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ganondoodle · 5 months

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"bc i find it weird and uncomfortable how nintendo treats and comments on Riju and the gerudo as a whole"

Could you elaborate on this? Outside of men perving on the Gerudo (which is honestly just representative of real life scenarios) I can't think of anything problematic in regards to how they or Riju are treated. (Her being put into power at such a young age is questionable but that's just one of the downfalls of hereditary ruling I think.)

This is genuine, I'm not trying to be sarcastic or obtuse or anything! I never noticed anything overtly concerning so I just was curious what you were referring to. (Sorry I'm sure there's a post or something I missed where you were talking about it.)

so, this ask comes off as a little weird since the Gerudo are very overtly orientalist/racist stereotypes and you can just .. .research it instead but, given that i recently got an ask from someone saying they were 14 i will answer it bc i know sometimes you think first about asking someone about something instead of looking it up yourself

so, mind you, i am not a person of color, and the issues are a giant can of worms i cannot possibly go into every detail of nor know every detail of

the Gerudo, both in older games and new ones (botw/totk) are basically a bunch of stereotypes about black and arab people rolled into one, they are based on a mish mash of middle eatern cultures together with popular stereotypes about them

they wear stupidly impractical sexy clothing for people living in the desert, its very skin exposing (something that is the opposite of what you do living in an environment like that) and based on the wrong but popular idea of the 'belly dancer' outfit- an outfit that isnt sexual but was popularized as something akin to a strippers outfit by western people (colonizers im pretty sure .. who else) and is STILL used as that, they also wear high heels ... in the desert ......... a sand desert .... and wear heavy make up (like hylian women dont)

even worse then that the EXACT SAME outfit is used for the children as well, they too are put into heels, heavy makeup, and that 'belly dancer' outfit which is very VERY uncomfortable if you know what that oufit is largely seen as .. (even if youd try to argue that Riju wears it to seem more like a competent leader, it falls flat bc the children wear the same damn weird outfit as everyone else)

the Gerudo are also all very muscular in a way that no other women is in the game, which plays into the stereotype of black women being more masculine/mannish than uwu frail little white women and thus, among more, less women, or being able to feel less pain (yes that is an actual belief wtf??), while at the same time still sexualized

now in OOT they were thiefing evil women (thief being yet another stereotype for arabs as well as evil) whos only 'good' one both rejecting some of their tradition (kinda playing into the idea of those tradtions being wrong and adhering to the "good" traditions of western people is what makes you good) and is also abused throughout the game; in botw/totk they are not eviiiil but live in a closed to all men city and their entire society revolves around finding a hylian man to marry, their only goal in life is basically to find a man and have a family which i HOPE i dont have to explain why that is problematic (misogyny anyone) while it is treated by other NPCs as something to be conquered, something alien and other that beckons them to invade, they constantly try to get into the city where all da sexyyyy women are (hello????????????) and its less treated as disgusting and more like a haha little joke (in botw theres a guy circling around the city at all times??? excuse me?? and in totk the same guy is SNEAKING ON THE ROOFS OF THE HOUSES IN THE CITY LOOKING TO GET IN?????????????????)

the argument of that just being real life is ... not all wrong per se but the thing is, ONLY the Gerudo are treated like sexy things to be oogled at (both in OOT and botw/totk, possibly even more but i am not as familiar with all games in the franchise) and no other women from any species is eyebrow raising to say the least, and it never really gets called out either beyond making fun of that one guy by scamming him out of his boots by .. pretending to be a girl (pretty sure link is the only non Gerudo that is oogled at by anyone and its the creepiest creep)

then, with Riju in particular its made even worse that she is not just young but VERY young (which also begs the question why the fuck the Gerudo would put someone so young into the seat of leader of their entire region- something also no other race does), shes only 12 in botw and yet, like all the other children too, put into the same kind of outfit, but then theres also the commentary in the concept art book saying that "gerudo age faster than hylians and thats why shes got a mature air to her" which, among being a way to make how shes sexualized (both in outfit and at times camera angles- also applies to Urbosa) seem more okay (its not) and plays into the stereotype that people of color are quicker to gorw up and thus be treated as adults despite being children like any other child- hence why often in the news when a black child is shot they dont call them a child but "young man", using that to subtly shift it to seem more okay (like we are currently seeing in the genocide of palestine, news calling a murdered SIX year old palestinian "YOUNG WOMAN" while calling a 19 year old white soldier lady who got a little bruise an abused child)

and it also applies to Ganondorf, he is the epitome of evil arab men stereotype, power hungry abusive and ruling over lots of women (in this case its his entire race...), (with a hint of antisemitism too, his hooked nose being both used as an overemphasized feature for arabs and jewish people as a sign of their connection to the devil/sing of evil and to other them from white 'good little noses'- (((i want to yell about this so much bc big and hooked noses are so cool and beautiful argh))) and his skin tone being always some strange greyish-yellow color no one else has and even worse mint green in totks official art, despite him being very dark grey in model- green skin being yet another antisemitic trope PLUS playing into the whole idea that being evil means you also LOOK evil, whichs is often, who would have guessed- anything that isnt the traditional western beauty ideal of thin thin white and young)

while also in totk, he as well is sexualized with his new revealing outfit and the weird constant emphasis on how he is meant to be sexy to everyone alike (and it not being apparent in the game nor used in it) in multiple interviews with the main people in charge of the franchise- and his evilness being what all the Gerudo must atone for, they birthed this eviiil man (who is evil from birth i guess bc thats totally fine and logical) and they have to bear that sin for all eternity (as in dialog about him in the gerudo sage cutscene, plus the whole idea of the closed off city, despite there having been no ganondorf in thousands of years, being closed of to men as to shut out any potential Ganondorf or similar evil? though the latter im not sure how supported it is .. i cant remember every line of dialog ok) while the hyrulean monarchy and its uwu blonde god descdendants are never even confronted with the horrible shit they did, bc its fine if they torture and murder people (OOT and possibly more), chase them into the void or persecute their own servants bc da king got afraid they could rise up against him- with their only choice being give up their tech and knowledge to live under the royal rule (botw/totk ancient shiekah- shiekah, and its presented as a good thing, we are all happy beign the eternal servants of the monarchy :)))) or be killed, and the ones resisting are eviiiill and now a cult and also very stupid and silly and not to be taken seriously (yiga) while its mentioned once as a fun fact and never ever mentioned again, bc, the hyrulean monarchy is all god descendant uwu white blonde people that are so good you guys, everything they do is in the name of good uwu and neva to be questioned uwu bc obviously everyone that opposed to them is evil bc they are the perfectest good guys uwu

youd think, and i hoped, they would do better by now, in botw, the gerudo are not well done at all, different than before but still bad, but at least they introduced other people with darker skin tones that arent Gerudo so they are not the literal only people with non white skin anymore- but with totk espeically, they had the chance to make Ganondorf into an interesting villain with a point, maybe not even full blown villain, bc he has a point- he does but its not treated as such, its treated as if he is the most blatantly flat evil guy ever- even more flat and one note evil than all his previous appearances, which is frankly, quite insulting to say the least

look i wanted to keep it short but here we are, i dont know if this anon was genuinely being genuine or not (since bigots like to act all non offensive and like to ask you to explain your very obvious point ..) but i dont htink i ever talked about it as a whole so eh- i probably missed stuff but anyway, heres a good video about it for zelda in particular

youtube

#ganondoodles answers #zelda #i really dont think you need to be an expert to see why how they are portrayed is off #but who knows #none of the biggest zelda youtubers ever mention it either #so maybe to some people it realyl is a non problem #...given how many baffling racist comments i have seen about the gerudo .... theres worse i guess #wasted work time with this #but anyway

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namazunomegami · 6 months

Text

Atonement

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: How can you cleanse yourself from the sin that has been tainting you since your attempt to escape? The answer is easy: walk on barefoot for him, suffer some misery, risk your health for him, open yourself up for him and you can earn his forgiveness.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, toxic and complicated dynamics, religious symbolism, porn with feelings, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising, gaslighting, m!receiving oral, fingering, non-consensual edging, good old unprotected sex + creampie

WC: 5.3k

Credits: my lovely @notveryrussian who worked so hard to get this fic proofreaded. Ngl they deserve all the praise and respect because we lost literal pages from the already edited draft because windows is crap and they had to start over again. Take one big break darl, you deserve it 💕

Song rec: mythical creature by pregnant whale pain was my main inspiration during writing but i think tumblr dot com is not ready yet to listen to an unknown hungarian avantgarde metal band while reading porn lmao. Maybe i'll drop the acoustic version later.

A/N: Here is part 1 in case if you missed it. I think you need to know what happened to completely understand the buildup and have a general idea about their relationship. This fic is probably my fave I’ve written so far, a special lil brainchild of mine. These two are living in my mind rent free with all their lore and they'll never let me go.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 💕

Minors don't interact unless you want me to stand outside your house at 3 am with a pitchfork

It was very hard to explain to your family what happened to you. The worry which they approached you with, especially Mimiko and Nanako just stirred a weird sense of guilt in your chest. The twins even offered to help you out with chores, eagerly telling you to rest, let your body heal. Your heart shattered to pieces in that moment, weeping endlessly with fat, salty tears. Your precious darling girls, so considerate of you, so caring, their hearts filled with everlasting gratitude. And you wanted to leave them. You felt like a piece of shit of a parental figure, obviously.

Days passed as if nothing had ever happened. Even in your private moments with Geto, the issue was never brought up. He took care of your wounds, of course, but your escape attempt wasn’t a topic of conversation at all. You swept it under the rug.

Which means it was only a question of time until he was going to wield it against you.

“Leave the scabs alone.” he reprimands you softly, dragging your wrist away from them. The hot water softened your scars, making them itchy, easy to pick away at them. But Geto is so thoughtful for looking after you like some kind of crazy mother hen, right? Even sitting in the tub behind you.

He takes hold of the edge, stepping out of the tub swiftly. The water suddenly drops around you, goosebumps dot your skin from the sudden touch of the moistened air as he hides that broad, sun-kissed form of his beneath a bathrobe. You ache for a bit of peace, a bit of me-time, but since the so-called “accident”, he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping an eye on you constantly.

Your hand dances along the surface of the water, bunching the bubbles together into various shapes, like they’re islands. Like you’re a young god, decorating the plane you’ve created. But his outstretched palm appearing in your vision disturbs your creative process.

“Come, I’ll take the stitches out.”

Compared to when your wound was sutured, cutting out the thread is a relatively quick process. Especially with his competency. The tweezer lifts and holds the knot, as he severs the thread with a pair of scissors and pulls it from your flesh before he moving on to the next. It’s uncomfortable, not in a way that it hurts, but it makes your skin crawl and your bones bend. An overall disgusting feeling. But when it’s over, it does feel better. And knowing him, you wonder if it’s purposeful or not.

“Must you make it painful?” you complain, thumb pressing down on the closed, marred skin. For the wrong reasons though, but you can freely complain.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” his voice is soft like silk, but not without a sharp edge in it, slowly unfurling, like the jaws of a venus flytrap. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”

You glare at him, your eyes piercing him like a dagger.

“Me? I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

This… was a bit too far, you must admit.

You storm out of the bathroom, like you could get away from the conversation.

“Go on, speak.” his words echo through the walls of the bedroom, making your movements halt immediately. You glance up at the window, faced with his reflection as he leans against the doorframe. “What should I learn from you? That you’re not afraid to run? To put your life in unnecessary danger?”

A long sigh leaves through your nostrils.

“If it comforts you, then yes, I realized that I had made a dumb decision.”

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s standing right behind you. Looming over you, shrouding you like an evil trickster spirit.

“I must admit I enjoyed your little attempt…” his palms are heavy on your shoulders, just like his words echoing close to shell of your ear. “Catching you, watching your resolves crumble, the raw terror plastered on your face…” the way his voice caresses you is just like the way he would hold a blade right against your throat, pressing down on the pulsing veins that could be cut open so easily. Like needles slowly being inserted into your ear canals. Eventually it softens, getting more serious and chiding. “But you did scare me. Have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if I didn’t go after you?”

You’d die, you would definitely die. Bleeding out amidst the leaves and grass, letting the frosty night bite you tense and weak. All alone in the dark.

Hold on…

You wouldn’t be injured if he hadn’t frightened you in the first place.

Did he just… no, it can’t be.

He slowly walks away from you, and you hear the bed creak under his weight. The choking feeling finally lifts from your throat. You turn towards one of the incense burners, already filled, it merely needs to be lit. But you do it slowly, just for the sake of appearing busy, to not feel obligated to carry on with the conversation.

But you should make peace with him before he does. He’ll make you face all of your mistakes and their consequences, if not outright making you suffer because of them. Rub all of them into your face until you have no choice but to plead for forgiveness.

It’s not easy, but you open your mouth. The scent of sandalwood lowers your guards, helping you be honest and brings forth the thoughts you’ve been trying to hide for a long time.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. And I wonder even more about that if we’ll fail before reaching our goal. Fail spectacularly. Because we want to do the impossible.”

“What is exactly the right thing? Being selfless? Forgetting all about our grudges and letting the world trample all over us? Or being selfish and crushing anyone under our feet to keep each other safe?”

Like an elastic band being strained for far too long, you snap. Luckily, the bronze lid of the incense burner holds out under your grasp.

“It’s too fucking late for moral arguments! Can’t you speak to me more directly for once? Instead of hiding behind your… carefully crafted scenarios that only prove your point.”

You should have avoided looking at him. At your serpent, who made you sin, who was cursed alongside you, your serpent who devoured your beloved Adam. You yearned for the remains, sitting in the bottomless pit of his stomach.

But you swore those remains spoke to you, through layers of flesh, scales, and deception. Soft and calm like a light summer breeze.

“Do you have doubts about me, darling? Are you giving up on me?”

The question breaks you, evaporating all of your anger and resentment in a flash. Devoid of any playful tone or hidden meanings, so raw that it takes hold of your heart and squeezes it so tight that it couldn’t possibly beat anymore.

You know how he twists the truth, striking right into the softest parts of you. He feeds you poison – yet you swallow it right down every single time.

“Faith has no zenith, my dear.” you answer, low and sweet, like you wanted to comfort him. The lid on the incense burner closes, giving you enough time to build up the courage to approach him. You weave your words carefully, in such fashion that it can be interpreted in multiple ways. If he switched just one little word, he’d immediately gain more insight into what’s really been weighing on your heart. “There’s no such peak we can reach on which we can stagnate forever. Faith sometimes wavers, sometimes we question our beliefs. Sometimes we’re unsure if our prayers are heard.” you get down on your knees before him, taking his hand into yours, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But I do want to have faith in you.”

