welled up in tears, heart aching at this indifference. “You haven’t been to any of them, Hajime. Not one.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, his frustration clearly boiling over. “What am I missing? Kids twirling for three minutes and twenty five seconds? It’s stupid, honestly.”

His mean and harsh words echoed in the silence of the room, a stark reminder of the widening chasm between you two.

“Hajime, how could you say that? She has worked very hard.” You said in disbelief.

Unbeknownst to both of you, a tiny figure stood outside the door, her heart shattering at her father’s words. Yuki, your little ballerina, had heard it all. The argument, her father’s indifference, your heartbreak. She clutched her ballet shoes to her chest, heart soaking the satin fabric.

The harsh words continued to fly between the two of you, voices rising in the quiet of the night.

“You’re being mean, Hajime.” You said, voice trembling with emotion.

“I don’t have time for this,” Iwaizumi retorted, his exhaustion seeping into his words. “I’m too tired to argue.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the room. As he made his way to the bathroom, the argument continued, both of your voices echoing off the cold tiles.

Meanwhile, Yuki had silently made her way downstairs. With a heavy heart and tear-streaked cheeks, she threw her beloved ballet shoes in the trash, a silent testament of her shattered dreams.

The morning after the storm was always the calmest. Iwaizumi woke up, his body aching from the previous night's argument. It was his day off, a chance for him to rest and recover. Despite the tension between the two of you, you greeted him with a kiss, almost like a silent promise that you would speak about it later.

"I'll make breakfast," Iwaizumi offered, hoping to ease the tension. You nodded, attention focused on preparing Yuki's bag for ballet class.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw Yuki sitting at the table, her eyes devoid of their usual spark. Her small shoulders were slumped, her spirit seemingly crushed.

"Morning, Yuki," Iwaizumi said, his voice soft. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," Yuki replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t help but notice the change in his daughter’s demeanor. Her usual bright and bubbly personality was replaced by a quiet sadness that seemed to weigh her down. He found it odd, considering she was usually excited about her ballet classes.

“You’re okay bub?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

But his question was met with silence. Yuki simply looked away, avoiding his gaze. He decided not to push her, instead focusing on preparing breakfast.

As he was cracking the eggs into a bowl, he heard your frantic voice from the other room. “Hajime, have you seen Yuki’s ballet shoes? I can’t find them anywhere. I swear they were here.”

He glanced at his daughter, but she was still avoiding his gaze. A sense of dread washed over him as he opened the trash bin to discard the eggshells. His heart sank as he saw the familiar pink ballet shoes nestled among the trash.

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

She had heard it all.

Fuck.

Was it possible? It couldn’t be!

“Honey,” he called out, his voice strained. You rushed into the kitchen, eyes wide with worry. He pointed to the trash bin, the discarded ballet shoes. The sight of it, it felt like a dagger into your heart. You turned your gaze to your daughter, your eyes pleading for an explanation.

“Yuki, why did you throw your ballet shoes away?” You asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I hate ballet! It’s stupid!” Yuki yelled, her voice filled with a bitterness that was far too heavy for her young age.

The harsh words hung in the air, a painful echo of the argument from the previous night. Iwaizumi felt guilt, realizing the impact his words had on his daughter, he didn’t know what to do.

“Yuki! Don’t speak to your mother that way!” He yelled, trying to regain control of the situation.

But Yuki’s next words cut through the air like a knife, “I hate you, Dad!”

The room fell silent, the harsh words echoing off the walls. You gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Yuki, don’t say that…” You whispered, but it was too late.

Yuki was already running up the stairs, the slam of her bedroom door echoing through the house.

Iwaizumi stood there, stunned. The words ‘I hate you’ echoed in his mind, each repetition like a punch on the gut. He turned towards you, desperation in his eyes. “Fuck, I swear I didn’t mean any of it baby. I was just tired…” He said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Already making your way up to the stairs, attempts to coax your daughter out of her room, but you were only met with silence.

He was left alone in the kitchen, the guilt gnawing at him. He had hurt his daughter, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Has he destroyed his daughter dreams?

Reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated!

#haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #haikyuu angst #angst no comfort #angst #hq angst #haikyuu dads #hq dads

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redjademilktea · 4 days

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Last night's episode of 4 Sided Dive was absolutely wonderful in terms of the amount of insight and perspective we got. Not only the Crown Keepers interlude, but also for campaign 3's themes as a whole.

Specifically what fascinated me though, was the incredible analogy Aimee drew between the Ruidian culture and colonial influence on indigenous/colonized spaces in real life (around the 1h32m mark for reference). It was amazing question to ask and I'll love Aimee endlessly for it because it touches on am interesting parallel between the discourse surrounding the Exandiran gods and what they thematically can represent to us as an audience.

Before I dive into my thoughts, I want to preface this by saying this is my specific perspective as a queer woman of color and daughter of a refugee. While my year-5-in-a-PhD-program brain may just be over analyzing this too much, what Aimee brought up just deeply resonated with me in a way that I don't really see talked about in discussions around the themes of campaign 3. Additionally, the ideas I'll be talking about borrow heavily from Christine Taitano DeLisle's Placental Politics: CHamoru Women, White Womanhood, and Indigeneity under U.S. Colonialism in Guam (2023). Its an incredible piece on indigenous knowledge production and political action that importantly looks to decenter colonial perspectives and history (and more importantly recenter indigenous histories, knowledge, and perspectives in a way that allows us to dislodge the idea that colonialism is something that is immutable and inevitable.)

To quickly summarize Aimee's point/follow up question, she pointed out that the way Ruidians have engaged with, repurposed, and were resentful towards Exandrian cultures mirrors some of the real life experiences of colonized/marginalized communities in relation to colonialism. It was such a powerful comparison to make because in a lot of ways, the struggle of the Ruidian people over the course of the campaign along with the looming question about the gods and whether or not to save them is (intentional or not) deeply resonant with the idea of colonialism and the ways it is deeply ingrained in the even mundane aspects of our life.

