#but it's so infuriating because it ignores their dynamics

[hellcatsandcars]

not to engage with top/bottom discourse in the year of our lord 2024, but how on earth are people sleeping on dom bottom viktor and sub top jayce

[leahwllmsn]

good graces

alexia putellas x reader

word count: 3.4k

You dislike Alexia Putellas with everything in you. Or maybe you’ve been crushing on her all this time. Who knows.

The first thing you noticed upon entering the club was the sea of people that made it hard for you to even get to the booth. The music was blaring in your ears and the smell of smoke wafted towards your nose. A strobe light shone against your eyes, making you squint and stop in your tracks. Kika was walking ahead of you and you quickly grabbed onto her hand, forcing her to stop as well.

“What’s wrong?” Kika spoke towards your ear.

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m fine. Got disoriented for a second.”

“Okay.” Kika turned around, still keeping her hand linked with yours. You let yourself get dragged, Kika manoeuvring the both of you easily around the crowd.

It felt like forever until you finally reached the booth where the rest of the Barcelona players were occupying. Everyone was exchanging their ‘hi’s and ‘nice to meet you’s and you couldn’t focus on any of that. Not when you could feel her gaze on you.

The season was starting next week and since you and a couple of girls were new to the club, Patri decided to host a night out to introduce the newcomers. You knew a couple of the Spanish girls, having met them during international matches and exchanged contacts throughout your years in professional football.

There was one person, however, that… you didn’t really know how to explain it. Was she your enemy? Frenemy? You didn’t exactly hate her… But you didn’t exactly like her either. You’re pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

But it wasn’t that negative, soul-sucking, I-hope-she-dies type of hatred—at least, to you it wasn’t. It was more of… you couldn’t stand the stupid smirk on her face, it was infuriating, and even more so when she pushed you to the ground during matches or worse—when she completely humiliated you by nutmegging you and scoring a goal.

The smirk she sent your way after that was… maddening. You wanted to punch her, or something. You didn’t though. Instead you scowled at her throughout the rest of the game and you ignored her when everyone was shaking hands.

So you never really know where you stood with Alexia Putellas. The only words exchanged between you two were the heated curses on the pitch. Now that you two were going to be teammates, it was going to change the dynamics between you, definitely. You didn’t know in what way though.

You were never able to pinpoint why you disliked her so much, maybe it was because of the way she walked around the pitch like she owned the game before it even started. Like she was so confident that she would be winning—which was sexy as hell, yes, but it angered you. Because you were going to win, obviously. 

So maybe it was a good thing that you would be on the same team now. Maybe you could finally co-exist.

The situation had been on your mind ever since you signed for Barcelona. The uncertainty of it all was throwing you off. So you made a mental note to avoid her until you could figure it out.

Whatever ‘it’ was.

Your mantra before entering the club was to look away, to not spare her a glance. Not under any circumstances should you look her way. Period. 

It should be simple. It was simple.

All thoughts completely flew out the window the moment you arrived at the booth and you could feel Alexia’s eyes on you.

Ever since the first time you shook hands with her on the field (you were fifteen and she was sixteen), you had always known when her eyes were on you. Call it intuition or sixth sense or whatever.

So you had no choice but to look at her.

(She looked as good as you remembered.)

Your eyes locked for a second before Alexia broke away first, her eyes falling down to your left hand—your hand that was tightly intertwined with Kika’s. You saw the frown she sent your way and you sent her one back. Was it so hard to smile at someone?

You felt a tug at your hand and realised that Kika was motioning for you to take a seat. You glanced up once more at Alexia, but her gaze was now focused on the drink in front of her. 

You slid into the booth next to Kika and accepted the drink that Pina held out to you, muttering a ‘thanks’. Once you did, you felt the pair of hazel eyes from across the table back on you. 

Your eye contact lasted longer this time, you didn’t know why Alexia was looking at you like that. It was a gaze that felt so intense, making you instantly chug your drink. 

“Whoa,” you heard someone say, a giggle following after. “No rush, chica. We have all night.”

“Patri, nice to see you again,” you shouted over the music.

“You too!” She lifted a bottle of vodka, silently asking you if you wanted some, to which you nodded in reply. Patri took your now empty glass and poured some into it. “We’re out of shot glasses, sorry! This one over here,” she pointed a thumb at Alexia. “Accidentally elbowed them to the ground and now we only get plastic cups!”

You couldn’t help it and joined in on the laughter. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alexia’s head snap towards you. You gulped the drink Patri gave you and continued on with your staring contest with the captain. You raised an eyebrow at her, she simply threw that signature smirk of hers your way.

Infuriating.

“Can they actually do that?” asked Jana.

“Apparently!” Patri answered back.

Mapi placed her arm around Alexia’s shoulder, “You have to excuse this one. She had some pre-drinks at her place so she’s already well on her way to being extra drunk.” After a moment, she added. “Although, she became extremely calm these past few minutes. Are you okay?” Mapi teased.

Alexia playfully shoved her away. “It’s not my fault they didn’t know the risks when they decided to open a club.”

You felt Kika bump her shoulder against yours. “I can see why you’re so hung up on her, to be honest.”

At that, you pulled back. You gave Kika a look that was a mixture of ‘what the hell are you talking about’ and ‘I think I’m not drunk enough for this conversation’.

Kika rolled her eyes and leaned closer, speaking directly in your ears. “She’s ridiculously attractive.”

You placed your hand on Kika’s face, shoving her away. You could feel Kika’s laughter against your palm and you pulled your hand back.

“Y/n—” Kika started, but you interrupted her.

“Nope,” you took another gulp of your drink. “Talk to me again about this topic when I’m drunk. Actually, no. Don’t talk to me about this topic at all because there is nothing to talk about in the first place!”

Kika shook her head fondly and wrapped her arm around your neck, bringing your head towards her so she could whisper in your ear. “I think you should drink faster then, because your girl looks like she’s going to kill me and we need to do something about it.”

You pinched her thigh. “She’s not my girl.”

“Ouch! That was the part you got? Not her wanting to kill me?”

“Stop being ridiculous then. Why would she want to kill you?”

Kika grinned. “Probably because to everyone else it looks like we’re about to kiss.”

Your eyes widened at your proximity and quickly shoved the brunette, causing her to lean backwards into Jana, who looked amused at the two of you.

“Sorry,” Kika whined. “Y/n’s fault!”

Just when you were about to say something back, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. A text message from an unknown number.

Hola

It’s Alexia.

You glanced up at her, giving her a confused look. Alexia just gave a slight nod of her head, flicking her eyes to your phone. You sighed. This was going to be fun.

you: how did you get my number?

unknown number: Perks of being the capitana.

you: why are you even texting me? you’re literally in front of me

unknown number: Oh am I? Thank you for pointing that out.

you: you’re as annoying as I remembered

you: so ? is there a reason why you’re texting me

annoying capi: Because you are too far away. It’s so loud here. I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you.

annoying capi: I have captain duties

you: to talk to me?

annoying capi: Yes

You almost rolled your eyes at that. What kind of captain duties was this? Pere would likely introduce Alexia as your captain on your first day. There was nothing urgent that any captain-teammate talk had to be done now.

You just hoped that she wasn’t planning on kicking you out of the club, or any other evil things you couldn’t think of. You stared at her, somewhere between a glare and an interested look. Only one way to find out.

you: I’m about to grab a drink at the bar

annoying capi: Is this an invitation?

you: am I going by myself or are you coming with?

“Y/n and I are grabbing more drinks,” Alexia announced. “Does anyone want anything?”

Everyone shook their heads and with that Alexia slid out of the booth. She outstretched her hand towards you and you stared down at it. There was no way that Alexia was asking you to hold her hand, because that would be ridiculous, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you were ready to know what it feels like to hold Alexia’s hand—

“Dios mío,” Alexia reached out and grabbed your wrist. You didn’t have time to react and the next thing you knew, you were being pulled to the bar.

Alexia’s grasp on your wrist was tight, you felt all tingly as more seconds passed by and Alexia’s grip never faltered. 

You inwardly cringe at yourself for feeling like that towards a… a frenemy (you still didn’t know what you two were).

When you reached the bar, Alexia finally let go and you kind of missed the warm feeling Alexia’s hold gave you.

“What’s your drink?” Alexia asked.

“Uhm…”

The place was crowded, which was definitely good for the business, but you decided that it was very not good for you. Because with the way Alexia was leaning sideways against the counter, arms crossed, eyebrows raised at you—Alexia was so close that you couldn’t think of anything, except the way her eyes looked even more heavenly at night (not that you noticed. You were too busy marking her during games, you definitely had no time to admire the way the sunlight made her eyes shine even brighter).

“Do you do that a lot?” Alexia asked once she finished talking to the bartender.

When you still hadn’t answered, Alexia pursed her lips and blew on your face. “Boo.”

Your eyes widened. “W-what was that for?”

“You’re zoning out again,” Alexia rolled her eyes at you.

“No I wasn’t,” you tried your best to sound calm despite your racing heartbeat. 

Alexia smelled like alcohol and a perfume that you knew was from Chanel (you had the same one at home) and you knew you weren’t supposed to let your mind wander, but you couldn’t help but think about how it would feel like to have Alexia pressed up against you. Like, really pressed up against you. 

How her lips would feel on—

“You’re doing it again,” Alexia noted.

You blinked a few times. What the hell were you thinking? You couldn’t think of Alexia like that. The thought made you shiver. You two disliked each other. “I’m doing what?”

“Spacing out,” Alexia looked amused. “Something on your mind?”

“Just the usual,” you replied, looking anywhere but those eyes.

“And what is the usual to you?”

You let out a small laugh. “Are you always this nosy? I don’t see you texting Kika or Pajor and asking for a one-on-one.”

Alexia shrugged. “Maybe I’m just interested in you.”

At that, you looked at Alexia and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just am. I can’t pinpoint it.”

You narrowed your eyes. Was she flirting with you? “Is this you talking to me as my captain or is this something else?” Alexia was about to reply when you cut her off. “Is this where you say something nice about me but then talk shit a second later?” you paused. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because the next thing you knew, Alexia was laughing. It was the first time you’ve heard her laugh. You didn’t want to think about the tug in your heart or the smile making its way to your lips. “What does that have to do with anything?” Alexia asked you.

You crossed your arms against your chest. “It sounded like you were flirting with me.”

“I could mean being interested in you in a non-romantic sense,” Alexia refuted. “I am going to be your capitana after all.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you looked around the bar. “I think you’re lying.”

Alexia looked amused. “Why do you think that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I just do. I can’t pinpoint it.”

“Using my words against me, I see.” 

You cheekily smiled at her and she did the same. Alexia actually smiled at you. It was a miracle. First you made her laugh, then you made her smile. You were on a roll.

Not that it mattered. You couldn’t care less, really.

Suddenly remembering that you didn’t tell her what drink you wanted, you looked at the bartender then back at her, “Did you order for me? Hope it’s nothing poisonous. We’re about to play on the same team, you can stop trying to kill me on the field now.”

Alexia scoffed. “I never acted like I wanted to kill you.”

“I beg to differ but sure,” you couldn’t believe that you were enjoying a conversation with Alexia Putellas. “I never told you my drink order, so if you got me something I don’t like, you’re paying for it.”

Alexia scrunched her nose at you. “I thought I was paying for it. I am a gentlewoman after all.”

You hummed. “Does this work on all women?”

“It’s Sex on the Beach, by the way,” Alexia ignored your question. “What I ordered for you.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. Oh this can definitely be considered flirting. “Why Sex on the Beach?”

Alexia just shrugged in response.

“That’s my favourite,” you told her. “Just for your information.”

“Really?” Alexia grinned at you. (What a sight it was.) “I am so good at this.”

“Sure. You probably chose that drink so you could flirt with me.”

“Is that a problem?”

You looked at her questioningly. “That you got my favourite cocktail right on the first try?”

Alexia laughed again, but this time there wasn’t the usual teasing tone when she spoke. “You’re so dense sometimes.”

“Thanks,” you drew out. “I guess.”

