#i don't know whether it was obvious enough but

[ozzgin]

I was 100% thinking of the Shinsengumi when the brainrot struck, but let us assume a more generic, unnamed circumstance for this. Random, uh, elite group of swordsmen working for the shogunate in the Edo period. Here's the awkward, horny himbo I had previously mentioned. Content: female reader, historical setting, crossdressing, NSFW

Yandere!Captain commands his group with an iron grip. Many people in the Capital know his name, whether it's fellow warriors or petty merchants, and not without reason. His unmatched skill with a sword had even reached the ears of the court, and he was quickly appointed as the head of a newly formed group of samurai meant to maintain order in the city.

As if keeping hot-blooded thugs under control wasn't enough, he is now stuck with an even bigger issue: you.

"We can't have women in here", he declares with a grimace.

"I can pretend", you counter stubbornly, pulling your hakama pants up by the sash, almost in an act of defiance. "In fact, I don't see any woman here. I came to apply."

Yandere!Captain’s reputation does not only revolve around his intimidating strength. Among his underlings, he is known for being completely and utterly uninterested when it comes to women. Will he join his group for drinks after a long day of work? Absolutely. But that’s where the fun stops. When the others begin to slip away with smiling courtesans, he remains at the table with a somber countenance. It is a running joke that nothing can deter this man from his duty.

Thus, your presence at the headquarters should make no difference. He had to begrudgingly accept that you spoke the truth when you'd said you can handle a sword. It's not uncommon for women to keep a small tanto underneath their obi for additional protection, but your knowledge doesn't stop there. You arrived with your own katana and backup wakizashi, swiftly proving their worth upon your first city round when you slashed the arm off a street hooligan.

Well, that's one less worry for the captain. Except, to his great shame, it's not as simple as that. He is the only one aware of your secret, which means that he is the only one available outside of working hours. He was terrified to discover the hesitation in his hands when bandaging your ribs after a stabbing incident, or the halt in his step when he happened to find you switching to a night gown. Oh, how deplorable! Have his morals crumbled into nothing? His latest perverted thought nearly caused him to draw a blade across his stomach.

It is with this faltering confidence that he greets you before the bath one evening.

“You don’t have to do this”, you tell him. "I can wait until you're done."

His struggles haven't escaped your observant eye. You were initially amused by his rather obvious awkwardness; then, a certain idea insidiously made its way into your mind, impossibly tempting: for how long could he keep this façade?

You find yourself going out of your way just to tease your poor captain, perhaps secretly hoping he'll soon break down and give in to his yearning.

“They will become suspicious if you never join us. I do not care for your nudity. Undress at ease”, he says, throwing away his own towel and lowering himself into the hot water. “Get in whenever you want.”

If he insists.

You nonchalantly follow suit, sitting across from him with your arms resting against the rocky edge of the hot spring. You can tell his eyes have wandered involuntarily. His face is red, and he’s wearing a humiliated frown.

“You’re awfully quiet, Sir.”

His lips are pursed indeed. The tall man shuffles briefly, avoiding your gaze. A smirk crosses your features as you decide to approach him.

"In fact, I'd go as far as you say that you're in dire need of help."

To your surprise, he doesn't protest when your hands stray to his lower half, feeling up and down his erection. The small grunts escaping his mouth encourage you to pick up the pace, now equally aroused.

Soon, you feel his heavy arm wrapping around your waist, forcefully throwing you out of the water and onto the cold ground. You open your mouth to complain, but it's quickly shut back by his hot lips, suckling and biting in a desperate hunger to have you.

“It’s improper for a subordinate to take the lead”, he finally says in a low, breaking voice.

He can only hope no one else decides to use the hot springs, though that’s as far as his concern currently goes. He’s much too preoccupied with other pressing matters, holding onto your folded legs for support as he thrusts into you in a depraved, delirious need. His movements are jerky and erratic, with an almost predatory glimmer in his eyes. You wonder how often he imagined this happening. All of his shame and guilt, coming undone at once.

Days later, during one of the hangouts, you find him whispering to one of the courtesans.

“What, you suddenly have a taste for women now?” you question discreetly, unable to hold your tongue.

You’d hoped to be on the receiving end of any future lust-driven gestures from the captain, not some common worker.

He appears to hesitate, twiddling his thumbs and glancing away.

“I was just…asking how you properly please a woman”, he finally confesses.

If he’s going to continue fucking his subordinate behind everyone’s back, he may as well do a good job while at it.

[More Original Works] | [Yan!Swordsman Concept]

[erabu-san]

You are literally French. What would you know about any of this, an issue and drama stirred up by anericans.

Blackwashing exists and is used by bigots that hate white people. Its used to erase the ethnicity of asians just because people dont think they are "poc enough" because of their pale skin. Its used to demonize people with pale skin because its becoming more and more the norm to view anyone with pale skin as evil. That anyone who is "too pale" isnt enough or a human being.

They arent real people, and their skintones are fine as is. You wouldnt go up to, for example an albino or mixed race black/poc person and tell them they arent "dark enough". They dont even need to be special like that to be pale. Some just are pale.

Whether you think there should be more characters that are dark or not is not the issue. Its that you think they wouldnt be/arent good enough as is with pale skin that shows how much of a bigot you are.

Blackwashing is not the progressive act you think it is. Its obvious that your only experience with it is through genshin drama. You obviously know nothing about how much red haired pale characters & asian ones are substituted with black characters. How characters are simply replaced in the name of "diversity". How this forced inclusivity and diversity is just bigots trying to "get revenge" on the white people they hate so much, and to tick off DEI boxes on their little bigoted checklist.

You tell me to educate myself but its actually YOU who needs to be educated.

Many are complaining about sumeru and natlan characters with names similar to gods in cultures of our world that are pale when their inspiration is dark skinned. Claiming they want representation and for it to be accurate, to reflect our world on a 1-1 scale.

Yet these same people will make xiao, zhongli, Ei, and many more asian characters darker " because asians can be dark skinned too". Yet so can mostly dark skinned races be pale.

So why cant you (gen) respect such characters, who are gods and divine beings based on a culture where pale is more beautiful, and gods of such cultures are pale?

There is hypocrisy in everything to do with blackwashing. Its okay when its done to pale characters because in real life black people have been oppressed? But these characters are not real, nor are they a reflection of our reality, as far as we have seen they dont even have racism in this fictional world.

It is one thing to explore a character like with the recent hatsune miku trend, atleast there most people arent going at each other's throats saying black miku is better than japanese miku(as far as i have seen)

Seriously how can you even begin to justify this. And who ever told you that dark skinned characters "scare white people" is an absolute fucking liar trying to justify their own bigotry towards white people.

No black washing IS just as disgusting as whitewashing. Neither should exist, and you shouldn't feed into the stupid circle jerk of bigotry that both of them are.

Aaaah that's what I like ! Yes ! Thank you for telling me your opinion, explaining what is wrong. I absolutely love to learn, and I prefer to read this long text calling me ignorant and explaining why that just a simple text of you saying you are annoyed by a fanart.

