#and i don't want to let them go like that
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cj-the-random-artist · 3 days ago
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I let them get friendship married so Narinder can get his tax benefits lol
But legitimately. I mulled this one over repeatedly for literal months. Like. Do I want them to get married in front of the cult? Should they even get married? It would be hilarious if the Goat married them and then cried at the altar the whole time, but also... that doesn't feel right, so maybe I won't do that. And then once I decided it should be a personal friendship-marriage ritual where it's just the pair of them making vows to each other, I wrote four different scripts and hated them all and ended up just pulling this one out of thin air pretty much on the spot and that was that. At one point, I wanted Lambert to basically suggest this idea and then have them get friend-married on the spot, but that didn't feel right (and it was also gonna be unreasonably long) so that's why there's no context going into this one. And the actual friend-marriage ritual is... maybe not the best designed one ever? I wanted it to in some ways be similar to like, the way I imagine a romantic marriage happening in the cult- the parties exchange vows and do rings and stuff...? (If it's not obvious, I haven't been to many weddings...) But I figured they wouldn't want an audience, or to party with the whole cult afterwards, or anything like that. I also had them kiss each other's rings as opposed to like... faces... because one of the fights I had with myself in deciding how I would want this to go was whether it would make sense for them to kiss or not. And I ultimately decided that in this AU at least they just wouldn't want to. They're also wearing the rings on their not ring fingers cuz. Honestly it just felt right that way. Based on vibes. But basically I just wanted them to exchange a vow of eternal partnership in a very casual, chill setting, because I don't picture QPR AU Narilamb doing... anything other than that.
Also this is the rest of Lambert's office, which I actually had a pretty clear vision for after my last doodle but I didn't really bother to draw before starting this comic. Maybe I should've but eh it looks good enough. Interior backgrounds are hard......
Anyways. I think I'm happy with this one? I was enamored by the concept of a chill friendship marriage, so I definitely leaned into it here. As per usual, it's not perfect, I think I could've done a lot of stuff better / differently, but honestly?? If I were to ever get friend-married I would want it to go about like this, it makes my little aroace heart happy, and I spent too long on it to not show it to anybody. Thus. Enjoy, and also happy new year cuz I totally forgot to make a post individually about that...
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unpretty · 2 days ago
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not going to tack this onto @derinthescarletpescatarian's post because it was long enough but here is my understanding of some of the various subgenres commonly encountered in light novels/web novels/licensed webtoons:
isekai: another world. if they end up in a different world it's an isekai. it doesn't matter how they got there. sometimes the other world is explicitly a video game the protagonist is playing. they're not dead or anything, just in virtual reality. they go home at night and it's fine.
portal fantasy: it does matter how they got there, actually. they went through a portal of some kind. wherever they end up, they keep their minds and bodies. maybe in the other world they have powers, but maybe not.
progression fantasy: they are going to level up like a video game character. there may or may not be an actual leveling up mechanic. they might just get stronger or acquire more wealth and powerful allies as it goes on. they will always kick more ass. hundreds of beavers is a progression fantasy.
litrpg: western term for 'the characters explicitly have video game mechanics'. there is probably a System of some kind. characters are aware of levels and power tiers. most controversial subgenre, lots of people hate this.
dungeon break/monster hunter: dungeons or portals appear in the real world, some people get powers that let them fight the monsters. lots of people try to tell me this is just litrpg but i argue that they are distinct subgenres with significant overlap. not every litrpg is this. you can probably find traditionally published american versions of this pre-dating video games and the litrpg concept.
transmigration: this is when truck-kun intervenes. there are other ways it can happen, but usually a character dies (hit by a truck is the most common trope) and wakes up in a different body. usually an isekai, usually it's into a story or video game, but it doesn't always have to be.
regression: a character dies, but instead of dying, they wake up as their younger self with all their memories from before their death. this is explicitly not an isekai, except when someone gets fucky with it and reveals that a transmigrator was actually also a regressor the whole time.
loop: if they regress more than once it turns into a loop. this is distinct because sometimes with regressors they just have the one chance to not fuck things up this time. some loop stories also have characters transmigrating a bunch of times.
villain isekai: usually transmigration. oh no i died and woke up as the bad guy in a story! now i gotta try not to fucking die!!!
romfan: romance fantasy. it gets called romfan instead of romantasy because it came first and is being translated probably.
otome isekai: also usually transmigration and also often romfan. you are now the prettiest princess and all the boys want to kiss you. i assume there's a 'harem' version of this For Men but i don't read those and can't tell you anything about them.
villainess isekai: usually a combination of the above three. most likely to be very meta and funny. i have a weakness for these ones.
divorce revenge: there might be a real name for this but i don't know it. sometimes this is paired with regression but not always, but it's very often a kind of progression fantasy. features a woman divorcing her shitty husband and then living her best life, which keeps getting better as her husband has to watch her kick ass and then cry about how he blew it. there are so many of these.
childcare fantasy: i think this includes both the ones where someone transmigrates into a baby, and the ones where they transmigrate to take care of a baby. i don't like this genre enough to check. but 'formerly abused child gets loved and coddled and anyone who tries to hurt them suffers' is a major component of this subgenre.
there's definitely more but my attention span has waned. here's some comics that are on my reading list after the cut, there's going to be undescribed screenshots because i'm lazy. you may need to find these elsewhere if you don't want to deal with tapas or webtoon and their paywalling systems.
The Greatest Estate Developer: transmigration villain isekai and progression fantasy with litrpg elements. architect uses his knowledge to save his own ass and also his new family, gets powers, everyone will unionize whether they like it or not.
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Lout of the Count's Family: transmigration villain isekai and progression fantasy. ends up in otome isekai recommendations a lot despite technically not being an otome, on account of the eye candy and shipping potential. the webnovel has turned into like six different genres by now and is asspull central but i read it anyway. protag says he just wants to save his own ass so he can relax but does it by coughing up blood constantly.
The S-Class Hunters That I Raised: regression dungeon break litrpg. guy with shitty powers regresses and has to figure out how to make his power of taking care of people suck less, turns out it's OP as all hell.
Villains are Destined to Die: villainess transmigration otome isekai, maybe a little litrpg? there's definitely a system. protag just wants to go home because the visual novel she's in is notoriously difficult and she is at constant risk of being murdered. i like this one so much i own it in print.
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Marriage of Convenience: regression romfan. not an isekai!! protag hated her life and died in poverty and shame after her husband died, this time she's going to try not doing that.
Villainesses Have More Fun: villainess transmigration otome isekai and progression fantasy. protag is very excited to be the villainess because she was the best character. she loves being rich. unfortunately at least one plot point raises the question 'why is that boy white'
Beware the Villainess: villainess transmigration otome isekai, meta as all hell, extremely meme-able faces, does not end in an OT3 but should have.
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Baroness Goes On Strike: regression romfan, also not an isekai. protag wanted a divorce on her deathbed but woke up on the first night of her marriage, wants her life to suck less this time through the power of being assertive.
The Perks of Being a Villainess: villainess transmigration otome isekai and progression fantasy. protag has resting villainess face and progresses through the power of advanced math, unregulated capitalism, and abuse of the patent and copyright systems.
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I Think I've Been Possessed Somewhere: transmigration isekai starring a main character who's read so much romance fantasy that she doesn't actually know what genre she's in because everything is too generic. meta as all hell.
Your Throne: villainess, sort of transmigrator? the crafty politically-savvy villainess bodyswaps with the naive saintess heroine, shit gets dark real fast, probably not going to end with girls kissing despite my hopes and dreams.
The Remarried Empress: divorce revenge romfan. you see this one referenced a lot in the comments of other romfans because everyone hates Rashta, the waif that the emperor divorces the empress for.
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Raising My Fiance With Money: romfan, fake dating, sort of a divorce revenge except it's her ex-fiance. no isekai elements at all, but the protag is ridiculously lucky with money, comically wealthy, and supported by her doting family despite having terrible taste in men. her love interest is a teddy bear with resting murder face.
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When The Third Wheel Strikes Back: transmigrator isekai. the protag never actually read the book, he only knows about it through osmosis because it's hugely popular and his sister is a big fan. one of the only things he knows is that in a recent update his character dies. also, it was already a transmigrator isekai before he got there. he isekai'd into an isekai. so much of the worldbuilding suggests a canon ot3 but i refuse to get my hopes up.
Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint: it's sort of a dungeon break. not really an isekai but kind of. litrpg, sure. there's regressors. there's transmigrators. there's a lot going on. kim dokja was the only reader of a terrible, ridiculously long webnovel that now appears to be coming true. the official adaptation appears to be making the webnovel less queer overall. i read the webtoon until i got impatient enough to force my way through the sometimes clunky webnovel translations. it's hard to explain orv because it's a story about stories. consuming stories, telling stories, stories told about you, becoming a story, the cost of a story. it is so long. there is so much happening. the story is resolved in the epilogue you might skip if you didn't know any better. some people find it too confusing while others read homestuck.
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chaostudee · 3 days ago
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please please please, charles leclerc
summary : "please please please don't prove them right" charles leclerc has been labelled as a noterious playboy so when popstar starts y/n y/ln starts dating him she puts him in his place. warnings : language, suggestive content, hate comments. a/n : i acc have so much unfinished works in my drafts rnnn
y/nusername n1 in sydney.
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liked by taylorswift, gracieabrams, tyla, and 4,628,925 others.
user72 ugh i love her so bad
username13 taylor liking is crazyy like she has been y/n's idol for years
user99 so so proud about how far she has come stopp i could cry
username222 sold out show in melbourne WHAT
fangirl truly the best night of my life (not an exaggeration i fear)
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y/nusername 48 hours in australia next to miami !!
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》 TAYLOR MF SWIFT Y/N WHAT
》 cutest dump ever stfu
》 screamingggg
》 stopp she looks so happy let me sob 😭😭
》 confirmed she loves us aussies 🇦🇺
》 the dress was *chef kisses*
》 storytime rnnnn
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charlesleclerc miami prep 💪
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liked by landonorris, carlossainz, scuderiaferrari, and 1,992,451 others.
user23 oh damn.
username788 holy shit i just woke up
f1fan oml
user00 i'm so jealous of any girl he has ever been with
user23 my dreams are just dreams 😫
f1lover podium plssss
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y/nusername guess where i am hehe
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》 miami gp !!
》 is that charles's car i see 👀
》 "everybody is a ferrari fan"
》 y/n and f1 i'm here for it
》 oh great another influencer being invited to an f1 race
》 oh yessss
》 f1 omggg queen i love youuuu
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y/nusername a little pit stop before my show tonight ;)
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liked by charlesleclerc, taylorswift, sadiesink and 2,728,667 others.
sadiesink ugh i had the best time
f1fan i'm not okay y/n and f1 MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING
user13 im shooketh
username22 omg sadie and y/n together again i love them smmm
f1lover OMG GUYS WHAT IF SHE WAS THERE FOR CHARLES
user72 this is too insane....but he did like her post so maybeee user23 omgg and on the podium he did wink at someone maybe it was her?!?! f1girl okay not to alarm anyone but i did see him walk into the paddock with y/n 🤭 user23 OMFG ACC
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charlesleclerc miami the city that keeps the roof blazing
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liked by y/nusername, carlossainz, taylorswift and 4,729,901 others.
user23 i love charlos so bad pls never seperate them
f1fan oh girl....
user52 yesss charles back on the podium again
f1girl yesss the caption miami by will smith on toppp
f1lover are u dating y/n???
user626 yesss give the people what they want
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y/nusername miami you were amazing 💋
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liked by taylorswift, charlesleclerc, chappellroan and 3,791,551 others.
user72 mommy
username90 we need the makeup routine rnn
fangirl the pose tonight was crazyyy
user52 omggg i was with my mum fangirl stoppp i would die
user00 her tour fits always eat so bad
f1fan in a perfect universe this would be my life
user22 okayyy what if charles was there?!?
f1lover y/n plsss come to monaco
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hotones video with y/n out now !!