“What I meant was… is that a problem if I was flirting with you?”

You weren't expecting that answer. This was definitely not the captain-teammate talk you were expecting, nor was this the type of conversation you were expecting from your frenemy. “Uh,” you stammered. “With the fact that you have a girlfriend, yeah kind of.”

Alexia stared at you for a second, before she looked away. When she turned to you again, a coy smile was present on her lips. “You’re right. That was terrible. Sorry, please don’t tell my non-existent girlfriend about this.”

Oh? You tried to hide the smile that was making its way to your face. “Don’t worry. I don’t know your non-existent girlfriend enough to snitch on you.”

The bartender interrupted you with your drinks and you gulped half of yours in one go. You needed to be more intoxicated with the way this conversation was going.

“I probably sound like a terrible girlfriend,” Alexia said, placing her card back in her wallet after paying for your drinks.

“Hm? How so?”

“I’m literally flirting with another woman here, even though my girlfriend, our three kids, and two dogs are waiting for me at our mansion,” Alexia rolled out dramatically, you laughed at how ridiculous she was.

“So you were flirting with me.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, looking down. She looked… shy? This was new. You were enjoying this very much. “I never said such a thing.”

“What?” You looked at her in disbelief. “Alexia, you just said ‘I’m literally flirting with another woman’.”

Alexia shrugged, taking a gulp of her drink. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

You had to keep on reminding yourself that Alexia was your frenemy. You two disliked each other. Whatever this was… it was a momentary lapse in judgement. A drunk night out. You weren’t into Alexia like that and she was definitely, totally just playing with you. But looking at the blonde in front of you—how Alexia was doing something as simple as swirling her straw in her drink—you never wanted to do something stupid as much as right now.

“You know,” you started. “If you didn’t have a girlfriend, I would totally kiss you.”

You were only toying with her of course. You didn’t actually want to kiss her.

Alexia choked on her drink. “I’m sorry, what?” she looked at you wide-eyed.

You smirked, it was a nice turn of events, having Alexia be the one stuttering instead of you. “You heard me.”

“Well,” you saw Alexia gulp and place her drink on the bar. “I guess you’re in luck then.” Alexia averted her eyes down to your lips. “My non-existent girlfriend just broke up with me,” she pouted dramatically. Damn it. You were trying so hard not to look at her lips. “You, on the other hand, is a terrible date.”

You looked confused. “Me?”

Alexia nodded. “Flirting with me when your date is right there,” she tilted her head in the direction of where your friends were sitting. “Kika?”

You laughed at that. Was Alexia actually jealous? “Am I sensing some jealousy here, Putellas?”

“Why would I be?” Alexia scoffed, the faint blush on her cheeks visible despite the dark lighting of the club. Oh this was so much fun.

“Is that why you’re always so hostile towards me on the pitch, Capi? Do you actually have a crush on me? Asking me out would work just fine, you know.”

“I’m not…” Alexia crossed her arms. “I’m not jealous and I definitely do not have a crush on you. Ridícula.”

You could feel the effects of the alcohol, because you could never be this bold otherwise. You stepped forward, tracing a finger down Alexia’s forearm.

“Uh,” Alexia stammered.

“It’s so funny,” you whispered in her ear. “To have the mighty Alexia Putellas speechless for once.”

You tapped Alexia’s cheek and leaned back.

Alexia just kept on staring at you for a few seconds, her mouth stuttering to say something.

“I’m going to order another drink,” you said, gulping down the last of your cocktail. “Do you want something?”

Alexia finally regained her composure and straightened her back. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

You waved the bartender over and told him your order. You turned to Alexia with an expectant look. “Well? What do you want?”

“Ah. Are you on the menu?” Alexia answered, giving you her best innocent look.

It took a second for you to realise what Alexia said, and when you did, your mouth dropped open. 

Before you could reply, Alexia leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I always win these games, cariño,” the hot breath against your ear causing you to shiver. “See you back there.” Alexia winked and turned around, leaving you to stare at her retreating figure with your mouth still agape and your heart thumping wildly against your chest.

You hated her so much.

[olderwomenenthusiast]

game of power (emily prentiss)

PAIRING: emily prentiss & fem reader DESCRIPTION: emily finally as her way with you & vice versa CAUTION: the usual smut, swearing, bit of arguing, power dynamics WORD COUNT: 3.6k AUTHOR'S NOTE: seriously need to lower my sex drive

The tension between you and Emily had been festering for weeks—longer, if you were honest with yourself. Every case, every briefing, every sideways glance across the bullpen had been laced with something dark and unspoken. Sharp words, lingering touches that lasted a second too long, glares that burned hotter than they should.

And tonight, it finally erupts.

The case had gone south in the worst way. A last-minute call had changed the plan, and you had ignored Emily’s order to fall back, pushing forward when she told you to wait. The unsub was taken down, but not before a gun was drawn, a bullet missing your head by inches. The entire ride back to the hotel had been suffocating in silence, tension so thick it pressed against your ribs. Emily’s knuckles were white against her crossed arms, her jaw tight as she stared out the window. You could feel the anger radiating off her, but she said nothing—until now.

The moment you step into the hallway, Emily is on you.

"What the hell was that?" Her voice is low but sharp, cutting through the quiet.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you pull your key card from your pocket. "We got him, didn’t we?"

Emily’s hand slams against the wall next to your head before you can turn away. "That’s not the damn point. You disobeyed a direct order, and you could’ve been killed."

Your pulse spikes. Not just from the anger, but from how close she is, the heat of her body radiating against yours. "I handled it. I don’t need you babysitting me, Prentiss."

Her jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. "Oh, is that what you think this is?" She leans in, voice dropping to a near growl. "You think I give a damn because it’s my job? Because I need to control you?"

Something in her tone makes your breath hitch, and she catches it. Her eyes darken, tracking the subtle shift of your throat as you swallow. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, dangerous and knowing.

"Say it," she murmurs, voice thick with something heavier than anger. "Tell me you don’t feel this."

You grit your teeth, your hands curling into fists at your sides. "You’re insufferable."

Emily chuckles, dark and knowing. "And you’re a brat."

Before you can bite out a reply, her hands are on you, gripping the front of your shirt and yanking you forward. Your back hits the wall with a dull thud, and then her mouth crashes against yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s a clash of teeth and tongues, a battle for control neither of you are willing to surrender. Emily presses her body flush against yours, pinning you between her and the wall, and the heat of her seeps into your skin, making your head spin. Her knee nudges between your thighs, spreading you open just enough for her to feel the slight hitch in your breath, the involuntary way your body reacts to her.

You gasp as she nips at your bottom lip, and she takes advantage of the opening, her tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees weak. One of her hands tangles in your hair, tilting your head back as she deepens the kiss, her other hand gripping your hip so hard you’re sure it’ll bruise.

"You drive me fucking crazy," she growls against your lips, her teeth grazing your jaw as she trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. "Reckless. Stubborn. Infuriating."

Your head tilts back against the wall, a shuddering breath escaping as her tongue flicks over the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "Then do something about it."

Emily pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes black with desire. "You sure you want to play that game?"

You don’t hesitate. "I can handle it."

Her smirk is wicked, full of promise and punishment. "We’ll see about that."

Before you can process it, she grips your wrist and tugs you toward her hotel room, the lock clicking behind you before she shoves you against the door. Her hands make quick work of your shirt, yanking it over your head before her lips are on your collarbone, teeth scraping against your skin as she undoes the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. Her tongue flicks over the newly exposed skin, lips closing around a sensitive peak as her hands work their way lower, fingers teasing the waistband of your jeans.

She watches your reaction, waiting for the moment your breath stutters, your pupils dilate, your body arches into her touch. Then she grips your thighs and lifts you, pressing you hard against the door as she rocks into you, slow and deliberate, making you whimper in frustration.

"So eager," she murmurs against your skin. "You like this, don’t you? Pushing me until I snap. Until I take what I want."

Your breath hitches, fingers digging into her shoulders. "Shut up and do it already."

Emily chuckles darkly before dropping to her knees, hands gripping your hips as she tugs your jeans down, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your inner thighs. The way she looks up at you, lips slightly parted, pupils blown wide with lust, makes you tremble.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs, pressing a teasing kiss to your already aching core. "You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into."

A shudder wracks through your body as Emily’s breath fans over your soaked cunt, deliberate and teasing. She’s savoring this - relishing the way you tremble, the way your hands grip the doorframe behind you as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

"Emily," you grind out, voice rough with frustration.

She hums against your inner thigh, lips grazing your skin. "Patience," she murmurs, dragging her tongue upward but stopping just short of where you need her most. "You push me until I snap, but now you can’t wait?"

Your glare is half-hearted, your breath uneven. "I swear to God --"

Whatever threat you were about to make dissolves into a strangled moan as Emily finally licks a broad, slow stripe through your slick folds, her tongue pressing firmly against your clit before she pulls back just enough to tease.

"Fuck," you gasp, your body jolting at the first real touch.

She grins against you, lips brushing your cunt as she whispers, "That’s more like it."

Her hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you spread open for her as she goes back in, her tongue flicking and circling with devastating precision. She’s thorough, drinking in every sound, every desperate buck of your hips, every sharp inhale as she builds you up.

"You taste so fucking good," she groans, voice muffled as she buries herself between your legs, lapping at your pussy like she can’t get enough. "You get this wet just from fighting with me?"

You can’t form words, just a whimper, your fingers twisting in her dark hair, tugging hard enough to make her moan against you. The vibration sends another sharp jolt through you, your back arching against the door.

Emily chuckles darkly. "You like that, don’t you?" She wraps her lips around your clit, sucking just right, her tongue flicking against the sensitive nub before she drags two fingers through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

"Emily," you whine, pushing your hips forward, desperate for more.

She rewards you by thrusting two fingers deep inside, curling them instantly, pressing against that spot that makes your vision blur.

"Fuck, yes," you gasp, legs threatening to give out.

Emily holds you steady, fucking you with slow, deep strokes as her tongue keeps working your clit, relentless and precise. You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening, your body winding up so tight you think you might snap in half.

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" she taunts, her breath hot against your cunt, her fingers fucking into you faster. "Come on, let me feel it."

It only takes one more flick of her tongue, one more press of her fingers, and you’re gone - your orgasm slamming into you so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. Your entire body locks up, pleasure surging through every nerve as you cry out her name, legs shaking, pussy clenching around her fingers as she works you through it.

Emily groans, licking you through every pulse, dragging it out until you’re twitching from overstimulation. She presses a final, filthy kiss to your swollen clit before pulling back, her lips and chin glistening as she watches you struggle to catch your breath.

She rises to her feet, gripping your chin between her fingers as she smirks down at you. "Still think you can handle me?"

You’re wrecked, boneless, but your smirk is just as wicked as hers. "I think you’re the one who’s in trouble, Prentiss."

Her eyes flash with something dangerous, something hungry, and then she’s crashing her lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on her tongue as she pushes you back toward the bed, stripping off her shirt in one smooth motion.

"Get on the bed," she orders, voice thick with lust. "I’m not done with you yet."

A slow smirk spreads across your lips as Emily tugs you toward the bed, but instead of following her lead, you dig your heels in, flipping the script. In one swift motion, you push her backward, and she stumbles onto the mattress with a soft gasp, caught off guard.

"Think you’re the only one who knows how to take control?" you tease, climbing over her, straddling her waist as your hands press against her shoulders.

Emily blinks up at you, surprise flickering across her face before something more playful and more challenging replaces it. "Oh, is that what you’re doing?" she muses, arching a brow. "Trying to take charge?"

You lean in, dragging your nails down her toned stomach, feeling the way her muscles tense beneath your touch. "I don’t try, Prentiss. I do."

Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, you think you have her exactly where you want her. You dip your head, nipping at her jawline, trailing kisses down her neck, savoring the way her breath hitches when your teeth scrape against her pulse. Your fingers trail lower, reaching for the button of her pants

And then, in an instant, she moves.

Before you can react, Emily twists, flipping you onto your back with a breathless laugh, pinning your wrists above your head as she looms over you. "Nice try," she breathes against your lips, her grin smug.