Thank you for telling me ! First yes I am french, and indeed my culture has more an european pov. But again, I also grow up as a minority "race" with my parents culture !🙏 in france, i don't look like a french. Well. Still I am aware that it doesn't remove anything from what I said

And I totally agree with you, some are just pale !! It just happens I draw Kinich black because I like it like this. Is Kinich true inspiration are actually pale ? Tell me more, I wish to learn !!

Tbh when you talk abt gods being pale is beautiful, I thought about Nahida. I did research when she were out and yes, I do agree, there is character who are fine as they are.

And because I live in France I also see "dark skin scare white" as a true fact. It happens and it is harmful. 🧍 not only in France tho, in country where pale skin is portrayed as beautiful, people who have tan skin are less represented even if it is the majority. I suppose the contrary happens too !!

"Character are not real" and yet you are annoyed, I guess it is the action of "blackwash" that make you mad, more than "a fictional character w diffent skin tone" tho! My opinion is fiction does affect real world, as do real life affects fiction, and this is something I won't debate on

"They don't have racism in this fictional world" sorry but it does in Sumeru. 🙏 about this one npc she is reject by forest and desert because of them being mixed, desert not being access to book and even Cyno said his scholarship was complicated because he is from desert

If you wish to continue, please send me DM with arguments. I don't know if I would change my mind of not drawing Kinich pale, but I am super interested about what you have to say !! 👍👍

[montanamp3]

ylsgib spoilers in the tags

//

pov: you are about to get haunted

[britneyshakespeare]

around 6 o'clock (east coast u.s. standard time) some guy from fucking australia, with no mutual friends obviously, friend- and message-requested me on facebook saying he hoped i didn't mind the add, but "you came up in my recommended and are the cutest ginger i've ever seen." and it like literally gave me chills because holy hellllll, how the FUCK did this guy find my profile? i have no public posts; i hardly ever comment on public posts; i don't post in large, active groups; etc etc etc etc so it creeped the FUCK out of me. sometimes fb puts ppl w no mutual friends in my "people you may know" but, creepily enough, they often are people i... know, if not have some sort of mutual connection with? like they might be old classmates or friends of friends creating new profiles (so no mutual friends yet), etc. and this is true for ppl who also don't have info on their profile saying they live in/near my hometown, went to my school at some point, etc. like THAT is very creepy how meta somehow knows that. but this guy from australia i am absolutely sure i have no connection to whatsoever. WHY WOULD I???? i have no connection to australia at all other than a couple of mutuals i have on here.

so anyway i took a screenshot of the message and showed it to my friends cuz i was freaking out about it and needed to get that off my chest and one friend was like "why dont you block him" (me reading that 4 hours later) and im like you know what i didnt think it was necessary but not a bad idea. and i go to check the message request and the message was unsent, and he also deleted the friend request. lmaooooo. maybe his girlfriend found his phone

[martritzvonmercie]

being aroace is crazy bc sometimes it's like. whoo yay i have such a wider perception of relationships that's so cool yay!!! and sometimes it's like. i hate this it sucks

[protobrieile]

ooooooo i am feeling particularly riled up about marginalized community infighting today

[the-ellia-west]

HOW TO WRITE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION FOR DUMMIES

For anyone who wants to learn, (especially aro/ACE, aspec, ect.)

Requested by the lovely @darkandstormydolls

Alrighty! Welcome back or welcome to my blog! I'm dipping my toes back into the category of posts that gained me my exposure!

So if you're here, you want to know how to write romantic attraction/romance!

Strap in and let's begin!

(Pls spread this to people you think would benefit from seeing it, or anyone who requested it bc I forgot, ANY ASPECS)

Step one -

Your characters must admire one another at the beginning, Romantic feelings usually do not present themselves as obvious until you really think them through, meaning your characters may not notice they have a crush until it's too late

These are general statistics and light stereotypes. So feel free to not use this tip:

Male characters usually tend to notice physical things first, like body shape, hair, skin, clothing, the way their lover moves, ect

And Female Characters Generally tend to notice more small things and personality-based traits first, like their lover's humor, speaking mannerisms, shifts in expression, ways they fidget, emotion in their voice, ect.

And someone who is in love will generally show more interest in this particular person's movements, actions, words, and anything in general.

Step 2 -

The character will show more interest in sharing their love language with their lover/crush

Physical touch - People with physical touch love languages may want to hold hands, cuddle, hug, or just lean on their crush whenever they are close to them moreso than they want to with others

Gift giving - Gift givers will want to get more gifts more often for their crush, probably thinking of them whenever they see little trinkets or wanting to get them big gifts for special occasions or signs of appreciation

Acts of Service - Acts of service people will offer to do extra favors and a bunch of extra stuff they don't have to do twice as much as normal

Words of Affirmation - Flattery, they will generally flood their crush with kind words and compliments

Quality time - Quality time people will want to spend time with their crush at almost every turn, and when they want company, will turn to their crush first

Step 3 -

After a while, these urges while become very prominent and more noticeable to the person having them

They may find themselves fantasizing about their crush or having them show up in their thoughts more and more, feeling nicer and happier when they're around, or when they're thinking about them

Smiling when they think about them, cutsey little fluff thingies like that

A crush is essentially: I want to date that, I want to be near that always, I want to marry that, I want that to snuggle me (or other love languages)

Or in simpler terms: if that asked me out, I would say yes (or at least want to say yes if your character is in denial)

Step 4 -

The character's urges to be close to this person grows strong enough that they do smth about it, whether prompted by another character. Or they just don't know I how to not anymore (like when you wanna eat candy and you don't want to, but you do anyway bc I JUST NEED THE CHOCOLATE OKAY?)

(Or for Aro/Ace, garlic bread)

People who are in love are generally very prone to be all dreamy and poetic and VERY EXTREMELY BIASED towards their crush

Then Yada Yada they kiss & shit

You're welcome, BYEEEEEEEE 👋

Happy writing!

Love you! Thanks for reading, And Ghost Tumblr Mother says go drink some water and have a snack, you've earned it, and you are beautiful <333

Have a good day! :]

@blue-kyber @thisisntrocket @cosmolumine @i-do-anything-but-write @paeliae-occasionally

@supercimi @the-letterbox-archives @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @artsandstoriesandstuff

@corinneglass @wyked-ao3 @urnumber1star

[greentypewriters]

i wonder if i will ever be able to write anything i think is good

[etfrin]

⤷❝Jealous, jealous girl | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, toxic relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, fucked up thoughts, toxic! jealous! possessive reader, bondage (eyes and hands), dom sub undertones, face riding, cunnilingus, thigh riding, riding, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), mentions of killing | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young! president Snow x fem! reader

⇢☾Summary: being jelly leads to sexy times!

⇢☾A/N: hope y'all enjoy this!

previous installments of AM au: the study, mine to love, the quiet gift

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

He didn't take account of your possessiveness when he decided to charm some of the elitists of the Capitol. It was his duty to keep them under his pocket whether it be with empty smiles or deadly threats. Though the latter might have been easier with how you were glaring at everyone who made a passing or suggestive comment towards Coriolanus.

