#i hope i can do it justice if/when i write this
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caitvi x male reader SMUT
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caitvi x male reader
tw: literature and writing so beautiful you wouldn't be able to read anything else after this x2
mdni
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You followed vi after she left you for Caitlyn.
"who the fuck is he and why is he here." Caitlyn said.
"EW OH MY LORD JUMP SCARE" vi said as she noticed you. "seriously, why are you here. I literally told u to go away and that I'm not interested in men."
"but I'm a straight man and I'm entitled!" you protested. "I can't stand the fact that lesbians exist and that they don't cater to me! I'm so mad! I'm going to post x male reader fan fiction on Tumblr and get mad when people call me out! btw I can also fix both of your sexualities! I'm 6'0 btw"
Caitlyn had to crank her neck to look down at you.
"6 feet? more like 6 centimeters. you can't fix us." Caitlyn shot back.
"Cait has fascist dictator tendencies and I caused my sister so much trauma it caused a disorder." VI added. "I don't think being lesbian is the issue here. also just look at you, you're the reason why bisexual girls turned lesbian."
anger boiled inside you because how dare women turn you down. how dare they have opinions. how dare the government from the handmaid's tale not be a real thing. you tried to jump vi but then Caitlyn tripped you and you fell on the ground like a pathetic loser.
"oh god why is it trying to fight." Cait said. "it tripped and it's not even wearing heels. and I'm wearing them. the platform 5 inch chinese laundry ones btw."
you tried to get up but vi knocked u unconscious
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tw: a bit of body horror
you woke up and u got tied to a chair. Caitlyn is angry asf cuz you attempted murder on her girlfriend. her girlfriend, not yours, because vi is a LESBIAN AND IS NOT INTERESTED IN MEN.
"how do men always find the balls and the audacity to do these things" Caitlyn thought out loud. "oh wait, I have an idea"
Caitlyn then got out this weird device.
"you have one more chance. say you'll leave fictional lesbians alone and I'll let you go."
"no. I will not leave fictional lesbians alone. all women must love men." you said idiotically.
"so which one of your balls are you the most attached to? I'll literally chop it off." she said as she got out her weird device and made a snapping noise twice with it.
you were so consumed by horror and you didn't answer her so she snipped both of them off and then left you for vi.
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a/n: yall asked and I delivered
I hope I've done the genre of satire justice.
#vi x male reader#Caitlyn x male reader#caitvi x male reader#vi x reader#vi x you#Caitlyn x reader#caitvi x reader#Caitlyn smut#vi smut#lesbian#arcane#vi#caitlyn#caitlyn kiramman#wlw#vi x reader smut#Cait x reader#caitlyn x you#satire
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This'll be the first time that I read one of your works, Ze! Hope you don't mind me yapping. It's recently become a small routine/habit of mine🫂
Spoilers and lots of yapping under the cut!
I wanna start off with the tags. My reaction was pretty normal until I read the "(ajax licks) blood and tears". Was I deterred? No, I was invested. Oh, my...all enemies and no lovers??? Tension only??? I just know this'll be good.
Brb, I'll listen to the song first...
Huh, I'd definitely trust your music taste.
The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.
Okay! We're diving straight into this. Love that actually.
Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold.
I GOT GOOSEBUMPS.
The way you write scratches my brain just right. Even better that your style of writing genuinely matches the overall dark vibe you're going for. I can literally feel it in my bones.
Gently grabbing your shoulders before shaking you bc I fell in love at first work with your writing. I need to read more of your works, Ze! Omg, why did it take so long before my dash gifted me with it? I should've looked for it myself!
Sorry, just not-so casually a sucker for your writing style.
It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter.
I already noticed this with the way you described the horses but there's truly just something about the way you do it. Like I can oh so easily imagine whatever it is you are narrating
I LOVE THE TINY DETAILS
Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar.
Is it bad to say that I wanna eat your fics? (affectionately(?))
The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.
I think I fell in love—
You have a writing style that gives me fairy tale kind of vibes. Even if it's dark. It would be so fun reading this out loud with theatrics and some drama.
In my head? I'm doing just that. It is so good.
...
All of this is so good that I can't pick one line and yap about.
You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.
GODS
WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE TO HAVE THE ABILITY TO WRITE A SCENE THE WAY YOU DO—
IT'S JUST SO???? I CANT EVEN DO JUSTICE TO DESCRIBE IT. I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE.
You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow.
I am so deeply immersed in this fic that I physically swallowed when I read this.
He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.
...For the love of— I have thoughts but I shan’t say them out loud for propriety's sake.
He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run.
THAT WAS FOUL
“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”
��💢
I dunno, there was something about this that just got on my nerves.
...
It was not in 2025 bingo card to find myself having a tiny crush on this man AGAIN.
What in the sadomasochism...
Nope. No. Bye—
“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”
I just want to be slightly violent. Just a bit.
...and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.
Mnh...yes...I am...slightly dysfunctional.
Sitting in my chair with my back slightly hunched and a hand over my lips as I question myself.
“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.
......................
Zipping my mouth closed.
...the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.
What if I actually lose it?
Mnh? Ze? Will you take accountability?!
He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”
Okay, I am brought by to sanity by the genuine question of what the hell does a lie taste like?
Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?
And I am back to the edge of my sanity. Lovely.
His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.
...slamming my head on the table right now.
What— no, I?? This is...am I really? No...what? Hahaha. That's not...maybe?
Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”
I'm going insane.
Okay, the note was really cute tho??? I'm sorry but I imagine it in a chibi kind of style where Targtaglia's standing by the door while reader collects their stuff. Maybe doggo will betray the reader by being nice to Tartraglia, who absolutely eats it up when the reader glares at both him and the dog.
