#self-flattery
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I've written too many insufferable manipulator murderer whiny bastard adrien aus. i need to balance this out by adding more range to the ways i make marinette horrible. solution: cult au where marinette thinks she is jesus
#and like. I *could* just make my silly girl a manipulator too but stringduo's flaws aren't exactly interchangable#adrien is at his worst self-centered and his people pleasing turns into him being a sleazy guy who tells people whatever they want to hear#marinette is on the other hand a very holier-than-thou kind of girl. her biggest flaws are her zealotry and inability to listen to others#but also her aversion to criticism makes her way too vulnerable to *flattery*#so she would absolutely be a messianic cult figurehead convinced that her actions define what is just
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Is it just me or does everybody else also coincidentally design their jekyll with long low tied brown hair, gray streaks, brown vest, temple-less glasses, blue tie and pinstriped pants. Iâve seen 6 of them already đ
(bonus if he has long black glovesâŚâŚâŚâŚ.)
#henry jekyll#jekyll & hyde#gothic lit#đŚmusings.#Iâm not saying anything butâŚâŚ.. idk how to feel about it either đ#I donât want to come off as self centered but this is a whole ass elephant in the room đ#but did my 2018 J&H somehow start a trend where everybody is making the same exact jekylls instead of that tgs guy#guys idk butâŚ. if that is the case#please be more creative theyâre literal carbon COPIES#idk I just have mixed feelings about it whenever I see it#and maybe itâs not the case but#âimitation is flatteryâ yadda yadda but. can ppl at leastâŚ.. be creativeâŚâŚ.#and Iâm kinda baffled nobody else has mentioned it#honestly a little hurt even. idk#kuraâs jekyll&hyde (2018)#just wanted to say my peace
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how do you deal with people copying youâŚ
When on occasion, whether socially, behaviorally, or aesthetically, take it as a form of flattery
If persistent, take the compliment that someone admires your taste and preferences in things or how you think/hold yourself in different situations, but consider distancing yourself from this person because they probably are jealous of you and your life. You don't want them to become obsessive, clingy, or try to sabotage you because they can't develop their own sense of self & personality
At work or school, ensure all of your original ideas, work product, and related communications regarding your projects are documented via email, Slack, or voice recordings. Have sources to back up that someone is trying to steal your ideas, clients, opportunities, and projects. Call the person's intimation out as necessary to get recognition for your work. It's one thing to share the credit in a group effort and another to be overshadowed by someone stealing your ideas to get sole credit or overstepping to stifle your professional growth/new opportunities
#self concept#jealousy#emotional intelligence#emotional regulation#emotional maturity#boundaries#self confidence#flattery#copycat#differentiation#assertivecommunication#identity crisis#cult of personality#personal branding#interpersonal skills#interpersonal relationships#social skills#femmefatalevibe#q/a
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She had believed him when he had told her she was beautiful, and it had made her beautiful, because of the boost it had given her confidence.
Anna Biller, from Bluebeard's Castle
#confidence#validation#positive reinforcement#compliments#flattery#radiant#transformative#healing power of love#beautiful#self esteem#reminds me of#did you know that there's a tunnel under ocean boulevard?#quotes#lit#words#excerpts#quote#literature#anna biller#bluebeard's castle
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Flattery Gets You Nowhere With Me
At this point, my immediate response as a transfem to flattery is 'distrust and immediate wariness.'
I know we're starved of it, but that's also something bad actors have learned very well.
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what's even funnier is that these just-as-irrational-as-everyone-else-but-deeply-unread-in-history peeps have now moved on to pretending this WASN'T that big a deal in the movement, really, while STILL scaremongering and fundraising around AI for reasons that sound remarkably similar to this.
it never stops being funny to me how dumb of a thought experiment Rokoâs Basilisk is and how many people who think of themselves as very smart had breakdowns over it
#riseofthecommonwoodpile#roach works#LessWrong#Internet Rationalists#Effective Altruism#AI#Roko's Basilisk#appreciative reblogs#Honestly it's not TOO surprising that a bunch of ppl raised in Xian households and ideologically open to conservatives#would end up being susceptible to a nameswapped reiteration of the very religion they were raised with#ESPECIALLY when their whole movement was built on the self flattery of being ~more rational~ and ~less wrong~ than everyone else#like: the movement declared it's biggest weakness right in its name! 'Flatter us and use our jargon and we'll take you seriously'#and WAY too much of the movement Spcl the Money in the movement Did#not to mention that Roko's is just a scifi restatement of Pascal's Wager#like: if any of these fuckers actually bothered to read a fucking book they'd have laughed it off their boards the instant it was posted#but of course: they're so up their own asses they hate books! They hate the idea they might not be the first or best to think a thought#and ACTIVELY AVOID learning otherwise#the maddening spectacle of a bunch of silicon valley preps bringing Argument From First Principles back from the dead 2k years later#The Internet#Philosophy#Politics#Rhetoric#minitagrants#zA's Pompous Philosophizing#zA's Intemperate Vituperations
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35 / 2.1k / shark merman Price and remora mermaid reader for mermay :)
...
Price isnât stupid. He knows youâve been following him since the early morning as he makes the rounds through his favorite reef. Youâre stealthing poorlyâjust poorly enough that he knows youâre there, but youâre still small enough to dart into the reef every time he tries to get a good look at you.
He's been ignoring you and hoping youâll take the hint to buzz off before he makes you buzz off.
You think youâre getting the hang of sneaking up on him when you turn a corner and lose him. And then heâs sneaking up on you.
You peek around the bright lumps of coral, wondering where heâs gone, when something blots out the sunlight above. You look up to see himâthe long expanse of muscle and bulk on top and the smooth sharkâs tail belowâas he peers down at you.
You stiffen, pressing yourself to the sandy sea floor.
He scans you with his dark eyes to determine just what kind of creature has been following him. Not a threat, decides. Even as a mer. Youâre too small. Too soft. You have no teeth to speak of. How laughable. And a tiny little thing, at that.
You straighten up, watching him circle you. Youâd been looking for an opportunity just like this. Thatâs why you were tailing him. But now that his shrewd gaze is finally on you, you feel exposed.
He takes his time inspecting you. Then he swims a wide arc around you once more and lowers his clawed as if to touch you. You force yourself to stay still, your tail curled under you on the sand.
âYouâve been following me,â he says. Itâs not a question.
âYes.â
Price hooks one of his claws under your chin and pulls your head lightly upwards. You slowly rise as he tilts your chin up until you're suspended in the water in front of him.
"You should be scared of me,â he says.
You settle your own hands on his wrist in contentment. You look less like a meal being evaluated and more like a kitten being scratched under the chin. "Would you like me to be scared?"
He chuckles at your enthusiasm. He knows exactly what this is. You're a remora mer, which means you instinctively seek out and bond with bigger creatures. Even if that creature is an unfriendly shark mer. Surely you must know how dangerous it is to be within his reach?
"You're very big. You must be king of this reef,â you say.
He pauses as the praise washes over him. He knows how intimidating he is, and you should realize you're nothing but small, soft and fragile. But obviously your instincts for fawning and flattery are finely honed.
He can see the way your little self seems to be drawn to him. A remora mer, indeed. He's seen others like you, but they've always avoided him. He could just as easily kill you as he could accept your company.
There is something pitifully adorable about you. The way you tilt your head and expose your throat unwittingly is endearing. He knows itâs because your instincts are leading you to bond with him for the safety he provides. You're too willing.