Even with his arm around your waist, you pressed against him wasn't enough to satiate you. His presence wasn't enough to calm you down, not when you wanted to burn down everyone in the gala who looked at Snow with lustful eyes. He was taken. He was your husband. Yours.

Coryo didn't realize what was wrong, surely it was obvious that you were in a bad mood but that was no way to behave. He had to talk with his pet.

And he was planning on that when he entered the room, to see you on the phone, a call that you immediately cut and look at him with a smile that cut through his bones because he knew it was fake. It was a smile he had to wear a thousand times and now you were looking at him the same way.

“What was that call?” He asked roughly, his eyebrows furrowing, his fingers twitching, his mind already thinking of locking you up and wondering if you had found a lover. He- he-

“It was just-” You tilt your head, your mind already figuring out his thoughts, your first instinct was to lie. However, you knew better than that.

“I want to fuck someone over,” you said instead, blunt and straight to the point without any riddles so that your husband doesn't overthink it. He.. he felt himself calm down a bit. “Who?” He asked his mind at ease. Has someone hurt you? Insulted you? It was rare for you to take such actions, especially when Coriolanus made sure no one could mistreat you.

You bite your lower lip, wondering if you should lie. Snow hadn't seen your ugly side as much as you have seen him. But… perhaps it's about time he should and you were angry. At him and everyone who dared their lustful eyes and filthy hands on your man (You wanted to claw their eyes out, you wanted to cut their hand off for such a sin). Corio called you his dove, his pet, his property. But he seems to forget that he is also yours, your husband, your lover, your man. It was time to remind him of that.

You walked towards him until he backed up to the door, it was a position that you both knew except he was the one pinned for a change. “A bitch,” you ended up saying, your fingertips grazing his sharp jawline. His eyes widened, a familiar heaviness to his breathing and his pupils began to dilate. “Which bitch?” He said, turning his face away to focus and not kiss your pretty lips. “The one who couldn't take her hands off what's mine,” you whispered, your hands on his customized suit, pushing the fabric away from his shoulder and letting it fall. Then your fingers were busy twisting the buttons so you could see this man's golden skin, but the action was stopped when Corio softly asked, “Yours?”

Even if his tone was soft, you knew better than to believe it. Coriolanus Snow belonging to someone? He couldn't think of a worse joke, that just made you even more frustrated, so frustrated that you don't bother unbuttoning his buttons. You begin to rip them one by one. Coryo allows you to act in this manner, knowing that you need to deal with this in your own way.

“I am not yours,” he said, “I don't belong to you.” You wanted to slap the man. You never had a greater urge too before. You clenched your jaw, “You are.” Your hand goes to the pendant you always wore after your first anniversary. A necklace with his initials.

“It’s a two-way street, Coriolanus Snow. You're my husband, my man, and my lover. I am yours as much as you are mine,” your fingers grip the chain, “Or I can tear this from my neck and walk away.” Coryo was going to punish you for those words, there was no doubt about it. His eyes, those blue ocean eyes had anger in them now. How dare you threaten, Snow?

You waited for an answer, both of your chests heaving with passion waiting to explode. “Threaten to leave again, I'll break those legs of yours and chain you to the bed.” Your breath hitches from his words, the truth ringing in his voice. This insane man… you had no words to say so you didn't. You pressed him to the door, your lips clashing with his. For the first time, you didn't give in to the fight for dominance. Both of your teeth clashing, the tongues fighting in war and neither side winning but becoming a greater mess.

“You're a coward, Coryo,” you whispered as you were pushed back to the bed, neither of you giving up the fight to control the kiss. You refused to be underneath him for him tonight. Coriolanus Snow owned you and you wanted the taste of owning him. You manage to straddle him, saliva covering both of your chins from the messy kiss neither refusing to break.

“You- how dare you let her touch you like this,” you whispered, a hint of insecurity creeping into your sound. “They can look at you all they want, envy all they want but touch is reserved for me only. For me, Coryo. Next time it's brought to my attention that you let yourself be groped like that whether it be for your interests or Panem. Rest assured they won't be seeing the sun again and every inch of your skin that was touched…” You couldn't complete the threat, not when his eyes widened. Coriolanus felt like he was looking in a mirror.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hissed, “There is a reason why we work out, sweetheart. It's not because of whatever formulas you have in your mind to control me, to have me. It's because I am just as insane as you, if not more but I have an infinite amount of control over myself.”

He was thinking, thinking of what you didn't know. You didn't want to know what epiphany had crushed the man from your honest words filled with ugly deep jealousy. You didn't want to let yourself wonder either if he would have preferred someone sane, someone less jealous and possessive. Someone opposite of him in every regard.

But Snow leans forward to kiss you. It's… delicate the kiss. A brush of his soft lips against yours, a grin blessing his face. “What?” You whispered, hesitantly. “You’re perfect,” he said, and those words did things to you, nearly enough to melt away your anger. Nearly.

“And your perfection is aggravating,” you said, with each word a kiss was pressed to his lips. “I love you,” you whispered, a wet kiss pressed to his jaw that went down the path of his neck to his pulse. Your hands shamelessly undress him. “But you truly vex me, Coryo.” you let out as you bite the spot of his pulse, sucking his life from his skin, formatting a bruise, marking him as yours.

“Calm down,” he grunts as he also undresses you, his touch on your heated skin damning you to hell. “I am here, pet.” Finally, both of you were unrestricted by clothes, lips clashing with each other as the hands roamed the body in a hurry. Neither of you was going to disappear, but the desperation as if one of you would slip away like sand clawed at both of your minds.

You didn't reply to his reassurance, you pushed him till his back was pinned on the mattress and he let you. For once you were in control and you had no idea what to do with it. You bite your lip, pondering what should be the next course. You wanted to ride him, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to regret it. But most importantly you wanted him to realize he is addicted to you too, as you are with him.

So you pulled back, ignoring the flash of confusion on his face, and went to the closet to pick out two ties. One red, another black, both gifts from you. Coryo raised his eyebrows but indulged you without saying a word, knowing that he would get you back for it. You let him sit up, as you tied his hands together behind his back and then tied the blindfold around his eyes.

“Let me play with you today, Coryo,” you said, “It will be fun.” Coryo replied with a warning, “Do not cross the line.”

You were never an obedient pet. You placed your cunt on his thigh, your folds soaking with arousal, your walls needing his cock but you ignored the want as you began to grind yourself slowly against the tense muscles of his leg. “Coriolanus Snow, the perfect man, the perfect student, the perfect president. Tell me Coryo, would you consider yourself a perfect husband?” “Sweetheart,” he warns you, not ready to hear whatever criticism you want to spew. He could never be a perfect man, perfect in the sense of good and bad. He couldn't but that doesn't mean he has to face it.