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liked by y/nusername, tyla, charlesleclerc and 426,829 others.
y/nusername I TOLD YOU TO CUT THAT PART OMG GOING TO GO KMS
user627 oop
username22 i mean she has a chance so she might as well shoot her shot
f1fan not charles in the likes this is so messy
user72 oh to have her confidence
username78 omggg she is such a legend for this
f1girl this interview was so good omggg
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charlesleclerc the best weekend of my life
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liked by carlossainz, y/nusername, landonorris and 6,916,411 others.
y/nusername 💗
user62 girl f1fan wait was she there?? user62 nope
carlossainz finally
user562 i actually shed like real tears
f1girl so so proud
user90 im a new fan but this was emotional for me
username82 i hope he knows that we are all so happy for him
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messages between taylor and y/n
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༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.✧˚
y/nusername please please please out now hope you enjoy 🤭🫣
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liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, taylorswift and 7,291,081 others.
user72 NOW THIS IS A HARD LAUNCH
username90 i died dead
f1fan fuck idek who i want to be more
taylorswift omggg i'm so shocked i defo didn't know about this for months
y/nusername 😭😭 plsss ily
user62 THE MV WAS SO GODDAMN HOT THE WAY HE WAS LOOKING AT HER OMLLL
f1girl this is just so perfect
user90 i fear im in a state of shock rn
user52 im not even phased cause i saw it coming
landonorris can i plss be in a mv next plssss
user62 helpppp
username11 y/n my queen
taglist⭑.ᐟ
@lottalove4evelyn @sweetestgirlintown111 @mxryxmfooty @hadidsworld @llando4norris @heavy-vettel @love2readd @depressedriches @nichmeddar @seonghwaexile
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lizziesangel · 2 days ago
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AN ANGSTY ASS REQUEST, I wanna cry and I know you are gonna do amazing. Love your writing. Kind of backstory: So.....Reader is the love of Rafe’s life and the only person who has shown him kindness and given him affection. They are kidnapped for some reason, perhaps kept on a boat, and she falls overboard. Rafe escapes. A BODY (not hers, but can’t be certain) gets washed up at some point and she is determined to be dead. So just kind of as back story....you don't need to write that part if you don't want to <3 So present/and well....the request really: Funeral is held and everything. He is walking around for about 2 months, mourning her, being an ABSOLUTE WRECK. He has nightmares constantly about her and when he’s awake, she haunts him still. He is drinking all the time because he can’t cope. UNKNOWN……she survived but was still held captive. She manages to escape and breaks into his house. HE THINKS HE IS OUT OF HIS MIND, DRUNK but it’s such a teary felt reunion when he realizes that she’s real. Maybe he gives her a bath (cus lets be real) and takes care of her (and again, let's be real, she is probably really weak) and is just shaking with relief, happiness and is so soft with her :(
wow, this is such an amazing request, i absolutely love this!!
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the salty air was sharp and cold, biting against your skin as the boat rocked beneath your feet. it wasn’t the gentle sway of a calm ocean—it was erratic, violent, as if the sea itself mirrored the chaos that had unfolded in the past few hours.
rafe’s face was bloodied, his lip split and bruises already blooming along his jaw. his wrists were bound behind his back, the ropes digging into his skin as he struggled against them. he was glaring at the men surrounding him, his usual cocky bravado barely masking the sheer terror in his eyes.
��look,” rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous, though it cracked with desperation, “you’ve got me. i’ll get you your money. just let her go. she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
one of the men, a grizzled figure with a jagged scar running down his cheek, barked out a laugh. “you don’t get it, do you? you think you can screw us over and just walk away? nah.
“you’re gonna feel what it’s like to lose everything.”
the words sent a shiver down your spine. you’d known rafe’s life wasn’t clean—he carried the weight of bad decisions and even worse company—but you never thought it would come to this. the fear in his eyes, barely veiled beneath his fury, was enough to make your heart clench.
“please,” you interjected, your voice trembling as you stepped closer. “please, just let us go. we won’t—”
the sharp crack of a slap silenced you, the force of it sending you stumbling back. rafe surged forward, his shout of rage muffled by the gag they shoved into his mouth.
“enough talking,” the scarred man said coldly. “you want to play the hero, cameron? let’s see how much you care about her.”
before you could react, multiple strong hands grabbed your arms. you thrashed against them, your heart pounding as you looked back at rafe. his eyes were wild, his muffled cries growing frantic as the men dragged you toward the edge of the boat.
“no!” you screamed, your voice raw as the dark water loomed closer. the waves were fierce, crashing against the sides of the vessel, the moonlight glinting off their surface like shards of broken glass.
“rafe!” you cried, your voice breaking.
he was struggling so hard now that blood began to seep from where the ropes cut into his wrists. his muffled shouts were desperate, pleading.
“throw her over,” the scarred man commanded.
“no! please—” you begged, but it was too late.
the cold hit you like a thousand needles, stealing the air from your lungs as you plunged into the frigid ocean. the world above became muffled, the boat a distant silhouette against the black sky as you were swallowed by the waves. you fought to stay afloat, the current pulling at you like unseen hands.
above, rafe was a man undone. he thrashed violently, his screams muffled and his face twisted in agony. “let me go! i’ll kill you! i’ll kill you!” the men barely paid him any mind as they turned the boat, leaving the spot where you disappeared into the water.
“you better hope she’s a good swimmer, cameron,” the scarred man sneered. “and you’d better figure out how to pay us back.”
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the funeral rafe held was a quiet affair, not because you deserved anything less, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of it being a spectacle. the small, secluded chapel was filled with the scent of lilies and a suffocating weight of sorrow. he sat in the front row, shoulders hunched, his trembling hands clutching the edge of the pew.
he couldn’t look at the casket, though it was empty.
the minister’s words were hollow, background noise to the storm raging inside him. “a kind soul, taken too soon…” “beloved by all who knew her…” every word made his chest ache. rafe clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, willing himself not to break down in front of the small group of mourners.
afterward, when the empty coffin was lowered into the ground, he stood motionless, staring at the fresh mound of earth. a few people offered condolences, their words shallow and meaningless. he didn’t respond, barely even acknowledged them. what could they say? no words could bring you back.
once everyone left, rafe stayed behind. minutes turned into hours as he sat on the damp grass, staring at the grave as though he could will it to undo itself. he whispered apologies to the air, his voice breaking. “i should’ve done something. i should’ve stopped them. i’m so sorry, my baby.”
the days that followed bled together into a haze of grief and self-loathing.
rafe couldn’t stand being at home. every corner of the house reminded him of you. the couch where you’d curled up with a blanket and a book, the kitchen where you’d danced with him to music only the two of you could hear—it was all too much. he turned to the only thing that numbed the pain: alcohol.
whiskey became his constant companion, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the ache in his heart. he barely ate, barely slept. the nightmares wouldn’t let him. every time he closed his eyes, he saw you falling, the cold water dragging you under while he screamed your name. he’d wake up drenched in sweat, his chest heaving, the echo of your voice fading into silence.
he stopped answering his phone. friends tried to check in on him, but he pushed them away. he couldn’t face their pity, couldn’t stand the thought of them telling him to “move on.”
how could he move on when the love of his life was gone?
the two-month mark came and went, and rafe was a shadow of the man he used to be. his once meticulously styled hair was unkempt, his clothes rumpled, his face hollow from lack of sleep and too many sleepless nights spent drowning in liquor.
he spent most of his days wandering aimlessly, haunted by memories of you. he would catch glimpses of you everywhere—in the stranger who had your laugh, in the perfume that smelled like yours. his heart would leap, only to crash when he realized it wasn’t you.
one evening, he found himself on the beach, the waves crashing against the shore. he sank into the sand, letting the cold wind whip against his face. he stared at the horizon, the sun dipping below the water in a blaze of gold and crimson.
“i don’t know how to do this without you,” he whispered to the empty expanse of ocean. his voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands, the weight of his grief crushing him.
for rafe, the world had stopped the moment you disappeared. time dragged on, but he remained frozen, lost in a limbo of regret and longing. he didn’t know if he could survive without you.
he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.
his nightmares were relentless. every second he closed his eyes, he was back on that boat, watching helplessly as you were thrown overboard. the icy waves swallowed you, your desperate cries for help echoing in his ears. he’d wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as he reached out for you in the darkness—only to find cold sheets and empty space.
you weren’t there, and the realization gutted him every time.
the only way he knew how to cope was to drown himself in alcohol. bottles littered the floor of his house, their contents his only escape from the crushing weight of his grief. the whiskey blurred the edges of his pain, but it never truly numbed it. instead, it left him hollow, stumbling through a life that felt meaningless without you.
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the storm outside was fierce, rain pelting against the windows and wind howling like a wounded animal. rafe sat slumped on the couch, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers. he stared blankly at the television, though he wasn’t watching it. the sound was muted, the images flickering across the screen as if mocking his apathy.
the sharp sound of glass shattering upstairs jolted him from his stupor. for a moment, he froze, his foggy mind struggling to process it. he shook his head, muttering to himself, “you’re losing it, rafe.”
but then he heard it again—a faint creak of floorboards. His heart began to race, adrenaline cutting through the haze of alcohol. grabbing a nearby lamp as a makeshift weapon, he stumbled toward the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
he pushed open the bedroom door, his breath hitching at what he saw.
you were there.
at first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind. you stood by the window, your body bruised, your clothes torn and soaked from the rain. your hair was a tangled mess, your face pale and gaunt, but it was you.
“rafe…” your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
“n... no,” he muttered, shaking his head. his grip on the lamp tightened. “you’re not real. you’re not—”
“i am,” you interrupted, taking a shaky step toward him. “i got away. i—i’m here.”
the lamp fell from his hands, clattering to the floor as he stared at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. when your knees buckled, he lunged forward, catching you before you could hit the ground.
the moment your weight fell into his arms, he knew. you were real.
a sob broke from his throat as he held you tightly, his fingers digging into your sides as if afraid you’d disappear again. “you’re alive,” he choked out, his voice raw. “oh, my God, you’re alive.”
“i am,” you murmured weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. “i am.”
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rafe carried you to the bathroom, his arms trembling with relief and adrenaline. he set you down on the edge of the tub, his hands shaking as he turned on the water, testing the temperature to make sure it wasn’t too hot.
“i... i need to—you need to get cleaned up,” he said, his voice unsteady. he avoided your eyes, his movements jerky and unsure. “you’re freezing. God, you’re so cold.”
you didn’t protest, too weak and tired to do much more than nod. he helped you out of your soaked clothes, his touch gentle, his eyes filled with guilt and tenderness.
once the tub was filled, he eased you into the warm water, his heart breaking at the way you winced. he knelt beside the tub, his sleeves rolled up as he carefully washed away the grime and salt from your skin. his hands trembled as they ran through your hair, untangling the knots with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.
“i thought i lost you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i thought—i thought you were gone forever.”
“i almost was,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.
tears streamed down his face as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your damp hair. “you’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “i’m not letting you go again. i promise.”
after the bath, rafe wrapped you in the softest towel he could find and carried you to his bed. he brought you water, food, anything you might need, though you barely managed a few bites. he sat beside you, his hand never leaving yours, as if reassuring himself that you were really there.
that night, for the first time in months, he didn’t have nightmares. Instead, he fell asleep with you in his arms, the steady rhythm of your breathing the only sound he needed to finally find peace.