"Do you lack the common sense to fear an apex predator?" he asks, voice low and amused.
"Yes," you respond obediently.
He can see the way your little body is pressing up to his hand, desperate to get closer. He moves his arm, gently guiding you closer to him. "Good," he rumbles softly before using two claws to stroke down the curve of your neck. "Very good. You're too small to survive my teeth, you know."
"Of course. Much too small. Your teeth are so big and sharp."
"And you're soft and weak. Soft as a piece of kelp, I bet." He gives the tip of your tail a flick, and his eyes glitter as you bob and shake out your tail fin at the touch. Fussy little creature. "You're not very good at what you're supposed to do, little mer."
You open up your eyes. "I'm not?"
"Following me for hours without even trying to ingratiate yourself to me," he growls. "You're supposed to busy yourself with my needs. Not..." He trails off as you tilt up into his touch, almost nuzzling his hand. He gives your forehead a light flick with his claw to make you pay attention. "Acting like some kind of pet."
You quickly smooth yourself down. "Of course. I know that." You dart closer, putting your small hands on his inner arm, his shoulder, his chest, inspecting him. Your fingers glide over him, brushing and scratching and plucking away bits of sea debris and dry skin. Grooming him. "I just thought you might want me to be scared of you first."
Oh. Heâs enjoying this far more than he thought he would. For something so soft, youâre quite bold.
He presses on your hip to turn you slightly as you work, idly inspecting you in return. "Maybe later. Letâs see if youâre worth the effort first." He rests his chin on his other hand to watch you fuss over him. It's been a long time since he had any kind of attention on him. You dart around behind him and busy yourself with his hair next.
He leans into your touch when you start to untangle his hair. "You seem to enjoy this.â
âI do.â
âGood for you,â he drawls. "Are you good for anything else?"
"I'm good for lots of things." You move from his hair down to his tail, trying not to stare.
"Oh?" He reaches up and idly drags the back of his knuckles down your spine and over the fin there. He smirks as your fin flattens with the touch. "Like what?"
"Anything you can think of."
"Anything?" He gives a low rumble in his throat at your words. "Don't go promising favors you can't fulfill, little remora."
"Okay," you chime.
He grabs ahold of your tail fins. "And don't agree with every single thing I say, either. That makes you far too easy to manipulate."
"Yes, sir!"
He rolls his eyes. You really are a pushover. It's like you want him to be cruel to you. He lets go of your tail but twirls his fingers in the tip of your tailfins. "Is it your instincts that are making you so deferential? Or are you just a coward?"
You pretend to think about this for a moment. Then you respond, pleasantly, "Which do you prefer?"
"Mm, so you do have a brain."
"Me? No, surely that can't be. Not a thought in my head, sir. Promise."
He eyes you like a disobedient puppy. You're putting on this fairly convincing act, being a mindless, servile little thing, and it's confusing his instincts to know you're doing a fair bit of manipulation yourself to win his protection.
"Might prefer you a bit more brainless, actually," he says. He nudges the underside of your chin with his knuckle this time instead of his claw, noting how you drop what you were doing to follow the gesture as he guides you out in front of him again. "You're willing to do anything I ask, then? No questions?"
"Yes, sir.â You rest your much smaller body against his forearm again. âAnything.â
He looks down at how you submit willingly to his hand, taking in the sight of your small body pressed up against it. He feels something primal coil in his gut at the display. You let yourself fall under his control so easily. "What if I told you to open your mouth like a goldfish?" He brings his thumb up to your lip. "Would you?"
You open your mouth.
Interesting. He taps your lower lip with the tip of his thumb. "Wide," he murmurs. "Open up wide for me."
You open wider.
"Now bite."
You bite down around the tip of his thumb.
His lips twitch up into a smile at the feeling of you nibbling at him, the little scrape of your teeth. "Good. Harder."
You reposition your grip and chomp down in earnest this time. He grunts. Your teeth are smaller than his, but they're still sharp.
"There you go. Not bad for such a small mouth." He pulls it away, half-expecting you to start hollowing your cheeks on his thumb if he dawdles too long. "Have you ever had to deal with bigger fish?"
"Of course," you chirp. Like it's no big deal.
Price snorts. It's hard to imagine something like you doing anything but darting behind the nearest rock at the first sign of danger. âHow many have you killed?"
"None."
"Right, I'm sure you ask them nicely to leave you alone," he says. "And do they listen?â
"Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't."
"And when they don't, what do you do? Do you fight back? Do you give up?"
"Well..." You wring your hands briefly. "You're going to handle it now, right? So what does it matter?"
"It matters to me." For some reason, the thought of you trying to fight back against a larger fish makes him restless. "You still need to know how to defend yourself."
You frown. "You're not going to do it for me?"
He scoffs, but you're starting to make him feel something close to concern for you. He doesn't know why the thought of you being defenseless irks him so. "Are you really that helpless? Are you really so soft that you just want me to fight all your battles for you?"
"I mean, you're a shark."
He huffs irritably at that, his annoyance with you outweighed by his annoyance with himself for feeling concerned over you. "Do you think I'm going to do everything for you just because I'm bigger and stronger?"
You smile at him, pleased.
Ah. He's the fool suddenly. He grabs you around the waist with just one of his big hands and brings you close, his voice lowering in warning. "Stop smiling, little fish."
"Okay," you chime.
"I told you to stop sounding so bloody agreeable. You make me want to bite you." He lifts you up in front of him to get a clearer look at your face. Your eyes are too wide, your smile is too sweet, your body is too flimsy. It's all infuriating to him. Heâs been roaming the ocean a long time and he's grown comfortably hard and cold. Youâre not changing that. "You have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you? You're just going to get yourself killed one day."
You settle into his hand comfortably. "Maybe so. Can I get you anything else, boss?"
You're hopeless, he decides. With how sweet and docile you are, he feels something clawing at the inside of his chest the longer he holds you.
Instead of answering you, he fits you against his chest, into the crook of his arm. There. Better. He can keep you closer this way without having to look at your silly doe eyes.
âNot now,â he says finally. âMaybe later.â
You lean into the position, tucking into the side of his chest like you're making yourself at home. "Okay, boss."
He canât decide if he likes you calling him that or not. He can feel the way you nestle against him, settling in comfortably and making no effort to resist. You really are too easy to control. Just a little pull and you're molded against his side. He feels you start to smooth down some of his chest scales without even thinking. Grooming him. Nice and clean. Little busybody.
He's not used to being pampered, but feeling the tension start to bleed from his muscles under your touch⌠maybe itâs not so bad. He glances down at you, wondering how you're able to look so contented tucked up against him. His chest rumbles as you scratch near his throat. He lets his muscles relax under your hand.
You're an annoying little thing--too innocent, too naive, too sweet, and he conveniently forgets how capable you are of convincing him of that to win him over--but it's been too damn long since he's allowed himself to be comforted.
Maybe it would be alright to let you stay with him for a little while.
...
more Price / more mer au / masterlist tag
#mine#story#mermay#mermay 2024#monster lover#monster fucker#merman#fem reader#x reader#cod#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#tf 141 x reader#john price#captain price#captain john price#price cod#price x reader#merman!price#mermaid reader
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But when does imitation become envy? Could one claim that imitation is just a mask for envy?