“I think you are,” you whispered to his ear, causing him to relax visibly, it was rather pathetic how quickly your admission of yours made his cock fucking hard, harder than before. Your pussy continues to grind against his thigh, your hips rolling at a relaxed pace as you coat his skin in your juices. “You’re perfect in every sense of the word,” you praised him, your lips set on creating multiple shades of mark on his shoulder and collarbone.

He didn't need your words, he didn't know your praises yet a groan escaped his lips. His breath is heavier than before as your grinding gets faster. “Let me see you,” he whispered, and you wanted to deny him. You did but you knew he wanted to know if you were lying, manipulating him in any manner and you weren't cruel enough to play that game with him. You took off the blindfold from his eyes and the vulnerability that showed in his blue eyes made you so wet, your pussy clenching around nothing and he could feel the spasm on his thigh.

His eyes search yours for a hint of a lie, he doesn't find any. Both of your lips met for a kiss, knocking us breathless as you wrapped your arms around his neck and began to roll your hips faster on his thigh, getting close to a high. Meanwhile, his cock was leaking onto his abs, thick goops of pre-cum that you swipe on your fingertips and lick as you don't give any attention to his length. A sound you couldn't classify leaves Coriolanus's lips as he watches you taste himself.

It felt perfect, you teasing him like this. You are in control, despite Coriolanus' not-so-subtle attempts to get rid of the knot that tied his hands together. ‘I am in control, love,’ you wanted to say but you bite your tongue instead and sucked on the sweet spot of his jaw. “Wanna sit on your face,” you whispered to him.

“Fuck, fuck, dove” he cursed before he nods. You maneuver him into the position, your cunt mere inches from his greedy mouth that had already started teasing your folds with kitten licks that you mewling with need. “Coryo,” you whispered, pleading to be completely honest as you lowered yourself down onto his face. His tied arms above his head, your fingers laced with his (the safe word being three squeezes if you end up suffocating him). Your pussy finally reached its destination, finding his lips and his tongue. The slaughter of your sanity had begun.

He was so messy with this, it surprised your soul. His licks weren't long and calculated per usual but short, teasing like that had you bucking your hips onto his face. You try to be careful, you swear you do but all was lost in your hazy pleasure. You moan his name, again and again, and Coriolanus gets high off it. The power you hand him without realizing, the control you give him of your pleasure.

“Coryo!” you cry out, your movements getting fervent. You were close to snapping from riding his thigh, from the high and adrenaline of the situation. It wasn't hard to shatter, your cunt gushing out juices as your walls began to spasm. The orgasm turns your bones into jelly but you have work to do. You have shattered but you yet hadn't broken Snow.

Coryo hums against your folds, licking all the juices up, nipping and kissing your clit with such attention, it sends shivers down your spine. You pulled yourself off of his face, and your pussy begins to ache again because of how debauched he looks. His mouth gasping, his face shining with your arousal all over his chin, beads of your juices dripping down his skin. You closed your eyes, getting your senses back to you.

You let out a shaky breath yourself and you bring him back to a sitting position, one of your hands on his nape and another finding his cock. He lets out a groan of relief and pleasure as you squeeze his girth with your fist. You stroke his cock several times and coat his length with his pre-cum. “Gonna ride you, baby,” you whispered to him, your lips meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself.

You placed yourself on his lap, one of your hands going to his tied wrists, playing with the knots unaware that a lot of it has come loose. You don't even realize it as you were too busy sinking on his cock, your other hand in his hair, gripping the blonde curls rather roughly.

Coryo leans forward, pushing his face between your breasts, his tongue licking stripes of your salty skin and his teeth digging into the sides of your supple flesh making you let out a sharp moan. Your hold on his hair gets tighter, as you adjust to his twitching length inside of your sensitive walls. His lips catch the pendant, the only thing you are still wearing. You look down to watch him suck the ‘S’ in his mouth and you whimper from the sight, your pussy clenching around his cock.

By now your fiddling with his tied wrists had completely untied the knots, something you didn't realize as you became drunk on him. You place your head on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips. Snow lets you control the pace, not letting you know he is free of his bounds. He takes and takes whatever you give him even as his balls tighten with the urge to come. He bites his lower lip to stave off the urge. Second by second, minute by minute passes as your bodies get hotter and hotter, waiting to burn the brightest.

“Coryo,” you begin to whisper, “You're mine, right?” This time the insecurity in your voice was clear, something that would make you cringe later. This time Coriolanus takes control.

His hands find themselves kneading the flesh of your hips, stopping you from fucking yourself on his cock. You freeze in surprise, your eyes widening. “It’s our wedding ring I wear every day. If that doesn't hold any value to you. Don't you dare ask me that question again?”

“Now fucking cum on my cock, pet,” he said, his eyes turning into snake-like slits, “Don't think I'll forget of your behavior tonight, baby.” You swallow nervously, but Coryo says he is yours, not in those exact words but it was Coryo, he was never known for straight words anyway.

You begin to ride him again, picking up pace as you keep slamming down on his cock, his cockhead kissing your cervix from this position. Your hands go to his shoulder to use as leverage as you continue to fuck yourself on him. “My love,” you moan as you felt yourself getting close over the edge, from how his dick was throbbing inside your cunt, you could tell he was close too. He wedges a hand between the both of your connecting bodies and his fingers find your puffy oversensitive clit and he begins to play with the bud making you cry out.

“That's it, dove,” he whispered, smirking, “Cum on my cock, you're the only one in this entire universe with that privilege.” You whimper, feeling your pussy spasm on his cock repeatedly as all the tension leaves your body. He shallowly thrusts into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

You turn into jelly on his lap, your cunt twitching occasionally from oversensitivity. He turns you over so you are laid down on the bed, and he hooks up your legs on his shoulders.

He leans down, his hand gripping your jaw as his lips brush against yours and he says, “Time for your punishment, doll. You had your chance to indulge, my pet. It's my turn now.”

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964 @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived

[sunshine-sunni]

HEYY so I was wondering if you could make a small story about Simon x New!Medic!Reader and getting interested by her because she managed to punch the daylights out of a soldier that was bothering her. And maybe out of interest getting to know each other better *wink* *wink* 😏😏

Eye-catching

Of course, he noticed you. Ghost noticed everything.

You, the shiny new recruit, brought a buzz to the force that was hard to ignore.

When Price first mentioned you, Ghost had snorted dismissively at your file. Price was adamant about your potential, swearing by the renowned doctor who had trained you and recounting your impressive handiwork he'd witnessed firsthand. Price only picked the best.

But Ghost had his reservations. In his eyes, your lack of field experience was a glaring flaw. Still, it wasn't his call to make. If Price vouched for you, Ghost would reserve judgment.

Your arrival on the base was met with indifference from Ghost. He barely acknowledged your polite "hello's" and attempts to connect. You weren't the Cap'n, and you certainly weren't Soap, who, for some unfathomable reason, couldn't stop singing your praises.

Since day one, Soap had been relentless. In the mess hall, he went on about how sweet you were and how Ghost should at least introduce himself properly—after all, you were teammates. If that wasn't enough, when Gaz got injured on a mission, you stitched him up with such skill that he barely felt any pain. Gaz, too, joined the chorus of your admirers, extolling your expert skills as a medic.