You huff, tugging at your hands, but her grip is firm. "Oh, come on, you couldn’t just let me have my moment?"

Emily chuckles, shaking her head. "You’re adorable when you think you’re in charge."

You narrow your eyes at her, lips twitching despite yourself. "You’re so damn smug --"

But then she shifts her grip, and somehow, the movement is just awkward enough that you both end up toppling sideways on the mattress, tangled in limbs, laughing.

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, and you don’t even try to suppress it. Emily laughs, too; real, unrestrained, her face buried in the crook of your neck as she shakes with amusement.

"This is ridiculous," you manage between laughs, trying to untangle yourself, only to make it worse. "We’re supposed to be having angry sex, not rolling around like idiots."

Emily pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Oh, don’t worry," she murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I’ll still ruin you."

You shiver at the promise in her tone, your laughter fading into something softer, something charged.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you challenge, voice dipping into something sultry.

Emily grins, leaning down until her lips barely graze yours. "Patience," she whispers. "I like to take my time."

A shudder rolls through you as Emily’s lips move lower, her teeth grazing the curve of your neck before she soothes the spot with her tongue. Your pulse pounds beneath her touch, your breath coming quicker, heavier.

Her grip on your wrists is firm but no longer restraining. You could break free if you wanted. But the way her body presses against yours, the slow, deliberate drag of her lips down your collarbone, makes you forget why you’d ever want to.

"You’re so quiet now," Emily murmurs against your skin, her voice dripping with amusement. Her fingers trail along the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to skate across your stomach, teasing but not quite giving you what you want. "Where’s all that attitude from earlier?"

You exhale sharply as her nails rake lightly over your ribs, your back arching involuntarily into her touch. "You’re so damn smug," you breathe, though there’s no real bite to your words.

Just need.

Emily chuckles, her lips curving against your skin. "And you love it."

Before you can argue, before you can do anything at all, she shifts, moving down your body with agonizing slowness, her hands pushing your shirt up, her lips following the path her fingers carve. Each press of her mouth is soft, teasing, deliberate. Your skin is burning, desperate for more, for something less restrained.

You tangle your fingers in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her look up at you. Her dark eyes flicker with something wicked, her lips swollen from where she’s been kissing her way down your torso.

"Impatient?" she muses, her breath hot against your stomach.

Your fingers tighten in her hair. "I swear to god, Prentiss -"

"Relax," she murmurs, her voice velvety smooth as she glances up at you, her hands sliding possessively over your thighs. "I told you—I like to take my time."

A growl of frustration builds in your throat as Emily drags this out, her hands gripping your hips like she has all the time in the world. Your body is burning, every nerve alight with need, and she knows it. She loves it.

"Prentiss," you snap, voice rough, wrecked.

Emily just smirks, her fingers digging into your thighs, holding you down as she presses an open-mouthed kiss just above where you need her most.

"Still so demanding," she muses, her voice thick with amusement. But there’s a hunger in her eyes now, dark and molten, and when she moves this time, it’s with purpose.

And then she’s on you, her mouth hot and unrelenting, her fingers pushing your thighs apart without hesitation.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat at the first touch of her tongue - no teasing now, no patience, just raw, desperate hunger. She devours you, her grip bruising against your hips as she holds you in place, taking exactly what she wants.

You writhe beneath her, hands flying to her hair, gripping tight, tugging, trying to ground yourself as pleasure crashes over you in waves. But Emily doesn’t let up. If anything, the slight pull at her hair only fuels her, makes her groan against you, the vibrations sending another shock of pleasure straight through you.

"Fuck—Emily—"

Emily’s mouth is relentless, her tongue flicking and circling, dragging you closer and closer to that razor-sharp edge. You’re already trembling beneath her, your thighs twitching, your fingers tangled in her hair as she devours you like she needs this—like she can’t get enough.

And then fuck, she bites.

A sharp, deliberate press of her teeth against your clit, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure that sends a violent shudder through your entire body. The sensation is electric, too much and not enough all at once, and your back arches off the bed, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

Emily growls against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure straight through your core. She soothes the sting immediately, her tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves, but the damage is done.

You’re wrecked.

Your breath is ragged, your body taut like a bowstring, and Emily knows she has you now. Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging in, bruising. She loves watching you break.

"Fuck, Emily..." Your voice is raw, desperate, your hips jerking against her mouth, seeking more, everything.

She hums in approval, then does it again. A sharp little nip, followed by the soothing slide of her tongue, pushing you higher, driving you to the edge of madness.

Your vision blurs. Your entire body burns. Every nerve ending is focused on her. Her mouth, her hands, the way she’s tearing you apart piece by piece, devouring you with no intention of stopping.

You’re close, so dangerously close, teetering right on the brink. And Emily knows it.

"Come on," she rasps against you, her voice wrecked, commanding. "Let go."

And with one last flick of her tongue, one last bite - sharp, perfect, devastating - you do.

Pleasure slams through you, white-hot and overwhelming, a cry escaping your lips as your entire body locks up before shattering completely. You feel Emily’s hands gripping you, grounding you, holding you through every wave as she rides it out with you, drawing it out until you’re nothing but a trembling, gasping mess beneath her.

Only when she’s sure you’re done, completely spent and twitching, does she finally pull back.

She crawls back up your body, her lips slick, her breathing ragged, and she smirks, so damn smug, so utterly pleased with herself.

"You look good like this," she murmurs, dragging her teeth along your jaw, her voice thick with satisfaction. "All wrecked and desperate for me."

Your pulse is still erratic, your body still trembling, but you still manage to huff out a breathless laugh.

"Smug bitch," you whisper, your fingers tangling in her hair as you yank her down, your lips crashing against hers.

Because now?

It’s her turn to break.

Emily is a fighter. She's stubborn, defiant, smug. But right now? Right now, she’s crumbling.

Her wrists are pinned above her head, her body taut beneath you, her breath ragged as you hover over her, just out of reach. Your fingers skim down her stomach, featherlight, barely touching, just enough to torment.

"You want something, Prentiss?" you purr, lips brushing against her ear, your nails dragging over the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Emily exhales sharply, her body twitching at the ghost of your touch. But she’s holding on, biting back the words, refusing to give in so easily.

You grin. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Slowly, painfully, you trail your fingers lower, brushing against the heat between her thighs - slick, soaked, aching. You feel the way she tenses, the way her hips jerk instinctively toward your hand, but you pull away before she can get what she wants.

Emily lets out a frustrated groan, her head tipping back against the pillows. "Fucking tease," she grits out.

You chuckle, biting down on the side of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "Oh, I know you can do better than that," you murmur, sucking at the sensitive skin just below her jaw, making her squirm. "Come on, Emily. Ask for it."

Emily’s breath hitches, her nails digging into the sheets, her body shaking beneath you. But she’s still clinging to control, still trying to hold onto her pride.

So you make it worse.

You barely brush your fingers over her clit, the softest, most infuriating tease, and Emily whimpers. It’s quiet, barely audible but you hear it. And it’s the hottest fucking thing.

"You’re so wet for me," you whisper, dragging your lips down her throat, your fingers spreading her open but not giving her what she needs. "I could just stay here all night, watching you squirm."

"Jesus fuck," she rasps, her hips rolling up, chasing your touch. "Please --"

You pause.

Oh.

Your smirk widens as you lift your head, staring down at her. "Please, what?"

Emily glares at you, her dark eyes flashing, but it’s weakened now. She’s panting, her body trembling, her thighs shaking with need. She wants it, but more than that, she needs it.

"Say it," you demand, slipping just the tip of one finger inside her before pulling back out, watching the way her body jerks.

Emily breaks.

"Fuck me," she gasps, her voice wrecked, desperate. "Please - just - fuck me."

And fuck, you’re gone.

You thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying two fingers inside her, deep, stretching her open, and Emily screams. Her back arches violently off the bed, her hands flying to grip your arms, her nails raking down your skin as she clenches around you.

"Jesus, fuck --" she gasps, her head tipping back, her entire body trembling beneath you.

You don’t give her time to recover. You fuck her, hard, deep, fast, giving her exactly what she begged for, what she needs. Her moans are loud now, wrecked, raw, and you love it, live for it.

"That’s it," you growl, lips dragging over her jaw, feeling the way her body shakes beneath you. "That’s what you wanted, huh?"

Emily can’t even speak. Her nails dig in deeper, her thighs trembling as you thrust into her harder, faster, relentless.

And when she comes, she screams your name, her entire body shattering beneath you, her walls clenching so tight around your fingers that it nearly makes you dizzy.

You don’t stop until she’s wrecked, until she’s done, until she’s nothing but a trembling, breathless mess beneath you.

And then, finally, you slow, pulling your fingers out of her with a deliberate slowness, dragging one last moan from her lips.

When you meet her gaze, she’s ruined - her eyes dark and hazy, her lips swollen, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths.

You grin.

"Good girl," you murmur against her lips.

And Emily?

She just laughs low, breathless and wrecked.

"Round two," she whispers, voice hoarse, hungry. "You’re mine."

And then she flips you again.

Because this?

This is far from over.

[ironinc]

Rivalry's Reward.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Spider-man/Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ While attending your dream college in New York, you and Peter share a competitive dynamic. Constantly trying to outdo each other in class. However, when you both find yourselves locked in detention together, your tension takes a different turn. With the professor temporarily gone, you're left alone, free to explore the attraction that's been building between you two.

⤷ Oneshot, smut very detailed so here’s the warning. Public sex since it is in a classroom. And lowkey enemies to lovers.

⤷ A/N: This is my first story for Spiderman aka Peter Parker so please do bare with me 😫. Btw this space “__” Is just your name. I just don’t like typing Y/N. Also in this story they are attending college so essentially Peter is aged up to 20 years old. Just wanna make that clear.

⤷ Word count: 2,070

⤷ Special song to add spice: Pretty Little Birds by SZA ft Isaiah Rashad

જ⁀➴

The air in the detention room was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. You sat at the desk, arms crossed, staring daggers at Peter Parker across the room. He leaned back in his chair, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Of course, he had to look so smug. You’d been at each other’s throats all week, competing for the top spot in every class—calculus, chemistry, even gym. And now, here you were, stuck in detention together, the universe’s idea of a cruel joke.

“Still mad about the pop quiz?” Peter quipped, his voice dripping with faux innocence. You could hear the laughter in his tone, and it only fueled your irritation.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward, fingers drumming against the desk. “You only won because you cheated,” you shot back, though you knew it wasn’t true. Peter was annoyingly smart, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Cheated?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “You’re just mad because I outsmarted you. Again.”

The room felt smaller with every passing second, the walls closing in as the heat of your frustration mingled with something else—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, a fire neither of you could ignore. You glared at him, your chest rising and falling with every sharp breath. “Outsmarted? Please. You’re just lucky.”

Peter leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a spark in them, a challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re just too stubborn to admit when you’re beat.”

The words hung in the air, charged and electric. Your pulse quickened, and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. But it wasn’t anger. Not entirely. It was something else, something dangerous. You held his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch. “I’m not beat,” you said, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Not by a long shot.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Peter’s eyes never left yours, and you could see the shift in them, the way the amusement faded, replaced by something darker, more intense. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, a tension so palpable it felt like it could shatter with a single touch.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Peter stood up. You watched him as he walked towards you, each step deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath catching in your throat as he stopped just inches away. “Prove it,” he said, his voice soft, almost a challenge.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. This was Peter Parker, your rival, the boy who drove you crazy in every sense of the word. And yet, here you were, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t explain. You stood up, meeting his gaze head-on, your chin tilted in defiance. “Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “But don’t blame me when you lose.”