âTo see someone take your personal form of
expression & claim it as their own just
upsets me to no end.â - https://lifeunsweetened.com/2012/11/07/is-imitation-really-the-sincerest-form-of-flattery/
"Self-Reliance" is an 1841 essay written by American transcendentalist philosopher and essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson. It contains the most thorough statement of one of Emerson's recurrent themes: the need for each individual to avoid conformity and false consistency, and follow his own instincts and ideas. - Self-Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson, Paperback | Barnes & NobleÂŽ
In it Emerson explains that people must believe in their own intuition and reject the opinions of others in order to transcend the bounds of the physical world. - Self-Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson | Summary & Transcendentalism
Sincere: having or showing true feelings that are expressed in an honest way.
I feel as if by this definition, it would be hard to actually say that youâre being sincere when imitating, because imitation could be compared to mocking. In fact, they are so close to being the same that one could argue itâs basically a nicer way of making fun of youâŚ
Your thoughts? Open up my mind up PLZ.
#imitation#flattery#sincere#oscar wilde#envy#jealousy#insecure#secure#self reliance#ralph waldo emerson#intuition#trancend#definition#copying#plagiarism#self awareness#self impowerment#self image
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Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.
Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Buckyâs past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol
English is not my first language
Word count: 2200
Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesnât make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol
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It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do.
It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naĂŻve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.
"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.
"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
The bastard knew how cute he was âlooking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of loveâ, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.
"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.
"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"
From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.
That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.
He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.
But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line.
"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.
"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.
He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.
"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.
"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.
"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.
When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.
"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.
You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."
"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.
"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."
âThatâs not true!â he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.
You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.
"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"
"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"
"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.
"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products.
"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."
"Isn't that what the other cream did?"
"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."
Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.
"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.
The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it.
"You're using your cream on me?"
"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."
"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."
You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life.
Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss.
"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.
Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness. "I love you too."
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x fem reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n
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I donât fall for love bombing because I donât lack self love. Itâs as insulting as much as it is sometimes entertaining. Yes, I know Iâm great. Yes I know Iâm easy to love. But I donât need over-the-top flattery to prove it. Real love shows up in actions, not just grand gestures or empty words. You have to earn your spot. If youâre giving it for free then something is off. Most often itâs a reflection of how desperate a person is to be loved, how much they lack it within themselves. Love inspires. It is not forced. Show me how much you value me by showing how my love inspires you to be better.
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Oblivious - A. Hotchner x Reader
Request: Hotch x bau reader where hotch has feelings but reader is completely oblivious?
Word count: 2k
A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if I'm still writing like I'm 14 đ.
The line. There was always a line. A line between good and evil. A line between love and hate. A line between professional and personal. That was a line you loved to flirt with, to teeter on, to play with like it was your favorite toy. Of course, you shouldn't be flirting with your boss, but when he was stood there, in that suit that highlights his shoulders and his wrists and his thighs and oh god...
â(Y/N)?â And the way your name came from his lips was like heaven on earth right there. â(Y/N)?â What? A hand lightly brushed against your shoulder as he moved his head to be in eyeline with you. Slight concern in them as he gave you a small smile, sending electric through your body and thoroughly grounding you to earth.
âYes, I'm sorry, I'm just... tired.â You tried to look anywhere but his eyes as you so desperately tried to cover the train of thought that had your skin buzzing and your heart racing. You glanced at his hand on your shoulder as he took it away, wanting to whine at the loss of contact.
Flirting with your boss was your own self sabotage. But you relished it every time. Every touch he missed. Every glance he didn't see. Every time your heart rate sped up as you saw him leave his office. He didn't notice any of it. And it made you want him all that much more. You should've been glad. Ecstatic even. Because once he realized you liked him, in a way he didn't like you, in a way no subordinate should ever like their boss. That line would be crossed. And no amount of âI'm sorryâ or âlet's forget about itâ could undo it.
Morgan and JJ stood a length away, taking in the scene in front of them. You, absentmindedly playing with your hair, a sign of flirting. And him, fiddling with his hands as he looked into your eyes whilst you spoke.
-
âDo you think theyâll ever notice the other is so head over heels for them?â JJ stated, watching you two with a look that's usually only reserved for Henry when he doesn't understand what he did wrong, or when Emily is openly talking about someone right behind her. A grimace more like.
âNope.â He started, popping the âpâ. âThey've been doing this dance for too long; I'm starting to think it's never gonna happen.â He tutted and tried to take his eyes off... whatever was happening over there.
-
âYou look nice today, by the way. You do every day, but you know.â His attempt at flattery didn't go amiss as you smiled bashfully.
âThank you, so do you. I enjoy this side of you much more, the happier side. Is this some new technique to raise team morale?â You quirked an eyebrow as you smiled at him, desperately trying to quell the faint blush on your cheeks.
His smile faltered slightly. Right. The team. It's been years since he flirted with anyone and clearly, he must be doing something wrong if you're thinking of him and the team. Every day he saw you. And every day he just wanted to throw caution to the wind and hold your hand, touch your face, stroke your hair. Feel you. Gently. Fully. Months. Months of slight flirts and fleeting touches and he feels no closer to being with you now than when you first joined the team. How one of his best profilers could miss something that was right there, he would never know. He was sure he was getting to the point where he looked pathetic. Rossi had even mentioned it to him, a late night in his office over a bottle of scotch. âI'm starting to question your profiling skills Aaron, if you two could see what everyone else sees, you'd know there's no question about what happens next with you twoâ. But here he was, trying his best to put his heart on his sleeve, and even that wasn't working. Or maybe it was, and you knew, and you were simply saving him the embarrassment of rejection.
A cough broke him away from his thoughts. He looked at you as you nodded your head towards your nosy team members, who stood absentmindedly watching the two of you. He copied your cough and looked pointedly at his team.
âBack to work.â He said firmly, turning to touch your arm and give you a small smile before returning to his office. Your cheeks heated as you stared at the spot on your arm, slowly walking back to your desk. You sat in your chair, thoughts going a mile a minute and you sighed, pulling your files closer.
âOh, Hotch your just so dreamy!â Morgan lays his hand dramatically on his forehead, attempting to mock you.
âOh (Y/N), you look absolutely ravishing today.â Emily came over to join in the teasing, doing her best Hotch impression.
âWhat are you two idiots yapping about?â You looked up at the scene, laughing inwardly at their antics.
âCmon, Hotch is so into you!â Came from JJ as she giggled softly. âAnd I'm willing to bet the feeling is reciprocated.â She tugged at your cheek, pointing out the obvious blush dusting them.
âOkay, weâre all bullying me, stay mad.â You tried to joke but they all gave you pointed glares like you were the stupidest person in the world. âHe is not into me! He just wants someone in this office to actually do their work.â You giggled before pulling all your files together. You pushed your chair back and stood up to deliver your files for the day.
âKeep telling yourself that, Sugar!â Derek shouted as you walked away, receiving an unceremonious middle finger in response.
You jogged up the stairs to Hotch's office, raising your hand to knock on the door, finding it already open. Your heart hummed against your chest at the thought of him hearing the âworkplace gossipâ. Well, can it really be gossip if it's true?
âI have the files you wanted.â You held them close to your chest as you absentmindedly played with the small pieces of paper sticking out. The tension in the office was palpable. The same tension that hung over you when you looked a little too long, or smiled a little too brightly.