EASY ON THE EYES, EASIER TO HATE. tartaglia x reader ✧ 2.7k words
when the fae raid your village to take humans into their realm, you think you’ll be safe in the woods. but you run into a fae who introduces himself as tartaglia and realize it might have been safer for you to stay at home.
tags and warnings ✧ fae!tartaglia, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), reader sews and tailors clothes for a living, the fae are pretty brutal, mentions of violence, (ajax licks) blood and tears, chasing (predator prey dynamic), manhandling, all enemies and no lovers (only tension oops). note ✧ this is a darker fic compared to most of my writing; please let me know if I need to tag anything else! title inspired by the song "psycho" by taylor acorn. a gift for @cruel-hiraeth for teahouse's secret santa! happy new year, kae! i hope this fic helps you start off the year right by loving hating tartaglia >u< this was lots of fun to write hehe and got a little long because the au ran away from me... i hope you enjoy! love you lots <3
The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.
The fae are here.
They pull people out of their beds, pushing them into the streets. Turn their faces toward the light of a burning house—looking for the beautiful humans, still young and nimble. Or searching for evidence of skill in the arts; a pretty face matters little if one can produce beautiful things in ways that the fae cannot. Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold.
The humans the fae deem acceptable meet a much worse fate. They are picked up and thrown in the back of carts, drawn by horses with ears too long and manes too wild, their coats unusually glossy and vibrant. The chosen who try to escape are bound with rope that cruelly digs into skin. Those who try to fight are taken down brutally, then laughed at as they writhe on the ground—though the fae make sure no permanent damage is done, for that would defeat the purpose of the raid.
A fae bearing a torch of blue flames brings it up to the walls of each house of those who have been chosen. The blue catches on the wood unnaturally quickly, spreading with a voracious hunger despite the wind and snow. Within the hour, nothing will remain besides a pile of ash.
But by then, the fae and the chosen villagers will be long gone.
You are lucky that sleep is so elusive tonight.
Earlier, after tossing and turning in bed for ages, you give up on trying to fall asleep. It is hard to leave your dog who has curled up beside you in a ball of white fluff, but you press a kiss between her ears before changing into some warmer layers. You sweep a thick winter cloak over your shoulders. It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter. Putting on boots that have long since been molded to the shape of your feet, you leave your house to catch some fresh air and possibly tire yourself out along the way.
The blanket of pure white is beautiful. The full moon makes everything glitter as snow stretches from the outskirts of the village into the forests beyond. Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar.
It is so quiet out here. The whistling of the wind and the thoughts in your head are the only sounds you hear. You are used to this, though. Every day you sew and tailor clothes in the back of the village’s clothing store, often alone for hours on end with nothing but your thoughts for company.
A strong gust of wind rocks you on your feet. Clutching your cloak tighter and tossing the fur-lined hood up over your head, you turn your back on the forest to face the trail of footsteps you’ve made through the snow. You should head home.
Still, you take your time approaching the village. The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.
Then the first scream rips through the night.
You freeze. Scanning the houses on the outskirts of the village reveals no dangers.
Another cry follows the first and you know something must be terribly wrong.
You start running toward the village, kicking up snow as your mind races. Perhaps someone is getting robbed—but no one in town would dare. Or based on the growing amount of cries and shouts, maybe something happened that has injured a lot of people. A fire?
As you make it to the buildings, you see that you are right. Fire engulfs one of the homes on the far side of town, the flames reaching for the sky. A shudder runs through you at the sight, for the flames are unnaturally blue, and though this is the first time you’ve seen such a thing, you have heard of the stories and warnings about the cyan fire and those that accompany it.
You will not let the fae take you.
Whirling around, you sprint for the woods. The screams of the other villagers ring in your ears, but you know it is impossible for you to take on a single fae, let alone an army of them. They are here to steal humans away. For what, you’re not sure, but it can’t be for anything good. Though you doubt they would choose to take you, the best way to make sure you can see the sunrise tomorrow is to hide in the woods and avoid them all.
Reaching the treeline seems to take ages. You keep looking over your shoulder as you run, half expecting to have been spotted, but you only see more and more flames of blue burning houses to the ground.
Your heart skips a beat at the thought of your home being set ablaze—your dog!—but then you remember the fae only burn the houses of the humans they take and relief washes over you.
With your thoughts consumed by the safety of your dog, you don’t notice that you have slowed, trying to catch your breath in the midst of the trees. Nor do you notice that you aren’t alone anymore, until the newcomer starts speaking.
“My, my. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Dread sinks like a stone in your stomach. You spin, eyes wide as they land on the source of those playful and teasing words, leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed.
You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.
He hums and tilts his head. It is then that you remember he asked a question, and your throat works to find your voice to answer him. “I was out for a stroll,” you manage to say, words somehow steady despite your fluttering pulse.
It’s a half-truth, but half-truths are half-lies, and there’s the slightest hint of bitterness in the back of Ajax’s throat that always accompanies humans’ lies. “Oh, really? And was that before or after we made our presence known?”
“Before, actually,” you tell him honestly. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. The snow is beautiful and the moon is bright—it’s pretty, is it not?” If you talk enough, maybe he’ll lose interest so you can make a run for it. You don’t know much about fae, but with the way he’s dressed in nicer clothing than what most men in your village wear, surely he won’t care for running through the snowy forest.
He smiles. “It is pretty.” His eyes refuse to leave your frame, and a shiver runs through you. You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow.
Pushing off the tree, he takes a few steps forward, nearly silent despite the boots he wears. He stops when you stiffen, clutching your cloak tighter in your hands. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tartaglia,” he says, picking one of his many names to give you. “And you are?”