In a lot of ways, the Exandrian pantheon can be seen as a colonial force. One that came in and displaced a preexisting order of things and entrenched itself in the new way of being it established. Ashton and Laudna have repeatedly pointed this out throughout the campaign. There was life and existence before the gods. The gods are merely a different mode of being, not the only and inevitable mode of being. Life, society, and being can and did exist without them.

And its important to recognize that aspect of the gods, because it helps us understand their motivations that much better. Aabria in her description of what Opal saw in the Spider Queen as she tried to take Opal as her champion was poignant. Opal did not see an omniscient, unknowable entity. She saw a woman. A woman who was frustrated, angry, and most importantly frightened. They keep Predathos chained away not to protect life on Exandria nor because they feel a moral obligation to do so. They are doing so because they are afraid. Their mortality is at stake. And, as Aabria keenly pointed out, their pride is as well. Every action, every move is out of self preservation. An attempt to save themselves because Predathos demonstrate that not even the gods are a permanent thing.

You'll find (as Anne Stoler writes about frequently) that colonial systems are much the same. They are vehemently intent on self preservation. Any action they undertake and any narrative they create about themselves is solely done to preserve the way things are currently. And that includes narratives that the way things are currently is somehow inevitable. That things were always coming to this moment. Often, this is done at the expense of framing other modes of being as somehow antithetical to the way things are now. That it needs to be this way. And that this way is right and forever.

To me, its important to recognize these parallels. While Ruidians may engage with, adapt, and innovate off of Exandrian ideas, culture, and art, it is only because - as Aimee aptly phrased it - Exandrian culture as a direct result of the gods actions has "sucked all the air out" everything. What is there to engage with, if not the looming orb in the sky that has shaped every aspect of their existence?

It really brings the campaign-wide question of "should we save the gods?" into new light, at least in my opinion. Because its suddenly not about "saving the gods in a morally righteous act to preserve all life." It becomes a layered and complicated network of issues that makes the answer to that question incredibly difficult to answer. Is preserving the status quo because its how things operate now worth it at the expense of the suffering of others? What would saving the gods and the Ruidians look like? Is it even possible to save both? What changes to how things operate would be a result of that? How would those changes be handled?

I bring this up because there is a tendency in some discourse that I've seen to frame questioning the validity of saving the gods as inherently the "wrong" choice to make. When instead, when you see the cast struggling over the question, its because the answer is not straight forward. The gods are not necessary for life. They never were. They just are necessary for life the way things are now. And the question of what disrupting that means is such a fascinating one to engage with.

#4sd #4 sided dive #critical role #cr #Bells Hells #look im probably thinking way too hard about everything #but aabria and aimee were so amazing to listen to last night #and brought in such amazing insight!!

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sixosix · 5 months

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YOU MUST LIKE ME FOR ME | LYNEY

notes wc 3.5k, for readers keeping up with the updates as they come, it’s been a while since the last update! so for the sake of understanding this chapter, please reread the previous one !!

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You were starting to regret ever opening your mouth and letting Aether blackmail you into helping him. Maybe if you had insisted on cooking dinner and Rosalie took over the counter, none of this would’ve happened. But what’s happened has happened—and you have a feeling that you would’ve ended up here regardless because fate hated you.

Lyney emerges from the shadows, sliding into the spotlight as if he was born for it. Meant to be there in the middle of the stage with all eyes on him and nowhere else. He has his arms spread wide open, fully welcoming the elated whispers of the audience.

“Welcome, one and all, to Lyney and Lynette’s magic show!”

His voice echoes throughout the opera house, nearly drowned out by the roaring cheers that follow after. Lyney then grins, bowing with half of his body.

The way he moves across the stage—it’s hard to imagine it’s the same guy who stumbled over his steps to make you notice him. It seems like the roles have reversed. Now, the audience is watching each move with bated breath, on the edge of their seats, watching him.

“Please, let me also welcome my sister and my assistant, Lynette!”

Lynette steps onto the stage, her tail flicking at the noises. You swear you heard a kid whisper wildly to his mother that it was a part-cat human, maman! Why is Mr. Lyney not also one if they are siblings, maman?

Lyney may not have the ears and tail, but you remember the way his eyes followed you around like a cat tracking its prey, seconds away from pouncing. He resembled a cat more than Lynette at times.

“Hello,” Lynette says to the crowd and leaves it at that. The crowd loves it anyway.

Lyney grins. Something about it feels so different. He was cute as a kid, but now, with all teeth and sparkling eyes, he’s like a dream far out of reach.

“Are you okay?” Aether whispers. You almost jump out of your seat, breaking from the trance. “If you keep digging your nails in like that, you might rip the dress.”

“Ah.” You haven’t even realized. “Don’t worry about it. First-show jitters or something.”

“You’re not the one performing?”

“Or something.” you insist. Aether laughs under his breath and, thankfully, leaves it.

Back when you were at the House, Lyney could only do simple tricks. Plucking cards from his sleeves or hiding them in between his fingers. He was clumsy with making cards float, revealing doves from his hat, and producing flowers in a snap.

It seems to come from second nature for him this time. He flicks his hand, and a beautiful Lumidouce Bell materializes on his palm. Lyney throws it to the crowd; it lands by your feet.

“Wow, that was so cool!” Paimon gasps as you move to pick it up.

You remember now. This was the only flower Lyney used for his tricks, as they come in bundles when found. Often after dinner, Lyney would perform to practice for the other orphans, and it ended with a mess of these flowers scattered across the ground or left unattended by their beds after presenting it to them.

“Hold on,” Paimon says, “Is he looking at us? Did we miss something?”

Lyney is definitely looking in your direction. He has fallen silent, frowning. You start wishing that he is staring, not because he recognizes you but because you’re drop-dead gorgeous or something.

“Y/N?” Lyney says, his soft voice loud in the pin-drop silent auditorium.

Well.

“Mr. Lyney?” One of his assistants on stage asks. “What’s wrong?”

The crowd starts to murmur; then their fervent whispers grow in volume until everyone is talking loudly. Another accident? Mr. Lyney looks terrified! Aghast! Meanwhile, Lyney stays frozen in his spot; he doesn’t look like he’s breathing. It was the same look he gave you that night. Maybe his face hasn’t changed that much, after all.