His head snapped up at your voice and he broke out into one of those very rare Aaron Hotchner smiles TM. âYou can just put them there.â He pointed to his desk, trying to shield his face that sported the same bright pink as you. As you approached, he begged to every god on earth you couldn't hear his heartbeat threatening to break out of his ribs. There was a beat of silence as you put the files down. You knew you shouldn't linger, but you couldn't help it. Youd do everything in your power to look at him a second longer each time he leaves. He looks up at you. He really looks at you. Eyes so bright whilst still working a job like this. Plump lips being gently bitten between your teeth. That conversation, outside. A conversation he never should've heard. This was his in.
âThey are right you know.â Your head lifted gently, taking you away from whatever thoughts lingered. Your eyebrows knitted together as a nervous smile and quizzical look painted your face. He stood and moved around his desk toward you. âi am âso into youâ.â He tried his best to keep his earth shattering confession as light hearted as he could, rolling his eyes a little at the end of his sentence. He sucked in a breath as your face didnt move an inch from the shocked look plastered on it. God. This was the worst idea ever. He could already feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the everything, trying to claw its way out of his throat. His usual stoic look must have faltered, as he felt you lay your hand on his arm, breaking through his layer of despair.
âHotch.â Your eyes softened as you looked at him, and your eyes closed lightly, a blush spreading on your cheeks. It felt like this wave of emotion had hit you and you just wanted to cry. The line. It had been crossed, and it was so utterly terrifying, and felt so fucking amazing.
He had obviously mistaken your soft tone as one of pity, of rejection. He stuttered slightly and turned his back to you, flushing deeply. He babbled, about how âsorryâ he was, and how we should âjust forget he said anythingâ. God, he had taken risks in his life, but this was possibly the most, stupid, miscalculated, inconcieve-
âHotch!â Your raised voice broke him out of his spiral as he turned to face you once more. You moved toward him and lightly pushed a stray hair from his forehead. He so desperately wanted to lean into your touch. âWhatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours, at least let me finish what i was saying.â He shook his head lightly, like he was trying to shake his thoughts away, as he gazed into your eyes for the first time since his confession. âI'm totally into you too.â You mirrored his earlier words with a slight giggle. And just like that, a wave of emotion erupted in him. He breathed deeply, not realizing he was depriving himself of air waiting for your answer.
He moved to softly run his thumb over your cheek as he gazed at you lovingly. âI've been wanting to tell you for so long. I tried flirting but I figured I just wasn't very good because you hadn't realized.â
âStop. I've been doing the same thing!â You gently dropped your head to his chest, laughing incredulously at the stupidity, that two very intelligent profilers had missed all of this. So oblivious. Both wrapped in their own little world of desperate pining.
âHow about i take you on a date? I could definitely use some time away from this office.â He lifted your chin gently, so you were looking into his eyes.
âI couldnt think of anything betterâ You gazed at him, happiness threatening to burst your heart into two.
Bonus
Through the large office window, the 5 profilers stood, huddled around your desk, staring intently, like it was the finale of their favorite rom-com. They all sighed a huge breath as they saw you lay your head on Aaron's chest, all turning to eachother with the most shit-eating-grins.
âI think, Reid and Morgan owe me 20 bucks.â Rossi smirked as JJ and Emily burst into laughter. Morgan hit himself on the cheek playfully with a little âouchâ before rooting through his pocket for a 20. Reid had tried to argue âas Hotch's best friend, of course you'd understand him the bestâ But it was to no avail, as Rossi just stuck his hand out and gave him an unconvinced look. He sighed and rooted through his pockets.
After much laughter and gossip, they all turned back to see you placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and hurrying out of his office. They caught him lifting a hand to where you had kissed. Upon realizing his blinds were open, he promptly shut them, trying his best to plaster his intimidating look back on his face. You stopped at the top of the stairs as you realized all eyes were on you. You coughed and tried to indignantly hide the blush that coated your cheeks.
âBack to work.â
-
let me know what you think! and pls request this was so cute.
Taglist
@back-totheoldhouse
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#derek morgan x reader
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Lost In Paradise
Azriel x reader
a/n: I donât know what the fuck overcame me when writing thisâheads up theyâre in the Day Court, by the way
Warnings: dear gods Azriel, Azriel in jewelleryâdiamond piercings to be precise, with kohl lined/smudged eyes, biting, oral (f receiving), smut, overstim, Azzie being a bit mischievousâimplied orgasm denial, light wing play, light breeding kink
word count: 3,009
âWe have a dinner to go to, Az,â you insist, inclining your chin as he noses along your throat, broad palms running slowly, reverently, up and down the bare skin of your back. Calloused and scarred hands rasping against the smooth, shimmery expanse of your skin, fingers touching along the knuckles of your spine.
âYouâre a three course meal all on your own, pretty thing,â he murmurs beside the shell of your ear, gripping your waist lightly, letting his touch span across the sheer silk of your dress, marvelling at your feel, your shape beneath his handsâhow finely you fit with him.
Your pulse spikes at the flattery, heart beating quick in your chest, head tipping back as his lips press firmly to the small notch in your throat, kissing down to your collar bones, keeping you tight to his front, grip firm and unrelenting. âWeâre guests,â you try faintly, already lost in his heaven, âit would be bad etiquette to not show up to the first mealâAzâŚ!â
In one smooth motion heâs swept you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips while his palms appreciatively support your ass. âBad etiquette would be not eating you out before I fuck you,â he drawls atop your mouth, a cocky smirk on his softened lips, staring down at you with his kohl-smudged eyes, diamonds swinging from his ears, the gold fastenings gleaming in the burning yellow sunset, setting the ocean on fire with molten metal as the sun melts atop the glistening waves.
âBad etiquette would be wasting a perfectly romantic evening for the sake of one measly dinner that we arenât even required to attend,â he murmurs, that smug, self-satisfied look in his shining hazel eyes, flecks of amber and jade set alight through the refraction of the setting sun. Gleaming and swirling like theyâre precious stones infinitely more valuable than even the tiny, glittering diamonds making up the jewellery adorning his marvellously handsome features.
âYou look good in Day Court attire,â you mumble breathlessly, clinging onto him as he walks you out onto the balcony, laying you down atop the pillowy, padded massage table, creamy fabric turned a perfectly-baked, golden-brown in the evening light, fitted over the cushions.
âYou like how much skin it shows,â he drawls, palms settling either side of you, your hair splayed out from where heâs set you, strewn in lustrous glory against the pillow. âYou like how easy it is to manoeuvre around.â
Sure enough, with the soaring temperatures during a sun-filled day, with heat beating down upon the marble-carved pillars, the attire is perfectly suited for the arid climate. Clothing comes in light coloursâmostly cream or off-whiteâand it contrasts the colour of his skin perfectly. The flush on his cheeks despite the cocky look highlights the hunger delightfully. And thanks to the opulent nature of the Court itself, it gives reason for your mate to wear some of the piercings he rarely adorns himself in for the sake of practicality. The ones you loveâhis ears the main focus, but with wandering hands your fingers clutch the hem of pale, heated linen, raising it from his toned stomach to reveal the incredibly self-indulgent piercing heâd gotten for his belly button, white diamonds set around the narrow golden band.
âGods youâre edible,â you pant, the shallow breaths having little to do with the heated evening and more to do with the hot and hungry look heâs pinning you with as he pulls the troublesome shirt off and over his head. His wings flexing and flaring now theyâre rid of the fabric brushing the base of the great limbs. Showing off his well-endowed magnificence, as he should.