Peter’s smirk returned, but it was different this timeless teasing, more predatory. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Oh, I’m not worried about losing,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “I’m more interested in seeing how far you’re willing to go.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt your resolve waver. But then, something inside you snapped, a defiance that refused to back down. You stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, and looked up into his eyes. “Careful, Parker,” you said, your voice a whisper. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then, his hand was on your waist, pulling you closer, his body flush against yours. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made your head spin and your heart race. “I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice barely audible before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was fierce, desperate, a clash of wills as you gave as good as you got. His hands were everywhere, in your hair, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling slightly, eliciting a low growl from him that sent a shiver down your spine. The desk behind you was cold against your back, but you barely noticed, too consumed by the heat of his body pressed against yours.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, Peter’s eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. “Still think you can outsmart me?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

You smirked, your confidence returning as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. “This isn’t about smarts, Parker,” you murmured. “This is about who’s in control.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as he traced a finger along your jawline. “And who’s in control?” he asked, his voice teasing.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Let’s find out,” you whispered. 

Your fingers found the hem of your shirt and slowly, teasingly, began to pull it up. His eyes followed your every movement, his breath hitching as you revealed more and more of your skin. The tension between you was electric, and you could feel the heat of his gaze as you finally removed the shirt, leaving you in just your bra. 

His eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you had won this round. But Peter wasn’t one to back down. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck.

 “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. You shivered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted your head back, giving him better access. “Maybe I like dangerous,” you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation. 

His hands moved lower, gripping your hips he pushed you back, pressing your back against the desk. 

His lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. You could feel the heat of his body as he pressed against you, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

Peter smirked against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. 

You shivered at his words, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. 

His hands moved to your waistband, slowly sliding your pants down your legs. You stepped out of them, your heart racing as he stood back to admire you. “God, you’re perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

His hands found your hips again, pulling you close as he kissed you deeply. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and you moaned softly into his mouth. 

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice shaking with desire. He pulled away, his eyes dark with need as he looked down at you. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his belt. “You,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he let you unbuckle his belt, his hands moving to the hem of your panties. “You’re so fucking sexy, __” he murmured, his voice low and rough. 

You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you undid the button on his pants. He stepped out of them, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled you into another kiss. 

The heat of his body against yours was overwhelming, and you moaned softly into his mouth. “Peter," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. 

He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he said, his voice husky. You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest. But then, with a slow, deliberate smile, you reached for his cock. "I want you," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

Just from the small touch, he let out a small groan. His lips brushed against your ear. "Good," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

 "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your fingers trembling as you guided him to your entrance.

The anticipation was killing you, every second feeling like an eternity. "Peter," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "Please." His eyes darkened, and with a low growl, he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. 

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, slow at first, then faster, harder. 

The desk creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the feel of him, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before. "God, you’re so tight," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

“I cannot get enough of you” You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as he thrust into you, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaking with need. 

"Don’t stop." He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Not a chance," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "You’re mine now." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. 

"I’m close." He smirked, his eyes dark with desire. “Not so fast beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name." You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

 You shivered at his words, your body trembling with pleasure as he continued to move, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Peter," you gasped, your voice shaky with need as you clung to him. 

"I’m so close." His lips brushed your ear, his voice a growl. "Let go. I’ve got you." And with that, your entire body tensed, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as you came undone beneath him.

 He groaned, his own release following quickly after, not forgetting to pull out of you. His body shuddering against yours. For a moment, you both froze, breaths ragged, hearts pounding as you came down from the high. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the faint tremor in his hands as they gripped your hips.

"Guess I lost this round," you murmured, your voice soft and teasing. Peter chuckled, a low, breathless sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

 "Not a loss," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "Just the start of something new." You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "So, what now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Now," he said, his voice low and filled with promise, "we see who really has the upper hand tonight… Let me take you downtown for a quick swing.” 

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his comment about 'swinging' around the city. Challenged, you nodded in acceptance. He smirked, already eager to one-up you, as your friendly rivalry kicked into high gear once more. 

After quickly getting dressed, you sat down just in time, as the professor walked back into class. It seemed this game of wits would continue, fueled by the tension that lingered between you two.

Mr. Harrington narrowed his gaze at both of you, his stern tone leaving no room for protest. "You two better have put this 'who's smarter' thing behind you."

You and Peter quickly exchanged a knowing look before sharing a mutual chuckle.

"Yeah, we made up, Mr. Harrington. You don't have to worry."

Mr.Harrington reluctantly let the matter drop, resuming the silent detention session. 

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAA!#%$*# - Guys, how did I do? I hope my stories aren't really repetitive but what can I say?? I just know past me would of been sliding down a wall reading this, and that's the best part of this all.

(Credits: 888hnh)

- Please let me know if you want more ᥫ᭡.

[loveandleases]

Everytime I saw a Chris reaction to MC they seem to harbor feelings about them no matter what and I wonder how mc made Chris wanted to settle with someone

Also Lea I want to be an anon again 😭 pretty please 🥺

This is gonna be a lil lengthy so, bare with me.

So, MC didn’t feed into Chris’s need for validation. To them, Chris was just another person. They weren't extraordinary, they didn't hang the stars in the sky. They weren't someone to be idolized. It wasn't as if Chris' wealth could impress MC (because MC already knew their family. They knew the kind of wealth the Clarke's possess.) MC knew Chris, Kara, and Cam. But because those two were always taken on these lavish trips, MC was closer to Cam.

Things changed when MC attended university. Chris and G were stuck sharing a dorm, and Cam was with Peri. So, MC/Chris began spending more time together. (Chris refused to make themself scarce.) The more time they spent together, the more Chris began to see MC in a different light. MC’s lack of awe threw Chris off their game, not only was that unusual- it was infuriating. It became a challenge that they couldn’t ignore. Chris was so used to being catered to and fawned over when MC didn't act as Chris expected, it only caused Chris to become fixated on proving their worth. They craved the validation that MC was withholding from them but giving to others. (cam, g, etc.)

Chris would watch how MC treated Cam, showering him with affection and loyalty. (and eventually G as well.) In the meantime, they were barely acknowledging Chris, and it stung. To Chris, MC's indifference was a threat to their ego. For someone so used to being the center of attention, MC’s refusal to play into that dynamic only made them more intriguing.

Over time, that fixation deepened. Chris saw MC as different, even special, Chris saw how MC's attention/admiration could elevate their sense of self. (ugh, that ego.) In past relationships, Chris barely cared about their partners. Just another face, another name. MC stood out. They were unattainable, and that made Chris want to possess them even more.

In time, in their flawed way, Chris began to care for MC. (it wasn't pure and sure as hell wasn't selfless.) Those feelings lingered. MC wasn't just an object to boost Chris' ego anymore, they became someone that Chris genuinely wanted in their life. Chris cared for MC more than they had expected. The complexity of Chris’s feelings made it difficult to let go, and the idea of MC slipping away felt like losing something important, even if Chris couldn’t fully admit why. (still struggles to)

For the first time, Chris could imagine being happy and settling down. (not to mention having MC would validate Chris' self-worth.) MC represented a lot for Chris: a prize, a challenge, and the promise of something Chris couldn't control. (someone they actually cared about and then of course fucked over.)

[sincerelyriize]

cotton candy | p.wb

“so we just have sex to solve all our problems”

💿now playing: cotton candy by yungblud

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Wonbin, is so fucking stubborn that he never knows when, how or why he should apologise. Good thing he’s good at hot, sweaty make-up sex though.

❯ pairings: wonbin x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, angst, smut

❯ words: 1.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, make-up sex, pretty arguing for like a second, wonbin is insufferably stubborn, mention of marking, unprotected sex, lowkey a toxic dynamic oops

an: this fic has absolutely nothing to do with cotton candy, or the song really lol, i was just inspired by this one lyric.

Park Wonbin is stubborn—but not as stubborn as you.

He never thought he’d meet someone who could rival him in that department, let alone end up dating them. It’s a mess, really. Maybe even toxic. Because while he loves every single part of you, when the two of you argue, it’s like fire meeting fire.

It gets nasty. Personal. Downright vicious. Honestly, your friends can’t figure out how you’ve lasted this long—especially since neither of you ever wants to be the first to back down. Apologising? Yeah, no.

Wonbin doesn’t apologise.

But this time, he really should.

It started the same, always does, over something petty like the dishes, or jealousy or when he works long hours and forgets to schedule you in but always seems to have time for the boys. That last one was oddly specific because it’s the exact reason you’ve been screaming at each other in his apartment for the past twenty minutes.

You’d jabbed at his chest with your finger and he’d swatted it away. The fury in his eyes lit aflame, and you weren’t sure you saw an end in sight.

But then he said it.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

That was the end. Because stubborn might as well have been your middle name, and you were ready to make good on his threat—if only his apartment wasn’t so far from yours.

“Fine, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“Fine,” he spat.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed off to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy with anger. You didn’t bother slamming the door—too cliché—but the sharp click of it shutting was enough to drive your point home.

You busied yourself with grabbing whatever you’d brought over—a spare set of clothes, your charger, a few toiletries—but the more you moved around the room, the more frustrated you became. Your hands shook as you stuffed items into your bag, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from yelling.

Yelling would give him too much satisfaction, and satisfaction was the last thing you wanted to give him right now.

You throw yourself onto the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. The covers feel cold, they always do when he’s not there to cuddle you asleep, not that you’d want that right now, you’d technically just broken up—maybe—ugh, you don’t know. He’s too complicated to work out.

Instead, you curl up on your side, the pillow barely softening the tension in your neck. And sleep doesn’t come easily—your mind replays every word, every jab, and that final, infuriating sentence: “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Asshole.

Hours pass, the silence of the apartment punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the low hum of the city outside. Your phone screen glares at you from the nightstand, but you ignore it. You weren’t about to scroll through social media for comfort—not tonight.

The doorknob turns with a faint click, and the door opens just enough for him to slip inside. The soft rustle of his clothes and the weight of his footsteps tell you exactly who it is.

You don’t move. Don’t look. Just stay still, pretending to be asleep.

And then the bed dips—but it’s not like you can be mad—this is his house, his room, his bed.

Just…why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn? You’re not going to apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong.

And like you said, Wonbin doesn’t apologise either.

Well…not verbally, at least.

Because within minutes, the shift in the mattress goes from tentative to deliberate. His hand slides across your waist, pulling you flush against him, and before you can even protest, he’s pressing into you—pinning you to the bed, his actions saying everything his pride won’t.

Because when Wonbin knows he’s wrong, he’s bad with words. Instead his body moves against yours, wordlessly pleading for forgiveness the only way he knows how—telling you he regrets what he did.

This is the exact reason he doesn’t apologise. Why should he when he can just fuck you silly and make up?

It’s always from the back after you fight, and you’ve come to understand that it’s because Wonbin doesn’t want to look into your eyes and see any lingering hurt. He's not supposed to be the one that hurts you, he hates it actually.

His hands wrap around your wrists, smashing your palms against the mattress as his slender frame rubs against your back, allowing you to feel every inch of his hot, sweat-soaked skin as he thrusts.

His face finds his favourite place, buried in your nape, because there’s something so possessive about it; and he needs to mark it because he doesn’t want you to leave. He might have said it, yes, but he didn’t mean it. You have to know he didn't mean it.

Your nails dig into the sheets as he licks and sucks, leaving his signature purple love bites across your flesh. You practically mewel into the pillow you’re chewing on when he dips between your shoulder blades and marks there too.

He’s really drilling it home, and you can feel all of the passion and love he has for you poured into his fucking, but it’s almost not enough.

It’s too easy. He’s too easy to forgive considering he hasn’t muttered the word ‘sorry’ since you met him.

But as you turn around to try and even attempt to reprimand him, one look at the crimson tint on his pale complexion and the heavy lidded haze on his eyes has you clenching around his cock. And then the fucker had to go and whimper, the sound so faint and vunberable it was impossible to be mad at him.

“Binnie—” you moan, arching your back to give him a better angle, pushing yourself into his fervent rutting.

Your head rolls against your shoulders, tilting back, needing a better look of him. His unruly black hair damp and sticking to his own face, his lip chewed from biting down. He nuzzles close to your cheek, panting and grunting in your ear and it becomes your undoing.

“Baby, kiss me…” you plead with him for just a little taste, your lips parted, jaw hanging slack and your eyes dazed.