His features visibly soften. Heavy lids close in relief, and you feel his thumb brushing along your knuckles.

This is your chance! Go on, there’s no time more perfect than this to try to convince him.

“We should really get away from the temple.” you start with an almost resigned sigh, but your excitement soon starts to show. “Just for a few days. Manami will handle the followers while we leave for the countryside, or an island. We can bring the girls even.”

A faint glimmer in his eyes tells you his answer is going to disappoint you.

“They don’t know about the girls, but they certainly know about you.” he reminds you sternly. “The higher ups want us dead and the last time I offered to protect someone, they ended up getting killed.”

His voice is faint, almost shaky. He rarely talks about the death of Riko. And if he ever brings her up in a conversation, you know he means it.

The heavy lid above his eyes drops, violet irises hiding behind his lashes, averted from you. The words coming out of him are barely above a whisper, like his lips are made from lead, like forming the words is a tiring task because they’re so heavy, and filled with something violently torturing him.

“This is a risk I’m not willing to take again. Not even for you. Especially for you.”

You feel something pooling on your waterline. Translucent pearls of tears appear so involuntarily when you see him like this. Sometimes you do want to hurt him, but when you see him in pain, it torments you even worse.

“I’m not asking you to take risks for me. I never did. But you should take some for you. You could use some respite.” you lace your fingers with his. It brings you a strange kind of comfort how your hand just loses itself in his, but it’s yours that looks more lively and powerful. Like it’s you what keeps him together. As if without you he would shatter into pieces. “You take on an awful lot of responsibilities, I think sometimes more than you’re capable of handling.”

Affection sweeps through his features as he caresses your head, from the roots of your strands to the thick bone of your jaw. A lonely thumb brushing along from your cheekbone to the lobe of your ear. And there’s nothing you can do, only stare at him, wide-eyed with reverence, like he’s an ethereal being.

“This is not your cross to bear.”

He wanted to ease your concerns, but you’re much more stubborn than that. You won’t stand there, at a safe distance, watching him drag himself to his Calvary, whipped and crowned with thorns. You’ll push through the crowd, smash them to bits just to reach him and offer your veil to wipe his face. A thousand times, as many times as he needs.

“Of course it is, what do you expect from me? Unlike…” No, don’t say names, do not compare yourself to certain figures in your past and the way they treated him. “I’m worried about you, for no other reason than I genuinely care about you. That’s why I want you to put our plans to aside - let’s unwind a little, recharge. Before all of this drives us insane.”

He deliberately avoids answering, your concern grows and grows like vicious vine. Is this too much to ask for? A small moment of normalcy can’t be granted to you? What are the two of you really? Idols of worship, if not gods at this point because your sheep do regard you as such. But can’t gods long for a visit amongst mortals? Can’t they shed their divine status? You could, but maybe, before he’d let you leave, he’ll feed you pomegranate seeds.

Would you eat them again? Of course you would. Even if you fight and snarl a little beforehand. Because love is the death of duty, and of a peaceful mind, of comprehensive decisions. Love is so mystified, shrouded in the illusion of an immortalized existence, just like death. Love is, indeed, death.

Your palms cup his face, his skin radiates warmth through you. The warmth of the evening sun that makes the sky bleed with the prettiest colors you can imagine. Your touch slowly encourages him to look into your eyes, finding a strange kind of determination and care mixed with your obvious worry. A Magdalene dwells within your gaze, who already washed her prophet’s feet with tears and dried them with her hair before he starts his last journey to Golgotha.

“I told you a million times, if you fall too deep into your misery, when you feel like you can’t come back to the surface on your own, let me know, so I can pull you out. Or let me know so I can go after you. And we’ll drown together.”

All those little pacts and vows you made during the years echo through you. Even the first one, the most ancient of them all, when it was still easy to hide your concerns behind your techniques.

I’ll keep an eye on you.

It’ll keep an eye on you.

You lean closer, foreheads and the tips of your noses touching. Eyes closing in almost perfect synchronicity.

“Promise me, Suguru. Promise me again.”

You wait and wait, until his warm breath brushes your skin like fine silk, like a feather.

“I promise.”

You sigh in relief. It hurts, it hurts so much. There’s so much place in your heart for him to dwell in. He owns it and he won’t give it back. Ever.

You only wanted a chaste kiss, but a special type of hunger wakes deep below your navel. You taste his words, you swallow them down, nipping them from his lips. You look for the rest of them, his thoughts that hadn’t been formed into words yet, the rest of the sentence, you search for it with your tongue inside his mouth.

You grab onto the sheets, trying to push yourself up. Like you could overpower him, like you could battle against him. To have him laid out on the mattress, defeated. But he stops your advances with a palm resting on your shoulder, gently pushing you away.

“You’re not healed yet.” he whispers, truly concerned.

“Then I’ll be on top, I don’t care.” you oppose breathily, your fingers trying to pry his robe open.

“The cut on your hand could re-open if we’re not careful.”

Oh, how you adore him when he’s so tender with you, but now, this is the last thing you want. You want to bare your teeth and go right for the throat.

“Then you’ll stitch me up again.” There’s a playful edge in your voice, and you kiss him again with the same curve of a smile while he lets you crawl on top of him.

And he smiles against you too, delighted by your eagerness. You, trying to eat him up, digest him - he’s just enjoying you and the feast you’re having. Taking everything from you. He only wants to capture you, to cage you in his hold. He’s kneading your flesh leisurely and humming into your mouth contently, almost lazily.

In the crooks of his body, you find your religion.

The sharp line of his jaw, the tendons of his neck, the hollow caverns around his collarbone. But your mouth carefully avoids the scars slashing through his chest, after all those years, it still pains him when the lightly coloured, textured skin gets touched. As if these lips of yours and your aimlessly trailing fingers were the same blades, penetrating the flesh again and again.

There’s not a morsel of him that you weren’t intimately familiar with. In a way that rivals how much you know about yourself. And what you know even better is that how can you venerate them, dote on them, adore, and idolize with such devotion you could anger all deities created by man and make them scream blasphemy on you.

You take his cock in your hand, teasingly working your palms around him. Pumping it, stroking your thumb along the underside to make his breath hitch. His dick grows beneath your hands, getting harder and heavier. The first beads of precum get smeared along the length by your skillful fingers.

“You know you don’t have to- “but you cut him off while settling between his legs.

“Just relax and let me do all the work.” your response comes out a bit more deadpan than planned. “You deserve it once in a while.”

And with that, you wrap your lips around him, enveloping him in warmth and wetness, your tongue slowly swirling around the head. His thighs twitch, more precum oozes into your waiting mouth as the muscle between your teeth works eagerly. You give him a few, gentle sucks, slurping up the mixture of your own saliva and his arousal. Between ragged breaths, he reminds you to breathe through your nose as you take more and more of his length. You relax your jaw, your fingers tense around the base of his cock and you’re trying as hard as you can to defeat the urge to gag. When you fit all of him inside your mouth, you empty your lungs and give him a harder suck, hard enough to make you cheeks hollow and his chest heave. As your free hand is occupied with kneading his balls between your fingers and knuckles, a moan bursts out of him.

The sound boosts your confidence, filling you with a wicked kind of playfulness. The kind of wicked that makes you pull back your tongue a little, as to not keep your teeth hidden. You drag them along his sensitive, pulsing underside, balancing the pressure between pleasure and pain. Like you could prove to him that you’re ready to bite back, that this is the only moment when he can’t control you, that he shouldn’t underestimate you.

And just as if he could read your thoughts, his hand goes for your head, fingers getting lost between your strands. But he’s not as cruel as to push you down on him, instead he guides you, increases the rhythm that you’re working with. Steady and firm, but not too fast. You earn yourself his praises, soft curses pitched higher than his normal voice.

This is what real worship looks like.

When you feel the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensing up, you stop. You emerge from the space between his legs, wiping your lips clean and admiring your work. All that flushed skin blooming in pink on his chest and face. You move, trying to get into a new position, settling your calves right next to hips. You start aligning yourself with his cock to finally start grinding on him.

He sits up and traps you with an arm coiling around your waist.

“Since when were you so reckless?”

His hand creeps around the apex of your thighs. A finger barely brushes along your slit. By adding another digit, he spreads your folds, finding hot, smooth, slippery flesh.

“I would’ve prepped myself.” that’s all you can say in your defense.

Fingertips circle your hole, applying a bit of pressure, checking how much you’ve loosened up. He invades you slowly as your lungs empty, the hardened skin on his fingers stroking and massaging your sweet spots before he starts working you open.

You wrap your arms around him, slowly undoing his bun to have something to grab onto as you jolt, as your bones melt, as your brows furrow in bliss. The moans coming from you are breathy and tender, and you hide them in his strands. He twists his fingers inside you, stretching your warm muscles further, making your back arch and you press your hardened nipples to his chest. Your essence engulfs his knuckles, clear and sticky like honey.

The heel of his palm settles right against your clit and you shamelessly grind on it. Your mewls pass over his ears as he’s nuzzling into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin of a faint scar. But you resist giving in, you stop him, telling him that’s enough, but in reality you just want your control back. Take back the lead and revel in it.

And somehow he obeys, laying back into the sheets.

You slip out of your robe, showing yourself fully. The bruises on your skin can finally bathe in the dim lamplight, painting the complexion of your sides, shoulders, and upper arm in different shades of blue and purple, like paint on bare canvas. Like the night sky carrying storm clouds, like you’re rotting, decomposing. You find a twisted, perverted joy in the fact that he must be seeing them for the whole time.

“Slowly, slowly.” he murmurs softly as you’re pushing the head of his cock inside you. “There’s no need to rush.” Trimmed nails trail up and down from the flesh of your thighs to your bruised sides. Tender and slow like a ghost, goosebumps pepper your skin from the tickling feeling. “I’m already yours.” He purrs and your heart flutters.

And there’s so, so much pride in you that only you can render him to this state. Too powerful for the world to bear him, capable to burn this plane to ruins, defying the barriers between a mortal and a god - or something way worse than that. Maybe you should receive twice the respect from your herd, for being the only person who can enslave him in this way, that only you can have this sort of power over him. Only you can overthrow him. Because you’re just too dear to him, too close to his burning heart.

Maybe it’s your time to warn him. Tame him like the monster he is.

You move with your own rhythm. His hand caged between your fingers and pressed down against the sheets. You give him no other choice but to venerate you back and he does, with pleased, low rumbles coming from his throat. Only a singular hand is allowed to roam your form freely. On your back tracing the shallow line where your spine lies beneath skin and flesh, wandering towards the inner part of your thighs, then to your stomach and chest. And you reward him with a prayer of your own, encapsulated in deep, long sighs.

But you’re too trusting of him. You let your guard down too easily.

You’re holding onto his kneecaps, leaning towards them a little, allowing every inch of you to be seen. You want to give him a show, but your knees are too worn and tired.

He takes hold of your hips, helping you guide yourself along his length. His pelvis moves along with you in synced rhythm. Your teeth are pressing down on the soft skin of your lips, but you can’t keep your whimpers in. You’re getting close, your muscles and nerves are st tight and pulsing, your walls are pressing down on his length. His name mindlessly slips out of your mouth.

Maybe you can say you love him before you shatter.

But his fingers clench around you, strong and firm, stopping your movements. Lifting your hips up so high that his cock is barely inside, robbing you from your incoming orgasm.

You’re shocked, eyes staring into the nothingness, open wide. Your stomach drops, stirring up all kinds of feelings dwelling in you. A chill races down your vertebrae as you glance down at him.

“Suguru..?” Your voice is weak, shaky.

Fear courses through your being, primordial and all-consuming.

And when he speaks to you it’s all dark, shrouded in malevolence.

“You forgot one thing, darling. After I brought you back from the forest.”

No, no, no, he can’t do this to you! He can’t hold your orgasm hostage for the sake of toying with you! You should puncture his flesh your nails, scratch him, tear him up, but you can only grit your teeth. Your features twist from bliss to rage.

“You…” boiling anger swims through your voice. It’s like it’s not even your voice - more like a hiss, a growl.

There’s an undecipherable mixture of pity and amusement in his eyes. He twitches inside you but you’re too upset to notice.

“Apologize.” he sneers - almost commands.

His words cause anger to bubble up in you.

“Oh, you piece of shit…!” you seethe, but sob and moan when he slams you back on his cock, stretching you around his length again. Wanting to quench your rage with the sensation you crave the most right now.

“I hope, for your sake, I don’t have to repeat myself.”

It doesn’t matter how much you try to squirm, fuss and wriggle, he forces you still. His behaviour frustrates you to no end when you’re so desperate for a bit of friction, the horribly hollow and burning feeling of your lost peak torturing you seemingly endlessly. To the point where you’re too tired to put up a fight, when you’re teetering on the edge of breaking. You know you must swallow your pride, you have let him have it his way.

“I… I’m sorry.” you apologize meekly, teary-eyed, your voice a pathetic mewl. He finally starts lifting you up and easing you down, building you up slowly. But it’s not enough. You need more but he won’t give it to you just yet.

“You do?” he asks you in a way that it cuts deep into your marrow. It’s not even close to a loving tease – no, he’s outright mocking you.

Vicious bastard. You should grab his throat and squeeze the air out of him.

“Yes, I do!” you cry out without thinking. “I’m sorry for running away from you.” you push the words out through your whimpers. He increases the pace, making you yelp and shake, you end up closing your eyes reflexively. He robbed you from the sensation for so long that you became sensitive, it’s easier to make a mess out of you. Your face is red with shame, so much so you can’t look him in the eyes. The humiliation is like an invisible rope tightening around your neck.

“Promise you’ll never do that to me again.”

He pushes your hips further along his length this time, shifting you a bit towards his thighs. Creating a perfect angle, he uncovers a sweet spot inside you that makes you almost incapable of forming coherent words. And he eats the sight right up.

“…I promise… I promise...” you manage to get your answer out in the form of a choked hiccup. Your vision blurs. Everything is too intense for you to handle. You swear that the very shape of you could dissolve at any given moment.

Faith is desperate. Gods are hungry for despair. So they deliberately make you suffer and only then reveal themselves to you.

His fingers dig into your waist so hard it burns. You feel the world shift with you and then you collide with the sheets. Your bruised back ripples with pain. You’re unsure if he did it out of spite or not. You don’t know if he’ll completely shatter your dignity, or if he’s fine with just enforcing the feeling that you can never be above him, that you can never defeat him.