âFeel better about skipping that dinner now, pretty thing?â Azriel asks roughly, fingers catching the hem of your dress and swiftly pulling it out from under you, pushing it away further along the pale, padded table. âMaybe you had a point about my bad etiquette,â he drawls hotly, open palm coasting up your stomach, fingers grazing between your breasts. He leans over, dark silky hair flopping across your brow, kohl-rimmed eyes making the hazel of his irises simmer with the ravenous intensity of the setting sun, setting you ablaze. âIâll be eating first.â
âHow brash,â you breathe, fingers dancing up the bare muscle of his upper arms, nails squeezing lightly at his shoulders, raking teasingly over his gloriously powerful back. He begins laying kisses to your collar bones, teeth nipping at your shimmering skinâyouâd spent some time refreshing and making use of the scented, swirling lotions availableâslowly trailing down between your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipples teasingly. âWerenât you ever told not to play with your food?â
âHow can I resist when thereâs such a beautiful meal before me? Taste is important but itâs more than that, wouldnât you say?â Fingers hook beneath the golden strings at your hips, guiding them down your thighs as his mouth trails lower, kissing down your stomach. âI need to appreciate all of you. Not just with my mouth, but with my skin, and touch. How can I enjoy you without indulging all my senses?â
âAll of them?â You question, back arching as he reaches your abdomen, fingers threading through his hair to encourage him closer.
Azriel laughs, the sound coming from deep in his chest, splashing over your skin like melted butter and honey, bathing you in arousing sweetness. âAll of them,â he whispers.
âSight.â Dark rimmed eyes flick upwards, licking over your form as he connects with you, lashes thick and heavy atop his gazeâequally heavy.
âSmell.â He noses the intimate skin of your inner thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he parts your legs to make room for himself, your ass resting just at the edge of the cushioned table.
âTouch.â Fingers slip between your parted thighs, trailing up and down your centre, slicking himself in your wetness. Circling your clit twice before dipping back down.
âSound.â His thick digits slide in, a cocky smirk on his mouth as he curls them causing your back to arch, beckoning you forward, a heady moan spilling from your mouth as he pushes deeper, rubbing against spots he knows you like.
âWould you like to tell me the fifth one?â Azriel drawls, dangerously low, arousal thickening his tone to something dark and syrupy.
âTasteâŚâ You breathe desperately. âTasteâŚAzriel!â
âGood girl.â His lips curve in a sinful grin, diamonds twinkling their mirth as he lowers himself to your cunt. âYouâve earned it.â
A rich, heady moan spills from your mouth as his tongue flattens over your clit, fingers working you with heavenly ease while his mouth remains at the apex of your thighs. Itâs nothing short of paradise, floating high above in the clouds, nestled in a pillowy cushion as he bathes you in pleasure, rubbing it into you in ways that shouldnât be permittedâhow can something so good exist on this plane of reality?
Your head tips back into the cushioning, moans rising from your chest unabashedly, singing your pleasure with every curl of his fingers, every lovely flick of his tongue. The high approaches far faster than you ever would have expected, spine arching, grinding down on his mouth, hips swirling as he suckles at your clit, able to feel the impending high as your muscles brace for the powerful onslaught.
You cry out as you come, nails raking through his hair, his wings flaring with male satisfaction as you orgasm, feeling you tighten and flutter around his thick fingers, clit pulsing as pleasure rapidly fires through your body, racing up and throughout your skin, spreading right to your fingertips. Your mouth opens as sound fails you, eyes squeezing shut, Azrielâs rough palms gripping your hips tight as you begin to squirm and writhe, seeking to crawl away from the pleasureâbut he likes seeing you like this, and wonât allow it to end anywhere near prematurely.
His forearm bands across your hips, pinning them down as you try to buck upward, forcing you through the aftershocks that have your body trembling, strength draining, leaving you powerless to resist his dominating touch. Azrielâs relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure, keeping his fingers tucked inside of you, keeping the pace, keeping his tongue swirling around your hardened clit, dragging it between his lips when he feels you coming down and teasingly tugging on it with his teeth.
A lovely whimper graces his ears, mouth parting into a wicked grin as you muster the strength to look down at him, your legs spread with slick gleaming on his lips, threading between your inner thighs where heâs gotten you especially messy.
âReady for the main course?â He drawls, your nipples peaking at the rough, rolling timbre of his voice, skin prickling as awareness sweeps through you. âMain course?â You pant, already falling out of it, unable to grasp what heâs referring to with that wicked smile as he stands, wings looming over his shoulders. Shadows pull the band of his loose, pale linen trousers from their already low placement on his hips, allowing his hands to settle either side of your waist as he presses flush to your messy heat.
âBoth of us,â he whispers, leaning down atop your mouth, âtogether?â
You think your eyes roll slightly at the reminder, nails threading through his inky hair as you pull him into a hot kiss, thighs wrapping snugly around his hips. His cock rests hot and heavy against your cunt, slowly riding back and forth to coat himself thoroughly, before aligning his tip with your entrance.
âGo slowly,â you beg, clutching onto him with anticipationâyouâre far to sensitive for any of his rough treatment. But he smirks over your lips, hips drawing back so his tip drags down over your hardened clit, his leaking cock nudging the entrance of your drooling cunt, messy and sloppy from previous attentionâabout to be made much messier.
âGo slowly?â He muses, a low laugh in his voice that makes your skin prickle, hairs standing on end. âYouâre perfectly warmed up, arenât you? All ready and pliable, huh? What could you possibly want me to go slowly for?â You flush deeply, hands twining together over his broad shoulders, trying to push as much sternness into your gaze as you can manageâwhich isnât much, judging by the way he chuckles.
âIs my girl too sensitive?â
That smirk. That sinful fucking smirk.
âWhatever you do to me Iâll be delivering right back,â you warn, thighs squeezing his hips. âIâm getting you in my mouth after this, rememberâŚâ
âHow could I forget?â He groans, hips pushing forward. âGonna taste both of us.â
A pleased moan sighs from your lips as he fills you up, gripping one leg to bring it up his chestâthe underside of your thigh pressing to his lower stomach as he pushes tight against you. Azrielâs gaze is nothing short of ravenous as he takes in the arch of your spine as his palm splays across your abdomen, applying a slight pressure to really get you to feel him.
âLike that?â He asks, short on breath. Mouth curved in that smug grin. So self-satisfied. âLook at you,â he coos, shifting his hips, dragging them back so his head is again at your entrance, before pushing his cock all the way back inside. âSo hot and flushed. All of this for me?â His thumb swipes across your clit, and you moan helplessly, tossing your head to the side as your eyes squeeze shut, nails scraping over the cushioning.
Before you can formulate a reply heâs setting his pace, giving deep, almost punishing thrusts of his hips that roll firmly to your own. Sharp and decisive, just as you like, spine arching with every buck.
âCan you even count to three right now?â He taunts, shadows swirling over your breasts, teasingly playing with your nipples, curling around them and tugging lightly. You try to shoot him a glareâthat side of him has been coming out more frequently as of late, and you really donât want to deal with his mean streak right now. Not on such a perfectly set up evening for romance and intimacy.
So you extend your arms toward him, fingers opening and closing as if to grasp onto him. âAzrielâŚâ you moan, reaching. His hips buck sharply of their own accord, swearing you could feel him twitch from pleasureâhe might enjoy being mean from time to time, but itâs all for getting you nice and needy. Heâs an undeniable soft spot for your desperation. Like putty in your hands once you reach for him, your toes curling from pleasure.