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CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚。⋆
@maybankslover ⟢ @diorstarkey
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luminni · 3 days ago
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Most desperate things the 141 boys have done for sex because I can't stop thinking about it <3
(sorry for this being a 3rd repost, I had an account called Lumi_bunsblog but that one got deleted for some reason so this is the new one now ig lol)
John's begged for it. I mean on his hands and knees begging for a taste. I know this man is an avid pussy pronoun user too. He has been on his knees in front of you as you sit pretty on his couch, trailing kisses up your soft belly to your tits and then back down to your thighs.
"C'mon sweet girl lemme' 'ave a taste of 'er yeah? Know she fuckin' needs me hm? Just look at tha'" as he runs a thumb of the wetness that's seeped through you thin panties, just waiting for you to say the words and let him tear them off.
He knows if anybody else in the 141 or if any of his fellow soldiers could see him now, the Captain Price practically drooling over you and sweet talking your cunt like it could hear him they would have a fit. But he couldn't care less because you looked so fucking good right now so "just let 'er 'ave what she wants alright sweet thing?"
I just know Kyle has spent 70% of his last month's pay check on hotel room because the 5 star pent house suite was the only hotel room in your area left available during the holidays. He played it cool with an arm around your waist assuring you it was fine, acting like this was the room he wanted to get, not the one he was forced to have. But if he was being forced to do anything thank god it was spoiling you.
"Don't worry 'bout it love. Just make 'urself comfortable" He'll say in a sultry sweet tone, planting kisses up the side of your neck before excusing himself to the lavish bathroom to check his bank account. He had to make sure he still had enough to buy you a nice breakfast in the morning.
And you're already layed out so pretty for him on the bed so he's not complaining about anything. Especially not the mirror situated on the ceiling right above the bed. Oh and don't you dare suggest splitting the cost, "just split your legs for me hun, 's all ya need to do"
Johnny is eager, like so so eager. When a passionate make out session on your couch got even more heated than either of you had previously expected and he now had his fingers playing with the waistband of your skirt, letting his cold finger tips splay themselves just below. When he got to the hem of your panties and began to hook a finger into the lace you had to stop him,
"Johnny"
"Yea?" He was breathless, chasing your lips when you pulled away to talk. You almost felt bad for separating but if he was going to touch you, there was one request you needed to make. You had felt his nails drag across your thighs moments earlier, it felt wonderful but they were...a little long.
"Do ya nae want this hen?" He'd ask, looking at you like you were a piece of art. Pleading with his eyes, shining like they'd spill tears if you said yes.
"No, no I want this, I want you so so much. It's just..." you trailed off
"Tell me what's wrong bonnie and I'll fix it, yeah?" his hands kept you grounded to his lap either a soft grip on you ass.
"It's just- you're nails, they're a little long" your request was nothing more than whisper.
'Oh' Johnny knew he probably should have just asked for clippers, but you felt so damn good on his lap. He could feel your warm cunt through the zipper of his jeans and with your tits brushing against his chest he couldn't bring himself to move.
You watched in shock as he just began to just tear his nails off with his teeth. Without a second thought his pointer and middle finger nails were bit off to the skin. He paused and looked at his right hand before ripping off the index finger as well.
"Johnny what's gotten into you-?"
But he's already got his hands back down your skirt. Soft finger tips slipping between your folds. "Feel better now eh?" And when you just nuzzled your nose into his neck and let out a little whimper he chuckled "I'll take tha' as a yes"
Simon swallows his pride for the first time in his life for a chance at hitting it raw. You tell him it's okay to not use protection, that you're on birth control. But you needed to make sure that he didn't have any stds seeing as they're even more of a pain when you're on birth control. Not that you don't trust him you just want to make sure and it's not a problem for him seeing as he has to get tested every other week being in the military.
He doesn't, however, have his records on him at the moment and with a girl already lying in his bed telling him he can cum inside. Plus a raging hard on, he doesn't exactly feel like running back to base to get the paper work. So...next best thing.
"Price-"
"Rare for ya to call on leave Simon, whatchya need?" Price responds, his voice cracking through the face time call, a cigar dangling from his lips.
"Sir I need..." he looks back at you, your eyes expectant and shining. You wanted him and he wasn't going to fuck this up. "Can you send me a picture of my last med check results?" He rushes out the last part, elbow on his knee and hand dragging over his face.
Price quirks one eyebrow but doesn't look like he's going to ask any questions. Unlucky for Simon though, Johnny was also in the room. His voice distantly coming through the phone,
"The feck ya need those for l.t.?" He questioned
Simon just groaned, soap's addition to this call just made it even more frustrating. But he snapped out of his frustration at the sound of price opening his file cabinet. "What part?" Price asked, dismissing Johnny with a wave of his hand.
"The-" Simon began, this was fucking embarrassing but when he looked back to you, now perched on your hands and knees, the plush of you hips resting on your ankles, he'd do anything at this point. "STD results." He responded plainly.
"Aye! No fuckin' way mate!" The sound of a chair scraping the floor could be heard as Johnny began to clammer over to his captain who pulled the sheet from his files.
"Ya didn't tell me he was in the room" Simon growled
"Ya didn't ask" Price droned
Johnny's head popped into frame "show me what she looks like ey l.t?"
"Not happening" Simon deadpanned
"Aw c'monnnn" The sergeant whined "just proud of you for finally getting some action!"
"Enough." Simon could see you biting your lip to stifle a laugh out of the corner of his eyes, a curious look in your eyes at his reddened face.
"Sent a picture to ya Simon" Price huffed, letting Johnny give him one last "good luck!" Before hanging up the phone.
You were a mess of giggles as he just shook his head and shoved the phone results in your face for you to look at. "See. Clean."
"Okay okay" you giggled, finally letting his form eclipse you back onto the pillows
"Went through a hell of a lot of trouble for ya, sweet girl" he whispered, nipping at the shell of your ear.
"I'll make it worth it" you said, kissing the corner of his lip and tangling your fingers in the back of his hair
"Christ woman" he groaned, feeling his cock twitch at your promise, "gunna' be the death a' me"
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valalice · 2 days ago
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ᥫ᭡ waking caitlyn up with birthday head.
cw. smut nsfw. fem!reader. somno (all consent). cait gets eaten out like the queen she is. fingering (barely). cait has a glorious bush.
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it was too tempting, too alluring. you felt, no understood, eve's reason to take the apple, but in this scenario cait is the apple and snake is your conscious.
when you had woken up, as you wanted, feeling proud to have finally woken up before cait on her birthday. wanting to sneak downstairs to wake caitlyn up in bed with breakfast, but when you turned to her, intentions of a quick peck on her forehead. you're met with the sight of cait spread on her back, arms and legs sprawled out, blue locks spread across her pillow in a halo, and the silky light grey night slip she'd worn to bed had ridden up above her belly button, exposing her pretty maroon colored panties; you'd favor waking her up a different way than you had intended.
now her panties are discarded somewhere and making breakfast will have to happen later; slotted between her legs, tongue swirling around her bud, all your movements so far have been light, teasing even. eyes staying hyper focused on cait's sleeping form, her face twisted up in a cute furrow, chest rising and falling shallower by the moment, nipples pebbles beneath her slip. closing your mouth around her and sucking, cait twitched, hips bucking up, her head turning to the other side of her pillow, a loud moan rips from her throat. you pushing further into her, arms hooking under her legs, and pressing the blunt ends of your nails into her thighs.
and when she subconsciously tries to close her legs, squeezing your head in the process you moan into her cunt, the vibrations from you mouth sending shocks through her body to jolt away, eyes snapping open, her head moving from side to side.
"what—" she gasps, her gaze finally falls on you between her legs lapping up her arousal. "shit." realizing that 1.) you've woken her up the best way possible and 2.) she still has her thighs clamped close around your head, not that you minded, you were still busy at work getting her close to her peak. cait spreads her legs wide across the the sheets, an arm outstretching to caress the top of your head.
"you're more eager for my birthday than i am." she husk, accent still laced with sleepiness, a lazy smirk displayed on her face.
nodding your head, knowing it'll add to her pleasure when she sighs. her hand leaving your head and follows her other hand as it pushes up her slip, her tits pooling from underneath, and groping them, lowly buzzing off of the pleasure you're giving her; you always treat her so well.
"already s'close, love." a hand returning back on top of your head, pushing your further into her needy cunt, your nose pressed into her neatly trimmed blue pubes; maybe it makes you a sicko, but cait's natural musk rials you up, makes your absolutely feral for her, it's intoxicating truly. "doin' s'good. go on make me cum." she hums, throwing her head back into her pillow, yet a hand still remains threaded through your hair, tugging at it tight.
her words egg you on, the light sheen of sweat covering glistening over her body also achieved the same effect. you're so unbelievably turned on right now, but today isn't about you, so you resort to humping agaisnt the bed, trying to get any kind of friction agaisnt your clothed cunt. and of course, any ounce of please you get from this is given to cait as you release muffled moans into her, eyes shutting as you savor the taste of her slick against your tongue.
cait's hips buck, and if somehow the grip on your hair becomes even tighter; she's close. you're jaw begins to ache, almost as bad as your cunt, but you don't let up, and knowing her sweet release is just upon her makes you keep up, eyes fluttering open to behold the beauty of cait's head pressed deep within her pillow, body angled up into your mouth, and hard grip on her tit, her perky nipple peeking from between her fingers, mouth agape.
in the midst of the moment she clamps her thighs around your head once more, a breathy release of air is released from her mouth, body shuddering as serenity washes over her; her entire body relaxing, letting go of her grip on your hair and thighs falling weak. a string of groans following after from you mouth lapping up her release, letting your tongue flatten over her puffy clit, arms untwining from her legs and pushing yourself up. crawling up the length of cait's body, hovering above her. "happy birthday, baby." you grin.
the woman below you doesn't hesitate to pull you into a messy kiss. the essence from her cunt still left on your lips and down your chin, the taste of her dancing on your tongues. letting up, you laugh at her lips and chin now also being glossy.
"happy birthday, indeed." she purrs, a hand snaking up your arm to hold onto your bicep, attempting to pull you into her, but you resist.
"i'm not done yet, birthday girl." you smirk, basking in the shocked expression on cait's face when she feels a fingering prodding at her hole before dipping in, her cunt squelching in the process.
caitlyn's birthday bash has just began.
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arahir · 2 days ago
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Real talk..do you have any real advice on how to make friends as an almost 30 year old woman…
three easy (coughcough) steps: 1) pick an activity 2) commit to the horror of being known 3) know when you're vibing and know when to pack it up.
pick an activity. mine are gardening, hiking, reading, writing, geology, and chickens, and i've made and kept friends through each of those. make your own list of things you want to do, and want to meet other people who do. you can do it in a structured setting, which i recommend. most cities have clubs, activities, and people who are trying to organize. my city has... regular volunteer clean ups along the river, organized hikes, a few very nice community colleges where you can take random classes, gardening events, silent book clubs, a discord for lonely 30 year olds, etc. likewise, you can meet people online through these activities. writing has got me a lot of great friends! having these activities is also important because it will let you keep the friends you start to make by giving you built in places to show up together.
commit to the horror of being known. i don't know how else to put this. it will be embarrassing. you will say stuff and you will go "why the fuck did i say that?" and they will say stuff and you'll think the same thing. this is, unfortunately, how it works. you have to be a fucking idiot at times, and it's fine, because no one wants to be friends with someone who takes themself too seriously. be embarrassingly into whatever you're into. and then when you meet someone you think could eventually be a friend, you have to put a feeler out there. my favorites are "hey have you been to X on Y? i really want to check it out." "have you seen X and do you want to see it?" "we should grab coffee!" it works a surprising amount of the time. all you really need to make a friend is one good conversation and one person throwing a line to another.
know when to pack it up. okay unfortunately, if you're doing this regularly, you're going to meet people who you do not actually want to be friends with. also unfortunate: it isn't dating, and you can't break up the same way. i met a girl who thought i was her reincarnated lover from the 1300s. i met a girl who tried to recruit me into a sex cult. i met a woman who tried to get me to join a lesbian farming commune. i met a guy who seemed cool and then tried to cheat on his girlfriend with me. we roll. and sometimes, we roll away from people, at extreme speed. guard your time and do not waste it on people you don't want to be friends with.
other points i'll add are: consistently follow up with people (even if that means adding them to a calendar), understand when you are the one not being vibed with and don't take it personally, don't lie to try and be what you think someone wants you to be, and practice. all of this takes practice. i was largely friendless for a lot of years because i didn't like talking to people, couldn't not try to be cool around them, and was a shitty person. you're already ahead on all three counts. and another word of encouragement: making one friend usually means making a half a dozen, because people will bring their own friends with them. i've certainly made a lot that way. it's really only a process you have to go through a few times before it starts coming faster and easier. good luck anon! <333
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lunebulous · 2 days ago
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Playing with your body in non-sexual ways
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A.N: This is my first time writing fanfiction. Any feedback is very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy! I have no idea what tags to put here so, just trust me bro. cw: thigh worshipping (zayne), plus-size reader (rafayel).