His weight on top of you is overwhelming. The midnight dark locks of his hair spread around you like spilled ink. And through the thick fog of your mind, too far gone in twisted, masochistic pleasure, you lock your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to go away. You might as well cease to exist if he does.

“And what do we say when we apologize?”

The soft plea coming from you is more instinctual rather than deliberate.

“Forgive me.”

You ache for him to move, you’re starved for the incoming high. Like a ravenous beast, all devouring. When he finally gives it to you, his thrusts make you feel possessed, make your back arch, your head falls back into the pillow as if you were offering your neck to him (maybe one day he won’t be able to resist the urge and will bite down on the jugular, through your trachea, putting you out of your misery) - you don’t dare to beg for anything else.

Maybe just for a little blood. A mark he can wear, just like you wear your bruises. Your nails somehow acquire a will of their own, your scratches have him excited and pleased.

His fingers meander around your jaw, gently coaxing you into letting him guide your gazes to meet again.

He’s imitating you, admiring his work like you did with him. And what he sees is a being stripped from any likeness of a dignified human being. With eyes so blown he can see the bottommost pits of Hell in them.

And he’s satisfied, rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

“I forgive you.”

Your release crashes over you like a tide, submerging you, burning you to cinders on the inside. Tearing you apart. And when he collapses on top you after filling you to the brim, you feel like a festering wound.

He’s a disease, miasma, a flesh-eating parasite crawling inside you.

“You’re…” you huff. “You’re awful.”

“I know. But you love me all the same.”

You wonder what you should have done to earn a different outcome, but you give up soon. Looks like he already had plans for your atonement in mind. After all, gods are impatient creatures. They’re dependent on your reverence and servitude. And you’ve waited for too long to make things right.

Why, why, why - it echoes inside your head.

But if you think about it… he’s your serpent. The vilest, most horrendous creature created by God. The one who charmed you, tempted you with sin and has now sunken his fangs into you. Of course he did, and instead of trying to heal from his venomous bite, you want to catch him - to find out his reasons, to prove to him that you didn’t deserve that.

And yet you could never, ever prove him wrong. Your serpent will always think it was right to bite. It’s in his nature afterall.

“Is your hand alright?”

He makes it up to you with spoiling you again. He cleans your wounds so sweetly, so thoughtfully, looks after you in a way that nobody could, which confuses you even further.

He cherishes you, destroys himself for the sake of keeping you safe - not like it’s a choice, but a must - just like a mother would. He scolds you, reminds you not to make the same mistake again, collars you, keeps you on a tight leash, only loosening it (just a little) when he succeeded at making you play by his rules, just like a father would.

And somehow, he excels at both. Way better than those two ever did when it came to you.

You wish your glare could pierce right through his skull when you hand the empty glass back to him. You don’t have it in you to play nice. You don’t even attempt hide that you’re sulking, he probably finds it funny - adorable even.

“Go to hell.” you spit and lay back into the sheets, your bruised back facing him.

“Oh, darling…” he coos, but the surface level sweetness of his tone hides a sharp edge of condescendence. He crawls into bed, right behind you, caging you in his embrace, forcing you to feel the warmth of his body. The warmth that you’re so used to, the one you can’t sleep without it. Nobody has ever made you feel this safe, and the fact makes your heart ache and your stomach twist.

“If there’s a Hell, I’ll see you there.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #meesa writes #DAAARLING GUESS WHOS COME BACK FROM JAIIIIL #Idk what kind of deep psychological issue of mine is in that fic but now its your job to decipher #just please dont bring Freud into the picture I hate that man

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sinkovia · 8 months

Text

Laundry room

Kyle Garrick x GN!Reader

Fluff, meet weird.

Masterlist

As you diligently took notes on your laptop with headphones on, the rhythmic clatter of keys beneath your fingertips accompanied the soft hum of music in your ears. In your peripheral, you noticed your roommate and their boyfriend playfully rolling over in bed, their laughter muffled by the large blanket they threw over themselves.

Maintaining focus on the last bit of your homework, you highered the volume of your music to drown out any distractions. However, as you typed in the final answer, the music transitioned to the next song, revealing hushed breaths and a soft whine emanating from under the blanket. Grimacing, you closed your laptop, slipping on your shoes and grabbing a hoodie.

Clearing your throat, you announced, "Gonna head out for a bit."

A breathless "okay" escaped your roommate as you left, and a twinge of regret lingered in the air. Closing the door behind you with a huff, you checked the time on your phone and cursed under your breath. It dawned on you how late it was, and with everything closed, finding sanctuary in the library was out of the question.

Cursing your luck, you strolled down the hallway, and when you turned the corner, you noticed the laundry room lights still on. Recalling the vending machines and a bench inside, you approached the door, sighing with relief as it swung open.

You halt your steps upon noticing a guy occupying the only bench in the room. His head leans back against the wall, eyes closed.

Did he fall asleep while waiting for his clothes?

Approaching cautiously, you take a seat beside him. His eyes shoot open, revealing recognition upon a closer look. It's Gaz, the guy who lives in the dorm room across from yours, often seen when leaving for your literature class with the same professor.

You offer a slight smile. "Gaz, right?" He sits up, hands finding refuge in the pockets of his hoodie. "Yeah, you're Y/n, right? You're in Mr. Alvarez's literature class." You smile and nod, glancing towards the washing machines and dryers, none of which are currently running.

"Waiting on your clothes?"

Gaz awkwardly laughs, "No, uh, I was taking a nap in my dorm and woke up to my roommate giving his girlfriend backshots." Your jaw slightly drops before erupting into laughter.

“I came here since nothing else was open,” he explained, brushing his hand over his face as laughter bubbled up between you.

“If it makes you feel better, I'm here for the same reason. At least I can say that my roommate was nice enough to cover themselves with a blanket,” this prompted Gaz to burst into laughter. "There's no fucking way."

Both of you erupted into laughter, finding humor in the shared awkwardness. As you both calmed down, faint moans from the room next to the laundry caught your attention. Gaz's jaw dropped, and wide-eyed, he looked at you. You covered your mouth, and once again, you both descended into fits of laughter.

“Bloody hell, is today national fuck me day? Why the hell is everyone in eachothers guts" Gaz wiped away a tear that threatened to fall from his laughter.

"It's like they're competing for the title of the loudest couple," you muttered between laughs.

"If only there was a medal for that," Gaz said, leaning over and holding his stomach.

"Wanna make the most of our escape? I've got my laptop; we could watch a movie or something?"

Gaz grinned, "Sounds like a plan. I'll grab some snacks from the vending machine, my treat. We can drown out the brothel next door with a scary movie?" You thought for a moment humming to yourself quietly.

“I was thinking Barbie if you havent seen it? I know this pretty good bootleg website” Gaz with a wide grin on his face sofly clapped his hands together. “Sounds perfect, I havent seen it yet.”

And so, you both made your way to the vending machine, sharing jokes and turning an initially awkward situation into a chance for an impromptu movie night in the laundry room.

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hischierdevils · 2 years

Text

Valentine | N.H.

note: I was listening to Valentine by 5SOS and have been in a nico mood so here you go

summary: nico questions your relationship on valentine’s day

warnings: slight angst, miscommunication

wc: 1.3 K

It started with a comment from Dawson, he was innocently talking about his Valentine’s day plans with Jack and John when Nico had walked into the locker room. “What are you doing for your girl, cap?” Dawson asked once he saw who had joined them.

Nico shrugged as he sat down on his bench. “We don’t celebrate it. Y/n doesn’t care.” This would be your third Valentine’s Day together and he’s never so much as bought you a card. You never said anything, so he assumed the two of you were on the same page about the made up holiday.

“Are you sure she doesn’t care?” Dawson asks. “Or has she just accepted that you don’t?” He doesn’t mean anything by the question, but it sends Nico into a spiral. Do you want him to do something for you? Have you just been too nice to say something?

Before practice starts, he corners Yegor in the hallway. “Can I ask you something?” Shara nods and Nico continues. “Are you doing anything for Darya today?”

Yegor gives his captain a weird look. “Of course, it’s valentine’s day? She just had Christian and she needs to know how special she is.” He looks even more confused when Nico sighs. “Did you forget?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Have you been silently resenting him this whole time? You were sleeping when he left this morning, barely opening your eyes as he kissed you goodbye. Were you pretending to be asleep because you didn’t want him to disappoint you again?

His thoughts drive him crazy as he overanalyzes every reaction he’s had with you this week. He thought he knew you well enough to know if something was bothering you. He thought you trusted him enough to tell him anything. Was he that terrible of a boyfriend?

Needless to say, Nico’s a little more frustrated in practice than usual. He takes out a little too much of that frustration on Dawson as they practice the penalty kill, sending him to the ice hard. “What the hell man?” He groans as he gets up. Nico mumbles a sorry before skating away.

He’s the last one off the ice for practice, pushing his body as much as he physically can as he tries to figure out his thoughts. He’s come to the conclusion that he needs to do something for you today, but he fears it might be too late. Everything is surely booked already.

His misery only continues as he walks into the locker room and is greeted by a picture on Tomas’ phone. Veronicka is holding a beautiful bouquet of red flowers. “The Devs sent all the girls flowers.” Nate holds up his phone as well, showing Jessica received them too. Nico internally groans. Now he’s competing with his own organization?

He stops at the store on his way home which is packed with men doing last minute shopping just like him. Guilt washes over him as he stares at the bare, picked-over shelves. You don’t deserve something he picked up last minute on the way home from work. You deserve to know how wonderful you are. How much he loves you and appreciates you being in his life. He leaves the store empty handed, feeling completely defeated.

Your apartment is quiet when he walks in and he’s immediately greeted by the large bouquet of flowers that the Devils sent you on the entryway table. Your name is scrawled on the card along with a cheesy message that probably made you smile. He feels awful, wishing he could be the one to do that for you.

“Nico?” Your soft voice calls from the kitchen and he hesitates to answer, trying to figure out if there's any sign of sadness in your voice. “Is that you?”

“Yes, were you expecting someone else?” He regrets the words as soon as he says them, walking down the hallway to the kitchen. You’re probably hoping for a nicer boyfriend, one that actually gets you flowers on valentine’s day.

“No, my other boyfriend just left actually.” You call back with a laugh. He knows you're joking but it hurts all the same. “What do you want to make for dinner?”

His heart soars as he steps into the kitchen and finds you standing by the counter scrolling on your ipad. Your hair is up in a messy bun, you're wearing leggings and one of his sweatshirts but the sight of you still takes his breath away. When he doesn’t answer, you look up at him expectantly. The two of you always cook together when he’s home.

“Ni?” You start to frown as you look at him, wondering if he didn’t hear you. “Dinner?”

He hates the thought of disappointing you. “I can take you out.”

His tone catches you off guard and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’ll do whatever you want.” He wants to eliminate the distance between you, pull you into his arms and hold you tightly but he’s not sure if that’s what you want.

“I’d rather stay home.” You turn your attention back to the ipad. “I found this new recipe we could try.”

“You don’t have to say that just because you know that's what I want.” He tells you suddenly. “I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

You set the ipad down on the counter and stare at him. “I just told you what I want.”

“We can dress up.” He says, trying to think of a plan on the spot. “I’ll take you to dinner. And a movie!”

“Nico, what is going on?” He’s usually an open book, letting you read every emotion on his face. The mood he’s in now is something you haven’t seen before.

“It’s valentine’s day.”

“I know. The Devils sent me flowers.” Guilt washes over him again. “Did you se-”

“I’m so sorry.” He chokes out. “I should’ve gotten you flowers, a card, a puppy, something…I should’ve made you feel special. I didn’t know you cared about valentine's day.”

You move around the counter quickly, stepping into his embrace before he can even finish his sentence. “I don’t care, Ni. We’ve never celebrated it before.”

He holds you tightly, hiding his face in your hair as you rub soothing circles on his back. “But I should've.” he explains. “I should show you how much I love you.”

You pull away from him and he’s surprised to find that you’re smiling. “You do show me. You show me every day.”

When he gives you a confused look you keep going “You put a towel in the dryer every morning before you leave because you know I hate being cold. You always fill my car up with gas before you leave for a roadie. You fill up my water bottle for me every night before bed in case I get thirsty in the middle of the night. You always let me have the last bite of food even if it’s your favorite.” Your chest is heaving from talking so fast. You could go on and on about the things he does for you.

“I’m just being nice.“ Nico shrugs. He’s never really given much thought to those things before. He does them because he loves you, yes, but he never realized you noticed.

“Because you love me and I love you.” You insist as you circle each of his wrists with your hands. “I don’t need you to buy me flowers or chocolate just to tell me that.”

The stress he’s put himself through all morning ebbs away as you look at him. Hands still on your face, he bends down to kiss you. “I fall more in love with you every day.” He says pressing his forehead to yours. “Du wirst eines Tages meine Frau sein.”

You smile, only catching a few german words that you know. “Can we circle back to the puppy?”

“Who mentioned a puppy?” Nico pulls away from you and tries to change the topic. “What recipe did you find?”

You laugh and kiss his jaw. “I love you, Ni.”

You’re going to be my wife someday

#nico hischier x reader #Nico hischier imagine #Nico hischier fic #my writing

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least-carpet · 8 months

Note

If you want, 10, 11, 12, 13! (mdzs)

Hello!

I answered 10 here, but here are the other ones!

11. What is your most sinful headcanon?

It occurs to me that I don't really know what this means. Like, sexiest? Most violent? Are thoughts sinful?

Once again, I bow to Ms. MXTX. I can't compete. But I guess, off the top of my head, I would say that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng's relationship was Weird. I can accept many expressions of that Weirdness, but as teenagers they should be Weird and Intense about each other in a way that's invisible and quite natural to them and a little strange to other people, not straightforwardly romantic but also not immediately familial. This can run the gamut from "Wei Wuxian climbs into Jiang Cheng's bed whenever he's lonely and wants a cuddle" to "they have wrestling matches where they take turns holding each other down" to skinny-dipping together to "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." If they were teens now, Wei Wuxian would take chewed gum out of Jiang Cheng's mouth to share and not even think about it. He would drunkenly sit in the bathtub at a party and watch Jiang Cheng pee instead of pausing the conversation. (Tell me you have seen some intense teenage friendships without telling me you've seen some intense teenage friendships.)

Oh, and Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang fooled around a little while drunk in the Cloud Recesses. The exact amount/degree is flexible.