âFuck,â he curses low under his breath, driving his cock firmly into you as his palms splay either side of you, letting you touch and feel all over him, practically shivering with the greed in your fingers as they explore and grope. âSuch a sweet little thing to everyone else, arenât you? Such a wicked little devil when youâre with me.â
Teeth tug on your lower lip as you try to keep your smile to yourself, but you fail miserably, smiling wide as your head tips back into the pillow, relishing the pleasure. âWicked devil?â You moan out, forcing yourself to meet simmering hazel, heat sizzling just beneath your skin, clit itching for release as his abdomen grazes the apex of your thighs.
âLike this?â
A startled noise slips from his lips as you reach further over his shoulders, stroking his wings slowly. Teasing out his pleasure to have him playing nice with yours. His forehead drops to your own, brows pressing together, close enough to share panting breaths, your breasts grazing his chest with each heaving inhale.
His lips part on an unabashed groan that licks up your spine, pooling between your legs at his deep confessions to pleasure, repeating the slow strokes to his wings.
âLike that,â he confirms, jaw wound tight as he tries to cope with the overwhelming onslaught of stimulation. Hazel eyes warily open, a sharp glint in them as his instincts snarl and grapple with reasoning, but you want him to yield to them, not fight them.
It seems he gets the message.
Azrielâs palms snatch at your wrists, slamming them down on the cushioned table to keep you pinned, forcing you to take every brutal buck of his hips and you can feel as both of you swoop for that high thatâs rising. His wings flare wide, their total span easily twice his height, casting a dark, dominating shadow that you know is an instinctive show of possession.
Shadows wrap beneath the arch of your spine, clutching your hips to raise them from the table, and the angle has you going dizzy. Moans spill and babble as he pounds into you, grip remaining tight on your wrists to keep them trapped, driving in and out relentlessly until you think you might have screamed from overstimulation, panting and out of breath when you return to reality beneath him.
âFuck, thatâs it,â he growls against your skin, teeth scraping the tender length of your throat, searching for a spot to choose, to bite down on. He picks a section, pushing his teeth in, licking and sucking to push a feverish kiss into your skin, only pulling away once heâs satisfied.
âAz,â you whine, cupping his cheeks in your hands, squeezing lightly as you arch into him. âItâs my turn.â
âYour turn?â His hand wraps around your wrist, nosing the centre of your palm, pressing a kiss to its heel, delivering a small lick that zaps straight to your clit. His hips pull away, then push back in, able to feel as his cum begins seeping out of you. âYouâve hardly taken any of it, pretty thing. You need to be full up before moving onto me. Canât have you going on empty, hm?â
âAzriel!â You yelp as he rolls his hips to yours more firmly, bucking against you with enough force to nudge you further up the table. âThat isnât fair,â you squawk indignantly.
âMy sweet little devilâs going to tell me whatâs fair now, is she?â
His lips curve into that smirk, and your willpower crumbles, legs wrapping themselves tighter around his waist to press him deeper. Azrielâs subsequent laugh reignites arousal in the pit of your stomach, tightening around his cock, urging him to follow through with his taunts. âDo it,â you whisper, âhurry up.â
âYou wanted me to go slowly earlier. I said you needed to be filled up, not that you needed to come.â
âAzriel!â You gasp when he pulls out entirely, flipping you onto your front so youâre bent over for him, arms forcefully dragged behind your back to give him full control.
âDonât worry, youâll get to me,â he muses, lining himself up. âBut the eveningâs too good to waste, donât you agree? It would be a shame to have it over and done with so quickly.â
âAnd you called me the devil,â you mumble into the cushioning, squirming lightly beneath him to feel the unrelenting strength of his grip. âYouâre going to cry when I get my mouth on you.â
He chuckles again, shackling your forearms to the base of your spine with his shadows, rough palms easily gripping your hips. âItâs adorable you think youâre going to make it through that far. We both know youâve never managed.â
Azriel leans over you, cock slowly sliding in as he settles at your back. You can feel his lips against your ear, breath fanning the sensitive expanse of your neck. âIâd tell you to hold on tight, princess, but you canât even manage that most nights. So tonight all you need to do is lie still, and take it.â
His palm slides beneath your jaw, raising you from the cushioning, a mocking note to his deep and honeyed voice. âHow does that sound?â
general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna
az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff @feerique @ratgirl2020
#dividers by cafekitsune#azriel x reader#azriel x reader smut#azriel x you#azriel x yn#azriel acotar#azriel smut
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Arcane's Jayce & Viktor: A Tech Industry Perspective
I've been wrestling with whether to make a short and sweet post about these points or to just have another long-winded meta and clearly since I'm incapable of being brief, I guess we'll just dive in.
I work in tech. What I see in this industry colors a lot of how I see Jayce and Viktor in Arcane. I'll try to be brief about a few of the things that stand out to me the most and that I think are intentional.
1 ) Jayce and Viktor are references to Alfred Nobel - This is a historical reference so direct I genuinely don't know how people grasp Jayce and Viktor's characters if you don't know about it.
Alfred Nobel is known for two things: inventing dynamite and bequeathing his subsequent fortune to founding the Nobel Peace Prize. These things are very much related.
Nobel was brilliant but socially naive. When he invented dynamite, he intended it to make life easier and safer for working in mines. Sound familiar? That is literally what the Atlas Gauntlets and Hex Claw Jayce and Viktor invented with Hextech was posed to be. It is a direct reference to Alfred Nobel and dynamite, there is no question about it in my mind whatsoever that they pose the benefit to society as specifically being useful to miners.
Nobel also believed that the awesome destructive power of dynamite would mean the end of warfare. Literally. He thought it was so disgusting and unthinkable that people would use explosives on each other that it would grind violence to a halt. He was very, very wrong about this. So wrong, in fact, that he spent the rest of his life in horror and remorse at how explosives were being used to kill people and created the Nobel Peace Prize to promote innovations aimed at peace, a prize which annually recognizes those who "conferred the greatest benefit to humankind".
Likewise with Jayce and Viktor, they are both horrified to imagine Hextech used for warfare and we think they're incredibly socially naive for thinking this, because they are. Maybe in another universe, there'd be the Talis Peace Prize to try to make up for what they unleashed on the world. Which brings me to my next point:
2 ) Jayce and Viktor have typical engineer blindspots to society's ills - As I've discussed in-depth in another meta, Jayce and Viktor both desperately needed some non-STEM or scientific classes in their life because their worldview is so naive and stunted as a result that it's the source of a dizzying number of their problems. Neither of them could even consider that Hextech, like dynamite, would be weaponized immediately. But they have other huge gaps too as a result of their narrow focus on science, and I do believe this is intentional by the writers as a commentary on engineers and tech people in general.
Short version, Jayce desperately needs some understanding of history and of rhetoric. When Ambessa asks him if his school teaches military history, he doesn't even know if they offer it. She was testing him with that question and as a canny manipulator and general, she clearly takes that to mean she can run circles around him, and she is right. Because with incredibly simplistic plays to his male ego, like calling his leadership "impotent", Ambessa immediately gets Jayce riled up and not thinking clearly. She blindfolds him, spins him around, and shoves him headlong into taking violent military action in exactly the direction she wanted him to go in to kick the nest and set off a war.
Jayce is also easily manipulated by Mel for more benevolent but still self-serving reasons with appeals to his life's work with flattery, his male ego with sex, and his dreams for a better world to make him fall quickly into step with the city's corruption with only a little nudging because he has no strong civic understanding of his own to fall back on. As Cait notes, he's never taken an interest in the Council or politics before until he becomes a Councilor himself.