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Xavier
There wouldn’t be a lot of occasions where his caresses would be in a non sexual way - that's why he's known to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. But don't get me wrong, being sexual does not equal condescending or rough. Not for him. - well, sometimes. - It's just that if he focuses too long on your face when you’re sleeping soundly, or when you're admiring the lantern lights at another festival, he gets this sensation that he should own you once more, just to be sure you're his. 
So when he kisses, it's only to leave you wanting more of him.  So when he caresses your body, it's only to let himself know he's the one making your skin get goosebumps.  So when he embraces all of you in a tight hug, it’s only to feel like you’re finally real this time.  And when all of these inevitably turn into that feeling of ownership again, he frowns internally. Initially, he wishes that he was different and that he wouldn’t feel like this everytime he stops to think about you; But it's just so much love that it overflows from his heart, dripping right into the lowest part of his torso. When he realizes, he’s slowly kissing you against the wall again. He can’t help it, he's naturally drawn to you like a magnet. And that feeling gives place to a necessity, a craving that hurts so deliciously he gives up on being different. So when you gasp for air and tug at his hair to breathe a little, he just can’t understand why. Or how can you do this to him. He wants more. And more. And more. He needs it so bad he can’t help but pin your hands to the wall so he can kiss you longer, raveling in the way you squirm under him. After all, just because he can't help it, doesn't mean he's not enjoying every second of the fruits of his own possessiveness.
So he caresses you all the time - the problem is that it often turns into a primal need to own and to explore each cute face - each little sound - you make for him. He feels like a victim to his own desires. Poooor Xavier… (irony included).
Rafayel
Rafayel is completely enamoured by your hands, making sure to always kiss them whenever he gets the chance. When he doesn’t, he’s more than expected to caress them while you wait for food in a nice restaurant, or when you’re walking on the shore with him. He is the king of intertwining your hands all the time - never letting go even if for brief moments. He says his bodyguard should be aware of where he is at all times, and when you replied that having one of your hands busy would actually get in the way if danger arrives, he puffed his chest, saying something along the lines of “i’m lucky I have the best bodyguard that can fight 10 men with only one hand then!”. You sighed, giggling because of him. “You’re not actually expecting me to fight with 10 men without letting go of your hand, right?” “Well, I'm pretty sure that was on your job description when I hired you.”  “No it wasn’t.” “Now it is.”  --- He also kisses and grabs your stomach and love handles all the time, especially when lying down, like now. There were some times when it made you feel a little bit insecure, but he always buried his face on it with a big smile, hugging your waist. When you voiced your insecurity to him for the first time, he simply said: “Well, I never saw a painting of any muse that didn’t have enough body for me to drown in it. - he stares up at you intently, before looking at your stomach again. - In fact, it is the only scenario where drowning would be possible for me. - Now he’s getting a hold of your love handles. - And actually, i'd love it. Thank you, my muse!” Right before nuzzling his face on your belly again, giggling. You blush furiously, caressing his purple locks, but he’s too busy to see it.
Zayne
Zayne would always need a bit of a push to touch you like he wants to - and you know that. He’s slowly coming out of his shell and being more confident when it comes to being intimate with you, getting over his irrational fear of hurting you again. The ‘push’ he got today was seeing you come home after brunch with your friends, wearing a dark and muted red lipstick, blended on your lips so perfectly it reminded him of a vintage doll. He made a note to himself to compliment you later when you had your attention on him - because you were busy taking off your shoes, your coat and yapping about some BIG gossip you just found out. He listens attentively, putting two and two together with you as you happily stride towards him. 
You sit beside him on the couch and hug his arm, leaning on his shoulder. He places his hand between your thighs, trying not to pay too much attention to it - a task quite hard for him, as you were wearing light brown stockings that made your oh-so-loved thighs look even more bite-deserving; But he tries to shake the thought away. 
It doesn’t take long before you’re well-invested in the documentary he is watching, but the position is getting quite uncomfortable now, so you crawl between his legs and rest your back against his chest, both of you laying down on the chaise part of the couch. First he stares at you, finding adorable how you don’t hesitate before making yourself comfortable with him. He lays a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, making you snuggle against him even more, getting it just right like two puzzle pieces. And he swears to himself he’s a good man. He is not going to turn this into something more just because your ass grinded against him innocently, no, no. Breathe, you touch-starved man! 
But the same man now is fighting for his life to NOT look at your thighs, the stockings making them look so shiny for him, he couldn't help himself but imagine the shadows his fingers pressing onto your skin would look like. He imagined you in not-so-innocent lightings more than he’d ever admit, and as his thoughts stray away, he doesn’t notice how he’s been caressing your chest and collarbones for some time now, lightly using his fingertips to circle around your skin, as if memorizing each part of it. Then he's slowly directing his way to your neck, with four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other, going up and down with featherly touches as his eyes are glued to your legs, completely blank, admiring each curve going from the arch of your feet to your calves, and then to your thighs, stopping at the start of your tight skirt. Now he’s gripping your neck - just lightly pressing on it, your airflow is completely free. (for now). You can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside his mind, lying to yourself that feeling his firm hand around your neck is not making you want to rub your legs together, but you're already doing it a bit, discreetly, not knowing you’re being very thoroughly watched. As he’s breathing deeper to try to not get excited, you feel his hand slowly letting go of your neck and you whine inwardly at it. But then his hands hesitantly go higher, his slender fingers sliding across your chin to play with your lips as he remembered to compliment you. He opens his mouth to do it, but being so lost in thought he just stops. Staring at your legs with an empty gaze, completely out of it. God, they’d look so good around his cock. Fuck.  You look up, a bit surprised with his actions, slowly tilting your head to the side, looking at him. - the movement makes him get out of his trance, suddenly confused as to how his fingers got to your lips - but as if reading his mind, you part them, waiting. And then he gets it. The key to making himself touch you like he wants to is just to - not think. It makes sense, it's a part of him he never let himself explore. He then lets himself do what he wants, sliding his middle and index finger on your tongue, experimenting. As you close your lips around them, looking at him so puppy-eyed, he can't help but smirk as realizing he could get used to this very quickly. You start feeling him growing against your ass now.
He presses down on your tongue, smiling. “You look so beautiful wearing this color, love.”
So, Zayne doesn’t play with any part of your body - because as soon as he does it, he gets a problem under his trousers. And now that he knows how to let go of control, - you got one too.
Sylus
Sylus wouldn’t be the type of man to touch you without being full-on intentional with it. The same amount of hate he has towards ‘quickies’, he has for the idea of touching your most sensitive parts without being completely devoted to them. So when playing with you, it is usually filled with admiration and love, silently appreciating your presence by his side. That’s why you often find him mindlessly braiding your hair as you lay your head on his lap to watch a movie, or how he gently runs his fingernails - once claws - on your calf under the table when he’s discussing his next moves with the twins. Yeah, sometimes his hands wander a little bit higher, a little bit firmer, but always looking at you to watch your reaction; as if to just - test the waters, tease you to see your ears turn red.. or warm you up for what’s coming next.
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seanminfl · 21 hours ago
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It was a chilly night in January when my little brother, Jake, and I were sitting in the living room watching TV. Dad was in bed, sick with a terrible cold, and mom was out grocery shopping.
"Hey, Alex," Jake said, looking over at me with a sly grin. "I've got this itch that needs scratching, and you know how desperate I am."
I raised an eyebrow, curious about what he meant. "Oh yeah? What kind of itch?"
"The kind that I usually force dad to take care of," he replied, his gaze now fixed on me. I was well aware of how my little brother loved to use my dad as his personal sex toy.
I couldn't help but blush at his boldness. "Jake, what are you talking about? You know I'm not into that stuff."
He scoffed, waving off my concerns dismissively. "I don’t care. I just want a cocksucker right now and you are the only person here who isn’t sick."
I tried to argue, but Jake had already made up his mind. He dropped his jeans to the floor, showing off his massive dick. "Get on your knees, Alex," he commanded.
I hesitated for a moment, but I could already feel my mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock. With a deep breath, I slowly lowered myself onto the floor, positioning myself between Jake's legs.
"That's a good boy," Jake cooed, stroking his shaft as he looked down at me. "Now, open that pretty little mouth of yours and show me how well you can suck cock."
I obeyed, parting my lips and taking the head of his dick into my mouth. Jake let out a groan of pleasure, his grip on his cock tightening as I began to suck him off.
"Fuck, yeah," he growled, thrusting his hips forward to push more of his length into my mouth. "You're a natural at this, aren't you?"
I moaned around his cock, the taste of his precum coating my tongue. I reached up to cup his balls, gently massaging them as I continued to suck him.
"Play with my asshole too," Jake panted, his voice raw with lust. "I want to feel your fingers probing my hole while I fuck your face."
I did as he asked, sliding one hand down between his legs and pressing my index finger against his tight pucker. As I worked my finger back and forth against his opening, Jake let out a low, guttural moan.
"Fuck, you dirty little slut," he hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and using it to control the pace of my blowjob. "You're going to make me cum so fucking hard, aren't you?"
I could only moan in response, my own dick now rock-hard and throbbing painfully in my pants. I knew I shouldn't enjoy this so much, but there was no denying the intense arousal I felt at being Jake's personal little cocksucker.
"I'm going to breed that slutty little mouth of yours," Jake panted, his breathing now ragged and shallow. "You're going to swallow every fucking drop of my hot, sticky cum."
With a final thrust, Jake's cock twitched violently inside my mouth, and I felt the first hot spurt of his seed splash against the back of my throat. I instinctively swallowed around him, eager to please my dominant older brother.
"Aaaah, fuck, yeah," Jake groaned, his hips jerking spasmodically as he grabbed my head with both hands and pushed me deep onto his cock as he continued to pump his load into my waiting mouth. "That's it, you little cumdump. You're such a good cockslut for me."
When he was finally finished, Jake pulled his softening dick from between my lips, a satisfied smile now playing across his handsome face. "Well, well," he said, looking down at me with a smug grin. "I must say, I'm quite impressed with your performance tonight."
I blushed fiercely, unable to meet his gaze as I felt a mixture of shame and desire swirling within me as I used my tongue to clean his cock. "Thanks, I guess," I mumbled, still reeling from the intensity of what had just happened between us.
"Don't mention it," Jake replied. "Looks like I now have two mouths to use when I want to pump out a load. Might even start using that tight ass of yours as well.”
I nodded mutely, knowing that any protests I might make would fall on deaf ears. And as I felt Jake's cum continue to trickle down my throat, I couldn't help but admit to myself that there was a part of me that secretly enjoyed being used like this by my powerful, aggressive younger brother.