12. What is your cutest headcanon?

Jin Ling may not have many friends his age, but that's because there was period where most people in new Jiang Sect were generally not having babies post-war. There just aren't that many kids his age in the sect. But he's doted on by the older disciples, who have contributed in no small way to his spoiling.

ALTERNATELY THAT WEN QING IS ALIVE. NO BODY, NO CRIME. (This is maybe just denial.)

13. What is your heart-breakingist headcanon?

Hmm, I'm not sure! How about this: Jin Ling liked Lan Xichen a lot, and—once things slow down a little after the main story—he worries about what happened to him. Not that he can do anything about it, and his seclusion is not even in the top three worst things that have happened lately, but he misses his xiao-shushu's nice friend around Jinlintai quite a bit.

Ask me fandom trash questions!

#asks #fandom trash ask game #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #jin ling #wen qing #lan xichen #yunmeng shuangjie #chengxian #one braincell trio #mdzs +#least-carpet thoughts #ask game

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imaginefan · 2 months

Text

Liar

Chris Halliwell X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 895

Requested: Anon

Request: Cam you write a one shot Piper making up lies to Chris so he can break up with reader cause she doesn't like her or approve since she is human but Chris doesn't believe his mom lies. Thanks you in advance.

You hadn’t noticed anything at first. In fact everything seemed normal, well as normal as it can be with a family full of witches. You knew the secret of the family because you were one of the people that they had saved. Chris had taken a liking to you and decided to take you out on a date, from there things progressed like a normal relationship.

Up until now.

Chris had started asking really weird questions about you being afraid of everything that he dealt with or complaining about how little time you both spent together. When you asked him where he had heard all of this from he had told you that his mum was relaying phone called that you had both had together ones that didn’t exist on your call log but somehow existed on hers. With a simple excuse of you deleting it from your own call log he was back to believing his mum which was why you were sitting in your shared apartment talking to your friend. “I just don’t understand why she would say something like that.” You explained. “Some mum’s just love their boys too much, honestly I think you should get out while you can, you know I have a spare room for you to stay in, you could leave tonight.” She informed you “I can even come pick you up if you want.” “But I do love him.” You frowned as you pulled your knees up to your chest “I know you do but that doesn’t mean that he loves you.” She answered. “But-” “Listen all I’m going to say is that he should be telling his mum to stay out of his relationship, it’s dangerous when you don’t, he’s not listening to you but he’s listening to her do you really want to be fighting with his mum the whole time?” She asked. “No, I want to show him that she’s lying.” You answered. “That’s only going to make you look worse, the only way that he’s ever going to find out is if you step away.” She said. “I guess you're right.” You sighed. “Get some stuff ready, I’ll come get you, even if it’s temporary for now.” She said as you heard her shuffling around in her apartment. “Okay.” You said softly before handing up the phone.

You walked into the bedroom, you packed enough for a couple of days at first, in the hopes that things might change for you but you worry that it’s not going to happen. You the distinct sound of Chris orbbing into the apartment, you closed your eyes hoping that he wouldn’t come into the bedroom. Luck was not on your side and within seconds he was standing at the door. “What are you doing?” He asked. “I think that we should spend some time apart.” You answered. “Is this because of this thing with my mum?” He asked, he sounded fed up, like he felt that you were overreacting. “This thing with your mum is making everything that I do wrong, you know I sit at home patiently waiting for you to come home, I complain to no one but somehow your mum has convinced you otherwise.” You argued. “This is silly.” He stepped forward. “Not to me, I’m clearly not good enough for you, at least not by your mother’s standards, so you can have your key back, we’ll talk in a couple of days, see how things have changed… If they change.” You shrugged, dropping the keys on the bed before walking around to the door “excuse me.” “You know this just makes you look guilty.” He said standing aside after a moment. “The fact that you think that is the reason that I’m leaving.” You said softly as you continued to the door.

Chris stayed in the apartment for a few hours before he headed back to the house where he knew that his brother was “what happened?” Wyatt asked, the moment that he looked at his brother he knew that there was something wrong. “She left.” Chris answered. “What did you expect, guilty or not, there is no one that’s going to stick around when they are competing with their boyfriend's mum.” Wyatt answered. “To be honest mum has always been protective of us, you know after everything that happened.” “She knew about all that, we talked about it and about how we were closer than a normal family.” He answered. “So she already felt like she was competing and she said yes to you, now your angry because she walked away after you literally chose mum over her!” Wyatt argued, his voice raised which seemed to alert their mother to a problem. “What’s with all the yelling?” Piper asked. “(Y/N) left and Chris is feeling sorry for himself.” Wyatt answered. “Don’t worry about her, she wasn’t good enough for you anyway.” Piper said a little too quickly and Wyatt smirked, a small shrug accompanying his next sentence. “What did I tell you?” The words echoed in Chris’ head as he watched his mum walk into the kitchen talking about making something for dinner to help him feel better, she didn’t even ask why she had left or if there was any chance that they might get back together. Maybe you were right about his mum, maybe he should have listened.

Requests and general question!

#charmed one shot #charmed imagine #charmed #chris halliwell one shot #chris halliwell imagine #chris halliwell #imagin #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #female reader

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vibratingskull · 1 year

Text

Yandere!Thrawn x f!reader

A gentleman. That's what crossed your mind when you met him.

Calm, collected, efficient, respectable and always polite. To say you felt safe when he's here is an understatement. Always three steps ahead, you follow his orders with loyalty and fully trusting in his capacity to bring you victory and keep the crew safe.

You catched his eyes as a lieutenant when you dared contradict him on one info he got wrong. He simply asked you to develop your reasoning but he finds himself curious about you since then.

He always congratulates you when you succeed in your missions, and you proudly accept his praises. What a wonder to be appreciated by a man of his grandeur. You always do your best to be worthy of his praises and he do notices

You always seem to feel a burning gaze at the back of your neck when you sit at your console on the bridge.

You're always the one bringing him the datacards each evening in his office. You don't know why, it is more of an ensign job than an officer like you as low rank as you might me. But orders are orders.

He always greets you with a grin, flashing his teeth.

One evening you bring him the cards he invites you to stay and observe the art he recently collected from your enemies "I must form my officers to my techniques and tactics" he explains.

So you stayed late trying to decipher the piece, trying to see what he sees. You're so concentrated on the art you don't notice he's only watching YOU behind your back.

What a pretty neck you have... what a delicious curve it draws under your strands of hair...

Would he dare and dig his teeth into your flesh right here and there?

No...

You admit you don't see anything and he just smiles at you. Not to worry, you can always learn tomorrow, and the day after, and the one after, and after again...

You take that really seriously, he took time off his busy schedule to teach you something important. Surely he's seeing potential in you to be a great officer! What else could it be?

If only you knew...

It's weird though, cause when you speak about it to Faro she tells you he never tried to teach her anything like that.

You continue to come and try to learn each evening and he patiently explains to you, develops his reasoning, exposes his ideas, shows you the thread of his thoughts. This is so interesting you drink his words, utterly fascinated by his intellect. How lucky you are to learn from such a man!

You end up spending so much time with him, you slowly start to relax in his presence.

It's not that he is scary, but he's taller and larger than you and so intelligent. His muscular stature is intimidating and with his burning red eyes you feel he could strip your soul naked, gulp you down and devour you in one go, like a carnivorous predator.

And those canines...

You still don't understand how he does his trick but you sharpen your mind and tactical abilities and he appears really pleased. "You do not understand my ways but you are a competent officer on your own terms and I take pride in having you in my crew. Together nothing could stand in our way." he tells you one day and it gorges you with pride. You smile and flush at the compliment.

His heart flutters at your reaction. Sometimes he loves you so much he wonders how your blood taste...

He asks your opinion on the bridge at Faro's dismay, riddles you his trick questions, stimulate you intellectually and always smiles when you give him a good answer. If you're wrong it is okay too, just another subject he can teach you during long hours in his office.

But something's bugging you : You see all your colleagues rising in ranks and changing posts but you remain at the same place, not understanding what you're doing wrong. You came to Thrawn with hope, but you're quickly disappointed

"No I can not interfere in the process" he lies "You are not ready, you have so much to learn, I have so much to teach you." Don't leave the Chimaera, don't go, don't leave him behind. He will not tolerate it. Stay here, stay with him, where it is safe, where he can protect you, see you bloom and flourish. Remain with him, only him...

Because there is simply no him without you

You broke up in tears the fifth time you came to ask for his advice on how to rise through the ranks, and it stabs his heart to see your tears. "I'm sorry to cry..." You sob "But I don't know what to do anymore...What am I doing wrong?" He comes closer with pain in his eyes and caresses your cheek with the tip of his fingers, just grazing your skin delicately.

It is the first time he's touching you, he wanted this first contact to matter and even though this isn't what he had in mind, being present for you when you need him is as good.

Especially when he totally could have put pressure on the bureaucracy to help you. He could have helped you from day one, but that would meant seeing you go to lead your own forces, away from him. And that he simply cannot tolerate.

The touch is light and fugitive but it electrifies him to his core, emboldens him with a new energy. How good it feels touching you, how right it is... How addicting it is, how toxic. How he will never get enough of you. How much he loves you so much, how much this love strangles him and blinds him to his duty, how he could devour you right there and finally make one with you

Maybe it would end his torments? Maybe he would finally be at peace? This lingering pain in his heart when you're not in his sight, would finally be gone, his breath would ease, the weight on his chest loosen, his loneliness disappear and finally be a complete being. How perfect it would be... You and him forever.

You don't see any of that of course, he mastered the stoic mask for ages.

But you're very much two separate beings and you're very much in tears in front of him. Without thinking about it you throw yourself in his arms and cry, soaking his pristine white uniform. He remains frozen, stunned.

Is it really happening? You want to touch him? Is he dreaming?

He slowly embraces you in his arms and caresses your hair, soothing you, pressing you tighter against his beating heart.

You're crying, devastated but he's in heaven right now.

He would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you would come back in his arms. A million time. He will console you each time with delight. It is okay if you cry as long as you remain with him.

You can't see it but he has the most elated grin.

Should he brings you to his quarter now? Should he risk it?

No, everything in due time.

You're tensing your body suddenly and part with him, which stabs him in the heart, but he doesn't show it, only letting you go with the expression of a concerned superior.

"I'm sorry sir, that was rather unprofessional." you present your excuses. "There is no need for excuses between friends" he answers with a compassionate smile.

You raise up your head in surprise. Friends? You two? You and him? You and the mighty Grand Admiral Thrawn? You cannot believe it, but he said it himself. So maybe it is true.

He did not bring you to his room this night. Simply whished you goodnight and safe dreams, but he didn’t not sleep that night.

He feels on fire, his powerful muscles rolling under his skin, his arms desperately empty.

But he's smiling. You're closer now. Soon he won't feel that pain anymore. Soon you'll be his and only his. And if you refuse...

Well let's just say he doesn't lack ideas to keep you close, even against your consent.

And soon came another great news, one that brings joy to his heart and excite him tremendously

"You didn't know I doodle in my spare time?" you ask surprised

"No." He refrains an elated smile "Why did you not tell me sooner?"

Fantastic! He can now dissect you to atoms, observe you under a microscope, understand you on a totally new level, spy on your most hidden secrets, reveal your intimacy. You'll be like an open book to him now.

But that is still an excellent question : how did he not know such an important fact about you? Intolerable!

He will install a secret camera in your room to prevent it from happening again!

He insists on seeing your drawings despite your reluctance. "I am simply curious to see what kind of art you produce." He politely presses "Will you not humor a friend?". You sigh and hand him the folder.

He indulges himself, comfortably seated in his office, unraveling your very inner being, like he is discovering you for the first time.

You're even more wonderful than what he first thought. You're definitely the most perfect person, and even more perfect for him. He is so happy!

Until he wasn't

"Who is it?" He asks nonchalantly but his thoughts are murderous. "Who?" You wonder, raising your head from your datapad. "The person you love." Your eyes widen "How… How do you know that?", "I saw it in your drawings. So who is it?"

You shift position on your seat, uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"In fact..." You say with a little voice "I think there are several..."

Oh no

@blueninjablade3, @bluechiss

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x y/n #thrawn x you #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #yandere au #fanfic #vibratingskull

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prolix-yuy · 1 year

Note

So if you’re feeling it, i would love a fic about Frankie’s first time as an escort…Thank you and love you lots💕

Mari my darling, this ask is sooooooo delicious! Especially because as much as we've alluded to Frankie's work, we haven't actually seen any of it yet. Though I'm gonna pull a little bit of a fast one on you in regards to the wording here, but I think you'll enjoy where it takes us.

Frankie's First Time

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!OC "Lily"

Summary: What was Frankie's first time like?

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), we are dedicating another 2k words to Frankie's kitty king skills, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a whisper of ass play, Frankie AND Lily's filthy mouths, watch me make up shit about sex work.

Notes: This was a blast to explore how Frankie "auditioned" for Pope's, and how he got the reputation we all know and love. I also got to explore things from Frankie's POV, so we get some insight into exactly why he's so competent in places. Even though Ms. J is sitting out this story, we know she's thanking Lily for her service well into the future.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Series Masterlist

He’s not sure if he’s supposed to knock on the chipped blue door or let himself in. The whole situation feels weird, like an audition for a play he never learned the lines for.

Well, at least the metaphor’s pretty accurate.

“Come in,” floats through the wood, answering his question, and with a deep breath and a turn of the knob Frankie steps into a whole new world.

She’s walking to greet him when he steps over the threshold, a bright smile on her face.

“Pope said you’d be punctual,” she says, one hand on her hip as she surveys him. Now that he’s here and actually doing this - really considering sex work - his jaw locks up and hands wipe nervously back and forth against his jeans. He nods quickly, grimaces a smile, and scuffles his feet on her doormat.

“Oh, you are a cutie, you don’t need to be this worked up around me. I don’t bite,” she says, taking the last steps to rub her arms firmly up and down his biceps. Her touch is comforting, the raise of her eyebrows and nod a well-earned reward. “Let’s sit down and chat. Do you want water, coffee, iced tea?” She coaxes Frankie further into her apartment, waiting for him to toe off his boots with a mumbled apology before sitting him on her maroon couch. Leaving briefly, she returns with two iced teas. Frankie gulps his down fast enough to make her smirk.

“So you’re friends with Ironhead and Golden Boy? And Pope too, of course.” Frankie’s eyebrows knit together in confusion until he makes the connection.

“Will and Benny, yeah. Pope sent them to you too?” he asks, twisting the cup in his hands to give them something to do.