Short version for Viktor, he wants to make the world a better place but he's never actually had to think through human nature before. He's literally never bothered. We know this because of his blindspot towards Hextech weaponry where he truly believed they could avoid it being used for warfare, and the fact that later in his cult, he's somehow shocked to learn that people will do bad things for the ones they love and won't just slice pieces of their own nature and personality off to fit into his little Utopian commune.
Literally cracking any kind of history or sociology book or heck, a Pratchett Discworld book, would have told him that there's a straight fucking line between deciding people are the problem when it comes to fixing society's ills and eugenics. He falls headlong into that trap and it requires his older, wiser self to beat him over the head with the truth of the horrors of his own simplistic worldview would lead to before he literally annihilates all life in his home city in his attempt to save it.
Which brings me to my next point:
3 ) Jayce and Viktor as oblivious tech nerds who have never cracked a book open but suddenly thinking that because they're great engineers, they have the solution to all of life's problems.
This is a somewhat shorter point, but I think in modern society we all know about the proverbial tech bro who keeps reinventing things like public transportation and taxes because they've never read a book in their life that doesn't have equations in it.
To be clear, they aren't bad people! I'd even hazard to say that young tech bros trying to make public good-based startups with a laughable lack of social awareness aren't bad people either! If anything, the education system has failed them, and they're pouring their intellect and earnest, human desire to help others into endeavors with the narrowest possible world perspective, which happens to be their field of expertise and thus it makes sense they'd see that as the greatest value that can offer, it's just too limited a view so they end up reinventing things that already exist or making worse, more dangerous versions of things that already exist. Tragically, their naive but well-meaning worldview often leads to:
4 ) Viktor and Jayce, but mostly Jayce, as tech bros being beholden to billionaire interests to make their dream come true:
Like Jayce, we see how these tech bros have their vision co-opted by people with a broader vision and understanding of the world, by billionaire investors who turn their inventions into making a quick buck for themselves, to warmongers and dictators who turn the creations of their mind into surveillance state horror stories. Some of that is a lack of wisdom on their parts when it comes to building in safeguards, sure, but part of that is there is a class divide too between the powerful and bright-eyed young inventors who just want to improve the world. As Singed notes, no one in power is ever innocent. And those in power have the capital to make a young inventor's dream come true and thus, tie them to their demands and interests. As Jayce said, they built the Hexgates, "Like [the Councilors] asked." Specifically this indicates that their vision has already been co-opted to serve financial interests. It also, again, makes it almost laughable how naive they are that they didn't realize warfare was next after trade.
Like many tech bros with billionaire investors, Jayce relied on the Kirammans, who were one of the wealthiest people in the city and literally on the Council that represents the State, and on Mel who is also part of the State, who is the wealthiest woman in Piltover, and who comes from a family of world-conquering warmongers, to make his dream come true from the very start.
From the beginning, Jayce was at a losing disadvantage when it came to keeping his dream ideologically pure and free of the influence of the wealthy and powerful.
And finally, just to point out that I'm not making this up, that these parallels are in fact intentional and built into the story:
4 ) Jayce and Viktor as parallels to Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, founders of Apple. Christian Linke, co-creator of Arcane, specifically noted them as inspirations for Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with Jayce (Jobs) as the face of the company and Viktor (Woz) as the real brains behind the invention.
This caused a lot of sturm and drang on Twitter with people misinterpreting that he means Jayce isn't the actual inventor of Hextech, which I think is an overreaction. Jobs, unlike many tech bros who have earned society's ire lately like Musk, was actually an engineer too. It's completely common in tech spaces for partnerships to be made up of one partner who is able to handle being the public face of the company, and one introverted and socially awkward genius who prefers to sit in a dark room and actually tinker with the problem and who would literally rather set themselves on fire than talk to a non-technical human being. I know because I've been in such partnerships before myself as the public face.
Where Jayce and Viktor rather charmingly buck the stereotypes of that relationship and so in turn actually make it more like what I've seen in the real world, is the fact there isn't resentment between the two as a result. Viktor is glad that Jayce is willing to be the public face and doesn't want to get in the way. This is actually very common with the engineers I know! It's not seen as glory stealing, it's seen as sparing them awful, painful work they don't want to do, like networking.
Yes it means Jayce needs to sacrifice some time in the lab, but it's a simple division of labor that he's happy to do, especially if it frees Viktor from the responsibility so he can focus on what he loves, because Jayce loves him. And you'll note that Jayce is very above-board academically speaking on this front, he always cites Viktor as his partner and is scrupulous in giving Viktor credit, in conversation at least, even if he doesn't forcibly drag Viktor on stage to take credit there.
Anyway, when I write meta or even fic for these two, this sort of background is always on my mind, and I thought it might be valuable for others who maybe aren't as familiar with the tech space as I am.
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Please, Don't Prove 'Em Right - A.H
a/n: my girl sabrina can do no wrong and i have been listening to this song on repeat since it came out so i just absolutely needed to write a fic about it
masterlist
pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
summary: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events
warnings: angst (sorry in advance), aaron is like not a great husband, reader is also an imperfect character, reader is a girl boss though
wc: 1.2k
You were in your best dress. More expensive than you'd ever think about buying for yourself, but it had been a gift from Aaron. You had fought him on it, scolding him for spending so much on a dress you were sure to only wear once. But he had insisted, telling you that this opportunity was once in a lifetime and that it would be a sin for it to not be celebrated with a dress that made you shine like a ruby.
He was right, partly, you were shining--glowing, sparkling, glittering--as you moved through the library. It was beautiful, to say the least--all opulence and history that was almost too much to absorb. The marble floors almost seemed to amplify the conversations around you, the clinking of glasses, the swish of overpriced gowns and tuxedos.
Your eyes settled on the tiered desks fitted with bronze reading lamps, now repurposed as a station for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The circular arrangement of desks, once centered around knowledge, now facilitated hushed gossip and the discreet laughter of society's finest.
You could almost hear what they were thinking: there she is again without her husband, that poor thing always by herself, and your personal favoriteâdoes he even exist?
You wanted to be angry, to scold their prying eyes, for putting their noses into something that had nothing to do with them whatsoever. But could you really blame them? Every event you attended you told the same story--my husband is a busy man with an important job--a line you had grown tired of repeating.
And that was all true. He devoted most of his time to saving lives--how could you find fault in that? How could you complain to having a husband whose very essence was self-sacrifice and heroism?
This evening was set to be an exception; he was in New York for a case, and the Pulitzer Prize ceremony was not something he would miss. He had given you his word.
You understood his passion for his job, completely, because you held that same passion for your own. You dedicated years of your life to your journalism, investigating corruption at its highest levels. This is exactly how you ended up here tonight, nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for that very work. A Pulitzer Prize.
The term once seemed like a fantastical concept to you, a lofty accolade reserved for the likes of JFK, Bob Dylan, Robert Frost--icons, not someone as ordinary as you. Yet, against all odds, you find yourself among the select few, a nominee for an honor that has only been won by 1,512 individuals since 1917, a fact Spencer had supplied you with.
Someone was speaking to you, saying your name. Almost without thinking, your hand found a flute of champagne, taking a generous sip before turning to face them.
"You look stunning, and a well-deserved congratulations are in order. Everyone back at the office is cheering for you." It was your boss, her stilettos adding inches to her already imposing frame.