You press your lips together and force a smile. Even you know not to give the fae your name, no matter how much of a gentleman he is pretending to be. Your stomach rolls, unease making your heart rate pick up again. “I’m-” You see the way he perks up in interest, expecting a name. “I’m leaving,” you spit out, turn on your heels, and run.
Ajax watches you leave, the green of your cloak billowing out behind you like a rabbit’s tail inviting him to chase. He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.
He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run. And he wouldn’t dare to let all your hard work go to waste—so he’ll participate in the delightful hunt you’ve set up for him.
The ground is uneven beneath your feet. It is hard to tell where the tree roots are under the thick layer of snow and each breath of air feels like tiny needles stabbing your lungs. But you push on, feet pounding as quickly as you can force yourself to go.
You want to be as far away from that fae as you can get. He had not looked like he was going to chase you when you last saw him, laughing as you ran away, but there was a look in his eyes that pushed you to keep running.
When you toss a quick glance over your shoulder, your breath hitches and terror rushes through you.
He’s there. In the distance, but you can see him, weaving through the trees at an inhuman pace, his long legs carrying him far. He is gaining on you and you fear what he will do when he catches you.
You push yourself to run even harder, but your legs burn and your throat feels tight. In your haste, you fail to see the lower hanging branches of a nearby tree. A cry tears from your lips as a thin branch slices through the skin of your cheek, but you barely feel the pain with your face nearly frozen from the cold.
“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”
Through your huffs for air, you manage to shout back at him. “Piss off! Leave me alone!”
Ajax grins, closing the distance. “I don’t think I will,” he says.
He lunges forward and grabs a fistful of your cloak. You stumble from the pull, tripping over your feet. He uses the momentum to spin you around, pushing you backward until you hit a tree, forcing the air from your lungs. His body presses against yours right after, caging you in with one leg wedged between your own.
“Let go of me!” you shout, slamming your fists into his chest. You try shoving all of your weight into him but he simply presses back harder until his chest is flush against yours.
He laughs—laughs!—as you struggle against him, kicking and yelling and throwing your weight from side to side. He does not budge at all under the onslaught. You do everything you can, but only wear yourself out, leaning back against the tree to catch your breath.
“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”
His reaction makes your blood boil, most of your fear buried beneath anger. You glare down past his arm that still grips your cloak and catch sight of a sliver of pale skin peeking through the folds of his clothes. Moving your gaze back up to his face, you spit out, “I hope you die.”
And then you dig your nails into the exposed skin of his stomach, sink your teeth into the arm holding onto your cloak, and shove with all your might.
Ajax stumbles backward.
You rip yourself out of his hold, twist your body to the side, taking one step forward, free-
Arms wrap around your waist and throw you back toward the tree. Your feet catch on his boot, making you lose your balance, perfect for Ajax to maneuver your body as he wills. This time, he pins your hands above your head, one large hand grasping your wrists, while his other arm presses as an immovable bar across your collarbones. One leg forces its way between your own, and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.
You look down. You don’t want to see the anger on his face before he retaliates for your actions.
The arm across your chest shifts and you flinch as gloved fingers grab your chin, firm but not painful as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. You’re taken aback by the grin on his face, canines bared and bloodthirsty, but his eyes are amused.
“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.
Your eyes grow wide. This kind of a creature is not one you will be able to escape, at least not now—unarmed except for your teeth and nails.
Ajax lets go of your chin, pulling back slightly. He’s delighted by the fire within you. When he first saw you, running toward the woods, he simply thought you a pretty coward. But oh you dared to fight back, using what little defenses humans naturally have, and you even broke skin. Though his fae blood allows him to rapidly heal, the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.
As he looks away from your face to take you all in, now that you’re not struggling to escape, his gaze catches on your cloak. His eyes light up, tracing over the exquisitely stitched leaves and plants of various green threads, mixed occasionally with lively bunnies of soft browns. There’s a rabbit still unfinished, just a cute head and perked ears, awaiting its body to bring it to life.
“Did you make this?” Ajax asks, thumb brushing over the embroidery.
“No,” you gasp, heart sinking.
He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”
It’s over. Now that he knows you are skilled at sewing, he has all the reasons he needs to bring you into his realm. Despair is a heavy weight, mixed with frustration and anger. Tears well in your eyes and slide down the curves of your face. A few droplets spread into the cut on your left cheek, mixing with the beading blood that stains your skin.
Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?
He can’t stop himself from leaning in even closer until his nose nearly presses against your ear. There’s a moment where you hear him inhale. Then his tongue swipes up your cheek, lapping up tears and blood. His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.
His fingers grip your chin again and he turns your head to the other side. Warmth travels up your cheek as he licks your tears, before pulling away with a satisfied smirk on his lips.
As you gasp for breath, he takes in the sight of more tears streaming down your face, shed in mourning for the loss of your life in the human world. Shudders run through you until your tears slow, giving time for your heart to harden. Slowly, you open your eyes to meet his gaze, yours now blazing with fury and hatred.
Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”
note ✧ ajax makes you point out your home and he gets to dig through your stuff as you collect a few things to take with you. don't worry, doggo gets to come with and is treated very well (fae like animals more than humans, usually).
this is not quite the type of thing i usually write, but i hope it was still an enjoyable read! i'd love to hear what you think c:
#this was such a great fic to read#urghhh#this could be a whole trilogy and i would be invested in buying every copy to binge it#chef's kiss#mwah!#ack—#childe x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact
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thank your stars all you want but I'll always be the lucky one - choi seungcheol scenario
hellooo~ i am soooo not done with the proposal scenarios😅 this one is a request, hope i did it justice. and yes I did cry again while writing this. Happy new year!🤍
you can listen to your universe by rico blanco for maximum feels. this was insipired by this song🥺
for my other svt fics, check them here
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)
The soft glow of morning sunlight streams through the windows of Seungcheol’s apartment, the familiar scent of his cologne lingering in the air. You stretch lazily in bed, savoring the warmth of the cozy blankets and the faint murmur of the city outside.