You can’t believe you’re the one begging him right now.

Instead of answering you, Wonbin only grunts and nests his face into your neck, where he kisses and sucks and nibbles on your pulse point as his hips slap against your ass in rapid, needy thrust. He keeps uttering your name, whining it in between his ragged breaths, squeezing both of your wrists until your fingers are tingling.

You can tell that he’s right on the edge, chasing his elusive high deep into your cunt, his sensitive tip twitching and throbbing as it daubs at your inner nerves. Your stomach knots up.

“Oh, fuck, Bin—!”

Wonbin wraps a gentle fist around your neck and guides your face back into the pillows, shushing you breathlessly as he does so. You know why— you’re so damn loud when he fucks you like this, and Wonbin is a jealous man. Your moans are his to hear—not his lousy neighbour who he has seen checking you out a couple of times.

That could start another argument on its own.

As you both settle, your body trembling with aftershocks and his twitching needily, you feel him pull out with a long, shaking moan. Your body reacts, missing the feel of him. You roll onto your back, panting whilst staring at the ceiling and he sits back on his knees.

You look at him and manage a small smile, though his face remains clouded with a frown. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before darting away. You sigh, already knowing what this means—you’ll have to be the one to speak first.

“Baby, c’mere,” you say softly, opening your arms.

It’s all the invitation he needs. Without a word, he slides into your hold, his movements almost hesitant as he rests his head against your chest. He avoids your gaze, even as your fingers thread gently through his damp hair.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice tender and low. “I forgive you. I love you.”

Maybe Park Wonbin was as stubborn as you.

[meanbossart]

So we know Drow and Orin were a thing, but what was Drow’s relationship with Gortash and/or Ketheric like? Asking because I did a little post about my Durge Dude’s relationship with the other chosen recently, wondered what your Durge’s were, and I don’t think you’ve ever told us what Drow’s dynamics and/or history with them so I’m curious

I talked about this a long, long time ago, I think Gortash has a tag in my archive if you want to dig up those old posts. However, while my ideas have remained more or less the same I do think they require some comprehensive updating! So here we go.

Ketheric:

Their relationship might as well have been nonexistent, which kind of seems to be the pattern here for Ketheric among the chosen seeing as he was in this plan for vastly different reasons. DU drow rarely saw the general if not to strategize alongside the others or strut around moonrise towers finding things to scoff at.

Unlike Gortash, Ketheric didn't care for networking or keeping things amicable - he remained cold and uncaring through DU drow's occasional attempts to get a rise out of him, expressing discontent in the lest amusing way possible if nor outright ignoring him. He never extended him a hand or an invitation for brunch, he never spoke a word about himself lest it be used against him - as it happened with the little that had to be shared. The only time DU drow ever saw Ketheric flinch was whenever he expressed his strong desire to go pay Isobel his respects.

Gortash:

DU drow and Gortash were "friends" in the most strained and flimsy sense of the word. Gortash strikes me as a the kind of guy who will forego all dignity if it favors him on the long term, for both practicity's sake and possibly an ingrained penchant for self destruction. DU drow saw this, and the moment he caught onto the fact that he was indispensable for Gortash's plans, he started to pick at him ever so subtly to see how far he could be pushed before breaking. He insulted Gortash's appearance, choices, faith, background, family, he destroyed his property and made a bad job of covering up his tracks on purpose, he sent followers to kill his men in the hopes of seeing him be stressed out about it the next day. It never worked. Gortash still invited him to his dinners, still shook his hand, still remained unambiguously smug - it would be infuriating if it wasn't impressive. Respectful, even.

But even if they were amicable, even if they were on "acceptable terms" and the closest thing each other had to a real, equal friendship, DU drow always saw Gortash as a sniveling child trying to play grown-up; lacking in any real free-will of his own because his pursuits were motivated entirely by a sob-story of a past. Gortash did not fit the britches that he was trying to wear, and DU drow had a sneaking suspicion that if he ever got to the top, to the place where he was trying to be - commander of the world and killer of the universe, side by side with him - that then, then he would finally break; once he realized that all he had accomplished was isolating himself with the most cruel man in the world.

And he dreamed of this day. He fantasized about it. He eagerly awaited to see Gortash's face drop the second he got everything he ever wanted - he got a glint in his eye picturing it whenever they toasted or shared a laugh about their brilliant futures. He loved Gortash like a butcher loves a fat cow that's going to keep in alive during the coming winter. It's still a kind of love. It's always a kind of love with him.

[reiincarnatiion]

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part one

summary : 3 sisters for 3 brothers....right? Azriel believes wholeheartedly that Elain should be his mate and in doing so ignores his deep feelings for you.

🧚‍♀️

a/n : I haven't written in like 6 years since my draco malfoy and kpop fanfictions HAHA so please forgive me I am rusty!! Also I wrote this on my phone eeee

but finally eee I'm so excited to post my first writing on tumblr !! I was always a quotev and wattpad girly but here I am finally... 💗

just writing some rough short stories rn but I'll def write more as I get more comfortable again and into the rhythm! let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

ps: it's not proof read cuz I'm lazy I'm so sorry so please ignore mistakes dearies

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You watched as Azriel bent down to whisper something into Elains ear and you felt a growl beginning to build up in your throat.

You didn't know the mating bond did this ; make one so possessive and jealous that the half-moon nail marks on your palms had become blood red, from gripping your fists too strongly.

"I just don't understand why you can't tell him," a voice whispers next to you. You turn to acknowledge Mor, as she slips in next to you into the booth.

"Because the moment I do, this whole dynamic changes Mor," you whisper back, indicating to the sprawl of people around you.

You guys had come to Rita's once again, to party, drink, kiss and do other nonsense things Cassian had eagerly talked about, whilst pitching the idea to the group. It had started off fun, with everyone talking together but as the night had progressed, they had all paired off. You could see Feyre and Rhys making out in the corner of your eyes and Nesta and Cassian dancing around each other on the club floor. Elain and Azriel had also innocently gotten up and moved to another table, using a range of excuses you hadn't bothered to process.

Even Mor had a female making eyes at her from afar.

"Then change the dynamic, Y/N. I need some excitement in my life," she whispered furiously again and slid out, stalking to the female at the bar.

Groaning you sunk into the booth, left alone to your thoughts plagued by one thing only, Azriel.

The repetitive music slowly faded out, as you downed drink after drink, watching the others around you mingle and grind away into the depths of the night. They would come past your table and say a few words before being dragged away again.

But not once did he come. Not once did he even look in your direction... and it infuriated you.

"You look more miserable than me,"

You blinked, looking up to focus in on the flop of red hair, braids and whizzing metallic eye and a handsome jawline.

"Lucien!!!" you let out a whine, attempting to get up but falling back down in the process, not having realised how much strong alcohol you had consumed in the last hour.

"Woah there stargirl," he slipped in next to you, using the nickname only he used for you.

Lucien and you had met on Starfall, as you had been leaning on the balcony, apparently being half a second from falling over because of your drunk eagerness to "catch one of the stars", and since then, he had named you Stargirl. Your friendship had blossomed due to your matching humour and desire to travel the realms.

His shoulder pressed up against you, his warmth spread through you, making you feel giddy. You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or your desperation, as you abruptly laid a hand on his thigh.

If he noticed, he didn't show it as he took a swig of one of the elixirs that you had in your hand.

As he drank, you watched his eyes zero in on his elusive mate and you swore you saw them darken.

His scent visibly changed as he placed the now empty cup back on the table with a lethal fluidness that had you wondering how good he was at controlling his emotions.

"Its a shame we are mated to the wrong people, otherwise you and I would have ruled the world" he whispers, still not looking at you.

Your breath catching in your throat, your heavy heart pangs with emotion, exaggerated from the effects of the ethanol.

"At least she knows you are her mate Lucien... he doesn't even know about me," you miserably mutter.

You feel Luciens hot gaze rest on you as you look up into his deep eyes.

There's no doubt the turmoil of seeing each other's mates together shines in both of your eyes, but behind the pathetic nature of the situation, a force glint shines through his.

"Then why don't we tell him, Y/N," he urges, a smirk growing on his face.

Your heart drops as you make eye contact with Lucien, his eyes glinting with jealousy and anger.

You had never seen Lucien ever break his calm facades, he always would take whatever Elain would throw at him ; why was he so fired up tonight?

"You have always been so kind to Elain and given her time Lucien, why do you want to make her jealous now?" you voice your thoughts, causing him to look away, as you attempt to search his eyes.

Little did you know or feel, the dark cool gaze that had been assessing you since the moment Lucien had slipped in.

If one were to look through your party at this moment in time, the looks of longing and jealously swirling between you and Lucien could easily have been interpreted as longing and hunger for each other. With now, your full body turned to him, intimately touching him, shoulder to shoulder, anyone could mistake you as a couple.

---

Azriel nodded patiently as he listened to Elain talk about the new plants she wished to acquire from the Dawn Court for her garden.

He was trying so hard to listen and be attentive, but it was difficult when his shadows were buzzing about him, even more frantically, with the effects of the alcohol he had been consuming throughout the night.

He knew the amount of pumps of the vanilla perfume you had sprayed onto yourself, he knew how many times you had sighed throughout the night and he knew of the half-moon marks on your hands. His shadows told him everything, even when he didn't want to know.

For he didn't want to know the looks Lucien and you were giving each other, he didn't want to acknowledge the clenching of your thighs or the hand on your thigh or the-

"-So what do you think Azriel?"

Elains sweet voice cut in deeply through his silent spiralling, as he hummed coming back to the present.

Her big doe eyes innocently looked up at him as he racked his brain for what she had been asking about.

"YES I think the plants would be wonderful-," he began, when his shadows started screaming, "Elain excuse me one moment."

He quickly got up, his eyes narrow and jaw clenching as he went to get out of the booth in haste.

Elains eyes followed him and they widened slightly.

Luciens' hands were on your waist, holding you up from behind, as you both made your way to the dance floor, giggling.

---

read [ part two ] here deariess <3

[daydreams-after-dark]

Minho, seungmin, and hyunjin seems really fitting for hatefuck or angry sex tbh 🤔🤔🤔

What do u think and how would they be like, and how did it happen to smth

My sweet dude, thinking about this ask is doing things to me 🥵 I agree these three fit the “hatefucking” agenda perfectly. I want them to put me in my place and fuck me hard!!!

So here is how I imagine if playing out, and I’d love to know your thoughts…

🤬🤬🤬🤬

Minho - Your dynamic with Minho is one full of banter. A push-pull. You see each other as equals - both sarcastic, condescending assholes. The hate fucking is mutual. You give just as good as you get. You tell him he’s useless with his cock, yet you cry his name when you come when he’s hitting you deep. He tells you you’re his little bitch (whatever your gender), but he’s whipped for you, canceling plans in case you call him over to your place. You both pretend you don’t like each other, even despise each other. Sex is just for convenience, and that makes him angry because he wants you to be his and only his. He takes his jealousy out on you, using his cock. The sex is highly explosive because you are both spitting insults at each other the whole time. When he’s had enough of you running your mouth, he face-fucks you brutally. He loves nothing more than shutting you up and seeing tears run down your face while you choke on him. It’s too much for him, and there’s been more than one occasion where he’s almost let slip how much he actually loves you.

Seungmin - You flirt with other men to rile him up and make him angry whilst pretending you didn't do anything wrong. You gas light the fuck out of him, telling him he's imagining things, even though you deliberately wear skimpy clothes and rub yourself up against them and giggle. It's infuriating for him to watch, and when he finally gets you alone, he whispers in your ear how much you're going to pay for your behaviour when you get home. Sometimes he doesn't even get you home. He's been known to pull you behind a pillar at a function and clamp his hand on your mouth while he fucks you. Anyone can walk past. Other times he demands you suck him off while he drives home, or if it's late at night he pulls the car over to fuck you over the hood of of the car. If you do manage to escape punishment until you're actually home, you’re in deep shit. He makes you kneel in front of him where he’ll call you names. Then he’ll cut your clothes off with scissors. He’ll make you straddle him and ride him reverse while he pays no attention to you - like you’re a nuisance. Then, he’ll snap and use all type jealousy and anger to fuel his thrusts. He’ll hold you up by your hair while he slams into you from behind. He doesn’t want to see your face. He just wants to use your holes. That’s what you’re reduced to when he’s hatefucking you.