“What can I say, I’ve got a lot of experience vetting the talent,” she quips back, turning to tuck her knees onto the couch and face Frankie more fully. He takes a moment to actually look at her more than quick glances. She’s pretty but in a way that’s disarming, a way of watching him that makes him feel like she knows his secrets but won’t share. Her chestnut hair flows over her shoulders in silky waves, complimenting her warm skin and umber eyes. He thought she’d be in some tight little tube dress but the lightweight tank top and shorts compliment her natural beauty with a realness Frankie didn’t know he craved. Her toes are painted baby pink.

“You’re making me nervous you swallowed your tongue, honey, can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?” she says, and Frankie coughs out a laugh.

“Sorry, I’m feeling…shit, way out of my depth,” Frankie says, leaning forward to put down the glass. He remains hunched, head in his hands as he takes a deep breath.

“One step at a time, baby, let’s start off easy, okay?” she says, and that firm hand on his arm directs his attention back. “They call me Lily. Not my real name, you know. Will and Benny picked their own, you have one in mind?”

Frankie leans back and slaps his thighs.

“No idea, my call sign was Catfish but…nothing much else.” Lily laughs, and the noise is soothing to his frazzled nerves.

“Catfish it is. Was it the whiskers?” she asks, reaching over to scritch her fingers lightly into Frankie’s scruff. The touch is surprisingly welcome, her demeanor calming. He didn’t think he’d be ready to be touched yet.

“Long story. You don’t think that would weird out…uh, clients?”

“Might make them more intrigued.”

Her hand moves to settle on his thigh, and the familiar stirrings of intimacy through touch rumble under Frankie’s skin. But it’s too fast, brings too much of the artifice of this situation to the forefront, and Frankie balks.

“So where are you from?” he says, voice booming in the small room. He winces at the volume, but Lily doesn’t move her hand.

“Colombia. Came over with a bunch of other girls.”

Frankie remembers this part of the story.

“One of Peña’s informants?”

“More or less.”

“But you’re still…?”

Lily scoots closer to him, and Frankie tries to relax into her proximity. She is pretty, long limbed and smooth skinned and smelling of sweet soap.

“I get to do something I enjoy and I make money. And this is the nicest place I’ve ever worked, though much quieter than I’m used to.” She taps Frankie’s thigh to turn his attention back to her. “If you don’t think you’ll enjoy it, I would recommend you not start. It’s not easy. If you’re not looking forward to the good parts, the not-so-great ones will make you miserable.”

Frankie nods, thumb worrying at the denim stretching across his thighs.

“What are you afraid of happening?” Lily asks, and now her knee is pressed against his thigh. The tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. She’s good, no wonder why she’s Santi’s best girl.

“It’s, ah…it’s a lot of things,” Frankie starts. She waits, her hand moving to stroke soothing circles. “What if someone finds out that I don’t want to know? And what do I do with the…clients? Like how do I plan out what they want or figure it out and what if they don’t like it? Or don’t like…me. Am I…” Frankie pauses and looks, really looks at Lily. “Would anyone actually want me? I get Will, and Benny. But I’m not…”

The rest of Frankie’s concerns slide back down his throat as he sighs and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Lily lets the silence stretch for a moment longer.

“I’d recommend keeping the work between you and as few people as possible if you’re afraid of being found out, but it’s a risk you’re taking no matter what. A client could out you as much as a stranger.” Frankie hums and nods as she continues.

“As for what you do, Pope will give you some background. You’re not going in blind, which is a big plus to this setup. Are you taking all clients, or being selective?”

“I, uh…hadn’t thought about that. Probably women to start, and then…I’ll see.”

Lily’s lips curl at the corners.

“Full of surprises. Women can be hard if they don’t know what they want. Part of what we’ll do today is find your boundaries so Pope knows how to schedule your clients. If you don’t do men, he won’t give you any. If you might do something out of the ordinary if you have clear direction, he’ll talk it through with you. And if there’s something you’re very good at, you’ll be his go-to guy.” Lily’s fingers tap up his forearm thoughtfully. “We’ll find those things too. I’m a discerning lady, and if you’re good I’ll know.”

Frankie sighs and finally lets go of that last bit of tension holding him hostage.

“As for your last question…” Lily says, lifting up on her knees. “Can I sit on your lap, honey?”

Frankie’s eyes go wide, but he nods slowly at the request. Lily swings a leg over and settles on his lap, big hands going to her hips immediately. She smiles down at him and lets her fingers wander through his hair, tugging the Standard Oil cap off to free his curls.

“You’re worried they won’t want you, or like what you bring. But from my perspective, a broad-shouldered man with huge hands and the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen is underneath me, and if those big brown eyes are anything to go by, you’re a thorough, and attentive lover.” She swipes her thumb over his lips as he parts them. “When they open the door and see you standing there, big boy with soft eyes, their pussies are gonna throb.”

“Fuck,” Frankie breathes out, shuddering against her touch.

“Soon enough,” she quips back. “First, ground rules. You never jump right into fucking. Always make sure you’re both clear on what she wants and how she wants it. Check in, make sure she’s not feeling pressured.”

“Of course,” Frankie says, confusion flitting across his face. “I thought everyone did that.”

“Oh sweetie, you are a slice of perfection,” Lily giggles, and Frankie’s hands tighten on her hips.

“Take your time. Don’t rush it. You know how long she’s paid for, so give her every last moment. You might be the first person to ever give her undivided attention, and that will keep her coming back.”

“You ever get attached?” Frankie asks, his cock filling at her hot body pressing into his lap. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult. He’s certainly having a good time with her now.

“Yes, once or twice. You redirect those emotions into something useful. Channel those feelings into care for the person. You love how happy you get to make them feel. You’re attracted to how they open up and trust you. You’re giving them a valuable service and you enjoy that.”

Frankie rolls his hips below her, and she tugs his hair with a cheeky smile.

“Lastly, before I see what you bring to the table, always be safe. Condoms always. If she wants something risky, for herself or you, that hasn’t been discussed, you respect your boundaries. And you walk away if it’s getting out of hand. Pope will always have your back.”

“Okay,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes hooding as his gaze licks over her body.

“Now,” Lily says, her voice dropping into a sultrier register. “I’d like to kiss you, Frankie.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs back, tilting his head back for her descending lips.

She’s perfectly soft against his mouth, but firm as she cradles Frankie’s head. He moves his lips against hers, the gentle presses he usually starts out with before he deepens the kiss. She sighs into his mouth, hips rolling slightly as he strokes his fingertips up her spine. The pebbling of her flesh swells pride in his chest.

“Mmm, feels good, Frankie,” she hums, backing off just enough to signal Frankie it’s his turn to show her what he can do. Splaying his large hands on her back, he leans up to meet her lips again, another chaste press before he slips the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip. She opens for him, and he thanks her with soft little laps, barely touching as his hands roam her back, the strong muscles of her thighs, weave through her hair. They’re rocking together in a rhythm neither consciously chose, Frankie’s cock starting to ache at the lack of pressure.

Her nails scratch across his scalp, tugging his curls just shy of painful, and he delves his tongue deeper into her waiting mouth. She groans, sliding down his thighs to finally fit her core against his straining length. The welcome friction drives his kiss deeper, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip, tongues sliding more fervently. She finally breaks away, lips shiny and eyes bright.

“Mmmm, you’re a very good kisser. Let’s take this to the bedroom,” she says, lifting off Frankie’s lap. A small noise of protest leaves his lips at the loss, but he obediently follows through a plain hallway to a sparsely decorated bedroom. The nightstands are simple honeyed wood, a matching headboard behind the king-sized bed. The bedspread is an inoffensive dark gray, crisp white sheets folded primly at the head. Lily turns around and stands at the foot expectantly.

“I, uh…do you want me to just…” Frankie stammers, the confidence waning.

“How about we do what you normally do, and I’ll chime in as needed. Show me your moves, handsome.” Her coquettish smile entices him to step forward and cup her face in his hands, brushing their noses together again before he parts her lips with his own and drinks from her. She melts against his front, fisting his t-shirt as he gathers the hem of her tank top in his bigger hands.

“Can I take this off you?” he asks, tracing his nose along her cheek as she nods. Pulling the thin fabric over her head, he takes in a sharp little breath that she’s not wearing anything underneath it. His hands travel up just below her pert little breasts, dark nipples tightening at his touch.

“I’d like to put my mouth on you,” he pants into her ear, waiting patiently for her breathy, “yes, Frankie,” before he guides her back, banding an arm around her waist before laying her down. On his knees between her spread legs he drinks her in, parted lips and hazy eyes and a body he wants to take apart until she’s a shuddering mess.

“Frankie,” Lily calls lightly, a smile brightening her face.

“Sorry, you’re just…beautiful,” Frankie says, allowing a little of the awe to creep in as he hovers over her prone body.

“I like it when you say what you’re thinking,” she replies, fingers back in his increasingly messy hair. He makes a note to keep it a little longer if this is the treatment he’ll get.

“I think there’s a lot more I want to taste than just these,” he purrs, lowering his mouth to wrap around her nipple and softly suck. Her back arches, legs caging in his narrow hips as she sighs at the clever licks of his tongue and drags of his lips over the supple flesh. Frankie loves breasts of all shapes and sizes, and her small handfuls are no different. He loves how his whole hand can dwarf their size, how large his thumb looks swiping over her puckered nipple. He switches to the neglected one, his thumb and forefinger rolling the wet bud in the absence of his mouth.

“Yes, Frankie, that’s so good,” she mumbles, thighs tightening around him. He drops his hips into the cradle of her sex, a shallow grind relieving some pressure while driving her pleasure higher. With a satisfied hum he lifts to capture her mouth again, lips plumper and reddened from his thorough work. She accepts with fervor, nipping and sucking at him until his hands find hers and he presses them into the mattress.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, dipping to lave his tongue along her neck. She squirms underneath him, reedy moans making his head spin. “Not faking any of this, are you?” he huffs, breaking the heady tension. Lily fists his hair again and pulls him to eye level, a sardonic smile on her swollen lips.

“Not a chance in hell, honey,” she rasps, and Frankie can practically feel his dimple pop out at her breathless admission.

“Want to taste you here too,” he admits, rolling his hips against her hot core. “Want to make you cum on my tongue. Would you like that?” he asks, bolder in his question now that he’s coming into his wheelhouse.

“Yes, Frankie, fuck, definitely yes,” she pants, hands coming to tug at his offending clothing. He shucks his flannel and t-shirt, a brief moment of self-consciousness following. He knows he’s got a little bit of a softer stomach, no six-pack like Benny, and his hairless chest might be a little less manly than he wished, but when her eyes widen and her tongue comes out to lick her lips the thrill returns.

“Knew there was a tasty fucking body under there,” she teases, fingers tapping against his belt buckle. “I bet when you’re on top you make all the girls feel small under you. Those broad fucking shoulders. Can’t wait to get my legs over them.” Frankie’s cock slams to attention at her filthy mouth, taking a moment to palm himself while he settles on his knees at the foot of the bed. If he does this often enough, he’s going to have to bring a pillow with him. Or a chair.

“I’d never keep you waiting,” he shoots back, testing the banter. To his delight her eyes darken, lifting her hips as he eases her shorts and panties down her legs. Her glistening folds make his mouth water, and when he pulls her down the bed to his waiting face her thighs shake under his capable hands.

“Relax, sweetheart. You said you were gonna keep an eye out for what I’m good at?” he says, innocence written across his face. She quirks a brow and nods. “Perfect, because I am very good at this.”

She might have been preparing for a scoff, or a witty comeback, but when he lowers his mouth to her pussy and licks a wide stripe over her throbbing clit all he can hear is her garbled groan as he begins learning her cunt in earnest. Circling her clit with the tip of his tongue makes her hips rock. Sliding down to her entrance with slow-steady strokes arches her back generously. Teasing just at her hole eases her back into steadier breathing, but breaching it makes her whole body shudder. Every movement, every reaction he gets from his oral onslaught he files away, content with taking his time to map out everything that makes her thrash and sigh.

“You are good at this,” she gasps out, locking eyes as he looks up at her from where his face is buried in her folds. “Holy shit, you look so fucking hot like that,” she stutters out, his smile pressing into her cunt.

“Love doing this, s’my favorite part,” he garbles into her flesh, wrapping his lips delicately around her clit and pulling soft suction into his mouth. She cries out, fingers tightening in his hair as a chanted, “Oh god, oh fuck, fuck Frankie, I’m gonna, holy shit I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” tumbles from her lips. He keeps it up for a moment more before releasing, her breaths coming out in ragged sobs.

“Would you like to come, beautiful girl?” Frankie murmurs, hands stroking soothingly along her bare thighs. She laughs briefly before reaching down to stroke his sticky lower lip.

“Show me what you can do, big boy,” she challenges, and the glint in his eye is her final warning before he sets to his task. Long, firm strokes from her hole to just below her clit work her up, her hips rocking in time with his pace. He pulls her closer, legs draped over his shoulders as he bobs his head, eyes flashing up to catch her blissed-out face before she tips back into the pillows. When a whine grows in her throat he switches to tight circles on her clit, alternating directions and interrupting with quick flicks to keep her keening and arching into his mouth.

“Frankie, please,” she begs hoarsely. He was never good at edging, always wanting his partners to cum now and cum over and over again. So with his mouth sealed around her clit he sucks and works his tongue over her tight little bud as her hands scrabble for purchase on the bed, his tousled head, the sheet he hears creak in her fists. When her body feels as tight as a bowstring he releases the pressure just enough that when he flicks over her clit she’s helpless to stop it. Her orgasm rushes through, thighs clenching hard around his ears, hips bucking hard enough he has to pin them down, and breathy shouts shooting right to his throbbing cock. If he could cum from this he would. If he had a hand down his pants right now he definitely would. But instead he slows his strokes, enveloping her slick folds with his hot mouth as she weakly releases his head and flops back to the mattress.

“Holy shit, Frankie, that was…yeah, I’d fucking pay for that,’” she gasps, his chuckle dark and deep against her core.

“Nah, that’s standard good fucking. What you’ll pay for is that I’m going to do it again,” Frankie says, and he almost can’t recognize the confidence in his voice. It’s making his skin crackle with excitement as he strokes a finger through her sopping cunt, savoring her scent in his mustache.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, handsome,” Lily says, propping up on her elbows to look at him between her thighs. “Sometimes less is…way fucking more than most girls are used to.”

Frankie lets a lopsided grin dance onto his face, enjoying how her own expression falters.