It’s a routine you’ve grown used to after nearly seven years together—his home has become yours in every way except officially.
Seungcheol had left early for the gym, promising to grab your favorite smoothies on his way back. The two of you had settled into this comfortable rhythm, a dance of affection and understanding that made your friends tease you mercilessly. “You’re practically married already,” they’d say, rolling their eyes at how well you two knew each other’s quirks.
Still, in the quiet corners of your heart, you sometimes wondered why he hadn’t taken the next step. Not that you were in a rush—you loved him, and you knew he loved you. But the idea lingered, like a melody waiting to be completed.
Mid-morning, a knock at the door pulls you from your musings. You pad to the door, opening it to find a delivery man holding a small, nondescript package.
“For Choi Seungcheol?” he asks.
“That’s him,” you reply, signing for the box. It’s light, plain, and gives no indication of what’s inside. You place it on the kitchen counter and send Seungcheol a quick text: A package came for you. Should I open it?
His response is almost immediate. Don’t open it! I’ll deal with it when I’m back. Thanks, babe.
His urgency makes you chuckle. It’s rare for him to be this insistent. Shrugging, you leave the package untouched and go about your day, but curiosity itches at the back of your mind.
When Seungcheol returns, he’s casual—too casual, you think. His eyes dart to the counter where the package rests, and he quickly sweeps it up. “Thanks for letting me know,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.
“Sure,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s in it?”
“Just some gym stuff,” he lies, his tone a little too breezy. You know him well enough to catch the slight shift in his demeanor.
Over the next few days, you notice odd behavior. Seungcheol becomes extra cautious, sometimes darting out of the room with his phone or quickly closing drawers when you walk in.
It’s adorable but also maddening. You’re good at sniffing out surprises, and whatever he’s hiding, it’s big.
The breaking point comes during dinner one night. The two of you are seated across from each other, candles flickering between you. He’s unusually fidgety, his fork clinking against the plate as he tries—and fails—to make eye contact.
“Seungcheol,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as he pokes at his steak. His fidgeting is driving you insane. “Spit it out.”
“What?” he replies, looking up with wide, innocent eyes that you know all too well aren’t innocent at all.
“You’re acting weird.” You lean forward, pointing your fork at him. “I can tell you’re hiding something. Just say it.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” he insists, but his voice cracks slightly. “Can’t a guy just enjoy dinner with his girlfriend without being interrogated?”
“Not when he’s sweating bullets,” you deadpan, crossing your arms.
He laughs nervously and takes a big gulp of water. “It’s just… I’m thinking about work stuff.”
“Liar,” you say, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe it’s gym stuff,” he says, grinning in that way he does when he’s trying to distract you. “I’m planning a new workout routine.”
“Seungcheol, I know every workout routine you’ve ever done. Don’t test me.”
He groans, dropping his fork onto his plate and dramatically rubbing his face. “Can you trust me on this one? I promise you'll love it and will hate me if I tell you right now. I’ve been working very hard on, can you be kind enough to spare me for now. I pinky promise you'll know soon enough"
You blink at him, stunned by his sudden honesty.
Then, a small smile creeps onto your lips. “Fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “But I’m only letting this go because you look like you might combust if I keep pushing.”
He lets out a loud sigh of relief, muttering a quiet, “Thank you.” standing up from his seat to go to you, giving your head a kiss.
The rest of the evening is pleasant, even though you can’t help but notice how Seungcheol keeps stealing glances at you, a secretive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
It’s enough to make your curiosity burn, but you keep your promise and drop the subject—for now.
A week later, the snow falling heavy covering the streets with sheets of white. You love the snow, you've always love cold weathers more even though your body doesn't. Anything below 80° makes you shiver.
Your boyfriend knows this, he learned early on your relationship that you get cold easily so he always brings a jacket for you. Now you own his hoodies, a shared asset.
The air outside is crisp as Seungcheol insists on taking you on an evening walk through a quiet park. It's all covered in snow making the whole scene look magical.
Winter lights hang from the trees, casting a warm glow over the snow-dusted path. He holds your gloved hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he leads you to a secluded gazebo overlooking a frozen lake.
“Why here?” you ask, smiling at his excited energy. “It’s freezing.”
“It’s romantic,” he replies, winking. “Just trust me.”
You shake your head, amused. “I’m starting to think you’re up to something.”
“Me? Up to something?” He grins mischievously
You look up at the sky, it's dark enough to see the stars. Living in the city, it's a rare sight so you close your eyes and send a quick wish to the heavens like you always do when you see a star. Meanwhile Seungcheol watches you, a smile forming on his lips and his heart thumping hard in his chest
With your eyes still closed, you feel Seungcheol lean closer to you. He kisses your cheeks eliciting a giggle from you
“You’re being extra sweet tonight, did you do something?” you tease
“I’m always sweet,” he counters, feigning offense.
He seems restless, though, his leg bouncing slightly.
“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned.
“No, no. Just... thinking.”
You narrow your eyes. “About what?”
He looks at you, his gaze so intense it makes your heart skip. “About how lucky I am to have you.”
You roll your eyes with a laugh, nudging him playfully. “What’s with the cheesy lines tonight?”
He chuckles but doesn’t answer, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple instead. Then another on your cheek. And one on your lips. His kisses grow deeper, hotter, until the cold around you feels irrelevant.
“Cheol,” you murmur against his lips, half-laughing, half-serious, “what are you doing?”