It seemed everyone on the team adored you, speaking of you as if you were a miracle worker. To Ghost, you were just a decent medic at best; he saw nothing worth bragging about.

How wrong he was.

About a month after your arrival, Ghost injured his shoulder sparring with Soap. He'd really messed it up, the strain and tension becoming a constant burden. He tried to push through it, gritting his teeth and refusing to let a mere shoulder injury slow him down. For a week, he endured, hissing in pain as he lifted weights, struggling with loads he would usually handle effortlessly. Stubborn as ever, he refused to visit the med bay.

This went on until the following week when Soap, unable to take it any longer, practically scolded the lieutenant for his hard-headedness and dragged him to the medic bay himself.

You were already in the middle of organizing supplies when Soap and Ghost walked in. Ghost, begrudgingly being led, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Soap's face lit up when he saw you, and he immediately started talking about Ghost's shoulder, explaining the situation while Ghost stood there, a grimace on his masked face.

You turned around, offering a warm smile despite Ghost's obvious displeasure. "Lieutenant," you greeted him politely, "why don't you have a seat, and I'll take a look at that shoulder."

Ghost hesitated but finally gave in, taking a seat on the examination table. Soap, satisfied with his handiwork, gave you a quick pat on the shoulder before leaving you to your work.

The room was quiet as you began your examination, your hands gentle but firm as you checked for any signs of injury. Ghost watched you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity, trying to gauge whether you were as good as everyone said.

"Looks like you pulled a muscle pretty badly," you said after a few minutes, "but it's nothing I can't fix." You were about to approach and help fix up the lieutenant's troublesome arm when a loud commotion erupted outside. "Excuse me, I'll be right back," you said, stepping out of your office.

An argument was unfolding between a medic-in-training you recognized as Sherry and a soldier you've heard unsavory things about named Allen. Sherry looked nervous, staring at her boots while Allen yelled at her. "I don't want some fresh-blood working on me. Where's Dr. Whitfield?"

Stepping between them, you patted Sherry on the shoulder, positioning yourself protectively in front of her. "I'm sorry, Dr. Whitfield is on family leave right now, but both Sherry and I are qualified to help."

Allen glared down at you, attempting to use his height to intimidate. "I'd rather have someone reliable to help me, not some trainee or a medic with a shiny new coat."

You smiled, recognizing his type immediately. Gently pressing a hand to his shoulder, you said, "While I understand your concern, there is no one more reliable than us, as we are directly trained under Dr. Whitfield. So please, follow me." You attempted to guide him to an empty room, but he jerked his arm away and flicked your forehead while you were stunned. "Are you hard of hearing? I just said—"

Standing your ground, you brushed off his flick and cut him off. "I heard what you said, but if you're going to be an asshole, you should go. Sherry, there's another patient down the hall."

Turning to let Sherry be on her way, you were about to head back to Ghost when Allen suddenly grabbed your wrist, forcing you to face him. "So that's it? Is no one going to tend to me?"

"I've already told you your options. You insist on rejecting what I'm offering. Now let me go." You tried to pull your arm back, but Allen's grip was relentless. His insistence on disregarding your expertise and blatant disrespect tested your patience. "Let me go."

Allen didn't take you seriously, clearly thinking he could talk to the "new kid" however he wanted. Before he could react, your fist shot out, connecting solidly with his jaw.

The impact echoed through the hall as Allen stumbled back, clutching his face in shock. The surrounding soldiers and medics turned to watch, their expressions a mix of surprise and approval.

You stepped back, maintaining your stance. "Anyone else have a problem with the medical staff?" you asked, your voice steady and commanding.

There was a brief silence before Allen, still holding his jaw, muttered something under his breath and stormed off. You returned to Ghost, an apologetic look on your face. "I'm sorry for that. Give me one minute to wash my hands."

Ghost watched as you disappeared into the bathroom within your office, absolutely stunned by what he had just witnessed. He had observed the entire ordeal, ready to intervene if necessary, but he found himself taken aback by how well you had handled the situation—better than he had expected.

The image of you standing your ground and delivering that sharp, decisive punch replayed in his mind. He had seen plenty of confrontations, both on and off the battlefield, but your composed and resolute demeanor in the face of Allen’s aggression was remarkable.

He had underestimated you, and that realization was both surprising and impressive. You weren’t just a medic; you had the grit and determination that demanded respect.

Ghost saw you through a more transparent lens. How the curve of your figure swayed as you walked, the resolute look on your face when you stood your ground, and how much you clearly loved your job.

♡! I know you said short story but you gave me an idea for atleast one or two more parts!!! I'm ngl this ask couldnt have come at a better time bc I was absolutely cooked with writers block.. thank you for your service. 💞

Ghost felt a different kind of throb and this time it wasn't his arm.

P.S. this wasn't proofread.

[prokopetz]

In recent posts I've complained that a lot of tabletop RPGs which toss around the term "fiction first" don't actually understand what it means, and I've been asked to expand on that complaint. So:

In my experience, there are two ways that game texts which want to position themselves as "fiction first" trip themselves up, one obvious and one subtle.

The first and more obvious pitfall is treating "fiction first" as an abstract ideology. They're using "fiction first" as a synonym for "story over rules" in a way that calls back to the role-playing-versus-roll-playing discourse of the early 2000s. The trouble is, now as then, nobody can usefully explain what "story over rules" actually entails. At best, they land on a definition of "fiction first" that talks about the GM's right to ignore the rules to better serve the story, which is no kind of definition at all – it's just putting a funny hat on the Rule Zero fallacy and trying to pass it off as some sort of totalising ideology of play.

A more useful way of defining "fiction first" play is to think of it not in terms of whether you engage with the rules at all, but in terms of when they're invoked: specifically, as a question of order of operations.

Suppose, for example, that you're playing Dungeons & Dragons, and you pick up the dice and say "I attack the dragon". Some critics would claim that no actual narrative has been established – that this is simply a bare invocation of game mechanics – but in fact we can infer a great deal: your character is going to approach the dragon, navigating any inclement terrain which lies between them, and attempt to kill the dragon using the weapon they're holding in their hand. The rules are so tightly bound to a particular set of narrative circumstances that simply invoking those rules lets us work backwards to determine what the context and stakes must be for that invocation of the rules to be sensical; this, broadly speaking, is what "rules first" looks like.

Conversely, let's say that your game of Dungeons & Dragons has confronted you with a pit blocking your path, and you want to make an Athletics check to cross it. At this point the GM is probably going to stop you and say, hold up, tell us what that looks like. Are you trying to jump across it? Are you trying to climb down one wall of the pit and up the other? Are you trying to tie a rope to the halfling and toss them to the other side? In other words, before you can pick up the dice, you need to have a little sidebar with the GM to hash out what the narrative context is, and to negotiate what can be achieved and what's at stake if you mess it up; this, broadly, is what "fiction first" looks like.