Hyunjin - You intentionally be a brat to him. tease him, do things deliberately to in annoy him, like move his favourite things, or make it hard for him to concentrate. You get in his face when he’s busy, trying to get his attention. You’re also extremely bombastic and loud when you’re out in a group and all he can do is roll his eyes and bite his lip in irritation. But he looks so sexy when he’s annoyed and so you continue to push his buttons until he can’t ignore you any longer. He retaliates. He bites back. He gets you on your back, caging you in underneath him while he looks at you with disdain. It turns you on. Hatefucking with Hyunjin is intense, sweaty, hard. But it’s not a fast fuck, he takes his time like he’s trying to torture you with his cock. He thrusts into you over and over. You want him to pick up the pace, but he doesn’t give you what you want. He simply watches you, looks you in the eyes, as your impaled with his cock for hours.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 6)

pairing: dark!carol danvers x fem!reader - edging

summary: twisted game of love and control, that carol loves to play

warnings: a bit dark!carol, edging, smut, power dynamics, metaphorical language (lol i tried don´t come at me) and a potentially toxic but deeply loving relationship.

wordcount: 1k

an: i tried something new with writing smut, so i hope you´ll like it, because i did really enjoyed myself:)

You knew what you were walking into the moment Carol's eyes found yours. That steady, predatory gaze, the way she moved with a purpose that sent a shiver through you every time. It was like a mouse walking willingly into a trap, knowing full well that escape was never an option, yet unable to resist. You’d come to her, knowing what it would lead to, the familiar ache of both fear and excitement tugging at your insides.

She loves me, you remind yourself as your hands are pinned above your head, Carol’s fingers tight around your wrists like iron. She does. But as her lips graze your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, it’s hard to ignore the dark edge in her touch, the way she handles you like you're something precious, but also hers. Completely. Entirely. And yet, your mind whispers, this isn’t the way it should be.

But you’d known what you were walking into.

Carol’s breath is warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. She whispers something, her voice low, teasing, but there’s a possessiveness that’s undeniable. "I know you like this," she says, and the worst part is, she’s right. The power she has over you, the control, the way she holds you on the edge of everything, it draws you in like a moth to a flame.

You do like it, you realize with a mix of shame and desire twisting inside you. It’s as though she’s the hunter, and you’re her prey, caught and cornered, but loving every second of it. Her eyes darken as she watches your reaction, like she’s savoring your submission, the way your body responds to every subtle move she makes.

But this isn’t right, you think, trying to remind yourself, trying to reason with the part of you that still believes you can resist. I love her. But this... this is too much. You struggle against the feelings, the overwhelming need that’s building inside you as she keeps you teetering on the edge of pleasure, never letting you fall, never letting you have what you so desperately want.

“Carol,” you whisper, barely managing to speak, “this... this isn’t the way.” But your words are weak, crumbling under the weight of your own desire. It’s hard to argue with the way your body betrays you, arching into her touch, wanting more despite the part of you that screams this is dangerous.

Carol chuckles softly, her voice dark and sweet, like honey laced with venom. "Isn't it?" she asks, her lips brushing yours, but she pulls away before you can taste her fully. The denial only intensifies everything, every nerve on fire, every breath harder to take. "You always come back to me. You love this. You love me."

And she's right. You do. But it’s like being caught in quicksand, the more you struggle, the deeper you sink. You wonder if this is what it's like to truly lose yourself in someone, to let go completely, to give them every part of you even when you know it’s dangerous.

Carol keeps you teetering, her hands roaming over your body with an infuriating slowness. You’re so close, and yet she keeps pulling you back, every time you feel the relief coming, she denies you, like she’s savoring your torment. “Not yet, baby,” she whispers, her voice a silken promise. “I’ll decide when.”

Your body trembles, frustration and desire mixing in your veins like poison, but it’s intoxicating. Why can’t I stop? You know this game all too well, yet every time, you’re here again, drawn into her web, your love for her blinding you to the danger.

But isn’t that what you wanted all along?

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but it’s impossible with Carol’s hands still exploring every inch of you like she owns you, because in moments like this, it feels like she does. Your mind races, heart pounding as the edge of pleasure becomes unbearable, and yet you can’t bring yourself to stop her.

“Carol, please…” The words escape your lips before you can stop them, a mixture of desperation and surrender. You hate how weak they sound, how needy, but there’s no room for pride now, not when your body aches for release, and she knows it.

Carol’s lips curl into a wicked smile, her fingers tracing a slow path along your jawline, sending shivers through your body. “Please what?” she teases, her voice low, dangerous, and full of promise. “You want something from me?”

You nod, biting your lip, but the admission feels like stepping further into her trap. And yet, you can’t help it. You’re hers, and you know it. Carol’s gaze darkens, and you feel her power over you like a physical force, drawing you in deeper, making you crave more, even as every instinct screams that you should resist.

“You’re so cute when you beg,” she whispers, her breath hot against your neck. You feel her shift, her body pressing into yours just enough to remind you of her strength, her dominance. Her hands slide lower, but they’re still teasing, still keeping you right at that maddening edge. “But you know I’m not done playing with you yet.”

The frustration coils tighter inside you, the ache growing unbearable. You feel like a toy in her hands, every touch deliberate, every second drawn out to make you burn for her more. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, each one more desperate than the last.

“I… I love you,” you manage to say, as if that might change anything. And it does. Carol pauses for a moment, her expression softening, but only slightly.

“I know you do,” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over yours. “And I love you. That’s why I’ll always take my time with you.” Her voice lowers, darker, full of control. “But you should’ve known better than to think I’d make it easy on you.”

It’s in that moment you realize, that no matter how much you want to break free, no matter how much you might protest, you’ll always come back to her, always fall back into her arms, willingly caught in her trap.

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this, because i really enjoyed writing it:)

[kyunniebuns]

Hello!!! I've been reading ur jinwoo fanfics everyday bc I'm addicted hehe. But though I do have 1 question, and I'd respect any opinions. Do you think Cha Hae-in and our boy jinwoo is fated for e/o? Honestly speaking, she came out of nowhere.. I honestly thought him and his healer friend was gonna be together!(I forgot her name:() it would be cute and good dynamic to see them be together. Hey, Cha Hae-in is gorgeous she's a girlboss like slay. But he literally like ignored(?) or did not respect jinwoo until she found out he was strong. So in my opinion I think Jinwoo would look more good with his old healer friend☹️❤️‍🩹🫂 she looks like she was inlove with jinwoo too.. so I kinda feel bad for her. But I guess whatever makes jinwoo happy‼️ but what do you think?

...I'm gonna get flamed and blocked but here's what i ithink

They could've worked honestly. I get the allure of Power couple but on my personal preferrence i never rlly cared abt that kind of dynamic xD. Jinwoo and Hae-in's dynamic feel so sudden and uh forced? It's rllly jst random. But i never read the novel because im lazy and i read other novels. i heard they have more(?) chemistry there? Ik ppl will flame me for this but I rlly think its complete bullshit that such a wonderful and powerful woman like Cha Hae-in is reduced to just a trophy(by trophy I mean for the mc to get as a reward for his efforts. Hae-in feels like that even tho ik she's more than that, that's rlly how she was used in the plot im srry but i still love her to some degree) for Jinwoo. I heard in the anime they will make her have more personality? But so far all I've seen are jst plain fanservice (The fanservice also applies to Jinwoo //hello miner jinwoo but atleast we have more emotional development with him) Hae-in x Jinwoo for me is a mess. Could've worked but not developed right. As u said, yeah, she appeared out of nowhere. The healer named Juhee is where the real chemistry started really, I like their relationship because Juhee saw Jinwoo at his worst and I'm a sucker for dynamics where the love interest has seen the mc at his lowest point. Jinwoo had a chemistry with her that Hae-in didn't have qq. I wish Hae-in and Jinwoo had a proper development, but for me Juhee still wins in these aspects. But Juhee developed well imo since she chose herself and her happiness. A good-ish way for her to leave the plot but her departure is very sad for me.

Imagine a plot where Juhee discovered Jinwoo in danger and she rushes headfirst in despite her ptsd, wouldn't that be a wonderful plot?

Hae-in shouldn't have been used as a reward for Jinwoo. I really think she should be given a spotlight just for her. It's sour on my mouth that generally if you think of Hae-in it's "Jinwoo's wife" and "Suho's mother" coming to mind instead of this brilliant and awe-inspiring swordswoman who dominates the hunter industry. It's so infuriating that she's rlly jst for waifu uses;;. So yeah, that's my take. Jinwoo x Hae-in doesn't really work for me and it randomly appeared. Juhee x Jinwoo will forever be a plot I will never stop mourning.(ALSO TY FOR LIKING MY WORKS HAHAH QWQ!!!)

so all in all, nope, not fated, the reader have more dynamics with jinwoo atp

[rawbin-hsr]

Hi!! Saw ur taking requests, do you mind making some hcs for how a queerplatonic relationship with aven would be like? Demiro/ace aven is so dear to me, and being on the grayromantic spectrum myself, I really wanna just like, have this super deep bond with him where we're both each other's most important person without a doubt and physically affectionate but not like, romantic if u know what I meann (plus, I think a platonic relationship that goes past friendship and full of care would help him so much)

but I understand a lot of ppl aren't aware of how qpps work, so it's ok if you ignore this!! <3

ANON. ANON I LOVE YOU. YOU GET IT.

As someone on the aroace spectrum (I’m like 90% sure I can’t romantically love people; I only experience infatuation for three months at most before realising that I actually only want a close friendship 💀) I love love love this take on Aventurine and I’m so happy you’re asking me to do hcs on this !!!

This turned out a LOT longer than I planned and became like a whole story not just headcanons HELP I’m sorry bro I hope you don’t mind 😭😭🙏🙏 At the start it’s not even about being qpps it’s just about him learning to tolerate you that was not on purpose I apologise deeply, I promise the hcs come in at the end 💀

Queerplatonic Aventurine x Reader Headcanons

CW: queer dynamics, cursing, Aventurine’s messed up perception of people around him, Aventurine in general tbh (he's toxic I'm gonna be so real 😭), brief mention of sex but nothing actually happens, very soft and sweet (mostly), a lil bit of hurt/comfort, small mention of his sexual trauma towards the end, gender-neutral reader

Lmk if I missed anything !

Also sorry anon I forgot you specified demiro/ace he ended up basically just purely aroace 😭 I hope that doesn't matter too much </3

You’re not like everyone else, Aventurine realises quickly when he meets you.

Most people he surrounds himself with are closed off and guarded, but you are, surprisingly, not. In fact, your honesty is a bit… disarming. So complete he finds himself at a bit of a loss.

He thinks he doesn’t like you at first. He can’t avoid you, as you’re integral to this new project he’s working on, but he wishes he could. Something about you is deeply off-putting. He knows it is the way you never lie.

You’d think total honesty would be a weakness. He knows it would be for him. If he laid out all his cards on the table, he wouldn’t last another day. But the way you always leave yourself open is a new kind of defence in itself that he has never seen anyone else utilise before. When he tries to pry information out of you, you flatly tell him you can’t tell him that, that you know what he’s doing. You’re blatantly putting up barriers with him, and it drives him mad because usually, he can do a push and pull but that doesn’t work with you. It’s hard to be sneaky when you see right through him and stop him.

One day you tell him you would like to grab a coffee with him. He is sure you are flirting, that you mean it as a date. He is sure you want him, and though he usually limits these kinds of interactions to only flirting, nothing more, he’s getting frustrated with the way you never give. Perhaps you’d give more easily if he pretended to leave himself vulnerable to you?