“Loving you,” he whispers, his voice low and warm.
Despite his sweetness, you’re still clueless about his plan.
When he finally pulls back, he takes both your hands, holding them tightly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
You tilt your head, your curiosity piqued. “What is it?”
He drops to one knee in front of you, and your heart stutters. “You don't know how hard it was to keep this from you, every time you ask I almost wanted to tell you but I wanted everything to be perfect” He pulls a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a glittering diamond ring.
Your mouth falls open, your breath caught in your chest.
“You are my everything,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “The one who makes my world brighter, warmer, better. Whenever I think about the future, I can only see us. You. Stealing all of my hoodies, cooking breakfast for us, me bringing home your favorite smoothie on the weekend. To be honest, I don't really need any wishes because I'm already the lucky one. But will you make me the luckiest man and let me be your husband?”
Your lips jut out, quivering as tears fall down your cheeks. You can't even form words right now so you just nod frantically, unable to speak. He slips the ring onto your finger, and you throw yourself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time.
“You’re unbelievable,” you whisper as he kisses you again, deeper this time, stealing the breath from your lungs.
He smiles against your lips. “I take it that’s a yes?”
“Of course, it’s a yes,” you reply, pulling him closer. “You big, cheesy romantic.”
He laughs, his forehead resting against yours. “Told you, you'll love my suprise”
And you do. With the stars above, the quiet of the snowy park, and the warmth of his love, you know you’ve found your universe in him.
#fic#story#au#svt#seventeen#svt fic#svt scenario#svt imagine#svt x oc#svt fluff#svt reads#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario#seventeen fluff#seventeen x y/n#seventeen seungcheol#seventeen scoups#seungcheol imagine#seungcheol scenario#seungcheol fluff#scoup imagine#scoups fluff
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i fully support rhaena claiming sheepstealer but i so badly want to write a fic where she and nettles both exist. nettles rides sheepstealer and rhaena rides grey ghost and they meet and bond over their wild dragons and fly together and fall in love
#i just think they could be so good together#the street rat and the princess who lead radically different lives but are tied together by their dragons#nettles brings out the fiery streak in rhaena and rhaena softens nettles just a touch#i should have posted ab them earlier bc now i'm seeing other ppl ship them and i'm like nooo... i was the first person to think of that...#it's entirely serious for me though#rhaenettles nation rally behind me i will one day deliver a 100k word fic ab their adventures#i also think rhaena and grey ghost would be such a wonderful pair#the idea of rhaena searching for ages‚ fueled by determination and her desire to take her place amongst her family as a dragonrider‚ before#finally finding and claiming the most elusive dragon of them all...#i hope i can do it justice if/when i write this#text#house of the dragon#team black#rhaena targaryen#nettles#sheepstealer#grey ghost
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Have you published this yet? 😭 i NEED IT
I have not, I'm so sorry 😭 I am a very slow writer and fake dating real feelings turned into a longer fic than I anticipated!! I do have a tag for it now where I post snippets, and here's some more of The Phone Call as an apology for how long this dang fic is taking (little language warning for anyone who needs it!):
#tysm for your interest!!#i don't want to jinx anything by saying when i HOPE to post it by#but now that most of the july writing challenges have wrapped up i can shift my focus back to it + the ice cream shop au#something i've learned is the longer i stare at a fic the more i will doubt myself#so writing anything longer than 3-4k words is Really Stressful#but i truly do love this fic sm and i'm so hopeful and determined to do it justice !!#it's 3 chapters and a part of me just wants to like post the first one and get it out there#but a larger part of me kind of wants to be able to post it on some kind of definite schedule#and chapter 3 was giving me a Problem as of like a week and a half ago#fake dating real feelings#liza writes#erasermic#aizawa shouta#yamada hizashi#ask#long post
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I’m curious if you have any thoughts or headcanons about Onslaught and alcohol. I imagine being a semi-functioning evil team is stressful and if Psimon is chucking everyone’s vapes then cigs and 420 isn’t an option, then alcohol is the second best thing right? Besides drinking together is team building and leads to this wonderful thing called “actually talking about your trauma instead of bottling it up for once”.
AAAA sorry about taking so long to get around to this.
I need to stop checking my inbox until I’m FULLY ready to yap and ramble. I need that lil blue dot reminding me I have asks so bad.
That IS a good question and I’m so flattered that y’all bother with my content. <3 I think they’d be at least somewhat different about alcohol.
(Sorry for any typos in advance, I wrote this mostly at various doctor’s appointments. ALSO. Last thing to apologize for. I’ve never vaped or smoked when I wrote the last part, but I also have never consumed alcohol and that fact may be more evident in this one)
Cw: Alcohol and some references to alcoholism, uh…references to angst but maybe more comfort than angst, kinda all over the place <\3
Okay so, in the beginning, Onslaught was Mostly teens. Psimon was BARELY even old enough to drink in America at the ripe young age of 21, flat. And I thinnkkkkkk Psimon is American? Even if he’s not, it seems the rest of Onslaught is, so I think Psimon would probably step up and be all “No, no,” confiscate all the bottles and cans and it’d make the teens so mad and indignant. Literal felons are being BABYSAT. Even when they travel where the drinking age is lower.
But when the teenagers turn old enough to drink, they have a whole little birthday celebration with what they can get, and of course, offer the first taste of alcohol. Their choice for what it is, as long as the team could afford it. Of course, they laugh and tease if they recoil from the taste.
Most of the team is pretty fond of drinking, usually together. It’s nice bonding.
Devastation is the only exception to the “Psimon Says no alcohol until you’re 21” rule from the beginning. The team can argue “She is LITERALLY one (1) year old” all they want. She is LITERALLY built different, Psimon is fine with her drinking.