At this point I know some people are thinking "wait, hold on – both of those examples were from Dungeons & Dragons; are you saying that Dungeons & Dragons is both a rules-first game and a fiction-first game?" And yeah, I am. That's the second, more subtle place where game texts that talk about "fiction first" go astray: they talk about it as though being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which is inherent to game systems as a whole.

This is not in fact true: being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which describes particular invocations of the rules. In practice, only very simple games spend all of their time in one mode or the other; most will switch back and forth at need. Generally, most "traditional" RPGs (i.e., the direct descendants of Dungeons & Dragons and its various imitators) tend to operate in rules-first mode in combat and fiction-first mode out of it, though this is a simplification – when and how such mode-switching occurs can be quite complex.

Like any other design pattern, "fiction first" mechanics are a tool that's well suited for some jobs, and ill suited for others. Sometimes your rules are fine-grained enough that having an explicit negotiation and stakes-setting phase would just be adding extra steps. Sometimes you're using the outputs of the rules a narrative prompt, and having to pin the context down ahead of time would defeat the purpose. Fortunately, you don't have to commit yourself to one approach or the other; as long as your text is clear about how you're assuming a given set of rules toys will be used, you can switch modes as need dictates. However, you're not going to be capable of that kind of transparency if you're thinking in terms of "this a Fiction First™ game".

(Incidentally, this is why it can be hard to talk about "fiction first" with OSR fans if you're being dogmatic about fiction-first framing being an immutable feature of particular games. Since traditional RPGs tend to observe the above-described rules-first-in-combat, fiction-first-out-of-combat division, and OSR games tend to treat actually getting into a fight as a strategic failure state, a lot of OSR games spend most of their time in fiction-first mode. If you go up to an OSR fan and insist that D&D-style games can never be fiction-first, then attempt to define "fiction first" for them and proceed to describe how they usually play, they'll quite justifiably conclude that you have your head up your ass!)

[kalims]

⊹ㅤattractive things they do | heartslabyul

parts. heartslabyul, savanaclaw, octavinelle, scarabia, pomefiore, ignihyde, diasomnia

characters. riddle, trey, cater, ace, and deuce.

content. gender neutral reader as always

note. fun fact: was scrolling thru my really, really old drafts and saw this. so I decided to just finish it cause why not. (this been rotting there for like a year and a half lmao)

I have about, 14 in my to do list haha. im doing them at random but trying to squeeze in writing at the crack of the night

perhaps he isn't aware of what he's doing exactly but riddle nods every once in a while during a conversation with you. that alone wouldn't have striken something in you if he wasn't intent on looking in your eyes every, damn, time! when you started to notice whatever habit it was it honestly got you skipping words mid sentence. eye to eye contact was something he thought was basic etiquette, hence his lack of care about it. there's something nice about his undivided attention focused, and probably soaking up whatever you had to say. if that wasn't enough him remembering every single thing you mention to him definitely did the trick..

everything, coughs. if i had to narrow it down probably the fact that trey quite literally looms over your shoulder to take a look at whatever you're doing. it doesn't matter whether you're tall, if you're sitting down that's what he's doing. if you had a penny you'd bet that he knows exactly what he's doing from the small smirk he does right after you jolt. you could smell his cologne, his skin over yours and you don't know if you want to screech into the void or throw yourself out of the window. you're as still as a statue, refusing to look up at him or else you're gonna get more down bad than you already are.

some might have contrary opinions but we all love an affectionate guy who isn't afraid to show it. caters just the type to bound up to you and attach himself like a magnet or something. it's funny cause you could be talking to your friends or something and he just bounds up behind you and encases you in a hug. sometimes when he's the one in a conversation he's pulling you over like he needs an emotional support item. literally whenever you're in reach, he's putting his arms to good use. you will not escape I guess.

for someone who claims to be a major hater to certain things considered weird in his book, affection included. ace does it a lot. he somehow always gravitates towards you, it doesn't matter if deuce is walking beside you he's gonna literally bump the guy away with his shoulder (one time into a bush.) a thing he likes to do though, is an arm over your shoulders like you're buddy buddies, which you technically are. just kinda out of character for a guy like him to pull you close so suddenly—and he's semi-aware of it.

looks away really fast when he gets flustered. it's really obvious that you got him, with whatever you've done. a cute thing deuce has done is laying face down in his desk at record speed just because you managed to make him embarrassed, in a good way! if you peeked through the gap under him you'd see his red face. if he can't hide his face from you, as in you keep tryna peek at it when he looks away he's literally just gonna use his hands to cover it. (although his likely response is to just sputter some excuse and dip.)

[mr-bas00nist]

could I get a subby Toji fic or even a drabble at some point plz? i love him soo much but I don't see many fics with him for domtop male reader

Rough Em’ Up!

☁︎-Sub! Fushiguro Toji x Mean! Dom! Male! Reader

☁︎-Cw: Rough sex, readers a big guy with a big dick, prostitution, slight size kink, impact play, degradation, blowjob, hair-pulling and overstimulation

You’d heard of the infamous Toji Fushiguro from buddies of yours. Men and women who couldn’t brag enough on his behalf on how hot this guy was and how much of a good fuck he was. Whether you were the type of guy to bang a prostitute or not you didn’t have too much interest in Toji. Especially with how “known” he was in the community.

Which is why you had no idea how you wound up with numerous dollars in hand as Toji sat on the bed with you. You were just hanging out with friends at the bar when you felt a pair of strong hands envelope your shoulders. You saw him lean over, breath hot with a twinge of smoke in it. Your friends looked at you in awe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were popping boners at just the sight of the man.

You couldn’t say he wasn’t attractive. You turned over and raised an eyebrow at him as you took a sip of your drink. “Can I help you?” You asked the man with an unamused look, although you couldn’t hide how your eyes raked over his form. “Think you can. Got a few bucks to spare and I can make it the night of your life.” He hummed, scarred lip curling in a smug grin.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Fuck it…. What’d you really have to lose? He smirked as you slid him over a 20 to get things rolling. Based on what your friends told you it was obvious he put a discount on for you. You grabbed his chin as you began making out with the man, the room seemingly getting hotter the longer you two were in it. When you pulled back you licked his neck and sucked a hickey into it.

He looked down noticing the tent in your pants. “Throw in 50 more and I’ll take care of that for you big boy.” He licked his scar with an intrigued look as you huffed grabbing another 50 before sliding it to him. He smiled as he put the money aside before pulling your dick out. You watched as his eyes widened and his mouth drop.

He peers up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve been hiding this monster huh?” He stuck his tongue out before licking you from the base of your cock to the head. You hummed feeling a small shiver run up your spine. He let out a small groan as he circled his tongue around your slit to tease.

“I didn’t pay you good money for you to tease.” You slapped the back of his head making him let out a small grunt. “Don’t be such a dick…” He murmured with flush in his cheeks before his warm mouth enveloped your cock. You moaned softly as he began bobbing up and down. It was obvious he knew what the hell he was doing and to be fair you enjoyed it.