“You don’t think I can do it?” he purrs, shallowly breaching her with his fingertip. “Haven’t even tried to get your g-spot yet. Give me a chance to make you cum on my face again, and I’ll fuck you in any position you like. Even the challenging ones.” Lily contemplates his offer, carding his curls back from his face. He likes the way she plays with his hair. He’ll have to encourage that.

“Even the positions where I fuck you, big boy? I’ve got loads of toys for that.”

Frankie flushes deeply at that, face blazing hot as she laughs at his sudden turn.

“Teasing, only teasing. Though you shouldn’t knock it. I could make you see stars, baby.”

Frankie coughs and tries to get back into the moment, shaking his head.

“Maybe when I’m a little more experienced,” he acquiesces. It’s a little white lie. He wouldn’t be able to let someone make him that vulnerable for a handful of dollars. That’s something he’d only consider with someone he trusted deeply, and cared for just as much.

“Fair enough. Let’s see what you got,” she says, leaning back and propping some pillows behind her back. A wicked smile crawls onto Frankie’s face.

“I’ll give you my best, sweetheart.”

Frankie’s specialty is the second orgasm. The first is long, languid, learning. The second one has a pace all its own, both in the buildup and the payoff. He can’t go right back to torturing her overstimulated clit, or pumping his fingers into her, no matter how hard the idea makes him. Instead he drapes his arm over her waist, spreads one of his hands over her thigh, and lays heady kisses along her stomach. Her muscles twitch at the scratch of his beard, the teasing nips of his teeth, the self-conscious giggles he earns when he tongues a particularly sensitive spot. He lets his hands roam, kneading at her thighs, skimming his fingers up to splay across her chest. Their span is exciting to most, eyes widening when they see how far his thumb and pinky can reach. He basks in the relaxation of this moment, bringing her down from her height onto the pillowy comfort of his touch.

“Frankie,” Lily murmurs, sliding her calf along his back. He slides up to kiss the inside of her knee, trailing his mouth down her thigh. “Frankie!” she giggles more urgently, wiggling her hips when he doesn’t speed up his movements.

“Impatient?” he hums into her skin, but he lets his fingertips dance closer to her core. “Thought you were going to let me try.”

“Didn’t realize you were going to take all afternoon for the second one,” she quips back. Mischief flashes in Frankie’s eyes, and he crawls up her body to ghost his lips over her earlobe.

“Are you turned on yet?” he whispers, testing a deeper bedroom voice. To his delight she writhes under him, fingernails lightly scraping up his back. He slides a hand down to cup her pussy, sliding one finger through her folds. “Mmm, yes you are,” he sighs, scraping his teeth behind her ear to elicit a shaky breath. Coating his finger in her slick, he slides inside as she takes in a shaky breath.

“Good?” he asks, holding still with his middle finger buried inside her slick heat.

“Yeah, fuck, Frankie, please,” she gasps, rocking her hips against his hand. A triumphant smile hides against her neck as he drags his finger out, then buries it back inside her. After a few careful strokes he finds a spot that arches her back, a quiet “fuck” escaping her lips.

“Oh yeah, there it is,” he coos, swirling the tip of his finger over it. Her nails bite into his shoulderblades, the pressure of his jeans against his cock almost unbearable but he’s so focused he pushes it to the side. “Can you take another one?” Lily nods quickly before he slicks his ring finger and slides both inside.

“Shit, Frankie, I don’t even really like fingering but this…” she says, pulling him down to settle more of his bulk on her. He draws one knee up to plant under her thigh, but lets his broad frame press her deeper into the mattress. His unoccupied hand slides under her neck, holding her while he dives in to kiss her deeply, sensually, in time with his methodical strokes. When her hips start moving in time he breaks the kiss, shuffling back down the bed.

“Gonna cum again?” he asks, only allowing a hint of smugness into his voice. Lily laughs breathlessly.

“Yeah, if you put your mouth on me I just might,” she teases.

“Yes ma’am,” Frankie says back before lapping fervently at her neglected clit. The warm passes of his tongue stiffen her back, thin moans growing into cries as he finds the pattern that drives all thought from her mind. Slick with sweat, her body roils under Frankie’s careful ministrations. When his knuckles pull too much at her sucking grip he spits on where they’re joined, licking where she’s stretched around him.

“Frankie, holy fuck, don’t…don’t stop…” she stammers, hands back in his hair as he rubs roughly against her g-spot and messily tongues her, audibly moaning to vibrate her clit and tighten her nipples. He wants to palm one pretty tit while he’s eating her out but she’s so close he can’t help himself. He clamps his hand down on his protesting cock as he swipes his tongue hard and fast, thrusting his fingers deep and devastating. Pride surges in his chest when her hips lock hard, bowing her off the bed as she wails. His hands fly to support her, holding her firmly against his mouth as he plunges his tongue into her spasming cunt and circles his nose on her clit. She thrashes against him but he holds steady, eyes burning up her body so when she finally opens her own she can see the raw need heating his face. His cock jumps again when her eyes roll back and another, softer pattern of pulses wrap around his tongue.

Again, he thinks with wonder, she came again just looking at me.

When her body unlocks, trembling instead, he lowers her down to the bed, soothing his hands along her skin as he swallows down her second release. Her breaths are ragged, sending him to search for a glass of water for both their parched throats.

When he returns she’s positively wrecked, limbs weakly spread on the bed. Her head lifts and she blearily takes the water, letting Frankie hover at her side until she places the glass down on the bedside table. The silence stretches until she finally speaks.

“Holy fuck, Frankie, not only are women gonna pay for that, they’re gonna pay double,” she says, making Frankie’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “I’m serious, I don’t think I’ve ever had my pussy eaten that good. Who the hell taught you that?”

Frankie’s eyes go soft in memory.

“I had a girlfriend when I was a lot younger. It was both of our first times, and she’d never…she was all stressed out about cumming. Repressed upbringing, you know. I didn’t want to pressure her to do anything if she didn’t know what felt good. I’d been jacking it for a while before that, I knew what I liked, but she was so nervous. I told her we wouldn’t have sex until I made her cum first.” He strokes a hand absently on Lily’s forearm, her smile soft and kind. “Fingering was too intense, so I tried to eat her out. I was…ah, not good at it. And she wasn’t sure if it felt good, and was self-conscious about how long it took, if I liked it too. It stressed us both out for a while. I finally asked her if I could just try for as long as it takes.”

“And how long was that?” Lily asked, turning on her side so Frankie’s wandering hand could stroke along her hip.

“About an hour. Took my time watching her body, seeing what she liked. Combining things, doing some things longer, more intensely. When she came I almost fucking passed out, I got so turned. And then, when she calmed down a little bit…I did it again. And again.”

“And now you’re a fucking god at it,” Lily concludes, wiggling her hips when Frankie takes a careful handful.

“I like doing it. Like the taste, how you smell, how responsive you are. It’s intimate, special. If someone puts their mouth, they want you to feel good. I like the intensity of that.”

“Well I’ll definitely put that in your recommendation. But we should also take care of the final bit of business before we call our session complete.” Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up when Lily’s hand grazes his thigh, palming his neglected erection. “Hiding something big in here, are we Frankie?”

The confidence radiating off of Frankie dissipates a fraction, the earlier apprehension creeping back on his face.

“I- I know it can be a lot. I’ll go slow, we can take our time,” he stammers, backing off a bit to give Lily room. She smirks at him, sitting up and swinging her leg over Frankie’s lap to cage him in.

“Well, we’ll have to work on your delivery there. You say it like it’s a death sentence,” she giggles, and the tension eases enough for Frankie’s shoulders to lower. Her fingers glide along Frankie’s skin, skimming across his plush chest. “Say it like it’s the sexiest thing,” she challenges, leaning back to see what Frankie does. He ponders for a moment, then unbuttons and unzips his jeans to hang loosely around his hips. The dark boxers he’s got on underneath stretch across the soft V of his hips.

When Frankie looks back up at her, his eyes are dark as sin with a smile to match. Crawling up her body, he gently takes her wrist and guides her inside his pants. Urging her fingers to wrap around his girthy cock, he whispers in her ear.

“I know it can be a lot,” he purrs, apprehension swapped for smooth confidence. “I’ll go slow. Take my time.” With each new suggestion he rolls his hips into her grip, hot breath ghosting down her cheek.

“That’s more like it,” she replies, an appreciative hum rumbling out of Frankie’s chest. Covering her with his body, he slides his jeans the rest of the way off, fitted boxer briefs generously tented.

“Condoms?” he asks, her hand stretching out to tap at the bedside table. He shuffles in the drawer before pulling one out along with a bottle of lube.

“Probably a good idea to bring one of these with me?” he asks, half to himself. Lily plucks it from his hand and places it back on the nightstand.

“I’m plenty wet enough for you, big boy. But yes, always condoms and lube wouldn’t hurt. Better to be prepared,” she says, spreading her thighs to invite Frankie in. Rolling on the condom, he returns to the cradle of her hips, fisting his aching cock to tap against her clit. She arches, a delightful smile painting her face.

“Can’t wait to feel you stretch me,” she whispers.

“Fuck,” he gasps back, dragging the underside of his cock through her folds. “Shit, you feel good. How…how do you want me?”

“Any way you want, baby,” she purrs back, the plump head of his cock pressing at her entrance.

Frankie enters her slowly, inch by blissful inch. Some of it is care; he’s watched the pinched expressions of women not used to taking a cock as thick and hefty as his, and he’s highly attuned to discomfort. If he catches it he drags back out, slow as syrup before pushing forward again into her blinding heat. Lily takes him so well he has to slow himself down, his mounting arousal pulling him too close to the edge. She’s moaning softly below him, fingers digging into his hips as he presses flush against her.

“Fuck, Frankie, you’re filling me up so good,” Lily moans, lifting her hips to grind on his buried cock.

“You feel amazing. Fuck, yes, so goddamn good. I want to fuck you like this first, then make you cum on me again. Shiiiiit.” Frankie’s groans are positively filthy as he takes his first slick stroke into her cunt, the flutters of her walls around him pooling liquid metal in the base of his spine. Firming up his stance, he rolls his hips into hers, long languid strokes that speak to his stamina and patience. If her moans were filthy before, they’re downright crude now.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckFrankieeeee,” she whines, hands scrabbling along his shoulders and hair as he mouths at her pebbled nipples and palms her overheated flesh. When he’s wet with her slick, sweat sliding down his smooth skin, he slips two fingers between them to circle her clit, fast slippery circles making her quake around him.

“Oh please keep doing that, Frankie, fuck…” she whines, and Frankie’s teeth find the sensitive spot under her ear that makes her hair stand on end.

“Gonna fuck you so good you’ll be gushing around my cock, then I’m gonna pound you from behind until you strangle me again. Gonna be so deep inside you you won’t be able to think about anything else but cumming. C’mon, gorgeous, cum on my fat cock.” Frankie can barely register where the words spilling from his gasping lips are coming from, but they certainly land like sizzling oil on her skin. Eyes screwed shut, lips parted in a silent cry, her rhythm gets messier as Frankie brushes his cock over and over her g-spot, deadly accuracy in every thrust. With a few more targeted circles over her clit she bursts, legs clamped viciously around his waist as he grinds into her spasming cunt. The pressure rockets his orgasm close to the surface, his balls tightening up as wetness coats them further, but he thinks about baseball and those smoking commercials he hates and the crest ebbs back to a manageable pace.

Once her legs unlock Frankie kisses her again, firm and exacting while she’s still on cloud nine. Humming into his mouth she strokes his scruffy cheeks, the sensation tingling up his spine.

“Want you to cum, Frankie,” Lily whispers against his mouth, and the desire roars up inside his chest. With efficient strength he flips her, lifting her hips to meet his own, and slides back into her sopping cunt. “Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel ever bigger like this,” she chokes out, back arching as he takes one experimental thrust into her. She keens under his large hands, shuddering at the press of his mouth on her spine when he folds over to kiss her again.

“Gonna fuck you good and hard now, pretty girl. You’re gonna make me bust with this sweet fucking pussy,” he pants, admiring her round ass and sweet little hole. He presses his thumb lightly against it, earning a garbled sound of pleasure.

“Please, Frankie,” she moans, and he could never deny her the pleasure he’s brimming to give.

The first snap of his hips drive her face-down into the mattress, and the subsequent pounding buries her fingers in the sheets. Every snap of his hips to her thighs, his balls slapping against her clit, drives him even more wild, babbling to her about how fucking good her pussy is, how he’s gonna maker her cum on his big cock over and over again. She throatily agrees, backing up against his thrusts to drive him deeper, harder into the spot that will make her cum again. Frankie’s lips peel back from his teeth, throwing back his head to growl and gasp as he rails her into the bed, his orgasm just moments from toppling him over into his denied bliss.

“Cum with me, baby,” he orders, wrapping his arm around her waist to palm her dripping cunt. The heel of his hand combined with the smack of his hips rocks her clit over his palm, and that stimulation throws her off into the deep end of her fourth orgasm. This time her cunt is too tight, too fucking good to stop him from cumming, shouts devolving into ragged whimpers and sweet reassurances as they both come down from their highs.

Frankie eases Lily to the bed, stroking her sweaty hair out of her face and placing a chaste kiss on her temple. He disposes of the condom in the bathroom, taking a moment to check himself in the mirror. He’s flushed and rumpled, his hair an absolute mess, but damn if he’s not glowing as well. He runs the tap and slicks damp fingers through his hair, returning just in time to catch Lily downing the rest of her water.

“Frankie, baby, you are going to have a great career if you can pull that routine even once a week.” His scoff brings her hands up to scold. “I’m serious! You like making people feel good. I can definitely see this working out for you.”

Frankie’s blush radiates from his cheeks to his chest, coming to sit beside Lily on the bed.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he says. His fingers come to rest on her forearm. “What should I do for aftercare? I normally get some water, cuddle, help clean them up. Should I be doing something different?”

Lily gives him an approving smile.

“It’ll probably be a bit shorter than what you’re used to, but yes to all. Some girls may not want it, others may want more. So keep your eye on the clock and give them as much as you can. Believe me, they’ll get more out of that than the sex itself.”

Frankie nods, deep brown eyes coming to hers again.

“Which one are you? Aftercare or no?”

Lily leans back, settling into the pillows again.

“I could take a little cuddle before you go.”

Frankie ducks his head to hide his shy smile, tucking her into his side so he can stroke soothing paths up her side, weaving his hands into her hair and kneading at the back of her neck.