Idk if she particularly has a preference for any kind. She’s probably one of those who subscribe to the belief of “It ain’t right if it doesn’t burn a bit going down”. Wine is probably somewhat…nostalgic. For some reason. Takes her back to someplace she can’t name, someplace she’s never been, but I think that’d be one of the only reasons she might prefer wine. Her taste may be all over. May be whatever’s strong and good. I’m no alcohol savant, what do I know?
She likes to drink to celebrate and to bond, sometimes to ebb at stress. It takes a LOT to get her drunk, but that’s not gonna stop her from getting drunk when she has the time and money burn on it. She gets drunk and gets even more jovial and warm and open, though she’s usually relatively open. Also, haphazard. She becomes a big fan of violating people’s personal space. Hugs, patting backs, throwing her arm around them, leaning on people shorter than her, etc.
It can annoy a lot of people if she does it too much, Psimon strangely doesn’t seem to mind too much tho…aheem…
Besides that, Psimon’s generally against the team drinking to the point of drunkenness, but there’s little to actually do about it; he struggles to track all of their limits, and when he’s focusing on one, that leaves all the others alone. He tries to avoid getting drunk himself instead. Someone has to stay sober, and his psionic powers don’t mix well with too much alcohol. And he’s the leader. It makes the most sense that it’d be him to keep his wits about him.
The Terror Twins are hearty drinkers; they also can drink a lot and get very warm and jovial when drinking, like Devastation. Any outing to a bar feels celebratory with them. They decided they don’t like to get fully drunk though, not too regularly. First Tuppence decided this, then Tommy when she pointed it out to him. They don’t want to open up more quickly than they intend. Psimon can relate to that, so he defends them when they drop out. That doesn’t stop them from having fun with everyone else though, or helping when things get bad. They’re usually decent at opening up on their own time anyway.
Shimmer and Mammoth like to follow Psimon’s lead and keep excess drinking to a minimum. A couple of shots, a glass or maybe two, it really depends on what it is, but that’s it. Mammoth can take more than his sister, just by merit of him being so much larger, but he doesn’t like the taste of alcohol at all while his sister does. However, the second either of them get any kind of buzz ebbing at their senses is the second they quit.
If they’re found sitting down and downing drinks, something is wrong. They’d only let go so much if they’re trying to drown their problems. Then, they can use some company. Someone lending an ear to their sorrows doesn’t sound half bad.
If another team member is in a similar situation and needs someone to simply sit next to them and just be, or listen, Baran and Selinda are quick to be there for them.
Junior drinks for fun, he’ll seize any opportunity to drink. That man is getting “Krunk” as the kids say. He doesn’t know his limits and if he did, there’s no telling if he’d actually adhere to them. He WILL blackout if no one keeps an eye on him. He will be puking in the trashcan. The rest of the team has to steer him away from opportunities to drink lest he develop alcoholism at the tender age of 5-minutes-into-being-able-to-legally-drink.
His mood becomes turbulent and fragile. He’ll typically be happy, loud, reckless, aggressive; but at the mention of the wrong thing or at the sight of something that takes him way back, he can breakdown rather easily. It’s actually pretty common for his drunken stints, when they get out of hand, to end in tears. Junior has to be one of the least repressed members of Onslaught, due in no small part to moments like these; where he lets his emotions run rampant and they go down a bad path.
He’d expect ridicule, but Onslaught is actually very sympathetic to his struggles and complaints, whatever they may be. He can air his dirty laundry as much as he wants with little to no judgement, something he’s not used to. Once he starts, it’s hard to stop, but the team will listen until the end and it’s something he’s really grateful for. Despite being a troublemaker and general criminal, he tries to pay the team’s kindness towards him forward as much as he can.
If Psimon does end up drinking to lose his troubles, he usually does it alone, when everyone else is asleep. Or at least when he thinks everyone else is asleep. Sometimes someone will wander about looking for a late night snack or a glass of water, or even search for him himself. He dislikes being caught like that, dislikes not being so impervious and put-together for the team.
Without fail, they’ll sit with him awhile. They’ll ask, they’ll listen, they’ll joke or comfort or sit in silence. Psimon will wither in place or try to get them to leave him be, but they’re a stubborn lot. They’re far from the most “upstanding” of company, but they treat him with the same care, empathy, and concern he tries to treats them with; and Psimon finds afterwards that, despite not enjoying being caught in a state of weakness or forced to open up, he wouldn’t have rather it have gone any other way.
#thank you for the ask! I hope I actually Said Something in all of these paragraphs I feel insane#Feel like the world’s brokenest record rn. If this is so slapped together after all this time I’m so sorry.#Have I been tip toeing on the edge of burnout for months or is this a Mental Illness#Eh back in the day it was all called laziness I’ll call it laziness#Laziness can be conquered‼️💪 WE BALL‼️#h hopital#I do have one more ask in my inbox. It’s relating to The Love Glove. But it’s from a mutual who said I could take as long as I want so uh#I AM OVERSTAYING THAT INVITATION! In my defense I need to see Clockwork Orange first it’s actually imperative to the headcanons bro I swear#Psimon Says y’all suffer the weight of crime until you’re 21. Go mutilate a furby or raid a candy shop to feel better. (/j /hj)#psimon#simon jones#yj! Simon jones#Yj! Devastation#Icicle jr#cameron mahkent#Selinda flinders#Yj! Shimmer#Baran flinders#Yj! Mammoth#Tuppence terror#Tommy terror#Terror twins#Businesscasual writing#…when did I start taking tumblr writing requests#Ig these are so half hearted wishy-washy in terms of “is it writing? Or is it blorbo rambling?”#Blegh. Thank you anyway#I’m so sorry for the delay#I love when people ask about my Blorbos. My lil guys.#Onslaught my beloved#Young justice
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Hey!