“Lyney?” Lynette asks from the side of the stage, her face poking out. Then she follows his gaze, and her eyes widen as well. That’s when you knew—

“Shit,” you mutter, clutching the flower and springing up from your seat. You can’t have this happen while an audience is watching. That would totally ruin the whole point of laying low.

It was definitely not because you’re drop-dead gorgeous, but the fact that he still recognizes you has to mean something, right? Something that you don’t want to think about at the moment. You hurry to the exit, ignoring the dirty looks you get as you brush past.

“Did that girl do something?”

“Where are the gardes?! She must have done something to make Mr. Lyney chase after her’”

Seriously? You cast a glance, and Lyney’s scrambling down the stage, his assistants yelling after him and demanding for an explanation.

“Wait, no!” Lyney exclaims in response to the audience reluctantly getting up from their seats and reaching out to you. “Ah— Not to worry, everyone! I just have personal matters to attend to. Please, just stay—”

Idiot, you want to scream, it’s not so personal if you’re chasing after me in front of all of them!

The Melusine guarding the entrance seems oblivious to the ruckus inside. She blinks up at your haste and asks, “Is the show over?”

You say, “I have an emergency. Uhm—I, uh.”

Her face turns serious. She nods. “I see.”

“What— what are you thinking? it’s—” Your ears pick up on Lyney’s steps, and you wisely decide that it is not the time to save face. You give the Melusine a wave. “Thank you!”

You take a swift, sharp turn once you’ve reached the end of the stairs, stumbling into a dead end, and you don’t get very far.

You wonder if Aether and Paimon chased after you or if they’d pretend not to know you for the sake of the mission. If you die, you hope they would at least still pay you for compensation, and the money would go to Rosalie. Or maybe she would be enraged when she finds out you’re a Fatuus and doesn’t take it. Maybe your story of deceiving Rosalie would make her customers flourish, buying flowers to disguise the intent of asking about the liar residing in her home for years.

“Caught you,” Lyney whispers, his firm grip around your waist. The rushing water is noisy, but his voice is clear to your ears.

Hearing his voice up close is a problem. “Whoever you think I am, you’re mistaken!”

“Then why did you run?”

“You—” You had that look on your face I didn’t want to see again “—I forgot to lock my door. I don’t want my house to be robbed. Which might be occurring at this moment the longer you have me like this.”

Lyney laughs. It sounds like music that has haunted you for years—and with a new one playing, it’ll torment you for years more. He loosens his grip but keeps you caged in, still. You’re twirled around to face him, and something about his expression has you swallowing thickly.

“You’re even more stunning than I remember, ma chérie.”

Your face burns. “Thanks, but I don’t even know who you… ugh, stop looking at me like that…” Lyney’s smile, looking so fond, doesn’t falter in the slightest as if he expects that you would say that word for word.

“You think I’d mistake someone else for you? You’re the only one who runs from me like this,” he murmurs. His gaze feels heavy.

“Mr. Lyney,” you sigh and turn away. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye when he says shit like that. “Please. I didn’t show my face around anymore for a reason. A good reason.”

“I don’t trust your judgment to believe that.”

“Don’t talk as if you know me. We’ve been apart longer than we’ve been together.”

“Still, your words are as hurtful as ever,” Lyney says with a sad smile. You stiffen when he cups your cheek and touches you, his gloves rough on your skin. “You’re alive.”

You scowl. “Have you such little faith in me? How many times have I beaten you again?”

Lyney laughs again. Somehow, this is much worse than him killing you on sight.

Lynette appears in your line of sight from behind Lyney, with Aether and Paimon trailing after her. Her steps are slow. Aether has that expression on his face that says, don’t react!

Luckily, Lyney takes your hitch of breath as embarrassment at having witnesses. He tears away but promptly reaches for your wrist as if a leash for a dog. You tug, but nothing happens. For someone who looks so delicate, he has quite the strength.

“Hello, Traveler, Paimon,” he says pleasantly. “Sorry to interrupt your show.”

Aether shakes his head. “I just wondered if something went wrong.”

Does this not look wrong enough for him? You hurl him a blank stare.

Lyney follows Aether’s gaze and glowers. He jerks you to his side and stares at Aether pointedly. Aether looks at you, confused. You don’t know what the fuck is going on either.

“I didn’t know you were familiar with Y/N,” Lyney observes coldly.

“I don’t,” Aether says easily. “I came out here to see if you were okay.”

Still, Lyney doesn’t loosen his grip.

“Y/N,” Lynette says. She interrupts whatever dick-measuring contest is brewing with a small smile on her face. “You’re here.”

“I am,” you wheeze out, still trapped in Lyney’s arms. It’s a little difficult to be anywhere else with your current predicament.

Lynette clears her throat, giving her brother a look. You recognize that one—it’s the one she uses when Lyney is embarrassing her and would give him a stern word about it later. Lyney grumbles and sets you free.

“Traveler, I have something to say to you,” Lyney says, his chin high and his stare cool.

“Alright,” Aether says, brows furrowed. He casts you a glance that Lyney watches carefully. “Come on, Paimon.”

Lynette fixes your sleeves as the boys leave for somewhere more secluded. You follow them until their silhouettes disappear. “How have you been?” she asks.

“I’ve just been in the low, but I’m doing fine,” you say, feeling a little shy. Lynette has grown up as nicely as her brother. Her hair is tied up now; you remember that Lyney used to beg for Lynette to use the hairclips he’s bought, but Lynette insists she doesn’t like them. You offered her a hair tie that day. “It’s been really stressful and all that. Sorry to ruin your show.”

“Don’t worry about that. Or them. You’re here—that’s the most important thing on Lyney’s mind at the moment,” she says, and at the face you’re making, she adds: “And you can’t tell me I’m wrong. You know I’m not.”

“Haha.” You don’t know what to say to that.

Lynette hums. “Are you carrying out missions?”

You start thinking about the danger of confessing to present-fatuis that you are no longer one. As much as you trust them, you don’t trust they hold you to the same level. They have complete faith and loyalty towards The Knave, which you abandoned long ago. The orphans’ trust ran deep, and no one—not even you—could fuck with it.