But it’s not a date. You don’t flirt with him, but you don’t talk about business either. What’s worse, you shut him down when he flirts with you. It’s upsetting. Are you toying with him? Is this a weird power play? You don’t seem like that kind of person, but Aventurine is familiarly acquainted with the knowledge most people are not what they seem.

Maybe his anger gets the better of him at one point, an hour into the not-date when you’ve dragged him to the park to feed the ducks. He asks you what the purpose of this is, if you aren’t intending to get into his pants.

You tell him you just wanted to hang out. That you think he needs a friend.

He’s infuriated, because he can tell you’re being sincere.

He leaves, snarking that he already has friends. (He does not. Not really.)

But he can’t stop thinking about it. And he can’t avoid you, because you’re still needed for the mission and now, he’s sure he hates you.

You continue to be nice to him for some reason, even after that fiasco ?? He’s never encountered someone who’s so willing to just be nice to others merely for the sake of being nice. What kind of fucked up ulterior motives are you hiding? What sort of closet freak are you?

Aventurine knows, logically, that some people are just nice. It’s unreasonable to think every single person is as selfish as he is. He grew up surrounded by people who were just nice. But last time he had the fortune of actually interacting with such people, he was shorter than the desk at his office.

He wants to pry into your head, learn everything about you, know what it would be like to be your friend like you had offered. He wants you to fuck off to the other end of the galaxy so he never has to see you ever again.

He accepts when you invite him to go to the arcade with you.

It’s… weirdly soothing.

You’re good company, as much as he hates you. You’re funny and witty and playful and kind. There is no hidden agenda behind anything you do. You insist upon paying for half the tickets you play with at the arcade, even though he’s sure he has at least thirty times the amount of disposable income you have.

He wins most of the games, of course. You win less than half. He excels at the luck-based games, and he’s not half bad at the more skill-based ones, whereas you’re best at the latter. You stay away from the luck-based ones, and the ones you do attempt you fail every time. He’s honestly impressed by how unlucky you are. But at one point you still insist upon winning something for him, even though you both know he’d win it quicker himself.

At the end of the outing, you hug him, tell him you enjoyed yourself. He finds his chest feels oddly warm as you say it. It takes a moment to register the feeling as that of happiness, the sensation of real joy something unfamiliar to him. He smiles and hugs you back.

Maybe he doesn’t hate you.

You’re the first person he truly thinks of as a friend. Though he claims he has many, he knows he doesn’t really. The closest he had before you was maybe Topaz, or Ratio, but Topaz seems to view him as more of an annoying younger brother sometimes and he clearly gets on Ratio’s nerves. You're the first person who makes him feel truly... liked. A weird concept.

It’s not for his status or his money or his reputation. You turn him down when he tries to spend money on you. He’s not sure if that annoys him or if it makes him weirdly giddy.

Even long after his mission has ended, and he no longer needs you, you stick around. He lets you. He starts coming around for you too.

It’s fun to be around you. Again, you’re very good company. Smarter and funnier than most dimwits at the IPC. He considers inviting you to work under him, he’s sure the pay he could offer you would be better than what you currently make, but he doesn’t want to drag you too far into the mess that is his life.

He starts sleeping over at your house uninvited. He makes himself at home in your apartment. Your place is so much nicer than his, even if it’s smaller, run down and objectively a worse place to live in. The pipes in your sink clog too easily and the lights in the bathroom always flicker, despite your best attempts to fix it. But the rooms are all reminiscent of you, of what kind of person you are. Photos of your loved ones line the walls, trinkets you’ve picked up from various places decorate your shelves, and even though it looks messy he knows it’s all very organised from your point of view. It’s so different from his cold, clean, impersonal penthouse.

You cuddle him sometimes. Hug him and pull him into your chest when you watch movies. You play with his hair. You trace patterns on the back of his hand. Surely, those are all things lovers do? But your eyes never linger on his lips, you never look at him with yearning — he can tell you already have everything you want. It makes him feel… relieved.

He likes it when you touch him. He never liked being touched before, but you’re warm and gentle without being too light with him. You don’t touch him like he’s fragile, but you don’t intend to test his limits. You never stray from the safe areas on his body. You never touch with intent to go any further.

He feels safe.

Whenever he’s not out on business, he comes home to you. Will you have grown tired of him by next time, he always wonders. And the answer is always no. You’re always happy to see him.

He frequently finds himself thinking about you. He frequently finds himself missing you when he’s away. He sees things that remind him of you everywhere, and often wishes you were with him. All symptoms of being in love, he’s heard, but he doesn’t think he’s in love? To be fair, he has never experienced true attraction, and what he feels for you is certainly deeper and more intimate than what he’s ever felt for anyone else, so maybe he is in love with you.

But does romance not entail wanting to kiss you? Does romance not entail wanting to see you naked? Does romance not entail wanting to have sex? He doesn’t particularly crave any of those things.

He’s heard of ‘butterflies’ in your belly when seeing the one you love. He never feels that when he sees you. He only feels a deep sense of comfort, of contentment.

But he doesn’t like the thought of you being with anyone else the way you are with him. Jealousy is a sign of romantic feelings, yes? So maybe he does love you that way after all.

But he never asks you to be his partner. Whenever he considers it, something oddly heavy settles in his gut, and he doesn’t understand why. Why would the thought of being your partner leave him with dread? You’d make a wonderful lover, he knows. You already make a wonderful…

… friend? Can he really call you just a friend?

You call him or text him every day to make sure he’s okay. You send him photos of things that reminds him of you. You cook him meals when he visits you and you buy him gifts even though he could very well buy things for himself. You cuddle him and hug him and you sometimes even, albeit playfully, kiss his knuckles or the top of his head and you let him sleep in your bed with you.

Calling you only a ‘friend’ diminishes your worth, does it not? He calls everyone he meets ‘friend’. He can’t reduce you to something so… insignificant.

So he asks you one day, when you’re both sat on opposite sides of your couch, your legs splayed out over his lap as you eat popcorn. He asks:

“What are we?”

You look at him. And you smile.

“I don’t know.”

He blinks. You sound so serene as you say it. Are you not worried about this? Why do you seem so unconcerned with what he is to you?

Sensing his discomfort, you set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table, and scoot closer to him. His arms automatically wrap around your waist as you shift yourself to lean against him, leaning down to place your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t need to label what we are. I’m happy with things as they are. Are you?”

He nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling the by now familiar scent of your shampoo.

“I am.”

“You don’t sound entirely convinced.”

He huffs, pulling you closer.

“… Maybe I don’t want you to treat others the way you treat me.”

(He doubts you would. You have more integrity than he’s ever had: he’s aware there is some level of mutual understanding that whatever you are is something exclusive.)

You laugh.

“You think I treat others like you?”

“Can’t be sure,” he hums playfully, pinching your side. “Who knows, maybe you say that to all the guys.”

“I don’t like ‘all the guys’,” you point out. “I only like you this way.”

“What does ‘this way’ mean, then?”

You pull back to look at him. Gaze as warm and kind as always, a smile on your lips.

“Well, I love you a lot. A lot more than I love others. I’m not sure what answer you want.”

You’ve never explicitly stated the word ‘love’ before. Something hot and giddy fills his chest, something awfully childish, but he ignores it.

“Do you want me to be your… boyfriend?” he asks hesitantly. He’s not sure what he feels about the idea himself.

“I mean, if that’s what you want,” you shrug, sounding so casual about the idea that he doubts you’re that enthusiastic about it. (Should he feel offended?) “I just don’t want anything to change between us. I really like what we’ve got going on.”

He leans back into you, burying his face into your hair again. His arms squeeze your waist.

“… I like what we’ve got going on, too,” he admits. The honesty feels a little less foreign on his tongue than it used to, before he met you.

“I guess it’d be easier to call you my boyfriend than my ‘very close friend who eats all my food and sleeps in my bed half the time’,” you add teasingly. He snorts, pulling back just enough to shoot you a playful glare.

“Food that I pay you back double for,” he points out. You snicker, but don’t respond.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” You ask instead after a moment, reaching up to play with his hair. He leans into the touch.

He’s quiet for a moment, considering the question.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess you’re right that it’d be easier to call each other that. Maybe we should go for it.”

“Sounds good,” you agree, and that’s that.

And nothing changes in your relationship. All that changes is the title.

You cuddle and you hug and you spend time together. Whenever you flirt, it’s more of an inside joke than anything else. You go on not-dates nearly once a week, whenever he’s home to do that.

He doesn’t tell people what you really are to him. He doesn’t even have the words to describe it himself. It doesn’t matter to him than anyone else knows either. Maybe he’s just a little bit happy, even, to get to keep the secret of what you are to himself. It somehow feels more special when only the two of you know.

He starts confiding in you. Telling you things he would not tell anyone else. Things he previously thought he would bring to his grave. About himself, about his past, his thoughts and his feelings. You always hold him, let him speak until it’s off his chest, and you murmur comforting words. He feels so much lighter after, every time.

You tell him your secrets too. Your doubts and your worries. He holds you in return, and tries to soothe your concerns. He knows he’s not as good at it as you, but you seem to appreciate it anyways.

He doesn’t trust anyone else. Only you. You’re the only one he knows he can always turn to, the only person he knows for sure doesn’t mean him any harm.

He brings you gifts and trinkets he finds when he’s away. He’s gotten pretty good at figuring out what sort of things you like. You always give him the sweetest smile when he does, thank him with a hug, and put the item to use right away. Whether that means displaying a decoration somewhere along your already overfilled shelves, putting on a bracelet or trying out a new kitchen appliance that night. He starts to think that the point of wealth is to give you all the things you could want.

For some reason, the intimate nature of your relationship doesn’t scare him. The fact that you’ve told him he’s ’more like the closest friend you could ever want to have than a lover’ puts him at ease. Your commitment to one another doesn’t feel as frightening that way.

You prioritise him over your other commitments. You tell him he’s your ‘favourite person’, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling warm in his chest when he thinks about it. You’re his favourite, too.

Sorry I seriously ran out of steam for this format here, moving on to headcanons from another perspective because I am NOT DONE !!!! (next part won't have been proof-read at all sorry guys it will just be unhinged rambling)

I don't think Aventurine would necessarily know what queerplatonic means, (and the way I've written Reader here they probably wouldn't go out of their way to research it either lol I think they're just the type to be like "well I'm happy so why would I need to know every little detail about what this is ?? 😊") and he doesn't really understand the nature of your relationship himself HELP

He just knows it's not romantic, and that really puts him at ease

I think Aventurine is like. EXTREMELY toxic in a romantic relationship because the though of that sort of commitment scares him on a very deep and personal level and it FREAKS. HIM. OUT. but I think a platonic relationship, even if it's just as deep, freaks him out a little less. It just feels different yknow ?

Idk how to formulate myself but I think that, after being looked at for like basically his whole life as a commodity (and, even worse, a literal sex object), the thought of being looked at without ANY sexual desire or romantic interest just really kind of puts him at ease.