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kirammanswifey · 19 hours ago
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helloo!! can you please write about ‘arcane characters when you get in an argument’? i absolutely love ur writing btw!! 🫶🏻
arguments with arcane characters x fem reader
characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.
writer's note: i love when you guys request this kind of interesting dynamics, it's so fun to write about it! also my favorite this time was sevika's, I meannn it was kinda hot and spicy. requests are open ;)
Viktor
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The sound of the keys under his hands seems to fill the air, but what resonates most is the silence between the two of you. The room is steeped in an unsettling calm, while he keeps working as if nothing else exists. It’s been days since he last rested, and you know it. His skin is paler than usual, his eyes glassy, as if all the world's exhaustion is about to devour him. The scent of machine oil and metal permeates the room, but what hurts you most is the fragility of his being, the one he insists on ignoring.
Slowly, frustration begins to simmer within you. You love him more than anything in the world, but watching him so neglected, so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even stop to eat, burns you.
You approach him, and suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your tone isn't raised, but the fury is felt in every word. "Viktor, stop," you murmur, almost pleading. "You’re killing yourself. You haven’t eaten in days, not even slept. Do you know what you're doing? You're letting yourself go. Your body is crying out for help, and you're ignoring it."
He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react. He keeps working as if your words don't reach him. Frustrated, you step closer. "You can't keep going like this, Viktor! What are you expecting? For someone to come and save you from yourself? This isn't just about your work, it’s about you!"
Finally, he looks up, but his eyes don’t seem to truly see you. Only a shadow of exhaustion. "I do it for them... for the people. The work... my research, it’s all that matters now."
"And you? Don’t you matter?" The anger mixes with something much deeper. Something that has to do with fear. "Your lack of self-love is so evident, Viktor, even I can see it. You're losing yourself in this obsession."
The words come out harsher than you intended. But seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, you realize what you've just said. A lump forms in your throat.
You fall silent, feeling the air grow thick. Guilt quickly invades you, and before you can think, you kneel in front of him. "Forgive me," you whisper, the anger already dissipated, replaced by sincere pain. "I didn't mean to be so harsh. It’s just... I don't want to see you like this, so lost. I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you are what I love most, Viktor."
Your hands tremble as you take his face in yours. "Please, take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, fighting alone against everything. Because, to me, you are everything."
Viktor says nothing at first. He just watches you, the conflict in his gaze. Then, as if releasing a sigh he had been holding for too long, he responds softly, "I’ll try... I promise I’ll try."
You look at him with a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, you stand up and take his hand firmly. "Now come with me. I’m going to make your favorite dinner. You need it."
The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his face softens, and for the first time in a long while, he gives you a faint smile. "You know, that sounds wonderful," he says with a tone that mixes surprise and gratitude.
As you prepare dinner, the atmosphere changes. The tension slowly dissolves, but there’s something else in the air, a silent understanding between you two. After dinner, you look at him with a mischievous smile.
"Viktor," you say, your voice full of complicity. "How many days have you gone without bathing? Because, honestly, I think it’s time you do."
He visibly shifts in discomfort, his face taking on a pink hue. "Honestly... I don’t know," he replies, as if trying to evade the question, looking down. "The truth is, I haven’t had time to think about those things."
Your laugh is soft but teasing. "I think you’ve forgotten a bit about yourself. So, what do you think if after dinner, we take a bath together?"
Viktor blushes even more, but before he can say anything, he has already conceded, and with an exaggerated formality only he can pull off, he responds, "Well... that... that would be very pleasant. If you don’t mind, of course."
The tension from before has transformed into something softer, lighter. You, amused by his so formal response, take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, feeling that, in that moment, all that really matters is that he’s finally willing to take care of himself.
Jinx
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The sound of the spark igniting the fuse fills the room. Jinx has a playful smile on her face, but something isn't right. The bomb is making strange noises, as if it's about to fail. The sparkle in her eyes fades for a second, but it's accompanied by a nervous chuckle.
"What's wrong, Jinx?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. The moment feels out of place, and for a moment, you sense that something is very wrong, very out of control. "That... doesn't sound right."
But she just stands there, watching the bomb intently. She doesn't move. The air grows heavy, and suddenly, the bomb makes a terrifying click.
Your eyes widen as you see the timer on the bomb speeding up. A chill grips you, and in an instant, you act on instinct. You leap toward the table, your breath quickening, and deactivate the bomb just before it fully triggers. The explosion is seconds away from ringing in your ears, but you manage to stop it.
A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you quickly turn to face Jinx. She’s still there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the deactivated bomb, as if hypnotized. She doesn't look scared or relieved, just... empty.
"Why didn't you do anything?" you confront her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you just stand there? You could have died, Jinx! We could have both died!"
Jinx stares at the floor, her demeanor shifting in a second. The mockery dissolves, the mask falls, and in its place appears the scared girl she so often hides. "I... just wanted to see what would happen." Her response is soft, trembling, as if she doesn't know how to process what just happened.
Those few seconds of silence feel eternal. The air around you grows heavy, as if the whole world is waiting for something else to explode. And it does. You can't take it anymore. Fury takes over, and you lash out at her.
"What did you want to see, Jinx?" Your voice is harsh, filled with frustration. "Did you want to see us both die because of your stupid curiosity? Is that what you wanted?"
Jinx shrinks, her expression transforming into something so fragile it burns your heart. Her face is filled with regret, but her eyes can't meet yours. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she keeps staring at the floor, feeling small and scolded.
"I didn't mean to... I swear..." she murmurs, almost in a whisper, her words choked by the pain of having gone too far.
Your rage starts to dissipate, replaced by something deeper. An irrational fear, the anguish of watching Jinx destroy herself. You walk toward her, kneel to her level, and gently take her chin, lifting it so she looks at you.
What you see stops you cold. Jinx's nails are deeply embedded in her palms, red marks that have hurt her, as if she wants to punish herself for something. You stare at her intently, the pain reflected in her eyes and her gesture.
Quickly, you take her hands, without saying a word, and kiss them softly, your lips touching the small wounds on her skin. The blood from her hands stains your lips, but you don't care. "You know I hate seeing you destroy yourself," you murmur, your voice broken by the fear you still feel. "Please, Sweets, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us."
You stay still, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the door that had closed in her heart opens, and Jinx lets out a deep sob. Tears fall down her face, like an unexpected rain, and her body trembles.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jinx sobs, clutching you tightly. There are no more laughs, no more jokes. Just pure pain. And you hold her with equal intensity, rocking her in your arms, trying to soothe her, to erase the suffering she always carries inside.
"Pain isn't the solution," you whisper, stroking her braided hair, trying to convey all the love you feel for her. "I'll always be here for you, Sweets. You don't have to carry all this alone."
She remains silent for a moment, her sobs calming, but her embrace is still desperate. Finally, after a few seconds, her eyes lift, and with a small smile, she says:
"So... want to make bombs, but in a fun way? With less blood this time!"
The laughter that follows fills the room, and even though you know the battle isn't won, this small step in her recovery gives you renewed hope. Taking her hand, you lead her back to the table with the tools, ready for another night filled with madness... but this time, with a little more care.
Vi
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The air in the Undercity feels heavy tonight, a cold that seems to seep into your bones. The sound of metal echoing through the structures, the distant murmurs of shouts and laughter, mix with the echo of your footsteps on the iron bridge that crosses the dark, grimy avenue. You walk in silence, but the tension in the air is palpable.
Suddenly, a drunk, staggering with a vacant stare, approaches you. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and his eyes settle on you in a not-so-friendly way. His rough, hollow laughter resonates in the air, as if nothing he was about to do mattered.
Before you can react, his hands touch your backside without warning, sending a wave of revulsion through you and a shiver down your spine.
A choked scream escapes you, but before you can push him away, you feel Vi’s furious gaze, like a storm about to break loose. The anger on her face is palpable, and not a second later, the drunk is on the ground, receiving blows that thunder like hammers. His face is soon covered in blood, and the sound of fists pounding against his body leaves a disturbing feeling in the air.
Vi doesn’t stop; each punch is more brutal than the last. People in the distance quickly disperse, leaving only the echo of the hits. Your heart races, worry consumes you as you watch Vi unleash her uncontrollable fury.
"Vi, stop!" You lunge toward her, but in the process, one of her fury-fueled punches lands directly on your lip. The immediate pain stuns you, and when you touch your face, your hand is filled with blood. The split lip burns. Vi stops abruptly, looking at her bloodstained knuckles—her own, the drunk’s, and now yours.
She stands frozen, her face, once filled with rage, now shows a look of horror. “Oh, God…” she murmurs, seeing what she has done.
You tremble, not just from the pain in your lip but from the brutality of her actions. You’re not used to violence, not on this magnitude. Fear knots in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you watch Vi, her face now wrecked with guilt.
"I didn’t mean to!" Her voice is broken, as if the guilt is overwhelming her.
“Let’s go home,” you respond coldly, more out of fear than anger, "and when we get there, we’ll talk."
The walk home is silent, the tension hanging between you like a taut string about to snap. When you arrive, you enter the kitchen and quickly tend to your lip, while Vi watches silently, unable to articulate a word.
Once you finish, you turn to her. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “Vi…” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “You need to learn to control your anger. This time, you just didn’t hurt someone else. This time, it was me too. Me, the person you love the most. Do you realize that? Do you realize how I felt when your blows landed on me?”
Her eyes fill with tears, and her throat tightens as if she wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her chest. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
You continue, your words coming out with more pain than you expected. “Sometimes… I’m afraid of you, Vi. Not because of what you might do to others, but because of what you might do to me. I don’t want to live in fear of your rage hurting me. It hurts so much. It hurt so much.”
Vi collapses in front of you, breaking down. Her tears fall one after another, and she throws herself into your arms, holding you in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t know how… how to control it. I always have this rage inside, and sometimes I don’t know how to stop it. When it explodes, everything goes to hell, I know…” Her voice cracks as she clings to you. "I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you."
The softness in her tone hits you harder than any punch, and in that moment, you know she understands. "Vi, I… I don’t want you to hurt anymore," you murmur, caressing her back. "I don’t want that rage to control you."
She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention… but sometimes…” her words trail off in a sigh.
A small, sad smile forms on your face. “Have you thought about boxing? Maybe it’ll help you release all that. And I’ll go with you! But promise me you won’t use me as a punching bag, okay?" you joke with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.
Vi finally laughs, a laugh that feels like relief. “I promise. Just, please, don’t leave me, okay?”
You approach her, tenderly kissing her, careful to avoid the wound on your lip, and you feel the softness of her lips, the calm that finally settles between you. “I would never leave you, babe,” you whisper as you both embrace, knowing that, even though everything is complicated and painful, there is something between you that always keeps you together.
Caitlyn
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The door bursts open, and Caitlyn enters the room with a face marked by a fury that seems to burn inside her. Your eyes lift from where you're sitting, a little surprised by her abrupt entrance, but you quickly see what has been happening.
"I can't believe what I had to hear today," Caitlyn throws out, her voice cold and cutting as she drops her jacket on a chair. "All because of your... damn ideas of justice. Do you have any idea what that means in this place?"
You stand up slowly, the tone of her voice making the air grow denser, heavier. "What happened, Cait?" you ask, though part of you already knows it has something to do with her ideals.
"It's not just what happened, it's what's happening. All the damn time," she responds, walking toward you with contained rage. "You go on and on about doing what's right, without understanding that ‘right’ isn’t always what people in high places think. You think you can change something, but all you're doing is making it worse."
Your heart races, and a spark of frustration rises in your chest. "Make it worse?" you repeat, feeling indignation begin to spill out of you. "Is that what you think? That my actions aren't worth it? You're so blinded by your perfect view of the world that you can't see what's really going on in the streets! Evil isn't just in the ‘high society,’ Caitlyn. It's everywhere."
Caitlyn looks at you with an intensity that almost seems defiant, but also wounded. "I'm not blind, the problem is that I can't understand why you keep going against the whole system. Every time you do, you just feed more chaos. You have to think about the consequences, about the people who can't afford those ideals you're defending like you're some fairy-tale hero. Not everyone can afford that luxury."