You nod. “Yes, which is why I’ve been too busy. I’m— you see, I work for Lord Tartaglia now.”

Lynette looks stunned, speechless. Lyney has words to say, though, coming back at the perfect time. You take a peek at Aether, but it seems that he hasn’t followed Lyney back.

Lyney hurries to your side. “Master Childe? Is that why you’re here? We saw him around yesterday… Was it yesterday?” He turns to his sister, who nods.

Just your luck. Of all the Harbingers you thought of, it’s the one currently in Fontaine.

You’re losing confidence, and you hope it doesn’t show on your face. You used to look at the orphans in the House of the Hearth and think that you can beat them easily, without a sweat—right now, it feels as if they’re miles from your reach.

“Is this where Mr. Lyney went?” you hear from afar. “Perhaps they went back to the city!”

Lyney and Lynette’s faces turn exasperated. Lyney drags you further to the corner of the wall, and Lynette has her eyes peeled, scanning the path that leads here.

“Listen, I have to go. I can’t stay here for long.” They report everything to her; you know that well enough. “The— ‘Father’ already knows I’m here, so there’s no need to talk about me.”

Lyney stares at you for a moment too long. “Why?”

You wrack your head for something the twins wouldn’t be able to push. “I’m ashamed to see Father while I’m like this. After our fight, she had to transfer me. My pride and all that, you know?” You put on a timid expression. “Please don’t push.”

It works seamlessly. Lyney’s face falls. “Are you going to run from us again?”

“She might make me leave if she finds out I was talking to you.”

Lyney looks angry. “I’ll make sure she won't.”

“Don’t push,” you remind him softly. You’re a little stunned that he’s going this far. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you to the point of letting you slip from my grasp again.”

Hmm. That’s a strange way of phrasing it.

Before you can look into it anymore, Lyney takes your hand. “You said to me my loyalty is my worth. Well, by that logic, I’m nothing but valuable to you.”

“…Right,” you murmur, facing away from him and turning to Lynette for help, but she’s looking off to the side as well, still watching out for any gardes, yet her ears are pointed here. “I know that.”

“Y/N?” Lyney’s smiling when he forces your attention on him once more.

“Hm? What?” You need to look for Aether fast. Maybe tell him of the events that transpired and convince him that this was a terrible idea and Aether can arrest Lyney for all you care.

You do care. That’s the whole reason you’re doing this in the first place.

“I’m happy to see you,” he says.

“...I’ll see you around, Miss Lynette and Mr. Lyney.”

It wasn’t difficult to look for Aether and Paimon. You found them easily because you wanted to go there yourself: Hotel Debord.

Paimon’s wolfing down a plate of cake while Aether idly sips on his drink. Aether notices you first, waving you over. You find it strange that as soon as you pad over, Aether gestures to the stairs. You three climb up and find a place at the furthest table in the far corner.

“Lyney performs here sometimes, I heard,” Aether says as you settle in on a seat.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t strike this place with a surprise one while we’re on the most conspicuous seat,” you grumble. Paimon hands you her drink as comfort.

“I’d say that was a success,” Aether says, grinning. “Heartfelt reunion and rekindled feelings— I’ve never seen Lyney like that.”

“Like what?” Remembering Aether’s fixation on insisting on a blossoming relationship between you and the man you can’t even look in the eye, you immediately say, “Never mind. I don’t care. I ruined the plan.”

Aether laughs. “You didn’t, trust me. I learned something valuable today.”

You sip on the teacup. It’s Fonta, and it’s as unbearably sweet as the look in Lyney’s eyes as he talked to you. You’ve had enough of that for today.

“You can never hide it in your face when you care for someone,” Aether continues.

“You have that look on your face,” you say suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you’re also going to blackmail Lyney?”

“What? Of course not. That’s what I blackmailed you for.”

You snort. “And the Outlander reveals his true colors. You seriously still don’t believe me?”

“I still don’t have the information I want to have,” Aether reminds, stealing a piece of Paimon’s cake. She grumbles but doesn’t say anything else. She’s surprisingly compliant when there’s a plate before her. “That’s what you’re also here for, remember?”

“I don’t know, Aether,” you lament, sinking into your seat. “It feels like I made everything harder for me. “Do you still not trust them?”

“I think I blew it, too,” Aether laughs sheepishly. “I don’t think Lyney trusts me anymore.”

Paimon snorts, then quiets down when Aether shoots her a look.

“What did you and Lyney talk about?”

“It was a bit weird,” Aether confesses, then blushes at his drink. “I think Lyney was threatening me. He told me he saw me with someone by an alley.” At your confused look, Aether clarifies, “Doing something scandalous, I mean.”

You never thought Aether was the type, but that’s none of your business.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Aether sighs. “Of course I wasn’t up to anything of that sort. I’m still figuring out what he meant by that.”

“Maybe it’s a metaphor,” you say.

But Lyney doesn’t go lying about things like that. He may have a roundabout way of talking when he’s feeling playful, but ruining someone’s reputation is far too serious for that. And Aether never told you that Lyney was hostile around him—none of this just makes sense.

“All I remember was…” Aether’s gaze cuts down to your waist, and then he falls silent.

You frown. “Aether?”

Aether sighs. “I blew it. It’s up to you now.”

“Do you still see them as a threat?” you ask.

“It’s not that I see them as a threat. It’s just that… if they’re an obstacle I have to overcome between me and my sister, then I will do what it takes.”

Of course, you’re still stuck handling a pair of identical siblings. You could never understand the bond between them, but you have to admit, it’s interesting to see two sides of twins. One still together and one apart.

“Oh, right. Hold on,” Aether mutters, swiping a hand in the air. You watch in fascination as a bag materializes on his lap. He draws out a letter. “Lyney wanted me to give this to you, too.”

You read the contents. Aether asks, “What is it? A love letter? Does it have hearts drawn on it?”

“Stop that,” you say. “It has an address, no hearts.”

Aether gasps. Even Paimon pauses from her feast. “An address,” they chorus.

“It says meet me tomorrow.”

Aether hums. “Maybe this isn’t turning out so bad.”