“I had fun,” Frankie finally says, staring at the ceiling and chewing the inside of his cheek. “I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, but it was a lot of fun.”

“It should be if you’re doing it right,” Lily quips, running her hand over his chest and twirling her fingers into his loose curls splayed against the pillow.

“I can last longer than that, you know,” he murmurs, nosing into her hair when she lets out a breathy giggle.

“You lasted plenty long enough, big boy.”

“Well, I have my ways just in case,” he says mysteriously. Lily’s hand slows on his chest, her body hovering on a question, but it passes. Instead she lifts up to press a sweet kiss to Frankie’s lips.

“Now I’ll show you how to leave graciously.”

“So how did he do?”

Lily lounges on her couch, phone to her ear as Pope’s voice filters through.

“I gotta hand it to you, Santi, you only fraternize with men who are very competent at fucking.”

“Ha ha, Lils, but really? Frankie’s cut out for it?”

Lily pauses, the itch under her fingernails growing louder.

“Definitely has the right temperament, the right attitude. His confidence could use a little work, but he got into the swing of things. Eats pussy like a fucking god, and knows how to use that big cock of his…”

“Jesus Lil, a yes or know would have sufficed.”

Lily laughs into the phone. Riling up Santi is a rare treat.

“He’s a boyfriend experience guy, so I’d steer him to clients looking for that. He’ll make them feel like they’re his whole world for the hour. And he’ll make bank doing it.”

“Any concerns?”

Lily’s hands flex briefly.

“Has he ever had an issue with substances?”

The silence on the other end answers her question, but she still waits for Santi.

“Not in a while. So he’s told me.”

“What was it?”

Another pause, then a sigh.

“Coke.”

The word sinks deep into her stomach.

“You know I don’t fuck with that shit, Santi. Not after Colombia.”

“He’s not using.”

“Maybe not, or maybe not a lot. But if he’s got a proclivity to it…keep an eye on him, Santi.”

“I will. Thanks Lils.”

She lets her breath out, lightening the conversation.

“You gonna call him Catfish?”

“He told you that?”

“Could be a good play on words.”

“Ugh.”

“Swimming in pussy?”

“That’s awful.”

“Doesn’t need to breathe. Certainly didn’t feel like it after the second one.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Bye Santi, te amo.”

Santi chuckles at the saccharine endearment as he hangs up. With approval from Lily he’ll start giving Frankie work. Her warning echoes in his ears, his own apprehensions mixing with it. They all had their demons to face, but Frankie chose a path that worried his friends. Santi would have to keep an eye on him, keep Frankie safe and watch out for his clientele. But he trusted his friend, and wanted him not to worry so much when his rent came due.

“Seems like Catfish is on the menu,” he murmurs to himself, snorting at the unfortunate innuendo. He’d have to share it with Frankie next time he sees him.

END

#francisco catfish morales x f reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales fanfiction #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfictions #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #sw!frankie #prolix fics

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fateandloveentwined · 1 year

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number of unique chinese characters in a book

So there's this blog I read long ago on the number of unique chinese characters one uses. Say a person writes a 10k chinese novel. But how many characters are discrete?

Classical chinese poems and songs have me doubting my chinese ability as always, and that got me curious about how many chinese characters I know or write on a daily basis.

To answer this (and to very much knock my confidence like an idiot) I put together something to count the number of unique chinese characters in a passage. I use about... 2.8k characters in my general writing.

Then I wondered about the authors I read.

A quick search online suggests that a chinese user knows and uses 1000-3000 characters regularly, and after high school you are supposed to have taken in over 6000 characters -- something I'm pretty sure I didn't do.

That said, I got curious about the number of unique characters these authors I read usually use. That doesn't at all indicate writing competency, but well, it felt interesting regardless so I decided to go play with that a bit.

For reference, jinyong's wuxia novels are around 3.5k to 4.5k unique characters per novel.

you only need 2.5-3k characters to use chinese like natives do, it's not too much really!

methodology rambles feel free to skip to next heading

I recorded some numbers and figures for something to work with with works I enjoyed. Fanfics I also included, which I saved on my computer a long time ago.

I made attempts to analyse the data in a fairer way, looking at the total word count and the highest frequency of "的"s (a very common chinese particle, think the letter "e") used in the passage. That sort of helped, but at the same time there are always outliers that manage to muddle up understanding every single time.

So now, observations. I categorised them into four levels according to the number of unique characters, from lowest to highest.

observations

note: notable novels are highlighted in yellow for easy spotting, and fanfictions are shaded in grey. I added english titles for most of them because I didn't put them in when I first did the screencaptures.

first level: below 3.5k unique characters

Good authors don't always equate an extensive character set. Conversely, there are authors who basically cannot write well (subjective) and still end up with a surprisingly not-low unique character count.

Works like 靜影沉璧、瀟湘水冷、風骨同守 that adopted a more literary, classical chinese writing register had lower unique character counts than the others. This was not what I expected, considering these works were where I found most words I'm unfamiliar with and ended up questioning my chinese reading ability (sorry lol).

I was also surprised with 潭石、水千丞、覆水難收、木蘇里 (mu su li) because their writing are all pretty good, all achieved while using a much smaller lexicon range than what I've expected.

(不問三九 with good writing was also low and in this range, but I forgot to mark hers down so, shrugs.)

second: 3.6k to 4.5k characters

That said, some authors do typically reach a range of around 3.6-3.7k unique characters, which is a pretty wide character set. Supposing adding a book of an author increases the total number of unique characters the author has used, these authors tend to round up at around 4k+ words with 2-4 novels inputted.

With each book added, there would be an increase of a few hundred unique characters, but they tend to level off at about 4.3k etc., and that is likely their maximum unique character count.

Some do level off at around 3.7k though, which indicates a narrower range of lexicon employed.

third level: the weird level

weird because the unique character count increases by leaps and bounds with every new novel of theirs that I added, and we end up perplexed and baffled.

At around 1M to 1.5M words inputted from an author, I thought that the unique character count would be pretty steady already, similar to how the unique character counts for authors at the second level levelled off eventually.

That's not the case for these two authors here. It is perplexing because the settings of their books do not vary greatly, yet the choice of characters and words were, apparently, diverse enough to give a "forever"-going increase in unique character count with every book I added.

This category aggravates me so much I couldn't make head and tail of it honestly lol.

the final level: the eloquent and literate

Of course, in this world there are always very literate individuals, and verbose they may seem, some are good writers. Here are the authors who actually have a vast unique character range.

You may be wondering how this 3.7k differs from the ones in the second level, but bear in mind this is merely the result from a single work of the author, or that the author's book is, like, half the length of the other authors while achieving a far higher unique character count than others.

And there's meatbun at the top of the list; I used both 2ha and Yu Wu for her stats, but her 2ha alone was already higher than Royal Nirvana and any other book I tested, so she goes in this category.

And et voila. All of this may not make sense to you, I'm not even sure about how the reception of this would be, it was a passion project and an interesting evening that I had, and now that I have some (sort of subjective) results I hope to share it out. :)

feel free to hmu for peculiar thought experiments and discussions on this topic!!

this is a repost from another site. i have used too many a username, and am not ready to link together all of them yet (someday) -- if you recognise this and wonder, message me, that's probably another account of mine.

#danmei #chinese language #mxtx #2ha #language #linguistics #meatbun doesn't eat meat #meatbun #chinese #cnovel #fate's wonky thoughts #fate creates

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actual-changeling · 1 year

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Ellie probably got some incredibly bare basics cooking classes cause FEDRA needs them to have that skill, but I think it starts and ends with "this is how you put shit together to be somewhat edible".

So once they get to Jackson and have their own house and a kitchen, Joel is the one who cooks at the beginning (dining hall and two people with hypervigilance and ptsd does NOT mix), and Ellie watches him sometimes. Joel definitely knows what he is doing, he did raise Sarah (+Tommy) after all, and after a week or two, when they have both had time to rest and their brains are less fatigued and stressed out, she asks him to teach her.

At first, it is mostly a mix of mild curiosity and her brain recognizing it as a useful survival skill, and it is a pretty tense situation for both of them; she has the need to impress him and does not know what to do with it or where exactly it is coming from. Joel is trying his best to explain why he does something and how to do it without cutting/burning yourself, but seeing Ellie handling a very big knife near a hot stove makes him anxious in a way he did not expect. Yeah, he has seen her handle her knife and shoot people but that knife is sharp and he vividly remembers the time Sarah accidentally touched a heated burner. On the other side, Ellie wants to be good at it and gets overly frustrated in a way she also did not see coming when it is harder than she thought; Joel makes it look almost effortless but the whole process is mentally exhausting and making something taste good is a fucking minefield.

Cooking lessons are messy and on bad brain days outright unpleasant, with Ellie having trouble focusing due to her dissociation and Joel growing increasingly restless as his anxiety edges itself on more and more. Once he passes a certain threshold, he keeps hovering behind her and chiming in with completely unnecessary warnings like "careful, the knife is sharp", and the silent implication that she is failing/incapable pokes at Ellie's trauma (not that Joel actually means it that way, but reminding herself of that doesn't stop the cold pinch in her heart). It causes the cloud of static in her mind to thicken, and as a result her movements become more clumsy, which then makes Joel even MORE anxious. The whole lesson turns into a small spiral neither of them likes to see happen, but they also do not know how to make it stop, and after a memorable instance of burned black sludge coating their pans when she got distracted and a barely edible result, they both need a break for a few weeks.

Ellie feels incredibly useless and inadequate because this shouldn't be hard! Cooking looks easy and she does know how to do it, she really does! Somehow she is just really fucking bad at doing it with Joel around, her body can't decide whether she wants him as close as possible or far away, and the weird urge to impress him does not waver no matter how much she tells herself that it doesn't matter.

Luckily, there is one other person she can ask to teach her and that person is Tommy.

Compared to Joel, Tommy is the definition of relaxation and her brain is less conflicted around him, so when she comes over for the first time, the process and the end result are actually surprisingly easy and edible. They start with the few things she had already mastered and then work their way up, and Tommy is not Joel, he doesn't hover or throw her unnecessary warnings, he sits on a kitchen chair most of the time and does whatever while occasionally answering her questions or helping her out. Once she feels somewhat competent Joel also comes by, and with Tommy being fully unbothered and radiating peace, his anxiety calms more and more each time.

There is more to unpack than just cooking lessons, they all know that, but the day they prepare family dinner together, laughing and bumping into each other and making a mess of Tommy and Maria's kitchen, food becomes not just fun again but a way to connect, and it brings them one step closer to living with family instead of just surviving for it.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #miller family #ellie and tommy #ellie williams #joel miller #tommy miller #they're both trying their best but by god sometimes you are just fucked up in ways that arent compatible for a specific thing #sometimes you need a bit of space and someone else to fix it #and then the other person can come back and its great again #ptsd is just like that sometimes but thats what tommy is for #thats what family is for

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redhoodinternaldialectical · 5 months

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I don't know if you're still doing the ask game, but how about 1, 22, and 25? For Jason, and Steph too if you're up for it :D

--Cologona

Because I could still find it: yes! Still doing this ask game :3 Sorry it took so long to answer!

1) Why do you like or dislike this character?

I spent like seventy years attempting to find the post with this meme on it so I could give credit lmao, but I could not for the life of me, so uh, just know that I'm remaking this thing from memory I guess???

Jason is the bee in my bonnet, the rock in my shoe, and I am chewing on him forever and ever - meanwhile I will enjoy pretty much any comic about Steph simply because I love watching her do her thing :3

But to go into more detail I really enjoy Steph's narration style and the way she navigates the world. She feels very refreshingly street level and hopeful. Also as someone who grew up as the only "girl" (trans man but egg) in my martial arts class which was taught by a detective with a very drill sargent/tough-love approach to teaching and got an extra helping of PTSD as a result... watching her struggle, get dismissed bc of her gender, and go on to become a great hero despite Batman and his bullshit feels really fucking good. Def love Batgirl 2009

Jason on the other hand is just so deliciously messy. He's hurt a lot of people, but at the same time his anger is super justified! He's intimately familiar with violence in a way that I think makes him unable to conceptualize trust and gauge what an 'appropriate' response is. There's been several times where he's expressed the idea that serious violence by him against others is just normal and forgivable and not a big deal. There's something so compelling to me about that bc I think he really does see it that way, and it comes from a place of him being extremely used to receiving violence and being expected to forgive and not hold it against them. That wall of text in the meme picture is a tiny fraction of one of my essays on him. He's got so many fascinating layers and I love peeling him apart and putting him back together like a robot performing surgery on a grape.

Sometime after I finish Chained, I really want to write Four and Twenty Blackbirds, which is a fic concept I've had for ages now that puts them together in a lesbian/gay man queer relationship. The premise is that somehow or other Steph comes back to Gotham secretly/early and Jason is the first one to find her and they end up building a weird organized crime/community support organization called The Blackbirds.

Not sure on the timeline. Maybe it'll start before Under the Red Hood? Maybe after a modified Hush plotline?? In any case: Jason offers to preform High Vengeance against Black Mask either for or with her. She does not want him killed! She would feel like that went completely against everything she died for. However, she does want that fucker taken down, and is touched that Jason clearly genuinely cares. Also I'm going to have Jason assume without question that she is fully competent and his equal. Unlike every other vigilante in town, she will never have to prove herself to him. So anyways she tells him that yeah, she wants her revenge, but it's gonna happen her way, and the plot moves on from there, as together they destroy and co-opt Black Mask's organization and establish a territory for themselves :3

22) If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

Unless given a reading suggestion by someone else, I exclusively read JayTim fanfiction, which heavily skews what I look for and see in fic. I'm also pretty damned picky lol I write much more fic than I read these days

Even the most basic, stripped down version of Stephanie's core concepts and background ought to be enough to conclude that she would have very complex feelings about both Jason and Tim and them dating each other. She had a supervillain father and a character arc about learning to value the lives of even her worst enemies. Now her ex is dating a guy who had a henchman father and the same character arc in reverse, a guy who specifically targeted her killer in order to get back at the mentor who bears some responsibility for both her death and his own. They are so uniquely poised to understand each other from across this fascinating chasm, both in terms of approaches to vigilantism and dating Tim. You could not ask for a more fertile storytelling ground, regardless of if you want her to be supportive or not.

So yeah, for Stephanie I like it when she has a personality outside of cheerleading Tim while being vaguely sweet and quirky.