Especially in this read of him as demi/aroace, I think he'd appreciate being seen in a purely platonic light. I personally don't think he is aroace in the way I normally write him, but even in the way I usually write him I do think a queerplatonic relationship would be deeply comforting for him

Like, think reader being aroace and being in a queerplatonic relationship with him and he's like actually in love with them,,, I don't think he'd mind that too much. He'd think it was so nice that you love him enough to be in a relationship even if you don't romantically love him. Even if it would be nice too if you did desire him that way, he'd like it either way

Sorry got off track there mb

Queerplatonic relationships are tricky to write because there is no real "norm" for what they entail like,, fuck man I'M aroace and I barely know what it means to be in a qpps

Like,, from my understanding it can be essentially the same as a "normal" relationship where you kiss and get married and have kids and all that stuff but you do it without romantic intent

or it can be a friendship that just goes really really deep, and you're just like,,,, idk roomates PLS

But I think a qpps with Aventurine would be somewhere inbetween what others would think a "normal" romantic relationship would be and just a very close friendship

I already mentioned cuddles, and like chaste kisses to more "safe/platonic" areas (forehead, top of head, hands etc). You sleep in the same bed and you basically go on dates ("not-dates" lol). I think he'd be fine with like kisses to the lips and playful flirting, but he wouldn't want to make out or have sex. He would however love to cuddle naked lol (the intimacy without any sexual intent,,,, yeahyeah I hope you get me here I lovveee lovelove the idea of just touching him and it's just sweet and urghhghh)

Everyone else definitely thinks the two of you are in love and neither of you correct people because who cares

Esp Aventurine I don't think he WANTS others to know what you are to a point where he'll actively try to make it seem more like a romantic relationship in front of others

Because what you are is very precious to him, and he maybe feels just slightly maybe just a bit irrationally possessive over the concept of your relationship PLS

Like no he doesn't want anyone to understand your bond. That is SPECIAL. It is only for him and you to understand back off

I love my toxic unhealthy mentally deranged king

I think I've said everything I wanted to say now so I'm ending it off here. Worst case scenario I'll be back with a part 2 or a reblog to add more LMAO I just can't shut up bro

♡ ∩_∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ |￣U U￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣| | Thanks for reading! | ￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

Thanks for reading I appreciate it !!! I hope this was at least somewhat comprehensible <3 Remember that my inbox is open and I lovelovelove to receive requests <3

[asmallmoon333]

Another Death Note AU I love to think about: Fem!Light x Male!L.

I adore these two in any form, but the potential of this dynamic in particular had me thinking plots that had my brain noodles excited since way back when I was in the middle of writing Time Speaks.

Now, L's gender wouldn't change anything about him, not really, but Light? Oh, it would be a whole new act for her to put on. And with L still male, it ensures it's not just a repeat of canon, but a whole new exploration of their characters, their dynamic, and the world they live in.

So in this AU, we have a Light Yagami who grew up in a society that told her she was lesser. That implied her gender was predictive of her place and abilities. But she wouldn't actually have a lot of anger about her gender I feel, since that goes against her natural feelings of superiority based on her intellect, so she'd just see it as the world being wrong as usual (rotten, if you will). She would look down on men for how easy they were to manipulate; not that anyone else would ever see these thoughts. Except Sayu, who Light raises with care.

Now, while said world would make it harder for her to rise up, Light is someone who gets what she wants and thrives on a challenge. She would use gender as her stepping stone, playing the "good girl" role to perfection.

And she'd be so very good at it. A much better manipulator than male Light.

Now, when she gets the Death Note, the story goes about the same at the start because Light Yagami is Light Yagami regardless.

Then in comes L, the first person who bested her, the first person she hates, and the plot changes. L is the only person, the only man, who looks at her and sees Kira. The only man who is deadpanned and blank to her "good girl" act and meets her provocation for provocation. Infuriating her every time they meet simply by being as smart as she is. By looking at her pointedly crossed arms, at her 'casual' forward-leaning posture, at her inviting smile--and blandly asking if her back hurts like his sometimes does.

How dare he.

How dare he see and value and fear her for her intelligence? He is certain she is Kira despite how aghast every other man and woman in her life is about the very idea of it.

They call L mad. Sexist. He ignores them and insists he's right, that no one else could be Kira but Light. That she's perfect.

And Light? She hates him for seeing through her. He scares her right back.

But she also can't stop herself from craving the acknowledgement.

The game between them would be so different and yet just as complicated this time, because while the two of them don't care about gender, they know this about each other, the rest of the world is not at their level and can't stop their bias about it. And Light uses that to her advantage; Kira will use any shield.

While L will do his best to strip her bare of all her lies.

So Light plays with the world's perceptions of womanhood in her war against L, using her 'weak' gender and 'need for protection' to manipulate the police against him. While L continues to pursue his Kira with a single-minded focus and certainty. He knows it's her.

But now he has to work even harder to prove it because no one is willing to listen to him. He has no proof, and in this universe, that means a lot more to the task force.

Light is smug about this, internally of course. She sweetly tells him to give up and start looking for the 'real' Kira.

L blinks at her and says he'll give up when she stops being a serial killer.

Light hates him.

But she also can't stop thinking about him. She can't stop revelling in how he sees her like no one else was ever willing to. And she eventually decides that she'll get him to give into her too, like she's gotten everyone else in her life. She'll make him admit he wants her, too. That he's human just like they all are, that he has feelings. (Just like she does).

She'll give him her attention in a way no one else has ever deserved. And L better appreciate it.

And after that? She'll kill him, of course.

She's Kira. She's pitiless. She plays to win.

But she might as well...enjoy L while he's here.

He's the only one she'd ever want to have in that way.

As for L? Well he's more than willing to play along, in any and all ways Light wants. He's seen her from the start, seen Kira behind her sweet smile, and he's entranced by her as always. He'd want her in any form, and gender is just one more tool of the brilliant mind he'll always be obsessed with, in any universe.

And he's absolutely thrilled at this game.

So, yeah!! I love this AU and one day, I'll write it, but for now thank you to the amazing artist @thanatelle who inspired these current thoughts! His work is so good <3

Fem!Light and Male!L are so very fun.

[askew-d]

i want a modern wangxian au where the story doesn’t finish when they get together. i want chapters and chapters of their dynamics while in a relationship.

i want to see wangxian going in a cinema date and wei wuxian kissing his boyfriend to the point of leaning down to his pants until lan wangji has to forcefully stop him because there are people nearby. i want them discussing over to eat at a fast food chain or at a healthy restaurant friday evening and lan wangji folding when wei wuxian pouts, so they end up with a veggie hamburger, a big mac and a mcflurry on their table (the mcflurry belongs to lan wangji).

i want them giving goodnight kisses to their bunnies before going to sleep. i bet lan wangji likes his showers cold, wei wuxian likes them burning hot, and they always hug each other from behind after it just to annoy the other because of their body temperature.

i want to see lan wangji glaring at jiang cheng from the other side of the dinner table and only showing a nice demeanor when it's jiang yanli who directs her words to him and that infuriates jiang cheng so much that he calls out for memories of when lan wangji used to reject wei wuxian's advances just to be petty. lan wangji hates when they remember how he used to ignore his wei ying.

i want wei wuxian burning their kitchen with a recipe and lan wangji running back home worried wei wuxian got hurt (he just got a slight burn, but he's all pouting about it anyway, and lan wangji showers him in love and care even though their stove definitely got the worst of it and they'll need another one urgently).

i want wei wuxian pranking the juniors he got at work. i want lan wangji or wei wuxian unintentially going viral regarding something stupid. i want lan xichen being the one who takes candid pictures and who appears by surprise in the apartment during moments they're not ready for it.

i want wei wuxian to have ongoing fights with every neighbour: a competition with the upstairs woman who thinks her sex's life is better than theirs, the university student who thinks he can pull a rock song louder than wei wuxian's favorite ones, the left-door hag who thinks she can still hide a dog even if there are explicit rules in the building forbidding it (wei wuxian specifically chose that building because of this rule and he will not let her get away with it), the right-door lady who thinks she can flirt with wei wuxian's man without consequences (nothing that some disappearances of some of her mail can't solve though), and the neighbour at the front door who's definitely into some drug scheme (wei wuxian helps the police out with that).

these are just stupid ideas, but you get me. i want everything about this couple. i need especially this. i need it like the air i breathe. like the sun. like food.

[merwgue]

Why Cassian and Nesta Are the Absolute Worst Match

Let’s just dive right into it: Cassian and Nesta are a disaster waiting to happen, and somehow we’re supposed to believe they’re mates? Seriously, who thought putting these two together was a good idea? Nesta is a complex, emotionally guarded person who needs real support, empathy, and someone who gets that healing isn’t just about beating up some sparring dummies. Cassian’s idea of "help" is throwing her into a training ring and shouting, "Fight harder!"—because, apparently, fighting fixes trauma.

Nesta is someone who carries layers of pain and guilt, and she processes those feelings in her own (admittedly self-destructive) way. What she needs is someone who listens, someone who doesn’t bulldoze through her emotions like a wrecking ball. But Cassian? He’s like, "Oh, you’re feeling bad? Let’s fix that with push-ups!" Right, because emotional trauma is totally cured by physical exhaustion. Genius.

Let’s not forget how Cassian "supports" Nesta at her lowest. The girl is literally drowning in self-hate and using every self-destructive coping mechanism in the book, and what’s his solution? Let’s barely address the real issues and instead focus on getting her into training, or worse, the bedroom. Because clearly, that's what Nesta needs—more physical activity. His so-called "support" is surface-level at best, completely ignoring the depth of Nesta's emotional turmoil.

And can we talk about how the IC somehow acts like this is what Nesta deserves? Like, she’s too difficult, so obviously she needs someone to beat the emotional crap out of her until she comes around. It’s infuriating! All this "Nessian" dynamic does is highlight how misunderstood Nesta is. There’s no actual growth happening between them, just two people constantly clashing and calling it passion.

Sure, there’s chemistry—but you can’t base a healthy relationship on sexual tension alone. The whole thing is like mixing oil and water, shaking it up, and expecting it to magically blend. They’re always going to separate because they’re fundamentally wrong for each other. It’s toxic, plain and simple.

If you ask me, Nesta deserves way better than being paired with someone who treats her healing journey like a military exercise. She needs someone who can meet her on her emotional level, not just in a fight. But, you know, "mating bond" and all that.

[crooked-wasteland]

I think what annoys me so much about the way the show blasts Blitzo for being a cold and unromantic partner is that it’s a perfect example of ignoring worldbuilding to make a character look worse.

By human standards, Blitzo abandoning someone when they tell them that they love him is pretty cowardly and understandably upsetting. But in Hell standards? Verosika should’ve fucking known he’d run away because Hell seems to look down heavily at the concept of love. This is like knowing that it’s taboo to kiss and then getting mad at a character for not kissing you. You can’t blame someone for being adjusted to what society expects of you. Verosika can still be hurt but it’s genuinely insane how much she clings on to this hate like he did a crime.

And the fact that we just skip over seeing their relationship is also infuriating because I get the feeling that Viv was both not interested in actually showing us what Verosika was like and also afraid to make her do anything that feels more in line with her character which is act angsty and spiteful

I've had a thought about Verosika. From the we've seen this season, the writers have actually listened to and addressed criticism for the show. The Ghostfuckers leaks show an overhaul of the original story, the fact that episodes got shifted around at the start of the series, the blatant un-writing of the assassination plot, and the fact that Unhappy Campers was the only pre-special episode to not be in the season 2 trailer (most likely because it was still in the early stages of animation due to massive rewrites to incorporate more Millie) are all evidence to this. It's obvious the crew is not happy about it, but they are listening.

With that in mind, the show has repeatedly been accused of extremely sexist writing in favor of the male cast. As such, it's not surprising to see the pivot more towards "humanizing" the female characters in specific. I remember seeing a lot of comments about how they wouldn't forgive the show if they made another female character irredeemably cruel and brainless following The Circus, and even louder after Western Energy.

What fans had wanted was a complicated or even toxic dynamic where both characters weren't perfect, but still held Blitz accountable for his actions, fairly. What they got was the cheapest, laziest writing I've ever seen. Not only does it not make sense in regards to the established world building of Hell's attitude towards love, it still makes no sense for Blitz to run away just because Verosika said she loved him, only to then adopt a child. He explicitly goes to the pound looking for a pup, pivoting to taking in Loona out of pity. It's like saying marriage is too much of a commitment, but still having kids.

Instead, Medrano overcorrected to pander to critics the same way she panders to her fans. Verosika is not an irredeemably cruel and stupid, spiteful woman. She's a perfect victim actually. Not only is her only crime falling in love, but the relationship ended so fast and sudden that she didn't have any time to do anything.

All these choices feel not only deliberate, but resentful in how little care went into the writing. The most drastic overhaul being to Ghostfuckers where the entire narrative trimmed down and immensely reworked already existing elements into the script. It goes to show the level of improvement possible to an idea when given better direction, but it also shows the limitations of not having actual writers on the team.

Ghostfuckers does an amateur's best and comes out generally okay, but still suffers from over reliance on tropes without narrative substance. It's the genuine best that can be done with this team. And unfortunately that's still not good enough.