So I actually found your college!miguel fic on AO3 and I just wanted to sincerely thank you for making it! I'm indigenous latino and I've seen too many fics and drabbles reducing miguel to disgusting racial stereotypes for latino men and your fic was one of the few that made him an actual person instead of a fetish and actually treated our language with respect (you worked the spanish in really well!) ! So thank you :)) I'm excited if you do a pt 2 to it!
#this is very lovely and kind and almost made me cry#I love writing Miguel cuz I think he has so much depth#both in the comics and movies#and i can only hope I do him justice!#I try with the Spanish but it's all the advice native speakers and now my beta readers give me tbh#and if I get something wrong don't hesitate to clown me lmfao#this is literally all i want when I write a fic 😭😭#sorry to be cringe op#thank you!#and whilst I'm here I've started posting the full fic based on my college au#rigor mortis 😼#on my page rn for anyone who is interested <33#k thnx bye#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara x reader
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Ok so I just read the latest chapter of wtds. and I just have to say, Haunt you FUCKING OUTDID YOURSELF!!!! omfg it is literally one of the best things I've ever read, I cried and they were semi happy tears!! AND OMFG PANDORA IS SO FUCKED UP I LOVE HIM. that demon has demons and I'm FUCKING living for it.
in short Haunt, thank you for existing and making that amazing work of art. /genuine
IM ACTUALLY GONNA SOB DANE . I WILL CRY!!
i promised good things happening soon and i meant it!!! :D he is SO fucked up and we're getting to the point where things start unraveling and IM SO EXCITED for the next chapter its gonna be FLUFF (with angst at the start but then its FLUFF!)
ALSO a small thing i changed because i NOTICED a thing is that i adjusted "is he the animal, or the hunter?" to "is he the hunter, or the hunted?" :3
and im so glad to hear you enjoyed the chapter!! <3
#ask a ghost#asker: wetcatowner#au: where the dust settles#NEXT CHAPTER HAS SILLY MOMENTS AND DOMESTIC-ISH FLUFF!!#the return of sylvester's cooking endeavours!! :D#ALSO the demon has demons and we're getting to the point i can post that 7k oneshot i wrote for the twb mcc event!!!!!#im so hyped for that actually. lyra's pov <3#i did my absolute best for this chapter and i hope i can keep it being good!! im actually so happy with how willows ablaze turned out#even if i was SO over it when i finished writing it. its definitely one of my favorite chapters#i mean this fic is basically a documentation of my improvement as a writer over the course of a year#im gonna keep doing my damndest to do this au justice#ALSO i need to actually think about whether i'm connecting rabbits/demons and wtds#(rabbits/demons is a ls & outsiders crossover au ive been writing! the outsiders smp grind never stops lol)
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Me at the legacies writers
#and it’s not just Landon/Hope/Handon#it’s all the characters/‘friendships’/storylines#the truly messed up the last two seasons of the show#they would write Hope/Landon occ just for the sake of whatever they wanted to do#they would have these big speeches/moments to show good friendships(panda promise Hope wouldn’t fight alone only for Hope to fight alone)#a whole speech about how Lizzie couldn’t kill Hope to Lizzie trying to kill her the very next episode#talking about how they would never leave a friend behind but would gladly leave them behind if it was convenient for them#I bet the wouldn’t have even tried to save Cleo if they didn’t need her muse powers#and so on#or them foreshadowing something only to make all that foreshadowing for nothing#spending a whole season setting up something only to make it pointless#making a big deal about malivore wanting Cleo to use her muse powers/gave him a vision and did nothing with it#save them with him taking Hope/golem Landon’s hair & ripper Kaleb#OG triad was over before it even began. idk if I can call the god storyline a storyline at all#limbo?? they kept changing limbo like it was nothing/even the ferryman thing made no sense#oh and does anyone else remember before s4 started they said all would be revealed? revealed nothing/gave us more questions#as well as so many other things#I don’t when or if I’ll ever be over what they did to show#bc it truly says something when the show ends with me only liking to characters and wanting justice for them
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Honestly I have realized that 99% of my shipping of vashwood comes from trimax. Yea I vibed with it while watching tristamp but trimax is what took my utter heart and soul
It's to the point where I just don't rly enjoy tristamp vashwood that much anymore hfkshfjd like. OK? Those sure are some dudes. Not My dudes tho, sorry.
#speculation nation#i'll still reblog the fanart if it's good. but yea it just ain't what im about anymore.#i feel like the worst vashwood perceptions r found within tristamp only fans anyways#(this post tangentially related to the post i just reblogged)#tristamp only fans see these two and are like 'this is the Angry Buff Dude and the Tiny Pixy Man'#which pretty much erases like everything they stand for? while also supporting racist caricatures.#not all tristamp only fans do this btw but i have definitely seen it much more around there.#meanwhile trimax vashwood is just like. this is an old married couple. theyre so hopelessly Goofy.#the angst is off the CHARTS. the love even more so.#they very genuinely love each other in trimax In Canon and that's what really gets me.#plus theyre pretty similar in height and build. Adult Men!!!! i like this ship for Adult Men!!!!!#idk this also relates to that post i made yesterday about fandom perception of vash being an innocent uwu virgin#despite being 150 or so years old. & they'll also make wolfwood some sex god or whatever#when comparatively hes been an adult for a MUCH shorter time than vash. my dude's still a pretty young adult ok#and you wanna tell me he's got more sex experience than the 150 year old dude????? ok...#lol im just complaining at this point. i have very specific views of my ideal version of this pairing#and a lot of fandom portrayals are starting to bother me bc of it.#so im just writing my own vashwood my own way. rn focusing on vash being a rounded person#yes having some childish aspects. but also some mature aspects. he's a goofy adult. it can exist simultaneously.#looking forward to when wolfwood finally comes in. i hope to do him justice.