Lyney’s soft expression flashes in your mind—the flower, the arm around your waist, ma chérie— Seriously, who told him it was alright to go around seducing women like that? You groan, your face falling into your palms. You both blew it. Maybe Paimon has a better chance of retrieving information than either of you.

“You must’ve really liked the Fonta,” Aether says, gesturing to your empty cup. “Want another one?”

You don’t hesitate before saying yes.

The flower Lyney threw you has already wilted by the time you return to the flower shop. It’s past midnight, yet there is still a dim light washing over from outside. You spot Rosalie seated by the chair behind the counter, her posture straightening as the bell chimes.

“You’re back!” She grins, though her eyes look heavy and a little red. She must’ve been sleeping deeply.

“Rosalie,” you greet, a little fond, a little exasperated, “did you wait for me?”

“I told that Outlander boy to bring you home before ten,” she huffs, ambling over to you. She pats your dress and sighs dreamily. “Did you enjoy Mr. Lyney’s show?”

There was no show to begin with. “Yes. I did. It was splendid. Cut a bit too short, though.”

“Were you chosen as a participant?” she asks, hopeful.

“No,” you say, laughing a little. Although Mr. Lyney did chase after me. You wonder what kind of face Rosalie would make if you told her that. She wouldn’t be able to sleep if you did; you’re sparing her quite nicely.

Rosalie smiles. You like her smile; it’s all soft and fond, and she’s always smiling, leaving smile lines on her face. If you got caught earlier and she found out about your true past, would she still smile at you like that? “You should get some sleep. You look tired.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so cute, mon ange. You look like you’re glowing!” Rosalie squeals, pulling you in for a hug that smothered your face on her neck. “You should go out more often!”

“Glowing?” Rosalie’s hug has your words come out all fucked up. “If anything, I’m drained— maman, your hair is getting on my mouth, please. And I still want to work here, okay? Don’t kick me out so suddenly.”

Rosalie’s frozen, her smile wiped off her face. You look up and blink at her curiously. “Rosalie?” you ask.

She stammers, “Oh—ah, it’s nothing. I just thought— Oh, you’re right. I’m tired, too. Don’t stay out so late next time if you don’t want my face having eyebags!”

As much as you hate to admit it, seeing Lyney and Lynette did feel a bit nice.

notes !!! new chapter yay :D lmk what u think !!

akagi back at it again with giving us bangers like its NOTHING. look at this scene of lyney recognizing reader in the audience!! the details... aughhh + THE EXTRA ART IS SO FUNNY

PLUS PLUS LOOK AT AKAGIS ART OF LITTLE LYNEY AND GROWN UP LYNEY AAAHHH

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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tbgkaru-woh · 4 months

Text

100 Dialogue prompts

Trying this out (feel free to tweak out any grammatical errors) so writers who are bored, have at it! ♥ Mix of Fluff, Angst and Smut

“I don’t see you that way”

“I will just do as I’m told. As I’ve always done”

“Have you never ridden a bike/horse before?”

“You don’t have to be so…formal”

“What happened to us?”

“Good things don’t happen to me”

“Interested in palm reading?”

“Bowing to you felt right”

“There, let me help you.”

“Next time, listen to yourself and not me”

“Why do you want to get in trouble so badly?”

“It’s him/her…isn’t it?”

“Are you keeping it?”

“Good to see a familiar face”

“You never had to ask me anything, let alone beg”

“Oh you again?!”

“I need to take you somewhere”

“With you gone, everything went wrong”

“Insufferable, see you at dinner”

“I wasn’t kissing you, I was saving your life!”

“You did all this already, why not finish the job?”

“I will look for you”

“I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t breathe”

“You knew about it?”

“I will atone for what he/she did”

“You need to start having some faith.”

“Say what you want, I know what I’m feeling is right”

“It’s okay, you will move on. We will move on.”

“How much do you miss him/her? And what if you didn’t have to?”

“Focus on my hands, on my voice…”

“Perhaps you need to be reminded where you belong”

“I was fine having a non-sexual relationship with you, but instead I’m having non-relationship sex with him/her.”

“I wanted to do it for you and in hindsight it was a terrible idea”

“I’ve been inside him/her more than outside him/her”

“Don’t ask me with ‘please’, you’re paying me”

“Oh why won’t you just die already”

“Sometimes I wonder for how long have you wanted his/her heart and if you will ever stop”

“Filthy cheater, we go again!”

“Didn’t you pay your debt already?”

“I can’t get sick/injured.”

“You act like you’ve never been defeated”

“Diamond thrown into the trash still has the value of a diamond”

“I got engaged”

“All this was decided for me, I had no choice”

“I’m beginning to think not even the jail guards/cops want you around, given how many times they’ve let me bail you out”

“You, sir/madam, should watch your alcohol intake”

“I’ve been denying everyone, you’re not special”

“I’m not looking for a romance”

“Isn’t that immoral enough to tempt you?”

“We’re two sides of the same fucked up coin”

“That’s what I like to see, you are your parents’ best indeed!”

“You have nothing to lose right?”

“Oh I can’t wait to hear you sing”

“Anything you’d like to add to the conversation?”

“Hi.”

“You need to stop making me pick you up in places someone may see”

“I thought I was a puppeteer pulling the strings but instead I was a back seat audience”

“I want names, I want addresses, I’m gonna make them pay.”

“You know where to find me if you ever want me again.”

“My mother is visiting in like 5 minutes”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

“Not being able to reciprocate has been the hardest part of my life”

“Did you kill someone?”

“Envious of my youth, are we?”

“The others may have gotten away…”

“I found you. Found you looking like you didn’t want to be found”

“Did we use to be a thing?”

“I can fix this. I can fix this…”

“Weird question, are you a supernatural being? Be honest”

“We should have never played Gods”

“Must you be so harsh with me all the time?”

“What did all these men/women do to deserve you?”

“We have a reputation to uphold”

“May I have this dance?”

“I am a bad influence on you!”

“Let’s make history”

“Who the hell wants to live forever.”

“Feeling any different?”

“Time waits for no one”

“You got your happy-ever-after. And for all I know, it’s because I didn’t.”