"A luxury?" Your voice rises slightly, now stronger. "What you call 'luxury' should be a right. Do you really not understand that people are suffering? That your 'system' is letting all of this crumble just to maintain power? I can't just stand by because you think it's fine because it looks neat from your tower."
Caitlyn steps back, as if your words hit some deep place inside her. "Not everything is as simple as ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Sometimes things aren’t black or white. Sometimes you have to make concessions to move forward. What you’re doing is just putting yourself in the center, without understanding that there’s more at stake."
The words hang in the air between you two, and the intensity of the argument seems to rise with every exchange. Caitlyn is so convinced of her point of view that you can't help but feel frustrated by the barrier between you.
"What I understand, Caitlyn," you finally say, with a tense calm, "is that sometimes you do more harm by trying to follow the rules than by breaking them. And I know your intentions are good, but I can't stay silent watching you justify the unjustifiable."
Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if taking a breath to calm herself. When she opens them again, something has changed. It’s not that her anger has disappeared, but she seems more exhausted, as if all this is wearing her down. "I’m not asking you to agree with me. I'm just asking you to understand that sometimes, even if it hurts, decisions aren’t as easy as you see them."
There's a long silence between you, the air thick with discomfort and tension. You both know you're not going to come to an agreement this time, but you also know that won't change what lies between you.
Finally, Caitlyn sighs and sits on the edge of the table, letting the exhaustion take over her. "Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right, no matter what I try," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "And you... you make me see everything that's wrong with me."
You move a little closer, calmer but still hurt. "Cait, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to realize you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You don’t have to keep walking down this path if it doesn't make you happy. I’m here for you, even when we don’t agree."
Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes reflecting some vulnerability, something she doesn't usually show. "I know. I just… I’m scared that I could lose everything I’ve built because... because I don't know when to stop."
You sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re not going to lose it, Cait. No matter how much we fight, what matters is that we’re in this together. But you also have to learn to take care of yourself, not just the world."
Caitlyn nods slowly, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on her face, though it’s sad. "I guess sometimes I forget that."
The tension begins to dissipate, although the brush of differences is still there. Deep down, you both know that these kinds of discussions won’t end anytime soon, but you also know that you're both moving forward for something bigger than the disagreement.
Jayce
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There was something heavy in the air that night. An uncomfortable silence that hadn't been able to break for the past few days. Despite being in the same house, in the same room, you felt farther away from Jayce than ever. It wasn't just the lack of physical contact, it wasn't just the absence of the small gestures that usually made everything work between you. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without him realizing it.
Finally, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You sat on the bed, staring into the emptiness in front of you, and when he walked in, that feeling of discouragement completely overwhelmed you. Without looking at him, you started.
“Jayce, I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s been days since… since we’ve had anything. And I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about everything. I don’t even feel like you desire me anymore.”
Jayce, who had been in his own world as usual, looked up at you, confused by your words. “What are you saying, honey?” Surprise was evident in his voice, but it wasn’t enough to calm the torrent that had been unleashed inside you.
“You don’t get it, do you?” You stood up from the bed, walking towards him, words pouring out like a torrent. “Every day, I feel like I’m just here, fitting into your perfect life. Everything we do, everything we plan, it feels like you’re doing it because you have to. What about what I want, Jayce? What about us?”
Jayce took a step towards you, opening his arms as if he wanted to get closer, but something in your gaze made him stop. “No… I don’t understand. What do you mean by fitting into my perfect life?”
Your breathing quickened. “What I mean is that sometimes, I feel like I’m just an accessory, another piece in the puzzle you’ve been putting together. Like what matters most to you is making everything look right, fitting, but not us. I don’t feel desired, Jayce. I feel empty, like I don’t matter, like I’m just here because I fit into your life, not because you actually want to be with me.”
The pain in your voice was palpable, and although Jayce tried to step closer, you moved away from him. “I’m so tired of feeling like we’re nothing more than two people sharing a space. There’s no passion, no connection… Just the idea of what’s expected of us.”
Jayce looked completely lost, like he never imagined you felt this way. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You know how important you are to me. But I… I’ve been so focused on work, on everything we need to achieve, that…”
“That what?” you interrupted, unable to keep bearing what felt like a pile of excuses. “That you’re too busy to see what’s right in front of you? I have my own problems too, Jayce. Not everything revolves around your projects, your perfect image. I’m a person too, and my feelings matter too.”
The words hung in the air, between rage and pain. Jayce didn’t say anything, and that only increased the feeling of abandonment you were experiencing. Frustration and sadness took over you more and more. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way you expected.
“Honey…” Jayce started, his voice softer now, but still full of confusion. “I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I didn’t realize I was leaving you out. I didn’t want you to feel… unwanted.”
Your eyes filled with tears, the emotional pressure of being unheard for so long finally bursting. “I don’t want to be just another option in your life. I want to be loved, I want to feel desired, I want you to look at me like you’re afraid of losing me. And I don’t feel that from you. I feel like everything we do is a routine, just fulfilling what’s supposed to be.”
Jayce slowly approached, now understanding the gravity of your words. “I… I don’t know how I didn’t see all this. I’m sorry, honey. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been so focused on everything else that… I’ve failed you.”
A heavy silence fell between you. You didn’t know what to think, just felt a knot in your stomach, but when Jayce took a step towards you, taking your hands, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes, searching for some sign that he truly understood how you felt.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his tone full of sincerity. “I promise I’ll change, I won’t take you for granted. You’re the most important thing to me, and if I made you feel like you weren’t, it hurts me deeply.”
You looked at him intently, seeing in his eyes the truth of his regret. “I know… but I need you to act instead of just saying it.”
Jayce nodded, a glimpse of a smile appearing on his face as his hands caressed yours. “I will. From now on, you and I… we’re a priority.”
Your heart lightened hearing those words, and when he hugged you, you held him tightly, knowing that the road to healing that disconnection wouldn’t be easy, but at least, finally, there was a beginning. And that promise to rebuild what had been lost was all you needed to start healing.
Ekko
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That afternoon, it felt like the tension between you and Ekko was thicker than ever. You had been working together on a project, and the small jokes and dismissive attitudes from Ekko, which you usually let slide, began to affect you more than you expected.
"Wow, did you really think that was a good idea?" Ekko said, his biting tone making the sarcasm leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
Your breath became heavier, and although you tried to ignore it, something inside you snapped. You looked at him, furious, and without thinking twice, dropped the tool you had in your hands. "You know what? I'm leaving."
Ekko looked at you, somewhat surprised by your reaction, but before you could walk away any further, he let out a light laugh, as if nothing was happening. "What's up, got your period or something?"
That was the breaking point.
You stopped in your tracks, feeling a lump form in your throat. You turned to him with eyes shining with frustration. "You know what, Ekko? It's because of you. Because sometimes you don't seem to think about what you say, and you don't care how I feel."
Ekko furrowed his brow, trying to understand what you were saying, but before he could speak, you continued venting.
"You make me feel like my problems don't matter, like everything I do isn't up to your standards. Always so... so carefree, like you never have to think about how your words affect me. Have you ever thought about that?" Rage and pain built up in your voice as you spoke, but the words kept pouring out like an avalanche.
And then, without warning, what you hadn’t been able to say before came flooding out. "You know what's the worst? That I feel insecure, Ekko. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, like I'm not smart enough, not attractive enough... Because you never show jealousy, you never show anything. Like you never care. And that makes me doubt myself."
Ekko went silent, looking at your face in surprise, an expression that showed he finally understood what you had just said. The mockery from his previous joke faded, and his face shifted from confusion to deep seriousness.
"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he said finally, his words soft and filled with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I'm sorry, really. I'm not good at showing what I feel, I've never been."
He slowly approached you, not trying to interrupt the flow of your emotions. "You know, I grew up in a world where showing emotions was seen as weakness. Life never gave me time to process them. Since I was a kid, I was always at war, always on the move, always worried about surviving. But I never wanted that to affect you."
Your eyes softened a little as you listened to his words, and for a moment, the weight of frustration lifted slightly. "I... I didn't want you to think I cared less. It's just that sometimes, I get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that the people close to me also have feelings. And I don't want you to feel belittled, I don't want you to feel like you're not enough."
There was a tense silence between you both, but something in his tone softened the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, really. It was never my intention to hurt you. You're incredible just as you are, and you make me feel like I can be more, like I can improve."
For a moment, everything seemed to calm down, but Ekko, with a mischievous smile, added, "And if it helps, yeah, I do worry a little when others look at you. But I'm not so good at showing jealousy."
You couldn't help but smile a little, even though you still felt the open wounds. Ekko, seeing this, moved a bit closer and gave you a gentle hug, as if it were a small gesture of comfort you so needed.
"I really care about you. I don't want you to feel insecure. I don't care if you're smarter or not, because what really matters to me is that you're you."
And before you could respond, Ekko joked with his usual playful attitude. "Although, if I ever catch you with someone else, you'd better be ready, because I’m not going to sit still."
You laughed despite everything, feeling the tension slowly disappearing, as if everything you had kept inside had finally found a way out.
"I love you too," you replied, as you hugged him again, knowing that, although the path wouldn’t always be easy, at least you both understood each other a little more.
Silco
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Silco's office was shrouded in shadows, barely illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp on his desk. The phone conversation he was having was filled with frustration. "No, that won't work. We need something more decisive, something more substantial," he growled before hanging up with a sharp click that echoed through the wood.
From your position at the door, you could hear every word, feeling the tension in the air. You couldn’t help but intervene. "Maybe you could try..." you began, suggesting a plan you had come up with after hearing his problem.
Silco looked up at you, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto yours. "Shut up. You don't know anything about this," he snapped with disdain, his words cutting through you like a knife.
The coldness in his voice felt like a blow to the chest. Without saying another word, you turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door with a force that resonated down the hallway. Frustration burned in your chest as you climbed the stairs to your room.
Surprised by your reaction, Silco followed. Reaching the closed door, he knocked forcefully. "Open the door immediately!" he shouted, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.
"I won't! Go away!" you replied from inside, your voice trembling with both rage and pain. A sound from inside made his heart race. Fearing the worst, he broke down the door without thinking twice.
Inside, he found you packing your things with trembling hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on you, trying to understand the magnitude of your decision.
"I'm done, Silco. Done with you not seeing me as someone capable of helping you, done with you constantly underestimating me," you declared, your voice trembling but resolute. "I’m a human being, just like you, and I can handle matters and plans. I’m not just a decoration in your world."
Silco scoffed, crossing his arms in impatience. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want me to buy you something? You look hysterical."
That was the breaking point. You turned to face him, your eyes fiery and filled with tears. "Silco, remember where you found me. I was a worker in that horrible brothel, sold by my parents at eleven. I thought that by freeing myself, I would have a voice, that finally someone would see me as an equal. But it’s not like that. You don’t even listen to me."
Silco looked at you, his eyes softening as the weight of your words sank in. He approached you cautiously, his fingers touching your cheek with an unusual tenderness. "It's not personal," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve always been like this, I prefer to work alone. I’ve been through so much to earn respect in the Undercity that sometimes I minimize the opinions of others. But I never meant for you to feel this way, not you."
The wall of pain you had built began to crack under the weight of his words. "I’ll change. From now on, I’ll listen to what you have to say. In fact, tell me that plan you were going to propose earlier."
A pause lingered, but then, with a sigh, he added: "But before that, there’s something more important."
His words echoed in the silence before Silco took you by the waist, pulling you toward him. He kissed you with a passion that overflowed with unspoken apologies, a fire that spoke of promises of change and a renewed understanding between you both.