After a few moments though you got impatient, you shoved him down onto your cock as he let out a small gurgle before peering up at you. You could tell he barely had a gag reflex as the only noises you could hear was his sharp breaths and soft moans. You pulled him off of you as a string of drool connected you two. You grabbed another 50 before handing it to him.

“Ass up face down.” You demanded as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to be-“ you slapped him across the face before he let out a whorish moan at the sensation. “I paid you. Ass up face down.” You spoke once again as he clicked his tongue with visible annoyance, his aching cock definitely contradicted his look though.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Did Toji have any idea why he gave you a discount? Yes, because you were hot. Did he have any idea why he let you degrade and slap him around? Yes, because you were hot. Does he have any idea why he’s letting you tarnish his dominant reputation by currently dicking him down like some commonwhore? Yes, because you’re hot.

You had your foot on his head with your hands on his hips as you pulled him right back into you. How many times did he cum? Who knows. You let out audible grunts and groans as you fucked the living hell out of him. He had his face against the bed as he drooled with eyes rolled back into his head.

He was letting out broken moans and whimpers as you degraded him. “Shit- you really do live up to expectations huh? Take dick like a whore… do you usually let guys fuck you like this?” You asked hitting his prostate head on with each thrust into his tight hole.

He didn’t answer, obviously not catching your words. So you pressed more weight onto your foot as it brought him back to the real world. “Ah- what?” He raised a confused eyebrows, tears running down his face from the pain and pleasure. You pulled your foot off of his head before leaning down whispering into his ear.

“Do you usually let guys fuck you like this?” You whispered in a sweet tone. He let out a tired groan before shaking his head rapidly. “J-just you…” You smirked. “Everyone else to pussy to give you what you deserve?” You asked to which he nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Sometimes whores like you just need to get dicked down.”

You pulled him back into you fucking him doggy while pulling back his shaggy black hair. He reached down to his sensitive cock as he stroked it in time with your rough thrusts. He had no idea when his orgasm came but fuck was it intense. Especially when he passed out.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

He opened his eyes as he felt beams of sun hitting his face. He groggily groaned as he felt blankets over him. He sat up as he looked over to the nightstand seeing a glass of water and some pain meds. He raised an eyebrow with a hum as he saw a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

There was a note from you? “Sorry I was so rough, been really pent up and angry lately. Thanks for letting me take it out on you, rest up.” Short but sweet he had to admit. He cracked his neck with a smirk on his face as he noticed the number at the bottom before speaking to himself.

“He seems like a keeper…”

A/n: First manwhore fic 😂🙏🏽 lmao, another fun write. It was fun writing him getting roughed up, deserved tbh 🤷🏽‍♂️ (jk I love you my misunderstood no cursed energy having king)

[yamujiburo]

You said you like sharing Team Rocket facts, sooo, what are some of your favourite facts that you don't get to share often or think not many people know? :D

Yam's Top 10 Team Rocket Fun Facts!

Jessie and James are both 25 years old

Jessie and James are NOT siblings (you'd be surprised how many people think they are). They have almost polar opposite backstories from each other.

James grew up rich but ran away from home at a young age because of all the pressure as well as his arranged marriage with Jessebelle (who looks exactly like Jessie funnily enough)

Jessie's mother, referred to as Miyamoto, was also a Team Rocket operative who worked directly under Giovanni's mother Madame Boss. However Miyamoto went MIA while on a mission looking for Mew and never came back, leaving Jessie to grow up in foster care

Jessie and James in English are named after the outlaw Jesse James which most people seem to know about. Buuut in Japanese, they're called Musashi and Kojiro, named after the famous swordsmen Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro. Musashi kills Kojiro so do with that what you will. Sub fun fact: Musashi and Kojiro's duel is referenced in Sun and Moon with Jessie battling Ash and using the sun to temporarily blind him and Pikachu before striking.

The Team Rocket trio are based off of the Time Skeletons from Time Bokan, who are probably the earliest version of the very specific trope "san-aku" (literally translated to three evil). The trope usually depicts one female leader and two bumbling men, one short and one tall. They also regularly build mechs/robots and beef with kids. In Sun in Moon, they DIRECTLY reference the Time Skeletons!

When the Johto series came to an end a decision had to be made on whether Misty or Team Rocket would leave the series. Head writer Takeshi Shudo fought really hard to keep Team Rocket (I think it's safe to say that they were his favorite characters). Seeing how Team Rocket stayed in the series till the very end, I think it's obvious to see what the end result of that decision was

The reason Jessie, in later seasons of Pokémon doesn't smack around James and Meowth as much/at all is because her voice actress, Megumi Hayashibara personally requested that the writers make her less violent. She felt it went against the "good natured villain" concept Takeshi Shudo originally had for them. On Hayashibara, Jessie's "failed nurse" backstory is based on Hayashibara's experience in trying to become a nurse.

James' love for sports and racing is often depicted in the show and is a reference to his VA, Shinichiro Miki's, love for cars and racing.

The reason Team Rocket crossdresses is literally just because the artists thought James looked better in a dress than Jessie did and ran with it

[cafelattaes]

afterglow | zcl

summary : in which you felt fed up with chenle and walked out after a fight, but you were uncertain whether he’d make an effort to save your relationship.

pairing : chenle x fem!reader

genre : romance, angst

word count : 2.1k

you were having an argument with chenle. you tried to tell him that you felt a little uneasy about one of his female friends, but he downplayed your emotions and it irked you.

"don't you think you're being unfair?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice. "you're allowed to be jealous of every single person you think is hitting on me, but i'm not even allowed to feel upset that you have a close friend who obviously likes you?"

chenle responded dismissively. "it doesn't matter if someone likes me. all my friends know i'm head over heels for you. besides, none of my friends have openly told me they like me. i can't say the same to you and your so-called guy friends."

"i already rejected him," you countered, your voice rising. "how many times do i have to tell you that?"

"it doesn't look like you did because he's obviously still expecting something from you." he retorted, crossing his arms.

"i don't know how else to convince you. why do you always do this? every time i try to tell you how i feel, you always find a way to somehow turn it around on me, and it ends with you feeling more upset than i am."

"look, you don't need to worry about me. i couldn't care less about anyone who might like me. but you? you're too soft with that friend of yours. you might not see it, but it's obvious to everyone else how he hangs all over you. and you're not doing enough to stop it."

"but i don't like him, i never did and i never will. you also have nothing to worry about. why can't you let it go?"

chenle sighed, his eyes narrowing. "the same reason you can't let go of your concerns about my friend. no matter what i say, you're still upset and you're still jealous. that's exactly how i feel."

"so what do you want me to do?" you asked, exasperated.

"nothing. you can't do what i want."

"you want me to stop being friends with him? is that it?" you asked, incredulous. "will you do it for me if i ask you the same thing?" you challenged him. but chenle didn't respond; he just rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

you felt so pissed off. chenle was always so unfair to you whenever you had a fight. you almost screamed at him to get out, but then you remembered you were at his house. you grabbed your things and turned to the door. you were about to leave when you heard chenle's voice.