“Try that again and you’re gonna lose it”

“Didn’t I say one of these days you’re gonna be the death of me?”

“Do you know what my answer was?”

“You look pathetic.”

“Almost didn’t recognize your voice when it’s not yelling at me”

“I often find myself talking to those no longer here as well”

“Excuse me, this is not a buffet”

“I don’t suspect you because I’m the one who put him/her in the ground”

“You look like someone who likes a good gamble”

“I am poison”

“Feel free to stay as long as you need”

“You don’t need to understand, just be a good little thing”

“I’m gonna need your driver’s license, your ID and your phone number please~”

“Say my name”

“You…are telling the truth”

“Is that why you did that? Back there?”

“Stop reading my mind”

“I can teach you”

“How can you laugh?”

“Pretty pictures. I don’t have any”

“Heaven may fall, but __ can’t die.”

#dialogue prompt #writing prompt #dialogue prompts #otp prompts #prompts

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terry-perry · 24 days

Note

okay I need some more alastor x Carmella’s daughter!

can we have an imagine this time of that situation?

"First the Princess of Hell, and now you've gone for one of Carmine's brats? You really have no shame, do you Alastor?"

Right on cue, Vox was ready to confront Alastor after the last Overlord gathering, not caring that everyone was still around to watch. It was just like the Vees to want an audience. Had it been anyone else, Alastor would've torn the obnoxious picture box to shreds and have his torment recorded for his next show. Vox wasn't worth the effort, however. In fact, Alastor knew of a better way to destroy him.

"My friend, there's no need for such jealousy," he started with the nonchalant tone he knew drove Vox crazy. "It's not my fault my natural charisma led to such powerful allies while all you can conjure up are underlings who do nothing more than feed your fragile ego."

That certainly struck a nerve since Vox began to grind his teeth as his stare grew more intense. Alastor simply stayed calm as he subtly carried a tone of smugness. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to have lunch with my lady love, whom you will not disrespect again," This was the only time he chose to strike actual fear in Vox's heart as he switched to his Radio Demon persona by darkening his eyes and letting his figure grow into a form that better radiated evil. "Not unless you wish to be a new voice for my broadcast..."

Vox could only stare in bewildered silence as Alastor threatened him. The jab was bad enough, but the last statement stunned him enough to merely nod.

"Darling?" A third voice that differed with its femininity and lack of intensity came through. "Ready to go?" Y/N asked her boyfriend, bearing no mind that he was in almost full demon mode.

Alastor snapped his head around in her direction, calming down instantly. He supposed he made his point, and he was rather famished.

"Ready as always, my dear!" He replied, offering his arm to her which she happily accepted. "I know a lovely little bistro that serves excellent venison."

They walked past the still-emasculated Vox who was doing his best to refrain from buffering.

"Always fun catching up with you, old friend!"

----

Alastor would be lying if he said he wasn't caught off guard by Carmilla's sudden invitation to her home. She may have been Y/N's mother, but he rarely interacted with her sans a few polite greetings whenever they saw one another. According to Y/N, she did approve of him, it was just hard to gather since for every jovial "Hello!" he'd give her, she'd return with a small nod and acknowledging hum. It could be rather off-putting for someone like Alastor who thrived on other's reactions to all he did.

Some feared him, which always brought a certain giddiness within him that bordered on titillating. Some believed they could outmatch him in the battle of wits, which he was always ready for with a good put-down.

Months ago there was that precious giggle his dearest Y/N let out to alert him that she carried a torch for him. He knew right away that was something he could use to his advantage. Working with the heir to Hell's throne was already advantageous, but being involved with one of the daughters of an Overlord with the largest assembly of weapons in the city was something that could make his position all the more concrete. Pestering gnats like the Vees, even with their childish disrespect, knew opportunities like this don't just come every day. It was most likely why Vox tried to provoke him like he did.

So this was why Alastor had to be sure he had Carmilla's approval since it would cement him further in his current position. For someone who believed a smile could go a long way in keeping many guessing, he was certainly thrown off his game by her lack of expression. He could only hope this invite to whatever this was could keep things favorable for him.

Alastor was welcomed in by no one as the door opened on its own like always. He stepped into a large sitting room which contrasted with the one at the hotel as the latter was bright and rather tacky. The Carmine household was more gloomy, yet rather welcoming. He thought it was because the room he was directed to had walls completely covered in books. No doubt his bookish Y/N inhabited this room often, having the habit of sticking her nose in one. Currently, however, sat her mother in an armchair, staring passively at him like always.

"Alastor," Carmilla greeted him, waving him forward. "Glad you came. Please sit."

She gestured him to a sofa next to her seat that he accepted, along with the glass of bloodred wine she offered. Sadly it was just that - wine. It will have to do.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here so unexpectedly, without Y/N," she began, all business and direct, as always.

"If this is about my altercation with Vox this morning, I apologize," he said. He wasn't really sorry for putting the noisy picture box in his place, but whatever kept him in Carmilla's good graces. "As you know, he's an old acquaintance of mine. Things between us can get rather-"

She held up her hand to stop him before taking a sip of her wine. "That's not why I called you here. I've learned not to pay the Vees any mind long ago. No, I wish to speak to you about your relationship with Y/N."

At this, he kept his smile intact as always, but it held a certain wariness, a curiosity. He hoped she couldn't tell how he was preparing himself for whatever she could mean. She sat further back in her seat, studying him it seemed. When he chose to stay quiet, she continued. "I understand you're a busy person, as am I, so I'll do us both a favor and jump right to what I wish to discuss," without hesitation, she did just that. "I want you to marry Y/N."

Alastor could barely cover how he winced at that - the static emanating from him didn't help. Even with all the theories he conjured for this meeting, he didn't imagine this.

Carmilla must've noticed how she caught him by surprise since this was the first time he saw her look amused at the situation. She seemed to want to play with him since she took her time with her next sip before deciding to reassure him. "This doesn't need to happen any time soon," she said. "I don't expect you to get engaged tomorrow. I only want to give you my blessing if that's where you two end up. I find it beneficial for you to know beforehand because you're a businessman before anything else. You won't do anything unless you know it'll benefit you. It's why you're with my daughter in the first place, right?"

Well, there was no use denying it, so Alastor shrugged. The wariness, however, remained. "Y/N is quite a lovely lady with a certain sweetness and intelligence that I find endearing. If she so happens to come with a powerful family, then who am I to not want to get closer to someone who can mean a lot to me?"

Carmilla once more studied him stoically, which had Alastor's wide grin falter. "If I were in you, I'd do the same, I suppose. Which is why I know you'll continue to treat her well. You'll continue to meet her, talk with her, and if it gets to that point, marry her. If not, you'll go about your business like nothing. You're smart enough to know that you should treat this like any other transaction. If any issues, deal with me. Are we clear?"

Oh, she was making this too easy. Alastor almost wanted to let out a cackle of triumphant laughter. Had she stuck out her hand to shake he would have. For now, he'd settle for the clinking of glasses that signified a toast.

One marriage, coming up!

#alastor #x reader #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #request #imagine #oneshot #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #radio demon #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla #carmilla x reader #carmine!reader

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meatsuit · 30 days

Text

Is Juri's problem really idealizing Shiori in some way? The prevailing interpretation I've seen is that Juri should accept she fell for a snake so she can remove Shiori from the pedestal of her love. Incidentally Ruka also shares this opinion. I disagree and I'm here to be a contrarian about it!

A nonzero number of takes base their "Juri idealizes Shiori" conclusion on the "innocently cruel" line, the interpretation being she's percieving Shiori's personality as sweet and innocent. But that's not what the line is getting at. Juri's emphasis here is not innocence as a synonym for purity, it's innocence as a synonym for ignorance and naivety. Both Utena and Shiori are "innocent" because they are unable to anticipate the queer dynamic, the deviant lesbian desire, that Juri is operating from, and "cruel" because, in their misunderstanding, they step on Juri's toes in unintentional ways.

Even though we, the audience, know in retrospect that Shiori meant to fuck Juri up, the exact way she did it was a freak accident, and at this point in the story she has no idea that she managed to hurt her. Shiori is operating from a different understanding, one that assumes Juri's absolute conformity to and supremacy in heteronormative gender roles. Shiori's whole mission is proving her value over Juri on that axis, obviously because as a suppressed homosexual she feels insecure about her continuing obsession with Juri. She assumes "beating Juri" at attracting men will balance the scales-- render Juri's image less appealing, and hers more. And of course that would hurt Juri, who must value her success with boys so much. That lack of awareness is what Juri is referring to, and she's right here actually, about both Shiori and Utena-- they are unable to conceptualize desire for other women as a potential outcome, and in part it's because of this that they end up harming themselves and others.

Moreover the "innocently cruel" line does not imply that Juri thinks Shiori is an innocent person because, if anything, Juri does nothing but doubt Shiori throughout the series.

At no point does Juri say anything positive about Shiori's personality or their friendship. She is unable to frame her ex-bestie's existence outside of the pain she's caused her. The narrative purposefully never tells us why she fell in love with her in the first place, or what their friendship was like. We don't know why she chose Shiori specifically, and that's part of the mystique of Juri's feelings and of their relationship, that the audience will never see who Shiori is outside of Juri's heartbreak. She could have a vibrant personality, but it's thoroughly obscured by the opacity of Juri's despair, and Ohtori 's miasma. Not to mention Shiori's own internalized homophobia, compulsory heterosexuality, and chosen constructed persona-- just like a lot of other bitches trapped in Ohtori. This is what the place does, it chews up queer teenagers and doesn't spit them out so much as it arranges them neatly into a series of possible stage roles.

Juri's current image of Shiori is of a witch. It's possible she used to think of her as a princess, sure, but then she inverted the role once Shiori acted out. If anybody's idolizing anybody, it's Shiori. She is the master of rendering other people into shining beacons!

I have more thoughts forming on how Juri's "casting" of Shiori plays out through her final duel (does Shiori's mistreatment by Ruka briefly return her to her role as a princess to Juri's gallant prince-- but this proves unsustainable or undesirable, because princehood makes her too vulnerable or liable to corruption?) but they're half-baked at this time.

I do think though that Juri's "miracle" might be "making [Shiori] understand [her] feelings" literally-- not necessarily having Shiori return them (though that idea looms over her including in her understanding of what a man could do in her place, thanks to Ruka for the reminder). The miracle may be finding some way for Shiori and others to understand who Juri actually is without making herself vulnerable or diminishing the ease with which she moves through the world. She doesn't want to get stabbed with those swords of hatred. So many people don't seem to understand her, yet Juri is terrified of embodying anything other than an impenetrable image of excellence...! Girl watch out!! You're just embodying the reason why Shiori resents you in the first place!!! Those swords are coming at you no matter what!!!

#utena #revolutionary girl utena #shiori takatsuki #juri arisugawa #sage posts

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tiredfox64 · 26 days

Note

May i make a request? So pretty much fem reader is a a kill for hire, (with morals) no innocents etc) and liu kang sand either bi han kuai and smoke, or kung lao and raiden, to recruit her, they watch,as she asks all bubbly and sweet to lure in her tagret only to kill them easily, posion or something?. They ofc fall in love XD

She Would Hurt A Fly

Prior notes: You not one of my opps trying to convict me of something, right? FBI already trying to get me after my constant research on Datura. Don’t put me in jail for making a murder scene 👁️👁️.

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Violence but you will learn something about pigs.

“You want us to fetch…her?” Bi-Han asked with uncertainty.

All the brothers looked down at a picture of you that was given to them by Liu Kang. No offense but you seem like some ordinary person. But according to Liu Kang you are a tricky woman who is a fierce killer. That can’t be right.

“She looks so sweet though.” Tomas said.

“Do not judge, lest ye be judged.” Liu Kang replied.

“You said she was an assassin that can be hired? If you have the Lin Kuei at your side, why would you need someone else like her that you have to pay for?” Kuai Liang had a point.

“Though true that I have your clan by my side, she can do something none of you were trained to do. I don’t question the Lin Kuei’s abilities but I need someone with her unique expertise.”