Mel
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The luxurious bedroom was bathed in soft lights that enhanced the golden and ivory tones of the walls. You turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress flowed around your body, highlighting your curves and cascading elegantly in a fabric waterfall. The excitement of the night reflected in your eyes, waiting for Mel's approval.
When you stepped out of the dressing room, the smile on your lips quickly faded as you noticed the disapproving expression on her face. Mel looked you up and down, her gaze critical and stern. "Take it off," she ordered in a cold, distant tone. "Put on the one I chose for you."
You frowned, surprised. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"
"It’s not that there's anything wrong with it," she replied, crossing her arms with an air of authority. "It’s just not what I want for you tonight. Change your makeup and hairstyle as well. Something more sophisticated would be better."
The heat rushed to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Nothing I do is good enough for you, right?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparking with indignation. "It feels like you always have to correct me."
Mel raised an eyebrow, her voice firm and unapologetic. "You should be grateful. I'm helping you make the most of your appearance. I need us to be perfect tonight."
"You mean you need to be perfect," you corrected, unbuckling your heels and throwing them to the floor with a sharp sound. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the terrace, needing fresh air to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. The cool breeze caressed your face as you leaned on the railing, trying to hold back tears.
It wasn’t long before Mel appeared behind you, her elegant silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with confusion.
"Seriously, Mel?" you turned to face her, your voice shaking with frustration. "Nothing I do seems right to you. You always correct me—the way I walk, the way I talk, and now even the color of my lipstick. It’s extreme and stupid."
Mel looked at you with a mix of surprise and reflection, as if your words had struck her for the first time. "I hadn’t thought of it that way," she finally admitted, her voice quieter. "I guess... I’m really hard on myself, and I project it onto others."
You took a deep breath, your eyes still shining with contained emotion. "I don’t want you to be like that with me. I’m not an extension of your standards, Mel."
Silence stretched between you for a moment before Mel took a step forward, enveloping you in a firm, comforting hug. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re fine just as you are, and I apologize for projecting my insecurities onto you."
You leaned into her, feeling the tension slowly fade. "I understand," you replied softly. "I know you were raised to be perfect. But please, when you feel those things, communicate them in a different way. Don’t impose them."
Mel nodded, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and affection. "I will," she promised. "Please, come with me to the party. Without you, I won’t have the strength to go."
You hesitated for a moment, looking at yourself with insecurity. Mel noticed and gently cupped your face in her hands. "That dress looks amazing on you," she said with a warm smile. "It highlights everything I love about you."
Her words and the kiss that followed dispelled any doubt, filling you with renewed confidence as you agreed to accompany her, knowing this time, you would go as yourself, not as a perfected version to satisfy Mel's standards.
Sevika
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The apartment door opened slowly, revealing Sevika's figure in the dim light. She walked in with tired steps, the weight of the night reflecting on her shoulders. You, who had been waiting patiently for her return, stood up from the couch with relief, but as you approached to embrace her, something stopped you. A strange scent, sweet and foreign, emanated from her skin, a fragrance that didn’t belong to any perfume you knew her to wear.
Your heart raced as you took a slight step back, your eyes fixed on her. "Who were you with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, although a mix of anxiety and distrust began to rise within you.
Sevika looked at you in surprise, not understanding the reason for your unease. "I was at the bar, drinking. My ex joined me, we talked a bit, had a good time." She said it with such casualness that every word pierced you like a poisoned dart.
Anger began to bubble up inside you. "Why are you talking about it so casually?" you spat, feeling your voice start to tremble.
She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
"You shouldn’t have gone out with your ex!" you exclaimed, frustration coloring your words. "You owe me respect."
Sevika crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. "I do what I want," she replied coldly. "If you don’t trust me, maybe you should leave."
Your eyes widened at her comment. The idea of walking out that door tempted you, but sadness and rage kept you rooted to the ground. "Is that what you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "For me to leave?"
Sevika seemed to realize the weight of her words. She took a step toward you, extending her hand as if trying to stop you. "Wait, I didn’t mean that," she murmured, her tone softer, almost pleading. "You know I’m impulsive."
"Of course, impulsive... and nostalgic too," you replied bitterly, your eyes burning with contained pain. "You miss your ex, don’t you? You want to get back together with her?"
She frowned, stepping closer until her hands rested on your shoulders. "What’s your problem?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Why are you saying all these things?"
The emotions you had kept under control for so long finally exploded. "Because I’ve been cheated on before!" you confessed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "I know the patterns when I see them. I don’t want to feel stupid and used again."
The hardness in Sevika’s expression melted away, replaced by deep understanding. Her hands, once firm, slid down your arms in a gesture of comfort. "I’m not those people, you shouldn’t compare me to anyone," she said, her voice firm but full of empathy. "If I didn’t want to be with you, I would tell you. I don’t need to lie to anyone. I love you, only you."
Her sincerity pierced your insecurities, breaking down the wall of fear you had built. Still, doubts lingered. "Then why did you go out with her?" you asked, still needing an explanation.
"Because it was a coincidence," Sevika explained, her gaze sincere. "We ran into each other by chance, and I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing a couple of drinks. But now I see it bothers you, and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel this way."
Her words resonated within you, slowly calming the internal storm. You nodded, allowing the warmth of her promise to envelop you. "I want to believe in you," you whispered.
Sevika stepped closer, her lips finding yours in a deep kiss, full of promises and silent regrets. When she pulled away, her soft voice broke the trance. "Are you better?" she asked, gently caressing your cheek.
"I'll be better when you take a shower and get that cheap perfume off," you joked, your tone still slightly irritated but with a hint of humor.
Sevika laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the space between you. She pulled you by the waist, drawing you even closer. "Then I’m going to need your help," she whispered in your ear, her voice laden with seduction. "Tonight, I feel especially incapable."
Your smile widened, a spark of mischief lighting your eyes. "I guess I can help with that," you murmured, letting the intimacy of the moment take over, knowing that despite everything, you were in the place you wanted to be: by her side.
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wwooyology · 3 days ago
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Birthday Blues | S.JY
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「pairing」 : bf!jake x fem!reader 「word count」 : 2.2k
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「synopsis」 : your birthday was supposed to be a happy day. go have brunch with your friends before coming home and spending the rest of the evening with your loving boyfriend. however, the people you thought were your friends made you feel like complete and utter shit. upon your early arrival, jake knew something was wrong, and he was going to do his best to cheer you up and bring a smile back to your face.
「genre」 : smut, slight angst, fluff, comfort
「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, unprotected sex, clit play, fingering, crying, petnames (pretty baby, baby, babygirl, sweetheart, my love...), teasing, soft dom!jake x sub!reader, jake is just a overall sweetheart, biting/marking, soft sex, pantie ripping, oral (f. receiving), creampie, slight breast play, tooth-rotting fluff at the end, lmk if I missed anything!!
「notes」 : this is a request from this anon here, and I decided to just finish this fic and post it for everyone as my final farewell to the enhablr community (at least the writing part of it) after this I probably won't ever write another full fic for any of the members 😞 but even if this isn't the best I hope you all enjoy this full-length jake fic, especially you nonnie!! mwah 🫶
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You had willed yourself to not cry, not wanting to waste any tears on people who didn't deserve them. Though you couldn't help the tightening feeling in your chest as you stepped closer and closer to your apartment door.
It was your birthday. You were supposed to be out celebrating with your friends. You even went as far as getting all dolled up, wearing the new sundress that Jake had bought for you. Just to be completely and utterly humiliated by the people who were supposed to be your friends.
Sniffling, you dug your keys out of your purse before unlocking the door. Pushing the door open, you were met with the soft sound of music playing in the kitchen, telling you that Jake was home. Sighing, you shut the door behind you and slip out of your shoes. You didn't have the energy to put on a fake face, not that it'll work with Jake anyway.
Hearing the door close, Jake stood straight, looking over his shoulder; you weren't supposed to be home for another hour or so. Dusting his hands off on his jeans, he turned and made his way towards the entrance hall, a silly smile playing on his lips. However, as soon as he caught sight of your distraught expression, his smile dropped. 
“Baby, what's wrong?” His tone was dripping with concern as he made his way to you, taking your arm in his hand.
Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him, tears brimming on your waterline. “I don't wanna talk about it. I'm just gonna go change.” You spoke in a low tone, scared that you'd cry if you spoke any higher. 
Jake, however, didn't let go, keeping you rooted in your spot. 
“We don't have to talk about it, but don't change, you look beautiful.” He pouted, the sight making your heart squeeze, and he knew damn well that you'd give in to him. 
You sigh, “Okay. What were you doing in the kitchen?” 
A bright smile then spreads on the male's lips, and he grabs your hand, pulling you into the other room. As soon as you walked through the threshold, your eyes went wide. 
The room smelled like vanilla, the lights were dim, and there was a small birthday cake at the center of the dining table.
Jake pulled you over to the table so you could see. Your heart flips in your chest as you look over the decorations.
“Jakey, baby, you didn't have to do all of this.” You go to turn and look at him, but he stops you when his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his chest.
He hums, planting soft kisses on your exposed neck, “You deserve it, baby, all of it.” 
You sigh, head falling to the side to give him more access to your skin. His hands started to roam your body, his left coming up to cup your breast, squeezing softly.
“Jake.” You breathe out, your body starts to grow warm, and his kisses start turning into hot, open-mouthed kisses.
“Shh baby, let me take care of you. I'll make you feel better, I promise.” He whispered against your skin as his right hand moved down to the hem of your dress.
You completely melted in his hold, letting him do as he pleases, your hands gripping his shirt from behind you.
His plump lips glided over your skin, biting down every so often to hear the soft whines that would fall from your lips. His right hand slips under your dress, finding your clothes core. 
“My pretty baby is having such a bad day.” His hand cups your heat, eliciting a breathy moan from your parted lips, “But it's okay, Jakey is gonna make her feel real good.” 
He presses against your clit loving the way your body starts to tremble from such a small action. Pulling your panties to the side, he runs his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you had gotten from just a few kisses. As much as he wanted to tease you for it he went with his better judgment and kept his mouth shut. 
“You're soaked, baby,” Jake's voice dropped an octave as he found your clit once more, pressing slow circles on the bundle. 
“Jake.” You whine, clearly wanting him to go faster, but he doesn't. Instead, he pulls his hand away.
You opened your mouth to say something but were silenced when he turned your body around, grabbing the backs of your thighs and propping you up on the dining table. 
A gasp fell from your lips but was quickly swallowed by Jake's. His hands tugged at your dress until it was a pool on the ground. 
“God, you're so fucking beautiful.” He groans as he takes in the new skin shown to him, tracing every inch of your body as if he hasn't seen it countless times before. 
Despite that fact, you still found yourself growing shy under his watchful gaze; heat crept up your neck before painting your cheeks a cherry red. 
“Lay back for me, baby.” He pecked your lips once more, laying your body flat on the table.
“Jake.” You breathed out when his lips latched into your nipple and flicked the bud with his tongue while his free hand trailed down to your panties, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 
Your hips bucked into his palm as he pressed down on your clit once more, a sweet moan falling from your lips. Your fingers move from the nape of his neck to thread them through his deep brown stands, pulling softly. 
“J-Jake.” You huffed out, eyes rolling slightly when he prodded at your entrance. “Jakey, please.” Tears started to well up in your eyes before falling.
Jake coos softly, peppering your face with kisses as he slips his fingers into your warm heat. Your eyes rolled back as his skillful fingers easily found your sweet stop, pressing right against it. 
“There's no need to beg, baby, I'll give you what you want.” He mused, pressing his lips against yours, stealing the air from your lungs, and his fingers picked up their pace, stars dancing across your vision. All of the tension and sadness from earlier slowly dispelled with every stroke of his fingers.