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Oh God, I'm actually doing it?? I'm actually attempting to write this trashy Ricky/Christian idea?? 😫
This is such a bad idea, I am not equipped to handle this, LOL. It doesn't help that I'm still pretty under the weather and for some reason I decided to go ''Fuck context!'' and just started writing a random scene with no explanation of how they got there. I'm trying to write on Vibes alone but I have no idea if these Vibes are good or not?? I have a strong suspicion that it's cringey as hell already. And yet I still want to try? Maybe this'll be my way of learning my lesson about staying in your lane.
#What is wrong with you Sam you should not be allowed to write#Y'all have no idea how self-indulgent this AU is to me#And I know for a fact that even if I did write the whole thing - there's no way anyone would read it#It being such a rarepair and not really everyone's cup of tea or anything#It feels like I'm wasting time even starting it but...whatevs#I want to have fun you know? I'm hoping if and when I start to actually recover I can dive more into it#But for now just now that it is so very trashy and I am the last person on Earth who can do that justice LOL
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suuper late but i'm just here reading the tags from shi aka @ardenssolis 's post and i-
#&&. out of#AAAAAAA I SCREAMED ALR WHEN I FIRST SAW THIS BUT IM SCREAMING AGAIN NOW BC /AAAAAAAAAA/#TYSM SHI 😭😭 THAT MAKES ME SO FRIKKIN HAPPY !!!!!#the self and identity is such an interesting + important theme 4 h.akuno ...... i rlly wish they explored it more in canon tbh but#well i'm not gonna ruin da vibes by bringing up how canon does h.akuno Dirty but I'M RLLY SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY APPROACH TO IT 🥹🥹🥹🥹#i hope i can do her character justice 🙏🙏 DEF WANT 2 EXPLORE MORE OF THESE THEMES WITH UR O.ZY HEHE >:3#and also her feeling of isolation and loneliness with ur arash mayhaps ...#gxnsbf I JUST WANT 2 INTERACT MORE WITH U IN GENERAL TBH !! i jst have to get off my snail ass first amg 🚶♂️#also i'm reading this again bc this thread is pretty much over but i wanna write a last h.akuno response to it bc i love it a lot....#the way h.akuno learnt sth too by helping yq and o.zy with their conflict 🥹 that's vv in line with her character !!!#her trying to save herself by saving others .... her trying to find herself by understanding others ....... :thonk:#ok i'll shut up here dhfk BUT YA BASICALLY TYSM FOR THIS IT FILLED ME WITH SM JOY 😭🫶💖💞
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thinking ab how the shaneke confession is gonna go... oooh i am so ready for this
#what i imagine for them is very different from reilin's cataclyst#rollan and meilin's initial confession was a kiss with no words spoken#shane and abeke say “i love you” long before they kiss#and it's beautiful#when i get around to writing i sincerely hope i can do this scene justice. they mean so much to me#the impact these two had on my child self was immense#this moment will be huge for me#text#a revised history of erdas#spirit animals#spirit animals books#spirit animals series#shane#abeke
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i only started writing fics about three months ago, now, but I think it's honestly one of the best decisions I could have made for my mental health, having somewhere to sort through the ideas and the world building that I've kept trapped in my head for over a decade has been so relieving.
And the progress I've made from my first piece to my most recent
and even the progress I've accomplished from my first mature content, to my most recent , knowing where I started and seeing the progress I've made through each, and even knowing if no one read anything, I was still just doing this for my own enjoyment, and seeing how far I've come, it's helped a lot with my self worth issues lately.
and I wouldn't trade the community I'm writing with/for for anything in the world right now, the support has been worth more to me than I could ever truly express
Don't you sometimes get an absolutely extrodinary, mind blowing, such an awesome idea for a story, but you just don't have enough skill level to pull it off?
#ao3 stuff#fanfics#still new to writing#but I can see the progress#and being able to share my vision#its been a blast#honestly#and i love you guys#i'm glad that even when i die#as long as these sites are up#these worlds i'm putting myself into will still exist#i just hope I can do them justice#and continue for a long time
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OOC
I have been exploring Morgrim's character and story more and have been drawing and writing a bit to tell/show his story, I hope that you guys enjoy.
Note: Also having first made Morgrim's character years ago now, I don't feel that his story is very thought out and I wanted to try and expand on my thoughts and fill in holes or even rewrite pieces so his story makes sense.
#ooc post#I hope that I can do Morgrim justice in my telling of his story and that it will all make sense.#I am not trying to write Morgrim with main character energy#so I hope that comes off at times when he's not the one saving the Spiral#or when he's not being the hero#I hope that makes sense.
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CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you
you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)
WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron
MASTERLIST (Blurb) | x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader
Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks
Word Count — 2.2K
lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller
You always wanted Rafe.
It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.
Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.
Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.
You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.
At least, in public.
You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.
And he did.
Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.
It drove him insane.
Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.
Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?
It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.
The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.
And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.
His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.
Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.
"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."
"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"
"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."
You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.
"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."
His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.
"You're not fucking me in a car."
"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.
"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."
He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.
"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.
"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."
"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"
"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."
You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.
Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.
And what he can do with it.
Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.
That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.
When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.
But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."
So fucking pretentious.
It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.
And he was right.
You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.
"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."
"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.
"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"
"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."
"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"
You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.
You win.
"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."
Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.
"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."
Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.
"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.
Yet, Rafe merely grins.
"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."
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