Liu Kang’s words only fueled their curiosity even more. Bi-Han was somewhat upset with the god for thinking that he needs someone else other than his clan. But if his words are true he wants to see it for himself. So they’ll accept this quest to get you. They won’t act immediately however. They need to see if you are truly needed. What can you do that is so different?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Target acquired. Your target: a lowlife scum who is somehow let free after committing his heinous crime. People talk, and they all think he somehow paid the judge for his freedom. Some even think he had the justice system by the balls way earlier than when he committed the crime. And you were hired to kill him in any way you see fit. You would have done this job for free but your clients insisted that you deserve the pay. Work your magic girl! You have an audience with you now that you don’t even know about.

Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas hide in the bushes and behind trees to keep an eye on you. It looked they were just stalking a poor woman who was having some car problems in front of her farm home. You could have fooled anyone.

“Should we help her?” Tomas asked.

“Do we look like mechanics, Tomas? Do us a favor and keep your mouth shut.” Bi-Han berated him.

“Settle down, brother. You are only irritated because she has not done anything yet. How about we approach her now and-“ Kuai Liang was cut off when he heard you yell out to someone. All their heads turned to see what you were going on about. Time for action.

You were waving over your target and started asking for help. You acted like a clueless damsel in distress. A poor woman who can’t get her truck to start working.

“Please sir, I need your help. My car is acting all strange. Please sir, I’d really appreciate it.” You gave him your sweetest voice while looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

Who could say no to a face like yours. He accepted which made you jump for joy and clap your hands. That wasn’t fake you were just happy that he accepted in the first place, already making the job go smoothly. Your target had no idea what he was walking into. Hell, he even thought the same thing that you were making this too easy for him. It would be him who will fall victim to you.

You kept your act going. You asked dumb questions about the car and acted all sweet when he corrected you about something. Yet you were only pissing Bi-Han off even more. He wanted to yell at you to do something else. Kill him already. The brothers were all missing the point that this was how you do your. The fact is you lure your targets in. Give them a false sense of security before striking them down. They only know how to sneak up and strike when the opportunity opens up. You just have more patience than them. They don’t have to wait any longer because now you are striking.

You offered to get the man a drink for being so kind to you. He accepted of course. You were quick with getting him a cup and you passed it to him. He looked at you strangely as he looked down into the cup with blue liquid inside of it. He asked you what was inside. You reassured him it was just Calypso lemonade, nothing bad. Well, he trusted you. You built his trust up before, why would a sweet and bubbly lady like you mess with a man’s drink?

He gulped it down quickly and immediately he started reacting. The brothers turned their full attention onto him. Alright, so maybe you weren’t so truthful. Maybe you put in some drain cleaner that was a similar color to the lemonade. Maybe, just maybe. They watched him stubble away from you while holding his throat.

“What’s happening? Did she do something?” Tomas asked, convinced he blinked and missed what you did.

“I don’t know. He just started coughing.” Kuai Liang might not know but Bi-Han suspected there was something else they weren’t thinking of.

Of course you won’t stab a man in broad daylight. You’re a professional. And then it clicked.

“Poison”

“What was that?” Both brothers asked Bi-Han.

“She has clearly poisoned him. The fool was too stupid to realize she was luring him in.” Bi-Han wants to act like he wasn’t doubting you just a few moments ago.

“I’m a no-rust-build-up woman, myself.” You declared to the guy as you watched him crawl away from you, still keeping up that sweet voice.

And just like that he was gone. No blood left over or screams to already anyone else. A quick yet painful death for him and a job well done. Now to dispose of the body.

You left quite an impression on the boys. Kuai Liang finds your tactic to be effective. You fooled them all and he find that incredible. Tomas thinks you would be amazing as a huntress. You have the patience and the sneakiness to be one. He wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two from you. And Bi-Han…what the fuck is he doing.

“Brother, are you…smiling?” Kuai Liang looks confused and Tomas seems horrified.

Bi-Han doesn’t say a word, only hums in response. He’s smiling as he watches you drag the body over the pig pen. This isn’t like a smile one does when they are day dreaming about their crush. No, this is a smile that says he likes you but not in the right ways. A closed-mouth smile that shows no warmth but a devilish desire.

You are a deceitful woman who has tricked all. You trap your victims by giving them a false sense of security. You leave no evidence and do it silently so no one would know. You are leaving that man’s family clueless of his demise. You are wicked and he likes that a lot.

Again he’s not alone in that. Tomas would like to get close to you just to learn your tricks as well. Maybe see if that persona is actually you or just some trick. Either way he wants to get to know you. Kuai Liang is awed by intellect and you have sure shown that by your well constructed plan. He can see why you are even worthy of hiring. You do it so effortlessly it makes your beauty pop out more. We got some bachelors over here.

“Should we go up to her now and tell her Lord Liu Kang’s proposal?” Tomas stepped in front of Bi-Han when asking that question. The only response he got was Bi-Han’s hand in his face, pushing him away so Bi-Han could keep looking at you.

They’ll wait this out a bit. At least it will give you enough time to dump the body into the pig pen and feed your poor, hungry pigs. They can stomach it.

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You were brought before Lord Liu Kang who told you he would like to have you around. It was a big shock to you. A god wants to hire you? Slap that on your resume immediately.

You accepted the offer quickly. You thanking him for seeing that you are a good person at heart and only try to kill those who deserve such a fate. An antihero if you will. And hey, you have the chance to meet some new people now. Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas seem to be really interested in getting to know you.

Liu Kang was very suspicious of their intentions though. Mostly Bi-Han since he still had that devilish smirk on his face as he stared at you. He hasn’t even talked he just keeps giving off that low hum. Something is off. Maybe he won’t have you train with the Lin Kuei.

“Perhaps I shall send you to the Wu Shi Academy. They might be a better fit for you.” Liu Kang said in perfect earshot of the brothers.

A collective ‘no’ rang out from them which told you and him everything. They like you, they like your skills. They just won’t have any drink you give them. Especially not a Calypso.

After notes: Heathers is free on YouTube. It’s really important you know that. Might give a hint on how I thought of this. Might also be craving a Calypso badly. That Southern Peach gets me.

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