Soft moans fell from your parted lips as he continued his leisurely pace, his mouth preoccupied with your chest. Deep red marks littered your skin as his lips trailed down the valley of your breast, down your navel, before finally coming face-to-face with your weeping cunt. Without so much as a second thought, he buried his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent as his nose bumped against your aching clit. A shocked gasp tore through your throat, your hand flying down to his head as he licked a stripe up your pussy, starting from where his fingers were still working into you before stopping to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking gently.
The softness of his movements was sending your mind reeling. He was always so eager to get you to cum. Even more so if it was on his tongue. However, seeing him now, all he cared about was your pleasure and helping you relax.
His eyes caught yours from your tense tummy, love, and adoration gleaming in his warm chocolate orbs. The love and tenderness that was seeping from him brought tears to your eyes. Noticing the glassy look in your eyes, he removed his mouth from your clit and crawled back over your body.
“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was soft as he pulled his fingers out, leaving you empty. The feeling caused you to whine softly, but you swallowed it down as Jake leaned down. He captured your lips in a gentle kiss, relishing in your taste, your eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“I need you, Jakey. So bad.” You murmured against his lips when he started to pull away, and Jake could feel his pants grow even tighter at the desperation in your tone. His fingers danced across your skin as he looked down at you, slotting his body fully against yours.
“Hmm, how do you need me babygirl?” His tone was nothing short of teasing as he continued to pepper kisses all over your face, down to your chest.
Your fingers curled into the material of his shirt, tugging roughly when he nipped at your collarbone. “I need you in me, Jake. To fuck me, please!” You cried out, the tears that had built up on your waterline finally spilling over.
“Such a dirty girl,” He cooed, lips detaching from your skin to take in your messy appearance, Mascara was already running under your eyes from all the crying you’d done, and your once glossed lips had the pink tint smeared all over your chin. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Jake had some on his chin as well. “But I did promise to take care of my needy baby.” 
He wasted no time in discarding his clothes and quite literally tearing the thin fabric of your underwear away from your body. After there were no barriers left between the both of you, Jake moved forward, pressing your thighs further apart. Jake pulled small whimpers from your swollen lips as he teased your clit with his tip, relishing in the way that your body trembled in his hold.
“J-Jake.” You looked up at him with a pleading gaze, “You said I wouldn’t have to beg,” The pout that formed on your lips had his cock twitching in his hand, a small groan falling from his lips.
“I did, didn’t I?” He chuckled, trailing his tip down to your slit but not quite pushing in yet, “Okay, I’ll give my needy girl what she wants. All she needs is Jakey's cock to make her feel better, hmm?” Then, with a final hum, he pushed into your tight hole, and your back arched from the sudden intrusion.
“Fuck! Yes, just need Jakey’s cock!” You cried out in pure ecstasy as he slowly rutted his hips into yours, watching your body twitch with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
Before too long, his slow pace grew steadily until he had your legs dangling over his shoulders as he bullied his thick cock into your twitching cunt. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping and a mixture of your broken moans and Jake’s low whimpers as he neared his release.
“Fuck baby, I’m so close.” His voice was borderlining a whine, his fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs, nails leaving crescent shapes behind. “I need you to cum for me, sweetheart, please.” The pleading tone in his voice had your pussy tightening around his length, the coil in your stomach tightening crazily.
“Jakey!” You cried as when the rough pad of his thumb met with your aching clit, rubbing tight circles over the small bundle of nerves. Tears blurred your vision when you finally felt that coil snap, your release gushing all over Jake’s length.
The intensity of your orgasm sends Jake over the edge, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck as he damn near folds your body in half. He released hot spurts of his thick cum inside of your fluttering walls. His warm breath fanny the sweaty skin of your neck, making you shiver.
Neither of you said a word as you both came back down from your highs, bodies still entangled on the dining table. Jake was the first to speak, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he lowered your quivering legs so they could relax.
“How was that present? The best yet, if I do say so myself.” He gave you a lopsided smile as he pulled out of your spent cunt before helping you sit up. Heat flushed your face as you smacked his chest.
“You’re something else, Jake.” You shook your head, but a wide grin still spread across your lips, and Jake looked at you with an endearing gaze. His intense eyes caused you to suddenly feel shy, cheeks turning a rosy red, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since you got home.” He mentioned that you felt a guilt start to settle in the pit of your stomach. However, Jake was quick to grab your attention once more, “Forget about them, my love; if they’re making you feel like shit, then they don’t deserve to be your friends.”
Tears involuntarily filled your eyes as you looked up at him. Your bottom lips quivered as you fought back the urge to cry once more. Jake hushed you as he wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
Your arms wrapped around his midsection as you soaked in his warmth, a few stray tears sliding down your cheeks. If there was one thing in the world that you were most grateful for, it would be your boyfriend. He always, always went above and beyond to make sure you were happy and cared for.
Smiling softly, you nuzzled into his chest. This was where you belonged because even if no one else would have your back, Jake would without fail. It was truly a blessing to have met him, and you’d be damned if you were ever going to let go.
He was home.
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@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.
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autisticfaun420 · 2 days ago
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Autism and Fecal Smearing
I want to get this out of the way first so I'm just gonna say it, I struggle with this awful habit which is called diaper digging and fecal smearing, this post (and blog for that matter) I don't want to shy away from talking about this stuff. So yeah if I have a bowel accident, am frustrated/overstimulated/angry/sad, and am left alone for a few minutes I tend to do this. It's not as bad as before because I have preventative measures in place, like special onesies that make it so I can't remove my diaper myself (ughhh whatever...) and crunchy scented textured slime that my mom will add even more scent to just to make it overwhelming. The average number of episodes has been greatly reduced but I had one a couple weeks ago when my onesies were in the watch so the topic is fresh on my mind.
A lot of caregivers and autism parents are mystified and baffled by this habit and wonder why we do it. I can't speak for everyone, only myself, but to me personally the scent and texture of feces is so overwhelming and strong that I get a "high" from it. I take cannabis edibles daily and my parents let me get drunk once a month so I'll say its very comparable. I get a rush from it. My life can be so monotonous sometimes that smearing crap feels like getting away with a bank robbery, I go from extremely angry to feeling before then to like a happy giddy kid without a care in the world. I zone out so hard that I end up smearing it all over my face, walls, floor, and if it gets in my mouth I'm usually too far gone to care. I do not do it because I'm mad at my parents, I do not do it because I want to get back at them for something, I simply do it because my need for sensory input is so strong and when I'm about to go into a potentially violent meltdown I reach for the sensory nuke when my normal things to stim with just won't cut it. No high is complete without the crash and there's a crash. Seeing my parents and one of my unlucky friends SOOOOOOO unreasonably mad, it's terrifying. My parents got used to it and eventually just shrugged it off but I have heard them lose their cool over it several times and have heard my name and every cuss word in the book the room over where they clean. Not nice of them but I do not blame them one bit but the feeling inside hearing that is very real for me. I guess they got too good at shrugging it off. I had an incident where I smeared in the bathroom of one of my high school friends, very chill guy, look at me and scream at the top of my lungs, and punched a hole in the wall in the living room. I didn't know the painting he had in his bathroom was that rare but I ruined it completely and that's why he reacted that way. He could of done better but I do not blame him one bit. After that though seeing a side of that friend that I never seen before scared me into wearing the stupid onesie suit every day without fuss or a fight when before I would. Not only the suit but I have the replacement slime on me at all times, if I have a BM I tend to just pull it out and play with it. This doubles up as subtly letting my parents know I need a change, which I like cause I don't have to ask verbally which can feel kinda degrading sometimes. There is one good thing that has happened with this though. My hippie parents looked at my turd stained walls and thought I had some latent artistic talent and needed self expression and bought me art and painting supplies. They were misguided, it didn't prevent any incidents but I still took the art well. My therapist at the time had some art connections and the art I made was featured in what's known as an "outsider art" gallery. I sold a few pieces for 300-600 each. It's just a little bit bitter sweet cause if you've seen the King of the Hill episode about the Probots or just know a bit about outsider art in general, you'd know the way they market it is kind of, problematic to say the least. The gallery's artist profile for me made me out to be some kind of idiot dunce and made my parents look like heroic geniuses for spotting this talent or some shit and it's embarrassing that my artwork sold most likely cause of that over the strength of the art. Like oh wow look at this stupid R word who plays with poop his cool parents are soo smart, ughhhh. However I guess that's just the art game and I'm super proud of myself I made a couple thousand dollars of MY OWN money, it meant the world to me to have it. I'm not allowed to post my artwork on here and I wish I could share it with you on MY terms and not the gallery's but my parents are worried it could come back to my identity.
I want to end this post by saying if you engage in fecal smearing you are not stupid, broken, or filthy. You are a human being desperate for relief and you took the fastest way to get it. Shout out to all my autistic homies who smear or have smeared, I see you and you are loved.
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irritablepoe · 1 year ago
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Why can't I have friends that want to talk to me?🥲
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egophiliac · 29 days ago
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I don’t think we’ve ever seen you draw knight of dawn before 🤔 what are your thoughts about him? Or take?
I've drawn him a couple of times, just really little/in the background. but I should draw him more, I love this guy a lot! I have many, many thoughts about him and the way he parallels Silver...and also I think it is extremely funny that his ghost is stuck in a ring. especially considering where that ring has been for the last 16-ish years.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months ago
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Council of lovefools.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#jiang yanli#jiang cheng#They don't have an actual sleepover in this scene but the vibes were so sleepover coded...I had to get them cozied up.#Late night talks with friends and family are some of the best conversations.#My siblings and I used to have room sleepovers with each other (Actually an excuse to stay up and talk about runescape)#Currently my flatmates and I also have really great heart to hearts late into the night.#Pondering shit like 'What defines confidence?“ and ”Why are people terrified of letting themselves fall in love?"#All that aside; There is a really great conversation between JC and WWX here. They are so close and yet so far way from each other!#Fundamentally they *agree* about many things - but JC now has to play the role of someone more 'mature'.#His temper is reigned in and he had to take a more nuanced approach. Whereas WWX can be far more reactionary.#JC has changed to become someone more mature (or at least he is trying).#Contrast this attitude with the scene *right* after where WWX literally goes baby mode with JYL. Rolling around going “I'm Fwee years old”.#When children are hurt we comfort them with hugs and warm food and a laugh. It's not enough when you're an adult. It's not simple anymore.#WWX is stuck in the past when everyone else is shifting and moving on! It's a depression allegory (and just...actual depression)#But we also get to see how some things have stayed the same. They still bicker about soup. They still tease. They are still together.#They all care for each other very much but they are struggling against trauma and are not equipped to talk about it.#You can't really blame WWX for being so protective over JYL. But JC is right: “You don't have a say in who she likes.”#It may have started as an arranged marriage but *she* is *choosing* what her heart wants. JC sees that. WWX cannot.#The final act of love is letting go after all.
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Though I would agree Fanfiction can be more lax, I'm gonna heavily disagree solely for the example you gave:
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Thanksgiving? Of all the things you could have your Japanese characters do just because they think it would be funny or they're curious about it, Thanksgiving is the one thing that would absolutely not be done by Japanese people, unless your writing it in the setting of "I'm having US Americans over and I want to give them the opportunity to still have their thanksgivings while abroad...
Other than that? There's no reason for it, just like no one else outside the US celebrates the 4th of July.
Sure, there's lots of things that can be transversal culturally wise, but like... At least let them BE Japanese!
It's like when Hallmark made that awful movie set in my country... But did exactly 0% of research... We all hated that with a passion.
Original stories and Fanfiction should have a minimum of respect for cultural accuracy when portraying foreign (to us) characters. It's common sense...
If you don't want to go into deep in the culture, avoid settlings that will have you having to do research.
And please don't have a Shinigami say "Jesus Christ!"... That's so weird.
“Be curious about what you’re writing about” is not stock Common Writing Advice but it really, really should be. There are a lot of written works that fail due to the authors just being obviously incurious about what they are writing about.
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