The flattery didn't quite mask her usual coldness, it was all too artificial. She wasn't your biggest fan, and she had made that clear from your first day. Still, you mustered a smile and thanked her anyway, taking another sip of champagne, hoping to drown away her nauseating voice.
"It's too bad your husband couldn't be here," she began, and you had to resist the urge to rip out her extensions. "This is an incredible accomplishment, but he's quite the busy man, as you say."
"Yes, he is busy, but he'll be here tonight," you replied, flashing her your best smile as you smoothed the red fabric that suddenly felt too tight. "He's actually here in New York on a case."
"Oh, how great. I can't wait to put a face to the name." You could tell by the look she shot her own husband that she didn't believe a word from your mouth. "Anyway, I have to go speak with an academy representative, but I'll see you and your husband at the ceremony?"
You responded with a nod, not dignifying her with words as she left, her giggles a bitter sound. You hated her. And you were ready to make her eat her words when your husband, who looked absolutely incredibly in a suit, showed up.
But then it was dinner, and you found yourself alone, surrounded by a table of important people whose names you couldn't remember. The seat beside you was empty and suddenly that omnipotent, cloud-nine feeling you had vanished with the time that passed.
The text you sent piled up, feeling a little juvenile, like you were back in high school again getting stood up at prom.
Let me know when you're close!
Is everything going okay?
Call me if you can.
An onslaught of anxious thoughts skyrocketed around your mind as you mechanically chewed the fancy food that only seemed to upset your stomach further. What if something happened? Was he okay? Did the case go wrong? Did he get in a car accident on the way here?
You were a bundle of nerves, gnawing on the inside of your mouth as your heel tapped up and down against the floor. But this wasn't borne from concern for his well-being; deep down, you were certain he was fine. The truth was simpler and sharper: he wasn't coming.
You should have been prepared, should have braced for this, but you were convinced that this time, this occasion would be an exception.
You name was being called, but this time not by someone wanting to extract prying information or stir speculation, no, this time it was carried across the crowed, wrapped in the microphone's static hum.
Your head snapped up, fingers ceasing their fidgeting as you struggled to mask the shock and avoid the gaping, breathless look of a fish out of water.
You had won.
People were clapped, but it seemed far away as you made your way to the stage, hands coming from all directions to offer pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations.
You had won.
Your feet were carrying you up a small set of stairs. You were trying to remember how to walk--left, right, heel, toe. There was a bright light on you now, prompting a slight squint and you worked to keep a smile on your face as you accepted the award.
You had to be dreaming. Had to be. There was no other explanation.
You were on display now, under the intense stage lights. Your body was on autopilot, stepping behind the podium, words flowing out of your mouth--a speech you had rehearsed over and over again in the slim chance that you would win. And here you are.
But the more you spoke the more you seemed to deviate from the script.
You paused, voice catching as you tried your best not to let the tears fall--your makeup was too pristine for smears.
"But tonight, as I accept this honor, I am reminded that while we may seek comfort in the presence of others, our truest strength comes from within." Your eyes dart around the audience, clinging to the slim chance he's there, that he showed up. "It comes from knowing that when we step into the moment, we step in with conviction, with passion, and sometimes, with a singularity that says we are enough."
The final words of your speech hang in the air, a brittle hope that disappears as quickly as it surfaced. He proved them right, and no amount of applause can drown out the sound of your heart breaking just a little.
part 2
taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179
#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x fem reader#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds angst#aaron hotchner#hotch#hotchner#Spotify
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'I'm not that conceited . . . that I don't know that you could teach me more, in an hour, of things that really matter, than I could teach you, of things that don't matter much, in a week.'
L.P. Hartley, from The Harness Room
#humble#flattery#self deprecating#relationship dynamics#dialogue#teaching#learning#quotes#lit#words#excerpts#quote#literature#l.p. hartley#the harness room
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Leaving Kiss Prints On Them
Aegon: He's amused, maybe intrigued as to why you've done it in the first place. But at the same time, he would be strangely touched, flattered that you would want to leave your mark on him, to show others that you own him.
Aemond: As he looked into the mirror, the glistening traces of a deep red lipstick print stood out boldly against his pale complexion. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the mark's presence. The memory of the partner flashed through his mind, your passionate kiss leaving a lingering kiss upon his skin.
Jacaerys: "Oh, you cheeky wench", Jacaerys exclaimed, surprised by the bold display of affection from his partner. He touched the mark on his cheek, feeling the slickness of the lipstick and a smile playing on his lips. "You know you're marking your territory?", he teased. "This better wash off, or I'll be walking around with your signature smudge for days."
Lucerys: He would blush and smile genuinely, appreciating the sign of affection from you. He'd gently touch the lipstick print, feeling a sense of closeness and love. After a moment, he would take your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you close for a tender embrace.
Rhaenyra: Upon realizing the lipstick mark, she would feel a rush of warmth and affection. She'd reach up to gently touch the mark, a sly grin curling her lips in appreciation of the affectionate gesture. Her fingers might linger there for a moment, tracing the faint outline of the mark, her thoughts filled with the memory of the kiss that left it behind. "Attempting to mark your territory, huh?"
Daemon: He'd chuckle, running his hands through his hair before giving you a playful smirk. With a gentle tug, he pulled you closer until your front was flush against his, a hand moving to rest at the curve of your waist. "Leaving your mark on me again, darling?" He says, arching a brow in amusement.
Alicent: It is a pleasant surprise to find a mark of affection on her cheek, like a colorful stamp of love. She might glance into a mirror to appreciate the delicate contour and color of the imprint against her skin. A smile would likely spread across her face, touched by the thought that you took the time to leave this intimate memento as a silent declaration of tenderness. She might even feel a slight flutter of affection, feeling her cheeks warm up with a hint of bashfulness.
Helena: When you leave a lipstick print on her cheek, she feels a mix of amusement and flattery. She can't help but smile at the playful gesture, knowing that you've marked her as yours in a subtle but endearing way. The glossy imprint on her skin reminds her of your presence and the affection you have for her. As she catches a glimpse of the colored stain, it serves as a pleasant reminder of the intimate moment you shared or the playful banter you engaged in.
Harwin: He would chuckle softly as he felt the warm, familiar softness of lips against his cheek, leaving a trail of a vivid lipstick stain. The subtle scent of sweetness and roses gently drifted to his nostrils, prompting him to lift a hand and brush his fingers against the mark. A soft smile played on his lips. âYouâve left your mark, I see,â he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice, though the words were laced with an unmistakable fondness.
Cregan: He noticed the lipstick stain on his cheek and ran a finger over it, a sly smile spreading across his face before he turned to you, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, well, it seems someone has marked her territory." He leaned back in his chair, still smiling as he regarded you with a playful gleam in his eyes. "And here I thought I was the possessive one."
Criston: At first, a flush of embarrassment washes over his face as he becomes self-conscious of the lipstick mark. However, it quickly dissolves into a smirk at the realization that you have marked him as yours. A wave of possessiveness washes over him, and he canât help but feel a sense of pride knowing that everyone will know whom he belongs to. The rest of the day, heâll find himself subconsciously rubbing his hand over the lipstick print, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys velaryon x reader#lucerys velaryon#lucerys velaryon x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#alicent hightower#alicent hightower x reader#helaena targaryen#helaena targaryen x reader#harwin strong#harwin strong x reader#cregan stark#cregan stark x reader#criston cole#criston cole x reader#house of the dragon#hotd#1000 celebration
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