The bar is in Hell here folks, and out of the hundreds of fanfics I've read I've only ever seen it cleared twice. And that's only if we include my own goddamned writing. This goes beyond normal fandom simplification, especially when you factor in that Cass, famously against all killing Cass, gets similarly denuded of all internal motives and qualities in favor of being (sometimes literally) wordlessly supportive for no apparent reason, while in those same fics the male characters get to have opinions and internal viewpoints. JayTim nation, I am praying for us to learn how to write women, truly.

Now on to Jason!

I think of Jason as someone who is intense in every facet of himself. He can be cruel and mistrustful or tender and romantic, but no matter what he is I want him to be a little unhinged with it, a little too deep, a little too incapable of not giving a fuck. I want this man lost in the sauce, whatever that sauce may be.

I dislike him being overly apologetic, which practically translates to me disliking most fics in which he is apologetic at all lol I do think he would come to regret some of his actions, but I tend to think those would be different actions than the ones he's usually depicted apologizing for. For instance, I can absolutely see him apologizing to a victim of the Joker for not killing him when he got the chance, but I don't really think he'd have the framework to consider his fights with Tim to have been all that far out of line.

25) What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Ohhhhhhh boy that was fuckin ages ago??? I'm not honestly sure I remember, though I do know that I read JayTim fanfics before anything else that involved these characters, so it had to have been based on that.

...Gah, I don't even remember how I found this ship lol! I mean I started with Boostle?? Maybe JayTim was in the background somewhere of one of those fics? idk

I suppose my first impressions were that Jason was a Big Mood deeply traumatized and lashing out bc of that, and Stephanie was gir waffles XD random rawr means I love you in dinosaur.

Anyhow, thank you very much for the ask @cologona! As per usual with these things I hope it was a fun read and you have a good day and all that jazz :3

#damian's tomfoolery #jason todd #stephanie brown #jaytim

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captainsophiestark · 2 years

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Pub Trivia Dynasty

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: “It’s my name on the line!”

Summary: Y/N and their best friend, Erica, have an impressive win-streak going at their local bar's pub trivia night. Unfortunately, Erica's out of town this week, which means Y/N needs a new partner. Thankfully, a vampire boyfriend should be a pretty good substitute. Right?

Word Count: 2,809

Category: Angst, Fluff, Humor

A/N: There's kind of a weird amount of hate directed at the Medici family (of Renaissance-era Italy) in this fic. I know nothing about them, so if the shade is undeserved, then my bad. It was for the sake of comedy and the plot.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Are you sure you can't make it?"

"Yeah, there's no way I can get out of this trip. My company's already paid for it, and they're counting on me to go. I'm sorry, Y/N."

I sighed, trying not to sound too disappointed. "That's okay, I get it. Have a good trip, and I'll do my best to hold down the fort while you're gone."

"I've got complete faith in you. Just don't get any ideas about permanently replacing me with whoever you get as a stand-in this week, okay?"

"I'd never dream of it. I'll see you when you get back."

"See you then."

I hung up the phone, staring dejectedly at the now-blank screen. My best friend, Erica, was going out of town for a business trip, which wouldn't have been a problem a month ago, but was a very big problem now.

For fun and on a whim, we'd joined a Thursday night Pub Trivia competition at one of our favorite bars in New Orleans, since it was something we'd both enjoyed in college together. We'd absolutely cleaned up on our first night competing, winning by a landslide and scoring some free food and drinks vouchers, and we'd been completely hooked ever since.

We'd attended every week for the past four weeks, and we'd won every single time. Everyone else was starting to get a little annoyed with us, but we didn't care. We were building a dynasty and having the time of our lives doing it.

But now, I needed to find a replacement that could hold their own as my partner for tomorrow night's trivia. I had a four-time win streak that I wanted desperately to extend to five, but I couldn't think of anybody that would be able to do well as Erica.

"Y/N? Hello, are you there love?"

I snapped out of my funk to see Kol, my boyfriend of the last year, looking concerned and waving a hand in front of my face. I sighed.

"Yeah. Hi Kol."

"Darling, what's wrong?" he asked, taking a seat next to me and draping an arm across my shoulders. "Is there someone I need to kill?"

I rolled my eyes. "No. And I've never answered yes to that question, either."

"I know. I keep waiting for the day..."

"Mhmm. Erica's out of town for the week for a business trip, which means I'm stuck without my partner for trivia tomorrow," I said. Kol frowned and leaned back, holding his arms wide as he faced me.

"Well, I'm happy to tell you there's an easy solution to your problem." I raised an eyebrow at him, so he continued. "Right here! Me! I'll be your partner tomorrow."

"I don't know Kol..." I said, trying not to show just how much I did not like that idea. "You know I love you, but... trivia's not really your thing."

"Well, no, but spending time with you is. And hanging out in a bar is definitely something I can do, so... looks like you've got a new partner for tomorrow night!"

I huffed, really not too excited about the idea. But, I also couldn't think of anybody that would be a better option, except maybe Elijah, and I already knew he had stuff going on with Hayley tomorrow night.

"Alright," I finally said, giving in to the inevitable. "You can be my trivia partner, for one night and one night only."

Kol punched the air, then looked at me with a ridiculous grin.

"Darling, you won't regret this."

****************

"Look at them," said Kol, barely holding in a laugh as he spoke. I scowled as I stared down at our whiteboard, trying to think as Kol did literally anything but pay attention. "They're so invested. They're arguing to the point I think they might get in a fight, all about which one of them might have the correct answers. You humans are so strange."

I grit my teeth, holding in a retort as I tried to come up with the right answer. Erica was always the one who took the history questions, since that subject was not my strong suit, and while Kol could've carried some of the weight he'd chosen to people-watch instead of helping me.

Now, we were almost to the last round of the night, and the score was unnervingly close. I was only in the lead by a few points, and if I got this question wrong, I might very well lose the lead altogether.

"And... that's time! Let's see what you all wrote!" called the person running trivia as I frantically scribbled down the first thing I could. I flipped my board and tried not to huck it across the room when I saw my answer didn't match anyone else's.

I frowned as the MC added up all the scores from each of the correct answers. I'd officially lost the lead to a team of guys who'd been trying to take down me and Erica since our second consecutive title, and their cheers and high-fives made me see red.

I couldn't lose.

"Alright, with that, let's take a short break in case anyone needs to pee or get refills, and then we'll get started with our final round in ten minutes!" called the MC cheerily. Everyone stood and stretched, or went to go do something with their time, but I didn't move an inch.

"Well, this has been fun, but I can't say I'm not happy it's almost over," said Kol, stretching and staring around the bar with a grin. "I just don't see the appeal of trying to take a test in a bar while you could be doing just about anything else."

Kol turned to me, clearly looking to share the joke, but I just stared back with fury coursing through my veins. The smile on his face faltered, turning into a look of concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? Are you seriously asking me that right now Kol!" I hissed, keeping my voice low to avoid throwing a scene. With his vampire hearing, I knew he got every word even if I didn't yell.

"I don't understand-"

"No! You don't! Clearly!" I paused, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. "This is important to me. You know this is important to me. And instead of helping me and at least trying to enjoy yourself, you're being a dick and making fun of the whole thing!"

Kol opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to cut him off. I wasn't done with my piece yet.

"Kol, this might seem stupid to you, but the reputation I've built in this competition with Erica matters to me. It's my name on the line! And you don't have to like it, but dammit, if you really don't even want to try to enjoy this for my sake, then just go home. I'd rather lose by myself than with my boyfriend next to me, laughing at something I genuinely enjoy."

Kol gaped at me, clearly at a loss for words. I stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed and turned away. I needed another drink, especially if this last round ended up going the same way as the ones before it.

As I walked back to my table from the bar, the two guys who were now in the lead waved at me, confident grins on their faces.

"Hey, looks like you might finally lose your crown tonight!" one called, gesturing to the scoreboard. I grinned back at him, mustering a lot more confidence than I actually felt.

"In your dreams. I'm just trying to keep you coming back for more in the weeks to come. Don't want you both giving up after getting blown out of the water four weeks in a row, right?"

They laughed and waved me off, throwing a few more taunts my way as I went. I couldn't help a small smile at the interaction; our semi-friendly trash talk was one of my favorite parts of the night, although I had to admit, I'd probably enjoy it a little less if they beat me tonight.

When I got back to my table, I honestly wasn't expecting Kol to be there. To my surprise though, he was, sitting with the whiteboard in his lap and the marker in his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, jumping in before I could ask what he was doing. "I convinced you to let me come, and then I just made fun of everything all night. I know this is important to you, and I'm sorry I didn't treat it that way. Let me make it up to you?"

I smiled at him, gently setting my drink on the table before moving over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled back at me as I pulled away, relief in his eyes.

"Make it up to me by helping me crush those fuckers over there," I said, nodding my head towards the two guys who'd officially become my archnemeses. Kol grinned at me.

"If I'd realized just how bloodthirsty you were for trivia, I would've gotten on board sooner."

****************

"Alright, final question of the night..." started the MC, drawing out the tension in the room. Kol and I had made one hell of a comeback with the last nine questions, and it had only taken a round or two of being competitive to a slightly insane degree to get Kol completely on board with trivia. Now, he was acting just like one of us dumb humans he'd been laughing at earlier.

Despite our combined success, the competition between us and our rivals still came down to this question. Whoever got it right would win the game.

"What..." started the MC, taking his time in answering the question to create the most suspense possible. I clenched the whiteboard marker tight in my first, and Kol was just as tense next to me. "...is the name of the man who ruled Florence in the second half of the fifteenth century? He was a poet, and a known supporter of such great names as Botticelli, da Vinci, and Michelangelo."

I swore and threw my head back, lamenting our inevitable defeat. I had no idea who that could be, because history was Erica's specialty, and I had forgotten most things I'd learned in history throughout my education as soon as the test was over.

"Give that to me," Kol ordered, taking the whiteboard and marker out of my hands. I frowned at him, confused, but he had a determined look on his face as he scribbled out a name.

"Kol... do you seriously know the answer to this?"

"Yes," he huffed. "Lorenzo de Medici was a self-important prick, and I wouldn't normally support modern humans remembering him, but we are not losing this damn thing, so it's worth it."

I laughed in disbelief, a smile slowly spreading to my face all the same.

"Wow. You are incredible. And also so old."

Kol shot me a teasing glare, then held the whiteboard to his chest protectively. He stared at the MC with incredible intensity, and honestly I was about two seconds away from grabbing the collar of his jacket and making out with him.

Before I could, however, the MC spoke again. He asked for a drumroll, then told us all to turn our whiteboards around. Kol flipped ours with force, a triumphant grin on his face, and when I looked at the whiteboard of our competitors I found the name "Cosimo de Medici" written there.

"Kol...?" I asked, looking to him and then nodding in the direction of our competition. He just scoffed.

"Wrong. Cosimo died well before Michaleangelo was born. Absolute prats."

"The guys over there or the Medicis?"

"Both."

I couldn't hold back a laugh as the MC finished checking all of our answers, then made a note on his score sheet. The whole bar waited for him to announce the winner with bated breath. I reached out to take Kol's hand and tried to keep from having a heart attack.

"Alright, and the correct answer to the question is... Lorenzo de Medici!" yelled the MC. I let up a cheer and jumped in the air, Kol joining me in the celebration. "And that means Y/N and Kol are the winners tonight! The undefeated streak continues, although it was a close one tonight! We'll see if next week anyone can take them down!"

I heard some cheers and grumbles from the crowd around us, but I ignored them all as I turned to Kol. This time, I didn't hold back, and I grabbed the lapels of his jacket to pull him to me tightly. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me off the ground as I kissed him, hard.

"We won," he breathed as we finally broke apart, his forehead still resting on mine as he held me close. "And it felt amazing."

"Damn right it did," I replied. "You did great, too. Thank you for giving pub trivia a chance."

"Of course. I'm just sorry I didn't do it sooner." We locked eyes then, and Kol gave me a crooked grin. "We would've blown those fools out of the water by a much better margin."

I smiled, happiness bursting in my chest as I kissed him again. Still, we were in the middle of a bar, so I didn't let it go on for too long. We pulled apart, and a few minutes later, we received our prize for winning: vouchers for free food and drinks.

"So, do you want to stay and use these tonight, or next week?" asked Kol, holding up the pieces of paper. I grimaced. "What?"

"Well, about that... uh... damn, I didn't think this was going to be so hard." I paused to take a deep breath, trying not to feel too guilty as Kol raised an eyebrow at me. "It's just... Erica's gonna be back next week."

"So?"

"So I'll be doing trivia with her." Kol's mouth dropped open in outrage, and I quickly put my hand on his arm as I tried to placate him. "I'm sorry! But it's been our thing since we were in college, and now that we're finally both in the same city again, I can't just ditch her-"

"Even for the love of your life?" Kol demanded.

"Even for the love of my life... I'm sorry baby!"

Kol scoffed and shrugged me off. He crossed his arms and looked across the bar, feigning nonchalance.

"Fine then. I guess I'll just have to come back with a new teammate next week, too, and take you and Erica down."

"Kol, come on," I said. "Don't be ridiculous. You didn't even want to do trivia until, like, twenty minutes ago!"

"No," he conceded, turning back to me with a truly evil grin. "But it ended up being fun. And I've realized just how much I love seeing you absolutely ruthless. What better way to see that again than challenging your reign?"

"Kol-" I stopped short, trying to think of something to say that would knock some sense into him. "Who the hell do you think you're going to be able to talk into doing this anyway, besides me?"

"Elijah," he said simply. My eyes went wide at the idea. Elijah would kill at trivia. "He's always wanting to do more family bonding nonsense, so if I frame it like that, he'll be here in a heartbeat."

I swore and turned, trying to think through some kind of training plan for Erica and I to get ready for our new challengers, but my planning was interrupted by Kol hugging me tight from behind. He kissed me on the cheek, and I could feel the smile on his face even though I couldn't see it.

"Relax, Darling. A little competition will be good for you. It'll help keep you from getting complacent." I huffed in annoyance, but Kol just chuckled. "Now come on. We just won against all the odds. I think that calls for a little celebration, don't you?"

I sighed, then turned as Kol loosened his grip on me and gave him a smile.

"Yeah, it does," I agreed. Kol and I shared a smile as he passed me one of the vouchers for a free drink, and I started heading for the bar as I continued. "Besides, you need to celebrate while you still can. Because, you know. This is the last win you're getting at this bar."

I glanced over my shoulder to find Kol grinning at me like a devil, and I felt a thrill go through me at the sight.

"Oh my love, you have no idea what you've just started."

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