"you're leaving because of something so petty? seriously?" he said with a scoff.

you gave him a dirty look, your hand on the doorknob. "you were about to storm off to your room and shut me out anyway. we obviously don't want to see each other right now, so what's the point of me staying?" you didn't wait for him to respond. you immediately left, slamming the door behind you.

you knew you were being immature, but so was chenle. you weren't about to let him slam the door on you again, making you feel shitty and guilty, when he clearly didn't feel the same remorse. somehow, even when the fight was his fault, you always ended up being the first one to apologize. that made your stomach churn with resentment.

you weren't always like this. during the first few months of your relationship, you and chenle rarely fought. even when you did, they were just small arguments and you would always make up immediately. but now, almost two years into the relationship, after the honeymoon phase had worn off, things had changed dramatically. you started getting into more frequent and intense fights, and the tolerance and understanding that you had at the start had also faded.

honestly, part of the reason why you're always the first one to give in is that, no matter how angry you get at your boyfriend, you can never stay mad at him for long. you fear that if both of you remain stubborn and no one's going to swallow their pride, the fight would escalate and break the two of you apart. chenle, on the other hand, always seems to have no problem ignoring you for a long time. it only intensifies your frustration and hurt, making you feel even more upset with him than you already are.

you've decided you won't give in this time, no matter what. you're scared that he might do the same, matching your stubbornness with his own. but if he can't even swallow his pride for you, the person he claims to love most, then maybe you're better off apart.

you don't want that though — not really. your relationship, despite its flaws, means too much to you. you just hope he does things differently this time.

after leaving chenle's house, you returned to your own place. you tried to sleep, but your anger and frustration had morphed into a gnawing worry that made your stomach tied up in knots. deep down, you weren't confident that he would do right by you this time. the realization made you feel conflicted. is it really worth staying with him if this is how he consistently makes you feel?

the thought sent a wave of sadness through you. despite everything, you loved him deeply. the idea of your relationship ending made your chest tighten with fear. you didn't want this to be the final straw.

tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over onto your pillow. as you cried silently in your room, a mix of emotions washed over you; love, frustration, hope and disappointment all tangled together. eventually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted off into a fitful sleep.

your last conscious thought was a small hope that when you woke up in the morning, you'd see his name on the screen accompanied by an apology you'd been waiting for.

chenle sat by the sofa, his eyes fixed on his phone, waiting for your call. since you had walked out after your fight the night before, you still hadn't come knocking on his door. this was the first time you hadn't talked for this long after an argument. fear started creeping up because of the prolonged silence from you. his chest tightened at the thought that you might have finally decided you'd had enough of him and realized you deserved better. he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. as the day was coming to an end, the setting sun cast long shadows across his room, signaling the passage of time and deepening his anxiety.

he could no longer sit still and wait for you to come to him. what was stopping him from coming after you anyway? he didn't know. but he realized he had been selfish for always waiting for you to mend things all this time. chenle felt like he could lose you easily to other people; you were surrounded by many who liked you and wanted to be with you. because of that, he always felt threatened. letting you come to him first after a fight somehow gave him a sense of security that you loved him enough not to let others steal you away from him.

but he realized now how dumb that was. instead, he could end up losing you because of his inaction. he snapped out of his reverie and grabbed his car keys, walking hastily through the door.

you heard someone ring your doorbell, and you checked to see who it was. your heart leaped in both happiness and relief at the sight of chenle standing outside your door.

if you weren't in a fight with him, you would laugh at how ridiculous he looked wearing sunglasses. you were pretty sure the sun had already set and it was dark outside.

you were feeling different kinds of emotions as you stood there. relief that he had come, nervousness about what he might say, and a stubborn remnant of hurt from your fight. you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was to come as you opened the door, finally seeing him up close.

"can i come in?" chenle asked quietly. you didn't respond verbally, but opened the door wider, allowing him to enter.

you closed the door slowly before turning around to face him. chenle stood in the middle of your living room, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

you leaned back against the door, arms crossed protectively over your chest, waiting expectantly for him to speak.

"i'm sorry," he said, his voice was soft and sounded a bit tired. "i'm sorry about everything. i was only thinking about myself and took your words lightly. i kept dismissing your feelings because i was blinded by my own jealousy. i didn't realize i was hurting you." he stepped closer, gently cradling your face in his hands. "please, forgive me. i don't want to lose you over some stupid fight. i know i haven't been the best at showing it, but i love you so much."

his words caused tears to well up in your eyes. for the past 24 hours, you had felt an uncomfortable tightness in your chest, each second away from him making you fear you were closer to losing him. you knew you both had much to discuss, and the way you communicated with each other needed improvement. but at that moment, you felt a surge of relief knowing that despite all the fights, chenle still loved you.

"thank you for coming to me, and i'm sorry too," you said, holding the hand that was caressing your face. "i have so many things to say... but first, can i take off your sunglasses? they're distracting." as you removed them, you felt your heart clenched at the sight. chenle's eyes were red and puffy, evidence of hours spent crying. the thought of him crying by himself made your sadness deepen, triggering your own tears as you immediately embraced him. "i'm so sorry for leaving you alone last night."

you didn't usually walk out during your fights, and your departure likely made chenle realize that this argument was unlike any other. he must have thought you had reached your limit. you now understood the depth of his fear of losing you, mirroring your own fear of losing him.

chenle encircled you in his arms, resting his head on your shoulder and burying his face in the crook of your neck. his embrace conveyed how much he had missed you.

"no, i am sorry. i deserved it," he murmured against your skin. "if you hadn't left, i probably would've done the same thing as before and not realized what i'd done wrong. you've been patient with me all this time. i'm sorry for all the times i ignored how you feel. i'll be better for you, i promise." he said, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

as you stood there in each other's arms, you both silently acknowledged the work ahead to strengthen your relationship. the warmth of your reconciliation filled the room, replacing the tension that had hung between you just moments before.

you and chenle were now cuddling on your bed. your chin rested on top of his head while gently running your fingers through his hair. the simple gesture made his heart flutter. his arm draped comfortably around your waist as he nestled against you, closing his eyes and basking in the peaceful aftermath.

as you lay there, feeling warm and loved, you felt so relieved. the tension from your fight completely melted away, and you felt even more in love.

chenle shifted slightly, tilting his head to look up at you. "i think i've figured out the secret to never fighting again."

you raised an eyebrow. "huh? what's that?"

"we just stay like this forever." he replied with a grin. "can't argue if we're too busy cuddling."

"tempting offer, but we'll get hungry eventually." chenle pretended to consider this seriously.

"then we take turns getting snacks while the other one guards the cuddle spot."

"guard it from what exactly?" he shrugged, snuggling closer.

"i don't know. cuddle thieves? it's a very coveted position, you know." you rolled your eyes in amusement.

"you're ridiculous."

"yeah," he leaned up to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "but you love me." he whispered against your mouth. you couldn't help but smile and steal another kiss from him.

as you snuggled back together, you felt calm and happy. in that moment, holding each other close, you both silently promised to stick together. you knew your love hadn't just survived, it had grown even stronger.

[iceunhie]

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw