#They use this phrasing in moments of anger and frustration | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lev1hei1chou · 7 days

Text

Make Or Break

Gojo x reader Genre: Angst to Comfort Words: 925 Synopsis: You get into an argument with Gojo Masterlist

You and Satoru Gojo had always shared an unique dynamic. Banters were numerous, but actual arguments were a rare occurence. However, today's argument had escalated beyond your usual disagreements. The tension in the air was thick and overwhelming, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere in the room.

It started with a simple misunderstanding, a miscommunication that had eventually snowballed into a heated exchange of words. Gojo's piercing gaze bore into you as he argued his point vehemently, his words cutting through the air like a knife. Your own frustration bubbled to the surface, and soon, you were both caught in a whirlwind of accusations and harsh truths.

"Is it so hard for you to understand, Gojo? You never listen!" you snapped, your voice rising to match his intensity. "You act like you know everything, but you never take the time to truly understand how I feel!"

Gojo's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Maybe if you were clearer about your feelings, I wouldn't have to play guessing games all the damn time!"

The room seemed to shrink as the argument intensified, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Hurtful phrases were exchanged like rapid-fire, each one leaving a deeper wound than the last.

"You're impossible to be with, Gojo. I can't keep up with your constant need to be right!"

"Oh, please. Maybe you just can't handle someone who challenges you for once."

The words hung in the air, a painful reminder of the growing rift between you. The initial spark that had drawn you together now felt like a distant memory. The raw emotion in Gojo's eyes mirrored your own internal turmoil.

In the midst of the chaos, neither of you noticed the tears that welled up in your eyes. The realization of the damage done sank in, but the anger still lingered, preventing either of you from taking a step back.

"I need space," you declared, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness.

Gojo's expression hardened, but he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine. Take all the space you need."

With that, you stormed out of the room, leaving Gojo alone in the echoing silence. The weight of the argument settled on both of your shoulders, the once vibrant connection now strained and fragile.

The aftermath of the heated exchange left a bitter taste in your mouth, and only time would tell whether your relationship could cross these hurdles or if it would crumble under the weight of unspoken words.

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

Days passed since the explosive argument with Satoru Gojo. The silence between you two hung heavy and the tension was a constant presence in the air.

It became a silent game of avoidance, with both of you trying to find solace in the absence of each other. However, as time went on, the longing for resolution grew, and the desire to fix what was broken became too strong to ignore.

One evening, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks - you couldn't let the argument be the end of everything you'd built with Satoru. With a heavy sigh, you decided to take the first step towards reconciliation. As you approached your shared room, your heart raced with a mix of nervousness and determination.

You knocked on the door, and after a moment of tense silence, Gojo opened it. His eyes met yours, revealing a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. Without saying a word, you stepped inside, and he closed the door behind you.

The room felt charged with unspoken emotions as you both stood there, unable to look directly at each other. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quiet but resolute. "We can't keep avoiding this, Satoru."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know, okay? But what do you want from me?"

"I want us to talk. Really talk. Without the yelling and the accusations," you replied, your gaze meeting his. "I miss us, Satoru. I miss the connection we used to have."

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, me too."

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "I know we both said things we didn't mean. I just… I want to understand you better, and I want you to understand me. Can we try to find a middle ground?"

Gojo sighed again, the weight of the situation evident in his eyes. "I don't want to lose you, you know? But sometimes I feel like you're pushing me away."

The vulnerability in his voice struck a chord within you. "I'm not trying to push you away. I just need you to listen, really listen, and not just assume you know what's best for me."

There was a moment of silence, and then Gojo nodded. "I can do that. I want to do that."

The air in the room shifted as you both acknowledged the need for change. It was a small step, but a significant one. You spent the next hours talking, opening up about your fears, frustrations, and desires. Slowly, the walls that had built up during the argument began to crumble.

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted from the heavy weight of the argument to the lighter, more tender aspects of your relationship. Laughter replaced the tension, and the genuine connection you'd feared lost began to resurface.

By the time you both decided to call it a night, there was a newfound understanding between you. A mere argument can't demolish the bond that was built from years of knowing each other.

333 notes · View notes

iamasaddie · 7 months

Text

I wish that I was good enough

paring: Javier Peña x fem!afab!Reader rating: explicit word count: 3k summary: Getting Javier Peña to be your fuck buddy was a win. You had fun, orgasms and absolutely no feelings involved. Right? warnings: oral (m receiving); unprotected PinV (‼️); creampie; light degradation kink; dirty talk; mentioning of cum eating; angst-ish; no use of y/n a/n: just nurtured my Javi brainrot. sorry for maybe bad Spanish? and maybe bad English? not beta-ed, I'm owning all the mistakes MY MASTERLIST

Javier Peña was a fairly simple man and he prided himself in that. He never lied about who he was, never put on a mask; what you saw was what you got, and what you got was a man who'd seen so much shit that not only his edges turned rough, his whole being was hard as stone; not only his hands were calloused from the heavy weight of a gun, his soul was as gentle as sandpaper. His were the first brown eyes you saw that weren't warm. He had trust issues, anger issues, and all them other issues you could think of, and he didn't think about fixing them. He just went on with his life, sometimes alone, sometimes with someone who could handle him for an odd month or two.

You were someone who stayed around the longest. Most likely that was due to you two never actually having a "relationship". That was exactly how Javi phrased it to you the first time you shared a drink in a crowded bar in downtown Bogota.

"I'm not good in all that ‘relationship shit’”, he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers before downing his third whiskey, dry.

You nodded then, you weren't in search of your life partner either, too much shit to deal with after graduation and constant struggle to find a job. Stuff just piled on your plate higher and higher, and you though that your hands would just finally drop under the weight of your fucked-up life, with every decision you made being a wrong one. But at the end of the day, you were just a human, and if you knew one thing it was that pent up frustration lead to eventual big bang in a bloodied bath. So as any other girl you thought of the easy and safe way out. You needed a fuck buddy, a friends with benefits situation. The friends part wasn't that important, though. Any type of relationship would just complicate your life further, and that wasn't something you could handle. But yeah, a fuck buddy didn't sound like such a bad option, and you put on your most flirtatious smile as you mentioned that to your new devilishly handsome acquaintance.

"Ain't I too old to be your fuck buddy?" He barked a laugh holding his drink close to the plush softness of his lips, anything but flustered after your explicit proposition.

"Do you have an expiration date?" You countered cheekily, you were prepared for something like that to leave his inviting mouth.

He shook his head at that, shamelessly taking all of your form in. His glassy eyes were darkened, and you knew it wasn't the lights in the damn place. Javi was practically fucking you, already spreading your legs on top of that bar table, fucking into your throbbing cunt even before he learned your name. And even after finding out there were painful 16 years between you, his dark smile didn't falter, and his eyes didn't stop hungrily roaming over your body.

That night you ended up going to his place and getting fucked so hard you were sore for the next three days. It wasn't a bad thing, even if Javi did give you a concerned look when you crab-walked to his bathroom. The experience made you limp at work and cast your eyes down under the all-too-knowing looks of people oh so worth it.

From that moment you've established an equally beneficial routine: you’d meet two-three times a week, he’d let out all his pent up anger on your poor pussy and you’d free yourself of all the frustration and get the best fuck of your life on top of that. He was calmer, you were more satisfied and focused. The only thing that could ever make you go back on this safe heaven of sexual fulfillment would be someone starting to develop feelings, however impossible that was. However if that was to happen, well… what the other one didn't know wouldn't hurt them, right? The routine would stay put until the truth came out, and God, the hopes were high for it not to happen any time soon.

It was one of your nights. Darkness of the room was filled with wet sounds, the smell of sweat more intense in Colombian humidity. Two completely naked bodies were positioned in the middle of a small bedroom, the dim yellow light from the bedside table made the sweat covered skin look majestic rather than dirty. Though the words spilling in the confines of the night were less than.

"Good girl, sucking my cock like a filthy slut you are. Eres fantástica, cariña." The man above you put his hand around your throat lightly, squeezing to feel his cock pumping in and out of your welcoming heat. Your eyes watered, the image of him getting blurry, but you continued stuffing your throat, anticipating the soreness tomorrow.

You felt saliva wetting the corners of your mouth and dribbling out with a mix of his precum. Javi looked at you, the adoration in his voice was a strange contrast to the violent desire burning in his eyes and the nastiness falling from his lips. He swiped your spit with his thumb and proceeded to pat your cheek gently, not a slap, but close enough.

"Look at you, you're so greedy for my cock it's pathetic." His thrusts became harder, heavy balls slapping your chin with every movement. "Going to leave you here as my personal fucktoy." You moaned, excitement resulting in arousal coating your thighs, you desperately needed him to fill the hole that was clenching around nothing, but you didn't dare pull away. "I know you'd like that, mi puta deliciosa."

When you felt the desperate need for oxygen burning up your lungs, you leaned back a little, earning yourself a gentle slap across your cheek and thick fingers squeezing your jaw.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? I'm far from being done with you, hermosa."

"Fuck, Javi, just fuck me already. I need your thick cock inside me, please." Your voice sounded fucked out, raspy and pleading. You put your hands on his thighs, breathing heavily as he swiped your drool with two fingers, before shoving them into your mouth unceremoniously. You didn’t mind, swirling your tongue around the digits, and biting them gently.

"Can’t wait until I fucking give it to you. Do you just love begging so much, baby?" He chuckled and shook his head in fake disappointment. You knew it was fake because there was nothing that excited him more than seeing you so desperate for him, needing him splitting you open like only he could. It made his head spin and cock twitch. "Such a needy little slut." You hummed around his fingers, and he took them out, leaving a string of saliva on your bottom lip. "Come on then, hands and knees, baby, let's put that greedy cunt to use."

The speed of you jumping into the position for a good fucking was comical, and Javi did laugh until he saw your puffy glistening lips inviting him to sink his throbbing cock into. The mattress dipped under him, and you felt his hands enveloping your hips, squeezing the skin tightly as he teased you pushing his hips into you, but not actually penetrating.

"Fuck, Javi," you turned your head, whining, "stop playing, just fuck me already!"

You felt the slap before you heard it. His massive hand left a burning imprint on your ass, and then another one right on top of the first. He lowered himself, hugging your middle with his left hand and forcing you to press your back against his broad chest. You whimpered as he left a trail of bites from your shoulder to your neck, stopping at your earlobe. "Don’t fucking tell me what to do, baby. Stop whining. I’ll fuck you when I see fit, and you’re gonna take it and thank me, because that’s how it works. Because that is how you want it. Am I wrong?"

You shook your head desperately, annoyed at how right this is. Your whole deal only worked because he seemed to know you better, that you knew yourself. At first that scared you, but soon you craved it more than a glass of water on the worst hangover morning. His hand left another generous slap on your burning asscheek and this time it made you actually yelp in pain.

"I asked you a fucking question, baby, am I wrong?"

"No, Javi, no you’re not wrong."

"Damn right I’m not wrong." His hand traveled up your sternum, stopping as it found your right tit and Javi pinched your tight with sensitivity and arousal nipple. He was just as gentlemanly as you needed him, which was none. He let go of you and pushed you back in the original position, your elbows meeting the soft mattress.

You knew he needed you as much as you needed him, you had felt him throb on your tongue, his thick cock with its fat round head had been punching bruises into your throat for the last ten minutes, and you knew he was about to bust when you let him go. So you just needed to be a little bit more patient and he’d give it to you. He always did. Quenching your desire for him all up in your guts with little breaths, you lowered your head between your arms.

"That’s it, hermosa, waiting like a good little bitch." You smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t see it, and he caressed your hot ass with a light movement. "Just needed to discipline you first." You honestly didn’t understand the thunder of slaps raining on your asscheeks after those words. There was less than a second between every spank, and while you whined and shivered both in pain and pleasure, begging him to just let you cum, you couldn’t stop your back from arching further, giving him a bigger expanse of your skin to torture.

"Good girl, such a good girl, Hermosa, just taking all I give you."

Slap,

slap,

slap.

The last one made you jerk, his hand already wet with all the slick running down your slit and thighs twitched, making his slap land square on your begging pussy.

"Fuck!" The scream was literally slapped out of you. Javi stopped immediately, pressing his whole palm into your burning lips.

"Okay?"

It was more than okay, the raw sensation seemed to bring you even closer to your long-awaited orgasm than you anticipated, but it was your chance to make Javi stop playing with you. You did have an awful day and you just needed to forget everything being split open on his cock. "It will be if you fuck me already," you gritted through your teeth.

He let his hand gently pat your slick pussy, diving into your throbbing hole with two fingers and sliding in and out easily. "That pretty pussy is just drooling for me, baby. She got my hand all wet, can’t wait to give my dick the same treatment, can she?"

He didn’t wait for you to answer, and you didn’t think you’d be able to anyway. Not when the tip of his cock teased your pulsing clit, and then swiftly opened up your cunt, letting Javi bury all of him inside you in one deep stroke.

"Fuck," you could hear him speaking as he bit his lower lips, words muffled as he placed both of his hands back on your hips. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar stinging fullness that you came to desire every morning. That you failed to recreate every day you were alone. That you came back to every night your phone buzzed with ‘you should come over tonight, hermosa’. "That fucking cunt ruined me, baby. Can’t fuck anything but your pretty hole. Squeezes me just fucking right." His little sentiments sent a warm feeling down your spine, even though you knew he was just saying it in the heat of the moment. He’d say stuff like that, feeling you cunt clench and more of your arousal seeping down of your stretched opening, making the sounds in the room absurdly vulgar.

It was like Javi just read your mind. He was a great fuck from day one, but what shook you the most, what made you addicted the most was his fucking intuition. It was like he saw all the cues your body was subconsciously giving off: when to slap you, when to go faster or slower, and when to drag his skillful fingers to play with your clit. You even told him once that whatever he did for work now he should quit, because being a male prostitute would get him way more money. He laughed, and then fucked your brains out on the kitchen table, eating your mixed cum out of your overstimulated pussy afterwards while your takeout was getting cold next to you.

Just like every other night you spent tangled in each other, he gave it to you just the way you wanted again. Slow, deep strokes of his cock that you felt from your opening and right to that spot inside you that he punched with every push. With every rugged breath his pace became more rigid, he was close, but you were closer. You lifted one of your hands off the mattress guiding it to your begging clit, but again, Javi read you before you could think. His fingers moved from your hips to the apex of your thighs teasing your bundle of nerves with tight circles. You could feel his balls slapping against you, his sweat mixing with yours, the coarse hair above his cock irritating the raw skin of your ass with every thrust.

"Javi, I’m gonna.."

"I know, hermosa, feel you squeeze me with your pretty cunt," he gritted through his teeth. "Come on, baby, I wanna feel you cry all over my cock, give it to me."

His thrusts became more rapid, the movements of his fingers unforgiving on your clit and you felt your knees almost give out as your mouth opened in a silent scream. You throbbed and pulsed around his still hard cock, and the drag of it inside you made you cry out with oversensitivity.

"Turn around, come on, wanna see you." He manhandled you like a doll, your mind not cooperating with your body as you dropped on your back welcoming him once again between your spread thighs. Javi didn’t wait a moment, crowding you with his arms, and dropping his mouth to suck little hickeys on your tits as he sunk back inside. You shuddered, still coming down from your climax as he chased his. His hips worked like a jackhammer, stuffing you full again, again, again. Wet lips left kisses, bites and licks wherever he could reach, and eventually his head fell into the crook of your neck, only his loud breathing and the lewd sound of skin slapping skin remaining in the quiet room.

You circled your arms around his neck, and tugged on his hair, sweaty strands of it slippery between your fingers. That little pang of pain was what undid Javi, and he let out a wail, like a wounded animal, filling you with rope after rope of his cum. He fell on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh, fuck, I love you so much. Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero." His soft whisper was as loud as a thunderstorm in an empty field. And you felt like you were struck by lightning, mind sobering up from your orgasm in an inhuman past when you pushed his slick body away from yours. You didn’t pay attention to the sticky cum leaking down your wet thighs as he landed on his back, eyes looking at you with more than just physical pain.

"What the fuck did you say, Javi?"

You wanted him to say that it was in the heat of the moment, that he didn't mean it. Or that he thought of someone else while fucking you, so the words just slipped out and weren't meant for you. Anything, any fucking excuse.

"Lo siento, querida." He didn't blink, staying as still as a statue, droplets of liquid salt quickly soaking into the sheets under him.

You shook your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. No, no, no, fucking please. It felt like a betrayal. He was the only constant in your life, the only thing you were sure of, and then he decided to selfishly take that away from you? Fall in love with you? What a fucking prick.

"That's some fucking bullshit, Javi, we had a deal! We had a fucking deal!"

He nodded, closing his eyes, too weak to see the disappointment on your face. "I know, I fucked up, but I just... - "

"No," you were quick to interrupt him, jumping off the bed that had seen so much and pulling your jeans and a t-shirt without even trying to find your underwear. "I can't fucking believe you'd do that." Your eyes watered, angry tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, so you dropped your head lower to pick up your shoes and walked to the door barefoot.

"Hermosa!" You heard him calling for you, and then the sound of his movements. There he was, staring at you in all his naked glory, more desperate for you than ever. The only time you didn't want to satiate his craving. Wasn't ready to.

"Fuck you, Javi."

The loud bang of the door closing was nothing compared to the sound of his newly healed heart shattering into dust.

ummm... yeah. so, comment if you liked it? thanks!

#javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena #pedro pascal fanfiction #iamasaddie fic #javier peña x female reader

418 notes · View notes

a-d-nox · 1 month

Text

tarot cards and their key phrases: wands

this is just a beginners guide to the wands suit - i won't go into imagery, color use, etc. these are key phrases that come to mind when i think of the cards - NOT how they should be directly applied. they needs to be thought about situationally and the cards / when they are in combos they can change or alter their meanings of any reading.

ace of wands (1)

astrological equivalent: sagittarius sun

upright: inspiration, new adventure, new projects, travel, start of a business venture, new relationships, drive, and/or motivation.

reversed: hesitation, fears about next steps / timing / failure / leaving, what prevents you from being bold/decisive, lack of confidence, and/or delays.

two of wands (2)

astrological equivalent: leo jupiter

upright: plans for the future, excitement, impatience, new opportunities, remaining where you are, listen to intuition, new partnership, supportive relationship, and/or growth.

reversed: impatience, acting hastily, overexcitement, moving forward too quickly, the unexpected, what doesn't fit the narrative in one's mind, giving up, slowing down, needing to do research, needing a plan of action, needing to try again, waiting for someone else to make the first move, doing what makes you uncomfortable, and/or needing to take initiative.

three of wands (3)

astrological equivalent: leo mercury

upright: energy used to work with others, delegation / sharing responsibilities, waiting, looking for a fitting opportunity, creative/productive energy, prosperity, and/or possibility for travel.

reversed: delays, disconnection from a relationship / group of friends, frustration, disappointment, learning journey, there is a better solution than the one you are thinking of, and/or needing to remain flexible/patient.

four of wands (4)

astrological equivalent: leo venus

upright: wedding, anniversary, graduation, achievements, celebrate your wins, enthusiasm for a connection, hard work, and/or relaxation.

reversed: resistance to indulge, resisting temptation, needing to be present in the moment, and/or needing to find joy.

five of wand (5)

astrological equivalent: aries mars

upright: conflict, disagreements, competition, people all vying for the same thing, strong opinions, and/or rebel energy.

reversed: conflict that is blown out of proportion, details in the argument, being exaggerated for dramatic effect, needing to stick to the facts, avoiding drama/conflict, and/or resolution/agreement reached after an argument.

six of wands (6)

astrological equivalent: leo sun

upright: victory, good news, post-period of struggle, focusing on feeling proud, acknowledging your successes, accepting praise, hard work, deserving recognition, and/or enthusiasm.

reversed: delay in success, disappointment, temporary setback, needing to stick to the plan, and/or needing diligence.

seven of wand (7)

astrological equivalent: aries mercury

upright: unforeseen challenges, obstacles that arise, needing to be assertive/strategic, defensiveness, facing adversity, and/pressure.

reversed: letting anger get the better of you, acting defensive, hyper vigilance, challenging beliefs, feeling defeated, questioning standing up for yourself, lashing out when provoked, and/or internalized anger/frustration.

eight of wands (8)

astrological equivalent: sagittarius mercury

upright: something that is exciting, something happening soon, travel, new person coming into your life, moving quickly, and/or everything falling into place.

reversed: delays, hang-ups, lack of enthusiasm, what you anticipate, divine timing, important realizations, and/or lack of movement.

nine of wands (9)

astrological equivalent: aries moon

upright: deals with a lot (the good, the bad, and the ugly), exhaustion, feeling like quitting / giving up, almost there, dig deep, and/or resilience.

reversed: giving up on something, being urged to not give up, acting stubborn, getting in your own way, you can only control yourself, and/or willingness to take responsibility for behavior.

ten of wand (10)

astrological equivalent: sagittarius saturn

upright: burden of responsibility, feeling overwhelmed, too much going on, physical exhaustion, and/or needing to delegate.

reversed: tremendous pressure, extreme exhaustion, burnout, what you can handle, comparing yourself to others, and/or needing to do what makes you happy.

page of wands

astrological equivalent: earth and fire

upright: grounded, playful, curiosity, good news is on the way, creative experience, and/or new opportunities.

reversed: hasty, impulsive, needing a plan, unreliable, taking on only what you can handle, acting childish, and/or complaining about responsibilities.

knight of wands

astrological equivalent: air and fire

upright: take action on ideas/projects, begin, start by starting, others are supporting you, passion, no hesitation, and/or moving towards goals.

reversed: self-doubt, lack of progression, delays, misunderstandings, don't give up, course of action is needed, and/or needing patience.

queen of wands

astrological equivalent: water and fire

upright: power, creativity, emotional intelligence, passion, ambition, leadership opportunities, claiming power, taking back power, confidence, and/or worthiness.

reversed: doubting you value/worth, feeling like no one sees you, cultivating beliefs, seeing a shift in your confidence, and/or needing to have trust/respect for yourself.

king of

astrological equivalent: fire

upright: leadership, authority, stability, integrity, calmness, relying on your instincts, maturity, confidence, decisive action, and/or enthusiasm.

reversed: abusiveness, misuse/abuse of power, holding grudges, bullying, needing to understand the responsibilities you have, being in a place of power, selfishness, and/or oppressiveness.

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic." button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next! if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more tarot & intuition related posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

218 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

Note

Can I request Glitchy red being followed around by a Child NPC with Ice types who he defeated..and at that moment they gained sentience/snapped outta the NPC behavior and now..travels and follows him around bc they’re like “WOAHHH YOUR SO COOL!! :00 :3” and like chats up a storm and and see him as they’re idol and as a big brother figure and wants to be friends with him headcanons? He isn’t lonely anymore! :3

Awe yeah wholesome times <3

........

"I guess that's one way to break the ice!"

Although it may have been humorous to the player, Glitchy Red wasn't laughing at your post-battle line at all.

Nor did he feel any sort of victory in defeating you, one of the only NPCs with a functional Pokémon battle.

You did have some high-leveled ice types for such a young trainer class, but that just reminded him of how broken this game is...and how you really weren't any different from the others.

You were merely puppeteered by scripted dialogue, standing in the same place forever as you handed him his prize: a thousand pokedollars.

Yet he didn't wanna take them. He had millions in his inventory already, but it was all useless to him.

So he tries returning them to you, insisting that you deserved it more.

But you don't even react, instead repeating that same phrase over and over again.

"Take the damn money, kid. You need it more than me."

"I guess that's one way to break the ice!"

"I swear if you say that one more time..."

"I guess that's one way to-!"

"Shut up." In a small fit of frustration, Glitchy Red takes your hand and puts the money into your palm himself, fingers curling around it as he stares intensely at you with glowing eyes.

Yet his anger quickly subsides..and he wonders why tf he thought anything would be different with you.

He's just so lonely here and wishes somebody would wake up.

But after seeing you glitch, he steps back and thinks you're gonna disappear into oblivion thanks to him.

He turns away, not wanting to see it.

However he barely takes a few steps forward before he feels something grab the back of your shirt.

And it's...your hand????

"Red, it's you!! The champion!! Oh my gosh...what happened to this place? Why is everything so weird?"

He's stunned into complete silence, taking a moment to process the fact that someone must've heard him.....because you broke free of your programming!

He doesn't know how you did it or how he could've done it, but he's shocked as he watches you heal your Pokémon, bringing out the Cloyster, Dewgong, and Lapras he just defeated.

"Everyone! This is Red, and he's the coolest!! Can you believe we had a chance to fight him???" You whisper excitedly to your team, completely aware of the tall menacing glitchy man standing next to you.

Ever since then, you've been following him around the map, but mostly in Glitch City where you saw the same anomalies as him.

Yet you weren't have a total freakout or a crisis over it like he did....as you're too busy chatting about everything you admired about him.

And even though you have sentience now, you still retained your habit of using ice-related puns

He's certain you're mistaking his achievements for the actual Red's...or the version of himself in Gold that got casted as a "final boss" NPC.

However, you didn't seem aware of that. So who was he to crush your dreams?

Especially the dreams of the only other character in this cursed world that liked him and could talk to him?

Besides, being deemed a failure by his creators and basically left to rot took a toll on him....he never thought himself worthy of praise or positive attention.

Not even the words from NPCs helped, because he knew they were all scripted lines written into the game. They were empty.

But he believes yours 100% because you're alive and truly do mean them.

You wonder why he looked so angry all the time...and when he finally tells you the reason, he's afraid you're gonna run off scared.

Yet you hug him and promise to never leave his side.

That also makes him absolutely TERRIFIED of you possibly despawning/getting corrupted from touching him...

But nothing bad happens at all.

He may have shed a few tears after hugging you back, only to hide his face with his hat after letting you go....completely denying the fact he was crying.

Although he doesn't show it, he's genuinely happy not to be alone anymore and finds living here a little more bearable.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokepasta x reader #glitchy red #child reader #platonic #headcanons

195 notes · View notes

londonlingo · 1 year

Text

Differences in Irish English vs British English

-Prepositions:

Irish people use more prepositions. It’s anecdotal but my Dad always likes to reference the joke of a parent saying to their kid: “get out from behind that thing behind which you are currently stood”

-Tenses (To be or not to be after doing?)

Where a Brit has “just done something”, and Irishman will “after doing” it. For example, in his 1988 novel “The Commitments”, Roddy Doyle writes: “I'm after rememberin'. I forgot to bring mine back. It's under me bed.” That is to say that character just remembered in that moment.

-Yes/No

For the Portuguese reader this may seem natural; in Ireland they are less likely to use yes or no. Instead they opt for using the verb again. Think: “Would you like a cup of tea?” “I would”. This may stem from the Irish language’s lack of the words yes and no.

-Religious influences in everyday speech:

Irish has been known to be “the most Catholic country in the world” so its like surprise that such phrases have entered into everyday vernacular:

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, - This is used to expressed surprise

Jesus H. Christ - This is used in anger, surprise, frustration or for humour (I would if Jesus has different initials internationally!)

-Individual bits of vocab

Press = Cupboard

Hot press = Airing cupboard

Gas = Great

To give out = To tell off a child

Yer man/yer wan = Any man/ woman that you’re referring to

Grand = Good/fine

Acting the maggot = Messing around or acting up

On the lash = Out drinking

Give it a lash= Give it a go

Now we’re suckin’ diesel = Now this is a phrase to mean something has started to go right

Effin’ and blindin’ = Swearing

Eejit = An insult for an idiot

I’ve been feeling homesick so here’s a list of differences between Irish English and British English inspired by my Irish da. Anyways go watch The Banshees of Inisherin -a good Irish film (pronounced fillum)

#irish #ireland #irish english #english language #irish accent #irish people #lingblr #langblr #linguistness #linguistic #linguistics #multilingual #linguist #language #language learning #learning languages

305 notes · View notes

hazbinfallinginaspiral · 9 days

Text

Foul mood (Be a Doll AU)

Vox x doll!reader

Cw: Abuse, violence, disassociation, manipulation, mind control, verbal abuse, objectification, physical abuse, seeking comfort from one’s abuser, AU typical events, Vox being a little shit (He’s in hell for a reason)

Note: Vox is manipulative, possessive, jealous, impulsive, controlling, and harsh in this AU. He can be extremely violent towards reader, and is consistently abusing them either way. He is not a good person! If anyone is sensitive to or may have a negative reaction from these topics, I recommend clicking away now.

Summary: Vox is in a bad mood and you end up taking on the brunt of it. He takes out his anger on you when things don’t go his way, throwing insults, pushing you around, belittling you, etc. The warning above should give you a good idea of what ensues.

As Vox’s doll- or, what he considered to be his doll- my days were often filled with unpredictable challenges, but none as daunting as when he was in a bad mood. Today was one of those days, and I could feel the tension crackling in the air as soon as I entered his office.

As I entered I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Vox sat behind his desk, his normally smooth demeanor marred by a scowl that sent shivers down my spine. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to speak or retreat, but Vox's piercing gaze pinned me in place.

“Good morning, Vox,” I greeted him cautiously, trying to gauge how bad his mood was.

He didn’t even look up from his desk, his brow furrowed in frustration. “What’s so good about it?” he snapped, his voice sharp like a knife.

I flinched at his tone but forced a smile, hoping to diffuse the situation. “I brought you your favorite coffee,” I offered, setting the mug down on his desk. It was his favorite ‘Fuck Alastor’ mug.

He glanced at it briefly before pushing it aside with a scowl. “I don’t want it,” he muttered, his gaze returning to the papers scattered in front of him.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, trying to sound calm despite the rising sense of dread in my chest.

"Come here," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. I swallowed hard and took a hesitant step forward, my every movement careful and deliberate. Vox's eyes never left mine as I approached, and I could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on me like a physical force.

Vox’s eyes flickered with irritation as he finally looked up at me. “Be a doll and fetch me those reports from yesterday,” he commanded, his voice cold and harsh.

I hesitated for a moment, the familiar spiral of his hypnotic power swirling in his left eye. Then, without a word, I turned on my heel and headed towards the filing cabinet, my movements stiff and robotic.

As I retrieved the reports, I could feel Vox’s gaze burning into my back, his anger palpable even from across the room. I tried to hurry, desperate to appease him and avoid any further confrontation.

But it wasn’t enough. As I returned to his desk and handed him the reports, he snatched them from my hand with a harsh grip, his nails digging into my skin.

The haziness of my mind began to fade- I’d completed the task he’d given me using the trigger phrase so I was coming out of the trance. Unfortunately, with that came a tidal wave of emotions, my panic and fear had been muffled moments earlier but it was now flooding into me, relentless and harsh with striking clarity.

As I handed another file to Vox, he snatched it from my grasp with a viciousness that made me flinch. "Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, his eyes flashing with barely-contained rage. I bit my lip, fighting back the urge to flee as Vox's anger simmered just beneath the surface.

“You call this efficient?” he growled, his voice low and menacing. “These numbers are all wrong!”

I winced as his words cut through me like a knife, his anger boiling over into outright aggression. “I-I’m sorry, Vox,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.

He didn’t seem to hear me, his rage consuming him as he launched into a tirade of insults and accusations. With each word, his voice grew louder, his movements more violent.

"You had one goddamned job!" he yelled, his face contorted with rage as he advanced towards me. “Look at me, doll.” I flinched instinctively, but the spiral of his hypnotic power twisting in his left eye rendered me powerless to resist. “What good are you if you can’t even do your fucking work right?” He lifted his hand and I flinched again, thinking he would hit me. He narrowed his eyes.

"Be a doll and stand still!" he commanded, his voice slicing through the air like a whip. I froze, my eyes glazing over. My mind went foggy, and I couldn’t seem to think anymore. I obeyed without hesitation, my body locked in place as he loomed over me, his fists clenched at his sides.

With a snarl of disgust, he raised his hand and delivered a sharp slap across my cheek, the force of the blow sending me reeling backwards. I didn’t make a sound. "Pathetic!" he spat, his eyes burning with malice as he closed the distance between us once more. I stood still, best I could, looking up at him, my expression still blank and emotionless.

I could almost feel the sting of tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but as his little doll, I wasn’t allowed to cry. Not unless he let me. So, I didn’t let the tears fall. I held them back. Instead, I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, a silent testament to the pain that consumed me from within. It was one of the things he’d ordered I do when I was in this trance and about to cry. A sign to him how much power he held over me.

Vox wasn’t finished. The sight of my bloody lips and blank face, those perfectly glossy doll-like eyes… it only encouraged him. He loved how much power he held over me.

With a cruel smirk, he reached out and grabbed me by the collar, his grip like a vice around my throat as he dragged me closer.

"Kiss me," he demanded, his breath hot against my skin as he forced his lips onto mine, his touch bruising and invasive. His hands gripped me harshly, one squeezing my wrist tight, the other on my neck, firm but not painful. Yet.

I wanted to recoil, to scream, to fight back against the agony that threatened to consume me. But my mind was clouded, full of empty air, not a thought. It was suffocating. He held me in his grip, rendering me little more than a puppet in his twisted game.

Vox pulled back for a moment and scowled when I didn’t kiss him back. He ran his claws along my arm gently, then tore into my skin, dragging his now bloodied nails across my flesh. I remained motionless, my eyes still glazed, my expression betraying nothing. A good little doll. “You’d be whining like a little bitch right now if it weren’t for that little trigger phrase, you know,” Vox said, pressing his thumb harshly against my throat, still gripping my neck. “I quite like you like this. Much better than that belligerent bumbling fool you usually are. At least now you can actually follow my orders… even if you are just a useless fucking bimbo without me.” He squeezed my throat slightly tighter. “Speaking of, I just gave you an order, doll. You didn’t follow it, did you?”

“Mnnghj….” I faltered in my response, his hand on my neck making it hard to speak. “No, Vox,” I finally choked out, sounding hoarse.

“Right. You’re such a smart doll, aren’t you? I know you’re smart enough to follow my orders, right?”

I tried to nod again, only able to make incoherent noises and sounds in response.

“You agree with me, then. You could’ve done as you were told, but you didn’t. You disobeyed, and little dolls who disobey get punished,” he said coldly. “This is your punishment.”

He pulled away for a moment, letting go completely. Then, a loud wail- screech? siren?- sound pierced the air, deafening. I would’ve reacted by clutching my head in agony, screaming, crying, or something of the sort if I could. He didn’t give me that luxury.

He watched, a cruel smile on his face, completely unaffected. I swayed a little on my feet as the noise got progressively louder, I felt dizzy. My ears felt full, then warm. The pain only increased as he continued, and I began to realize my ears felt wet. A singular thought crossed my clouded mind: I was bleeding. (Excellent observation, I know.)

He let it continue for a few minutes more, and I felt as though I’d pass out. When he stopped, I couldn’t hear a thing. Through my blurred vision I could see him laughing as he approached me again. A zap of electricity went through me, accompanied by words I couldn’t hear but sunk into my mind nonetheless. “Be a doll and heal yourself up- but only your ears.”

I immediately complied. With the flick of my wrist I was right as rain, save for my lingering dizziness, disorientation, and confusion.

“Eyes on me, doll,” Vox said harshly, grabbing my face and forcing me towards him. “Remember this. This is what happens when you don’t comply, this is what happens when you forget your place. You’re mine. You belong to me. I own you, and I could break you at any moment. You’re lucky I’m a kind man, more forgiving than the other demons down here, else you’d likely be dead already. Do you understand?”

I nodded- well, as best as I could manage. “Yes, Vox,” I said quietly, my voice still a bit hoarse.

“Good girl,” he said, though he seemed condescending. His hand moved to my hair, tugging on it roughly and forcing me to look up at him more. “Be a doll and give me a kiss.”

I complied, not reacting to the pain that had just shot through me when he pulled my hair. I leaned forward and cupped his face gently, giving him a small, delicate kiss. Practiced, careful.

“You call that a kiss?” Vox asked, his anger bubbling up again. He pushed me away, roughly, throwing me to the floor as if he was disgusted. “Fucking useless. You can’t do a single thing right!”

I was silent, motionless as he continued. Through it all, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered desperately for mercy, for release from the torment that bound me to this nightmare. It was smothered by the fog reducing me to a mindless doll.

Vox showed no mercy, no remorse, as he reveled in his power over me, his every action a cruel reminder of my own helplessness. And as I lay almost broken and battered at his feet, I knew that no amount of pleading or begging would ever be enough to save me from him.

“Be a doll and fix this mess,” he spat, his eyes flashing with fury. “And don’t come back until it’s done.”

I nodded numbly, my mind instantly killing the mixture of fear and confusion that threatened to surface. Without another word, I turned and fled from his office, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

Hours passed in a blur as I worked tirelessly to correct my mistakes, Vox’s words echoing in my mind, relentless. But despite my best efforts, I couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled over me like a shroud.

Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, I completed my work and returned to Vox’s office, the weight of his anger heavy on my shoulders. But to my surprise, when I entered, he was no longer as volatile as he had before. His scowl and grimace was gone, replaced with his usual smooth, calm, collected features.

He was sitting calmly behind his desk, his expression softened with something that almost resembled regret. Almost. “I’m sorry for earlier,” he said quietly. He looked at the scratches still on your arm, the bruises on your neck, the mark left behind from where he’d hit you. He seemed more thoughtful than anything, though a hint of guilt tinged his voice. “I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you.”

I blinked, frozen for a moment, unable to process his sudden change in demeanor. “It’s okay, Vox,” I replied hesitantly, unsure of what else to say.

He smiled faintly, his eyes glimmering with something that almost looked like affection. Was it? “Come here,” he said gently, patting the seat beside him.

I hesitated for a moment before reluctantly obeying, my heart pounding in my chest as I sat down beside him. “I love you,” I whispered softly, the words slipping from my lips before I could stop them.

Vox’s smile widened, a predatory glint entering his eyes as he reached out to stroke my hair. “And I love you too, my little doll,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive.

I was a bit tense, but mostly relieved to see him being kind again. I’d missed it. His bad moods could swallow me whole, sometimes, leaving me hollow with nothing to give. He couldn’t fix that, but he could try. I felt a bit empty right now, hesitant, tense…

Conflicted?

"It's alright, doll," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper against the chaos of my thoughts. "You're safe now." And in that moment, as Vox pulled me into his embrace, I found myself seeking solace in his arms, knowing that this was a rare occurrence. I’d treasure it while I could. Despite how he may feel about me, I loved him all the same.

As his fingers trailed down my cheek, a shiver ran down my spine, a mixture of fear and desire coursing through my veins. Despite everything, despite the fear and the pain, I couldn’t help but lean into his touch, seeking comfort in the only way I knew how. He was being kind, now. No immediate danger. He said I was safe, so I had to believe him.

And as Vox pulled me into his arms, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was nothing more than a plaything to him, a toy to be used and discarded at his whim. But in that moment, wrapped in his embrace, I couldn’t bring myself to care. For better or for worse, I was his.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #x reader #my writing #ao3 writer #writing #reader insert #vox is in hell for a reason #be a doll #doll!reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox fanfiction

31 notes · View notes

sawyer-is-not-my-name · 8 months

Text

Sebastian Sallow x GN!reader

synopsis: Reader and Sebastian get into an argument, unlike other arguments they’ve had they can’t seem to forgive sebastian for this one.

spoiler warning for Hl

cw: angst

you tapped your fingers against your quill, a means to distract yourself from the boy in front of you. The words he said merely seconds before replaying in your already throbbing mind. “Are you even listening?” he snapped at you again, “Unfortunately, yes.”

You let go of your quill knowing if it stayed in your hand any longer you’d snap it. You weren’t in the mood for talking any more, your patience with the Slytherin boy was dwindling at the moment ; in typical Sebastian fashion he turned your study session to the spell book and finding a cure for Anne. You had to get this a few essays for class written, but Sebastian kept brushing it pff saying you could do it later, while insisting you read something he didn’t understand. When he deemed you unwilling to help he snapped, and lashedout about how you weren’t doing enough to help Anne and questioned if you really cared.

“You know better than anyone, that I care.” You flicked your wand, all your belongings and the books you used, and packed them neatly inside your bag. “I’ll see you later, Sallow.” Considering how upset you actually were, you didn’t show it. Your remained collected until you made your way out of the library and bumped into someone. You muttered out curses, before you looked up seeing that you bumped into Ominis.

“I’m so sorry” you muttered whilst replaying the obscene phrases you had just said. “Are you alright y/n?” you groaned, shaking your head before remembering he couldn’t see that and muttering a no. “It’s Sebastian” Ominis grabbed your hand and lead you towards the undercroft, so you both could speak freely. Once there you took a breath before you started to explain the situation.

“He’s still trying to use the spell book.” You hummed and pulled your books and parchments from your bag, along with your quill and ink. “He promised me we’d be studying like actually studying, not deciphering the spell book.” He could hear the anger lacing your voice even if you mostly had it controlled. “And then he has the nerve to say I don’t care about saving Anne, Of course I care. I wouldn’t have helped him at all if I didn’t care.” Right then your quill snapped, a frustrated sigh left your lips, “That was my last quill.”

Ominis passed a new one your way, you gave him a small thank you before you continued with your essay as Ominis listened to you rant, or answered questions you had about the assigned essay.

The next few days came around and you avoided Sebastian like the plague. You weren’t in the mood to talk to him, the way he spoke to you with zero regard for how it made you feel lingered in your brain.

You hid behind Poppy as you spotted Sebastian, He looked as if he was searching the courtyard for something or more so someone.

It only really clicked once he started approaching where you hid behind the brunette Hufflepuff. “Care to stop hiding from me, love?” Your cheeks flamed as you stepped out from behind the girl. “I require your assistance” he wouldn’t say a word more as he held his hand out to you, and pulled you along as you took it.

your questions being ignored until you got to the undercroft. Finally he stood in front you, “I’m sorry” he said the words so quietly you weren’t sure you heard him right, “I was awful to you the other day and didn’t realize how much you’ve done until you left me to do it on my own.”

The look in his glassy eyes, only served as a confirmation that he meant his apology. Although sorry can only go so far, you still felt a longing for him. When he was gone you missed him, despite how annoying he is.

Which was why when he pulled you into a hug, you let him. Resting your face again his chest and arms wrapped around his waist. Sure, you both had a lot to work through, but for now you were content with this.

#gn reader #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x gn reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy x reader

69 notes · View notes

morningstargirl666 · 2 months

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY

In a completely unsurprising turn of events, my rewrite of tbbw's chapter 5 had to be split into 2 chapters because I've added so much. So the old chapter 5's contents are now chapter 5 and 6. Here's a snippet from the new chapter 6:

“Oh my god, she’s inviting him to the Ball,” Caroline exclaimed, eyes popping between Rebekah and Matt, watching as the former smiled demurely, placing a hand on Matt’s arm and swear-to-God giggling at something he said. That snake. She spun to Elena, outraged. “Why is she inviting him?”

Elena glared at Rebekah from her seat, the anger in her eyes fading a little to make way for resignation. “Probably to get this reaction from us.”

“Urgh!” Caroline huffed, leaning back with a scowl on her face, folding her arms over her chest. “What day is this stupid dance again?”

Elena turned towards her, eyes hopeful. “You’ll come?”

Caroline rolled her eyes, still glaring at where Rebekah stood. “I’m not leaving you and Matt to those vipers.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Caroline,” Elena said softly, looking worried. “I mean, if Klaus invited you…won’t he expect you to dance with him?”

“It’s like you said, he’s following his mum’s rules right? I should be fine. ”

“Still, I get it if you want to bow out.”

“Not a chance,” Caroline declared firmly, offering Elena her first smile of the afternoon. “Besides, do you know how jealous Courtney will be if I go to this Ball while she’s not even invited?”

Elena’s face broke open in a grin, laughing a little. “Is she the one that-”

“That saw Klaus pick up Rebekah from school that one time and has been thirsting after him ever since? Yep,” Caroline finished for her, eyes widening to show how truly ridiculous she thought her classmate’s crush was. “I mean, objectively, I get it-” Who didn’t? Even Caroline could admit Klaus was hot. Just more in the I-kill-people-and-I-look-good-doing-it kinda way. “-but has she never heard of the phrase don’t judge a book by its cover? Or stranger danger?”

“Clearly not,” Elena mused with a smile, picking up her menu again.

Caroline huffed, leaning down to take another sip of her coke. “And what’s worse,” she continued, talking around her straw, “she said she met one of the other brothers yesterday morning in the town square and will not stop TALKING about it.”

Elena’s brows flickered with confusion. “Elijah?”

Caroline shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. She said he looked our age, maybe a little older. Apparently she-” hear Caroline held up her fingers to make air quotes, “-‘accidentally’ bumped into him and he was totally flirting with her, and then they shared this ‘moment’-” Elena opened her mouth, no doubt to ask what Courtney meant by ‘moment’ but Caroline had already lived through Courtney’s nauseating retelling of their make out session against the wall of the Grill and she was not repeating it. “-don’t even ask - where she pointed out he had a bit of ketchup smeared on the edge of his mouth.”

When Caroline stopped talking, staring at Elena, clearly waiting for a reaction, her friend blinked, looking lost.

“So?”

“So?” Caroline echoed, throwing her hands out in frustration. “Elena, it clearly wasn’t ketchup.”

Elena’s eyes widened in realisation. “You think it was blood.”

“That family? With their record?” Caroline scoffed, leaning back with her head held high. “I know it was blood.”

“Kol’s not one for table manners, I’m afraid,” Rebekah announced, joining their conversation. Caroline flinched a little at her sudden appearance behind her - why was it, she could be so loud in those heels when she walked away but so silent when sneaking up behind them? Dramatic bitch.

“Were you listening in?” she asked to hide her unease. “Creeper.”

Rebekah shot her a smile that was all fake pleasantries and masked murderous intent. “Only when you started gossiping about the bachelorhood of my brothers.” She tilted her head, eyes raking over Caroline, silently judging her. “To think I once respected your taste in men.”

“Hey,” Caroline spat, jabbing a finger in the Original vampire’s direction, “Courtney is the one gossiping, not me.”

Rebekah’s nose scrunched up with disgust, familiar with their dark-haired classmate who was a particular breed of rich who thought every new trend was the height of social status. At the moment, the girl was on some vegan diet she’d found on a guy’s blog and bragging about the advantages of goat yoga.

“Kol was flirting with Courtney? I very much doubt that.”

Caroline sent her most saccharine smile back, the one that was all politeness but said in my head, I’m stabbing you in the eye with a hot poker. “Maybe your brother’s just shallow, like you.”

Rebekah’s face dropped, lips twisting into a sneer.

Elena awkwardly cleared her throat, shooting Caroline a warning glare. “Kol? That’s his name, then? Your brother?” she asked Rebekah, diverting her deadly attention from Caroline.

When Caroline didn’t back down, merely raising her chin higher in challenge, something relented in Rebekah’s eyes and slowly, she turned to Elena, even though she glanced back at Caroline with a contemplative look on her face from time to time.

“Finn’s the eldest. Kol though, he’s younger than Klaus. Older than me. I’m sure you’ll meet them both soon, or Kol will eat you,” she said with a smile at Elena, turning to walk away, this time to leave the Grill, heels clicking behind her. “Whichever comes first, he’s not one to play by my mother’s rules.”

“Elijah won’t stand for it!” Elena shouted after her, as determined as Caroline to get in the last word.

Neither saw Rebekah’s smirk.

“As long as Kol isn’t setting the house fire,” she called back over her shoulder, “I doubt my dear older brother will care.”

#klaroline wip wed #klaroline #klaus x caroline #fanfiction #klaroline fanfiction #the big bad wolf #morningstar writes #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #kol's sneaking into scenes again #he's a menace

33 notes · View notes

sp4rrowdoll · 10 months

Note

Robin having a particularly rough day and taking out his frustrations and anger out on pc through sex ? :3

I'm so sorry for the late response anon! Hopefully this makes up for the wait!! (Title taken from "Cherry Lip (Go Baby Go)" by Garbage, which is 110% a Robin song.)

the hysterical realm

m!Robin/f!Reader; read on ao3 here

Robin is an angry crier.

He always has been, ever since you were little. You used to tease him, just to see him cry, his eyes filling up with frustrated tears. He’s also a pretty crier, and you lean up to lick the salt off his cheek as he presses you down into the bed, tearing at your clothes. He’s too angry to do much more than paw at the buttons on your blouse, and if your hands weren’t pinned above your head, you might have tried to help him.

His face twists, and one of his hands wraps around your throat—he’s not mad at you, not really, but seeing him like this at all sends a fission of heat up your spine. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to make him mad enough to get like this by yourself.

In the meantime, you’ll settle for blowing him off, letting him walk home alone, and hoping that this town will be good to you in the only way it knows how.

“Stop that.” He punctuates his statement by squeezing your neck lightly. His nails, always well-kept and smoothly shaped, scrape at the sides of your throat. Robin releases your wrist, and settles back to working on undoing your blouse. His crying has smeared mascara around his pretty eyes, and his eyelashes stick together in the most alluring way.

It’s more commanding than he ever lets himself be in bed. Your hips rock up futilely, and you try and decide whether it’d be worth it to rile him up more. Insults and half-finished humiliating phrases loop over your tongue and sit between your teeth. You hold your tongue, and press into his hand on your throat instead, knuckles turning white as you grip the headboard.

“Stop what?” you ask, and smile like your tongue hadn’t swiped over his cheek only a moment before. His hand tightens on your throat, and he stops trying to unbutton your blouse, and just rips it open, scattering buttons across the floor. You watch dispassionately. A shirt or two is an easy sacrifice to make in order to see Robin this way. Luckily for you, your bra hooks in the front, which makes it easy enough to remove that it shouldn’t be a problem. He scratches at you as he unclips it—much like your shirt, he doesn’t bother trying to pull it off all the way, just shoving the cups out from under your breasts, letting them spill free.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t play with me,” he replies, and he even sounds different like this. His voice is deeper. Huskier. There’s an edge to it. If you couldn’t see the way his pulse jumps in his throat when he tries to intimidate you like this, you could even be convinced that he’s a different person entirely.

His lips lower to your throat. You wonder if he’s leaving lipstick stains behind again. Sharp little nips, brief deliciously painful flickers of teeth, trace a line down your neck towards where his left hand is still squeezing, as his right hand begins to work on your trousers.

You’d started wearing this particular style of pant because the long line of buttons were tough to undo in the heat of the moment, and Robin seems to be finding that fact especially frustrating right now, because instead of trying to get your pants off, he sits upright again and slides forward, his hips slipping over yours, traveling further up your body. His faintly-muscled thighs press against either side of your ribs. Your breaths are coming in short, tiny gasps, and the hand around your throat twitches with every quiet noise you make, his nails biting into your skin.

His own pants had long been undone, though not removed, and his hard cock sits hot and heavy at the juncture between your breasts. Precum wets the soft swells at the base of your chest, and his hips twitch forward, smearing it across your skin.

“Robin,” you whine, writhing beneath him. One of your hands lifts from the headboard, only for him to slam it back down. You let him pretend he’s strong enough to keep you there, and stop struggling a bit. He leans down so his lips rest against your ear. You can feel the angry heat radiating off his face. You decide to beg anyway. “Please, Robin, I need you.”

“Aw.” He’s not smiling, but the bared, gritted, teeth could probably be mistaken for one. “I wish you’d been good enough for that.”

With that, his hips thrust forward, bouncing your breasts around his cock, and his hand finally lifts from your throat to pull them tighter around him as he fucks between them in earnest. His rhythm is sharp and stuttering, just like him in the heat of his anger—your breasts are pressed tightly enough together now that you can feel every contour and pulsing vein along the length of his cock.

Robin snaps his hips against your chest, and his hand squeezes your wrists. You cannot look away from where his dick disappears between your breasts. For a moment you mourn that between the size of your breasts—they’d been so sore recently, and you could swear that they were getting bigger—and the size of his cock you couldn’t wrap your mouth around his tip on the apex of his harsh thrusts.

He groans, and his hand leaves your breasts to tangle in your hair. His thrusting speeds up, and he begins to pull at your hair for additional leverage—your breasts ache as they heave against his movements.

There’s no fanfare when he finally comes—he bends low and grabs your face, pulling you into a messy kiss, from anyone but Robin, you’d probably class it as a bite—and thick ropes of cum splatter across your chest and up to paint the base of your throat. He shudders there for a moment, before pulling away.

There is a rare look in his eyes as he looks down at you. It’s a little possessive, a little dark, and his brows are still drawn and furrowed. Tears linger in the corner of his eyes still. His lipstick is hopeless smudged around his lips, and the skin under his eyes is dark with ruined mascara.

One finger slides down the length of your reddened throat, and lingers in the pool of cooling cum between your collarbones. The nail bites into your skin. It digs in. You exhale, and your eyes flutter closed.

And then he’s gone.

The door of your room slams shut as he leaves. As soon as it does, you hastily shove one hand down your pants and crook it up into your soaking wet core. Your fingers rub with the rhythm you’d memorized from the thrust of Robin’s hips, and before you know it, you’re on the path to tip over the brink and follow him into orgasm.

Later you’ll clean up the sticky mess that’s drying on your chest with the wet wipes next to the lube in your bedside table, and stretch out the soreness in your shoulders from holding your hands above your head for so long. Later you’ll grab some water, and test the muscles in your throat, and when you’re convinced that you look—not normal, because you know that normal for you exists in the peaks of pleasure, of cleaning up only to get mussed up minutes later, so not normal, but instead less debauched—and later you’ll follow him next door.

Robin will be crying again, and it will be as pretty as ever, but this time it will be in remorse, and maybe that’s one of the best things about riling him up like this. Because whenever anyone else uses your body like this, they don’t bother to apologize, don’t bother to feel dirty and wrong, don’t carve out space for you-as-person after they finish thrusting into you and leave. But Robin does—and his guilt makes a delicious chaser to a hard-won fight-fuck-orgasm. It’s the closest thing to power that you ever let yourself experience.

So later you’ll follow him out of your room and into his, and you’ll take your prized place in his bed, and curl close around his back, fitting into him like he can somehow manage to slot all of your missing pieces back into place.

But for now, your fingers work, and pleasure sparks as you imagine the furious look in Robin’s eyes from only moments before—you can’t help yourself. He’s just so much fun when he’s mad.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol robin #robin the orphan #m!robin #f!reader #sp4rrow-writes #angry crying Robin w/ mascara and lipstick got me 😳#the idea of robin wearing lipstick and mascara in general....h o t #also pls ask me about my Robin playlist i spent so much time on it

91 notes · View notes

pochipop · 1 year

Text

＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — A COLLECTION OF MOIRA DRABBLES (VOL. 1).

#. synopsis! — a small collection of x reader drabbles with moira featuring a different plot/instance in each .

#. characters! — moira .

#. warnings! — very brief mentions of alcohol consumption .

#. word count! — 3.2k (roughly 700 words each) .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#1. Easing her down when she's stressed in the lab.

Moira isn't the type to let stressors get the better of her, but on the rare occasions that they do, she's accustomed to riding it out alone. You're not keen on that, however, and when you find her sitting at her desk with a bottle of whiskey, shot glass forlorn in lieu of taking swigs straight from the bottle, you're quick to step in and offer her a safe haven to vent her frustrations.

With her hair unstyled, falling over her forehead in clumsy tufts pulled loose from the continuous rakings of her lithe fingers through the strands, her lab coat has been discarded on the floor at her feet. The white dress shirt she wears underneath is crinkled and the first two buttons are undone, offering you the slimmest of viewings to her collarbones and the tippy top of her cleavage. It's nothing you haven't seen before as her lover, —but you recognize her allure in a new light in that moment nonetheless.

"Stressed?" You ask, voice nearly a purr as you lean down to rest the bottom of your chin against her warm shoulder.

"Utterly,” she answers, a frustrated edge clinging to her tone as she leans back farther, —leans into you as if searching for comfort that she’s too proud to ask for.

“Another one of my projects has been delayed due to ‘ethical concerns,’” Moira continues mockingly, “—it’s doing my head in.”

You hum in acknowledgement, craning your neck to press a few peppered kisses to hers, nearly cracking a smile against her skin the moment she bares it further, silently begging for more. She’s a clear and concise woman in every sense, —even when words fail her.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” You inquire, mumbling just below her ear.

On a practical level, you know there isn’t. You're far from being a figure with enough persuasive power to bend the will of the higher-ups in one direction or another. If Moira hasn’t been able to shift them to her side on this, your attempts would be nothing more than fruitless, and maybe even annoying, putting an even worse damper on your lover’s already sour mood.

“It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with,” she answers bluntly, —but you’re used to it.

She didn’t phrase it that way to hurt you, it’s just who she is. Beating around the bush isn’t her style, and it may seem abrasive at times, but at the end of the day it’s good to know you have someone in your corner who wouldn’t mince words even if it meant protecting your feelings from bitter truths.

You let your lips travel to her jaw, and she makes no move to stop you. Moira closes her eyes, lets you tend to her, —lets you kiss away all the frustration and anger until she’s all but subdued under your affection. She normally prefers things like this in smaller doses, or at the very least in proper privacy, but the lab has been quiet for some time now and it’s edging on two in the morning, so it’s a low risk situation all things considered.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you tell her, reaching out to take the whiskey from her desk.

Moira doesn’t argue. You’re likely the only person on the face of the planet that could get away with something like that, and you’re clearly keen on abusing that power. She’s not sure she’d argue much about that either, though.

“No good’ll come from you sitting around the lab like this,” you add. “It’s late. Let’s turn in for the night, yeah?”

You put the whiskey up with the other bottles she has stored away, glancing back at her to gauge her reaction. She closes her eyes for a moment, looking so ethereal in the dim light that pours in from the hallway. It makes your heart shiver.

“I suppose you’re right,” she finally decides.

#2. (Blackwatch) Moira returning from a mission and subtly showing how much she missed you.

It’s not a matter of capability or prowess. You know Moira can survive just about anything, —she’s intelligent, has a solid grasp on her surroundings at all times, and her skills in battle have only improved the longer she’s been called to go on missions. Still. . . There’s always a period of anxiety that comes with her absence. Her typical appearance in the hidden labs does not go unaccounted for, and while others do their best to struggle along without her there to guide them, you often find yourself stuck, worrying far too much about her for your own good.

It always ends the same. She comes home after all is said and done, and when she does, she leaves whatever happened in the past. Her wounds heal swiftly enough, and you do your best to ignore the way they mar her skin until they finally go away.

You heard whispers of the team’s return soon after they arrived. With such a small base in comparison to others, word always travels fast. You’re the first one at the door, fiddling anxiously with your fingers as the few Blackwatch soldiers spill in with tiredness practically eating away at their bones. It’s been twelve days, seven hours, and some change since you last saw Moira. . . And now that clock can reset itself to zero.

She stands tall and beautiful amongst her comrades, her bright hair and formidable height placing her a cut above the rest. You stare at her with relief written all over your face, and she finally lets herself glance about the room. Only a select few have gathered to see the Blackwatch unit’s return, with you clearly being one of them.

Your colleagues have stopped questioning it. Some have likely caught on that you and Moira are more than simple friends, while others don’t care enough to look deeper. Really, you’re thankful for the sense of freedom it allows you to care for her so openly, —even if she isn’t always fond of the way you look at her as if you were sure you were going to lose her eventually.

When everyone else has gone on their way, you scamper over to her.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” you say, heart thundering so loud you’re scared she can hear it as she stands before you.

Her eyes are softer when they gaze at you.

“I told you I would be,” she replies simply.

God. . . You hate that uniform because when she puts it on, you know she’s going away for awhile, —but she looks so dignified in it that it’s hard not to like it.

“I’ve told you before, stop worrying so much when I’m gone,” she reminds you. “I can take care of myself, if that isn’t obvious.”

“I know you can,” you answer, “—but it’s hard not to worry when it comes to you. I don’t know what happens out there, and it. . .”

You find yourself trailing off, but Moira understands the concern. Obviously, she isn’t fond of going out on missions herself, but they fill her less with dread that she may get injured and more with frustration that she’s being pulled away from her work (and from you.)

“In any case, I’m here now,” she says. “So let’s not dwell on things that are already said and done.”

It’s impossible to deny her that when she reaches out, cupping your plush cheek in her hand. You can feel that her palm is callused from the mission, and you’ll be keen on looking her over in just a little while, —but for now you allow yourself the simple pleasure of leaning into her warmth for the first time in just shy of two weeks. The sweet slide of her lips against yours is quick and subtle, but you welcome it as well, pouring everything you can muster into a single action.

#3. Spending a late night with Moira in the lab doing more than just working.

Nights like this are few and far between, but you savor them like a sweet, decadent confectionary when they swing around. The lab is eerily silent aside from the sounds of Moira shuffling about, rifling through papers she’s seen no less than thirty times in the last twenty-five minutes. She tosses them to the side with a bored sigh, her eyes scanning her surroundings for something to keep her entertained whilst the waiting game of science runs its course.

She finds herself staring at you, —her cute little assistant that asks “how high?” when she demands you jump. You’re diligent and loyal, always on time, always keen on staying late even when it isn’t necessary. She likes that you do things without being prompted, like bringing her coffee in the mornings and leaving snacks on her desk when you think she isn’t looking but you know she hasn’t taken a break to eat all day. You’re thoughtful and quite good at your job, which makes you far too easy to like in her book.

“Y/n,” she says, watching as your head turns her way so quickly, —like you’d been waiting for her to call your name all night.

“Come here for a moment,” she beckons.

You do as you’re told, scuttling across the lab to make her acquaintance. Moira finds herself amused by the space you leave between yourself and her, reaching out with a single hand to tug you closer. She can read you like a book as you stare up at her, —eyes so innocent and naive. Like a little rabbit festering under the heavy paw of some big, bad wolf.

“You’re quite pretty,” she says, moving her hand up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

Though your eyes widen in surprise at the compliment, you quickly thank her, forcing your gaze down to her knees to avoid looking at her face.

You’re just so easy to fluster, —so easy to ruffle the feathers of. It’s hard not to do so at times like this, so Moira has decidedly stopped trying to hold herself back. And really, you don’t want her to. Whatever is going on between the two of you, you actually quite like it. She’s different with you than she is with others, giving you more leeway to speak your mind and be honest with her. She gives you leeway in other manners as well. . .

Like this way.

She pins you to the large filing cabinet, caging you in with her long, slender limbs. You struggle to hold her intense gaze as she peers down at you, as if assessing you for something. When you’re in the lab together, —she’s not your lover, she’s not your friend. In the lab, Moira is your superior, the one who commands you about with sharp precision and high expectations. But sometimes, she lets that dynamic falter ever so slightly, and she indulges herself in the little sounds of surprise you utter when she kisses you, lips capturing yours as you let your head tilt up to meet her.

It doesn’t last long. It never does. Still, the way her lips linger just above yours, almost kissing you but not quite, leaves your head spinning. You feel the soft tuft of amused breath she lets out ghost against your cheek before she stands herself upright and lets her arms fall to her sides again.

“Thank you,” she says, much too casual sounding for what just happened, “—that’ll be all.”

#4. Spending an early morning with Moira after a pleasant night together.

Moira has always preferred her coffee dark, bitter, and piping hot. Since mornings with you have become more common these days, however, she’s gone out of her way to stock up on various additives. Vanilla creamer that she’s never personally touched and hasn’t the slightest interest in, —but you use it nearly every time you’re around for morning coffee, so she’s sure to keep it on hand, along with some heart-shaped sugar cubes that you’ve never questioned, but always grin at when you slip them into your drink. You’re sure she’d brush it off, —telling you they were on sale, or maybe that they had higher quality ingredients compared to the simple squares.

Really, she just thought you’d like them. And she was right, for the record!

She’s always up before you and seldom lingers around in bed until you rise. Moira likes early starts, likes to get her brain going the moment her eyes slit open in order to maximize her workflow throughout the course of the day. Her internal clock might as well be as reliable as any other, and you’re often in awe of her propensity to will herself from under the covers the moment she stirs from sleep.

Although, you must admit it gets a bit cold without her.

Still, even when Moira chooses to get herself up and ready for the day while you lay in bed for a bit of extra slumber, —she thinks of you. She sets your mug on the counter and fills it just past the middle mark, knowing that filling it too high wouldn’t leave appropriate space for all the extra stuff you just love to toss in, minimizing the bitterness. She can’t say she really understands it, but it’s your preference, and she’s simply learned to accept that without wondering too much about it.

When you stumble in from the bedroom, she follows you with her gaze as it peers over the rim of her coffee mug. She always looks so attractive in the mornings, —her hair a bit messy from lack of styling, her shirts half done-up. . . You love her in any form she takes on, but this is definitely one to behold. Best of all, she doesn’t mind if you stare (and you tend to take full advantage of that.)

“Good morning,” she greets you with the slightest hint of amusement lacing through her tone.

Afterglow looks good on you, but mornings aren’t really your thing.

“Morning,” you mumble, eyes still half-lidded as you go through the motions, —adding to your coffee until the deep brown turns to a lighter beige.

All the while, Moira watches you with a curious gaze until you find yourself slipping in next to her, searching for the warmth she’d taken from you not long ago when she’d stowed herself away from the bed. Her bed, technically, but you sleep in it so often that it might as well be yours too.

She sits her coffee down now, half-gone but still quite scalding (impossible to drink for anyone but her, really.) Her long arms encircle your middle as you let yourself sink into her. Moira isn’t really the romantic nor domestic type, but little moments like this are enough for you. In her brief stints of softness, you often find a sense of fleeting solitude that only feels good in the small doses she offers every now and again.

“You should drink up,” she notes, glancing down at the coffee mug you’re holding in your hands and close to your chest just to feel the warmth of the liquid inside seep into your palms. “We’ve got a long day at the lab ahead of us.” Don’t remind me, you think to yourself, —but you don’t say it. That’s just the drowsiness talking. You like being in the lab, albeit nowhere near as much as Moira, and in the end, once you find your rhythm, everything will be fine. For the time being, however, you simply hum in acknowledgment and lean your head against your lover, resting your eyes for a bit. She lets herself smile, pressing her lips to your temple.

#5. Attending a banquet with Moira as her plus one.

Moira isn’t much fond of events like this. She thinks they’re much more hassle than they’re worth, and exchanging pleasantries with others has never been her strong suit. Even so, after being strongly advised to not skimp out this go around, she finally decided to give in and show up, though she doubted it would offer he anything useful. At the very least, she was hoping to get her hands on some wine to leg around with her for the night.

Her extended invitation for you to accompany her was less of a request and more of an assumption that you’d simply be attending as her lover. Because she was known to be very private in regard to her life outside the laboratory, that came as a surprise to you. Moira, on the other hand, was more shocked that you hadn’t been expecting it.

Nevertheless, you swiftly took her up on it. Debuting yourself as her partner was certain to cause a stir about the lab, but the thought of it was almost exciting. You’d never had the opportunity to show Moira off before since she wasn’t keen on public displays of affection or even revealing the details of your relationship to others. And that was fine, for the most part. . . But you had to admit, there were points where it would have been nice to tell the world about your feelings. More than that, you were quite proud to have captured the heart of someone like her. It was no easy task, after all.

“It seems you’re quite popular,” Moira notes, taking a sip of her drink.

The red lipstick she’s wearing stains the rim of the pristine glass as her grip around your waist tightens a bit, pulling you closer to her.

“I don’t think anyone here is looking at me,” you snicker. “You’re the one everyone is scouting for. I’m sure almost anyone in the room would give an arm and a leg to work with you.”

It’s not as if she’s hard on the eyes, either. For what it’s worth, Moira in a suit is an exquisite sight, —the way her long, slender body is accentuated by her black jacket and tight-fitting dress pants. . . Ah, you’ve been trying not to stare too much in public, but it’s hard not to when she looks like that.

She goes through the motions, becoming less passive as the minutes go by. You can tell by the way her tone evens out to a blunt, jagged edge that she’s already sick of this and would rather be anywhere else. She’s on her third glass of wine by the time word of her presence has spread like wildfire throughout the banquet, and with it, your attendance by her side. Moira’s tuned herself out, refusing to let her mind be riddled by the voices of those that pass her by, —but you catch wind of curious murmurings, ones that question ‘When did Doctor O’Deorain get a lover?’

A part of you finds it exciting, even though it’s quite embarrassing to be the topic of conversation. Strangers throw glances your way, as if assessing you for signs of having been bribed or persuaded. . . You acknowledge it is still a bit jarring to know you’re with Moira like this, but these people are definitely taking this to another (unnecessary) level.

“They’re staring because you’re beautiful,” Moira whispers suddenly, having picked up on your apprehension a bit ago and finally deciding to say something in hopes of whittling it down.

That’s not the reason. At least, that’s not all it is. But you can’t find the will to argue against her when she’s being so kind. Instead, you offer her a gentle smile and take a sip of the wine you’ve been nursing for a while now. This definitely isn’t the environment for either of you, —but being here with Moira makes it all a lot less intimidating.

228 notes · View notes

wanderingwriter87 · 9 months

Text

untitled ficlet

Garak's fingers twitched over the holographic keyboard. There were already two versions of the message in his drafts, both of which now felt unnecessarily combative. He knew he should just leave it alone. They would talk in the morning - Julian's anger burned hot and quick, and he'd be in a better mood by then.

They had simply gotten off on the wrong foot today. Garak still struggled to judge when he had crossed the line between playful banter and an actual argument, the kind that humans tend to take personally. But no, of course that wasn't entirely it. He'd known from the beginning this was personal.

What he hadn't expected was to take it so personally himself.

He regretted it - all of it, even the innocuous things he'd said that led to this. He regretted how, when it turned ugly, he'd let it slip that he had broken into Julian's private comms before to delete messages that he thought better of sending, before they could be seen.

Of course Julian had always known, had said as much, but the fact that Garak brought it up gave him the opportunity to mention it, with a good bit of pent-up frustration behind it.

Betrayed my trust.

That was the phrase he used. And certainly he had every right to - and he hadn't intended the visceral reaction from Garak. Of course he didn't. How could he have known?

Certainly, coming from anyone else, Garak likely could have brushed it off. He had before. The Kardasi word for betrayed (which the UT had helpfully chimed in with) certainly got a lot of use, and there was really no reason for him to fixate on the one person in his life who had said it more than anyone else.

And in his mind, his own pathetic response echoed:

I never betrayed you! Not in my heart!

But Julian, of course, didn't know. With his human sensibilities and his Federaji optimism, how could he? He had only met Enabran Tain once (and that was one time too many, quite frankly) and he was never going to understand the complexities of that relationship. What betrayed my trust meant to a man like Tain. What it meant to Garak, dragging him back to the first moment of his exile as surely as a temporal anomaly.

Garak stood up from the console abruptly and walked to the viewport. The little stabs of pain behind his eye, the headache that was probably to blame for his state of mind in the first place, throbbed a little harder.

What he wouldn't give to breathe fresh air tonight.

He imagined explaining it to Julian (horrifying!) and couldn't decide which outcome would be worse - a rush of sympathy, or indifference. After all, the intent of his words was to hurt, and he'd certainly accomplished that.

No, not to hurt. To correct your behavior. That was Mila's voice, and he was biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

He went back to the console and wrote it all out - not the exact truth, of course, but something like it. Then, line by line, he deleted it all.

Just for good measure, he went in and deleted the other two drafts as well. There was simply no telling what kind of technical glitch this place might experience that would send them off to Julian in six months when all of this would be forgotten.

It occurred to him that maybe Julian wouldn't be apologetic or indifferent, but perhaps offended at the implicit comparison. Of course Julian was nothing like Tain, in anything but perhaps the level of devotion he inspired. But that, too, was better left unsaid.

Garak stood again, locked the console, and went to his bookshelf. He had a few paper books still, precious stowaways from a former life, but most of them were on PADDs and datarods. And now, after years of exchanging literature with Julian, every single one of them bore some memory or association with him. No, there was no escape to be had there.

A game of kotra against the computer - no, in addition to being thoroughly uninspiring, he would only be able to think of Julian across the table frowning in delightful concentration at his pieces.

Somehow the doctor had become entwined with every part of his life, and it was far too late to attempt untangling it - even if he'd wanted to.

He laid down then, on top of the blankets, head flat on the mattress and eyes staring widely at the dull red lights on the ceiling. His head ached. His heart ached. This was the price he paid for letting someone in so close, close enough to really hurt.

For Julian, he'd pay it. Again, and again, and again.

#angst #my fic

53 notes · View notes

communist-ojou-sama · 1 year

Text

Since I’ve had a few drinks in me and I’m feeling a little talkative, I feel like I’ve finally arrived at an opinion on AI art after a long period of not saying anything.

Ofc, necessary context is that while I’m someone who spends a lot of time looking at fanart, I’m not a visual artist but also as someone really involved in another fine art (classical music) I think I understand the feelings that go into developing the technique a lot of illustrators have more than some of the other commentators on this site.

Of course the thing to get at right away is that, good news for everyone, most AI art done in the style of popular online illustration is quite bad and I’m not sure it’ll be possible to cajole it into being good, just as I’m not really very worried about LLM translations as a jp-en translator because, having done some work with them I’ve concluded that they’ll never be particularly capable of translating the kind of conversational Japanese I specialize in, and that perhaps the fears of AI art greatly disrupting the sort of twitter/patreon illustration ecosystem were pretty overblown, but that there’s more to the issue than that.

Anyway what I’m getting at here is that while obviously, the moral character of AI art doesn’t matter: it’s here to stay and we’re gonna have to deal with it one way or another, to bemoan backlash from visual artists and accuse them, essentially, of close-mindedness is just as silly as the most extreme anti-AI art positions that I’ve seen given voice.

I often hear from people trying to give a reasonable perspective on the matter that the vitriol from more traditional illustrators toward these programs is unfounded because all it does is take in images as training data, recombine them via a certain process, and then produce something new based on that data and, when abstracted like that, isn’t that really just what a human learning to draw looks like?

Well, this is the problem with abstraction, isn’t it? “a certain process” here is a phrase doing a very heavy amount of work, equating matrix multiplication with years of admiring, yearning, frustration, breakthrough, sacrifice, self-discovery, that is abstracted away by pretensions toward “reasonability.”

However rational it may be, the vitriol from the community of illustrators who put their blood, sweat, and tears into being able to make art that’s pleasant to look at is better understood as an elemental force, an inevitable result of attempts by these financialized, extractive tech interests to use them as a mineable resource, and I don’t think you have the right to try to get an word in edge-wise about the “rationality” of replacing copy-writers with ChatGPT which does their job 20% shittier, repeated exponentially over some heretofore-unseen period: the anger is here and won’t be reasoned away, it’s the inevitable and unavoidable response to our social and historical moment, and presuming to reason with it is much like presuming to reason with a geyser imo

57 notes · View notes

2a8n · 9 months

Text

Shirogane's dream

I wanted to speculate a bit about Shirogane's dream shown to us in the Ice Scream Original (Round 2), since some of the moments shown will either be redone in the Ice Scream Remake or confirmed in it. And according to the old tradition, I write in advance: "Sorry for the quality", because some screenshots might not turn out in the best quality, but I tried to make them at least better than my previous such screenshots. Well, let's get started!

It all starts with showing the ceiling in one of the rooms of the Ice Cavern and our depressive wolf lying on the bench there. Personally, I would be very scared to be there simply because I would be constantly afraid of one of the icicles falling from the ceiling on me. At the same time, Shirogane can easily be in this pleace, and even more so lie and sleep on the bench there. The other one who was there was a bunny, and that's to arrange a GAME OVER player on the screen.

Next, we are shown the dream itself. It starts all this confusion Suno-san jumping into the middle of the white space like a bunny. At the same time, in Round 3 we will be shown that he can teleport, and also when showing his moving game sprite, we can see a movement that looks more like crawling, but not like a jump. I don't know if this snowman is really capable of moving in as many as 3 distinct ways, or if Suno-san's jumping in this dream is just Shiro's own fantasy.

Note that in Shirogane's dream, squid tentacles appear, a flower dancing at night in the Peraco house, bunnies, and Nekoyama. This tells us that Shiro saw/met all of these things/characters, which is confirmed by the following: 1) In the Remake, Shirogane lies on the snow and sees a Squid, whose tentacles stick out of the water surface; 2) A similar flower stands next to the television in Peraco's house, but it differs from the flower shown in the dream in the absence of a leaf and a thinner stem; 3) There is no need to talk much about bunnies - they can often be seen on Iceberg Isle (as well as Rock running from anger, probably…); 4) And finally, Nekoyama - our cameo from Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea. He can be found in Round 2 delivering cigarettes to Orca. As a result, it can be assumed that the rest of what is shown is also familiar to Shirogane. And this makes me wary:

if our wolf could see a simple fish in the same fishing buckets of Rock, then to consider the moon-fish or those white squids, he would have to dive straight into the water, most likely;

Tori-san can be either a simple easter egg (remember Tori-san's toy in Rocma's house), or a frozen Tori-san that Shirogane once saw;

has Shiro met the Mogekoels? I hope they didn't try to hit him with their arrows while doing so…

the head of a huge white "something" with an outstretched tongue raises many questions in me. Is there a possibility that this is the head of a huge turtle, on which a huge glacier has frozen and, thus, having formed Iceberg Isle, it swims in the northern latitudes, preventing the isle from melting and the inhabitants on its back from dying?

It doesn't surprise me that the phrase "Bad doggy" and Suno-san appear here. I'm more surprise why he uses the parachute of Mogekov Hashasky and… bees on a background.

If there are good Japanese translators with good eyesight, please translate the symbols on the background. I will be very grateful for this. ( v _ v )

Here you can see Peraco's name-calling towards Shiro. I don't know what else to add here.

What did I ever even do? It is this question that our wolf asks when once again the hot-tempered penguin, familiar to all of us, takes out his frustration or anger on him.

Fall - it is unclear only, emotional and/or physical.

Shirogane managed to be a wolf, and a dog, and a bunny, and even a caterpillar in his and others' fantasies. It remains only him managed to be happy in real and then his life was a success! =D

It is noteworthy that the snowman appears here only on the red background. Neither he nor Shiro can be seen on the black background. Because of this, I get the impression (or maybe it's an attempt to convey the impression of the wolf himself) that the talking pissed snow is stalking him and/or watching him quite often…

youtube

That's it for now. Yeah, there are some monologues to Shirogane that were later moved to Watch 1 of the Remake, but I want to give them time in a separate post. I will also pin here a video with this very dream from the official DSP channel and a walkthrough of one of the youtubers with this very fragment of the dream game (9:36 - 10:33) in case you yourself want to disassemble it. Until then, see you soon! ;)

43 notes · View notes

here4kpopfics · 2 years

Text

Moaning On Stream

Pairing: Gamer!Seokjin x reader

Genre: smut, humor, a literal dash of fluff

AU: Established Relationship.

Wordcount: 2,330

Summary: You just want to sleep in a little bit longer, but your boyfriend has decided to play a frustratingly difficult game on stream. However, his frustration sounds a lot similar to something else...

Warnings: Language. Oral (M receiving). Is gagging a warning? Allusions to oral (f. receiving) and other sexual acts.

Rating: M / 18+

AN: We all saw it. We all heard it. Why Jin decided to play a frustratingly difficult game on vlive while giving us a very good idea of how he sounds in bed is beyond me. But I am forever thankful for him doing it. Thank you to the beautiful @btsgotjams27 for beta-reading my quick moment of weakness. Sorry for the horrific last minute header. Just needed to include that face.

and as usual, please leave feedback. Either with a reblog or send me an ask. It’s greatly appreciated. 💜

Masterlist

You just want to sleep in a little bit longer. You had a long day yesterday, a great day actually, but a long day nonetheless. And all you want to do is sleep past nine in the morning, lounge around a bit with your boyfriend, and maybe have brunch later. After that, you can be a grown-up and focus on your responsibilities.

But it’s eight am and you’re abruptly woken up by obnoxious screaming coming from the room over. You throw one of the firmer pillows at it, hoping your boyfriend would hear the light thump and take it as a warning. But the pillow barely hits. You roll onto your stomach, shoving your pillow over your head, and let your anger out into the mattress.

You grab your phone to make sure he’s actually streaming before busting in there half-naked to yell at him. He is, which means you have to wait to unleash violence. You let the stream play, watching him play the game you showed him yesterday. He’s not good at it, hence the yelling. He’s trying to form actual sentences and have a real conversation with his audience, but every time, his sentences are interrupted by him chanting “hup hup hup” among other phrases. The problem comes when he’s almost at the top of an area and he moans. Fully moans on stream. And suddenly you’re wide awake and no longer angry. What on earth is he doing moaning on his stream?!

You give it another twenty minutes until he screams at the top of his lungs again, moaning out “stop stop stop, please stop,” as his character falls to the very beginning of the game. You throw the blankets off your body and bring your phone with you as you stomp off to his office, quietly opening the door so the mic doesn’t pick up any clue that he’s not alone. While you’re trying to be subtle about your entry, Jin couldn’t be more obvious as his head lifts to meet your eyes, a little panicked. He turns back to the game, actively not swinging the hammer correctly so his character falls again, and he gets up in feigned anger, muting the stream as he leaves the camera frame.

“Jagi, what are you doing here? I’m streaming.” He lightly gestures to his desk as if you were an oblivious fool.

“I was sleeping. Because it’s eight in the morning.” Your eyes narrow at him. “And I’m well aware of you streaming in your pajamas and moaning on stream, Jin.”

“I’m not moaning!”

“Yes, you are. You’ve been doing it for half an hour.”

“I didn’t moan though? I’m just angry, this game is hard.”

You roll your eyes “Which is why I told you you shouldn’t play it.” You move to sit on the couch in his office that’s off camera. You bring his stream back up on your phone, silencing it. “Moan again, and watch what happens.” You send him a threatening glare and he moves back to his desk, confused.

He resumes the stream saying he just needed to “walk off the frustration so I don’t swear on stream”. You roll your eyes, you know his fanbase would lose their minds if he said any bad words. But he made the decision to be “family-friendly” and you were about to test how family-friendly he could be as soon as he moans again in

3…

2…

1…

“Ooohhhh! Why why why why?! Wha ahhhhhhhh,” He screams, spewing various words of frustration at mach 7. You roll your eyes. That’s literally how you sound when you come. You argue with Jin in your mind. You noticed the delay between real-time and the stream time is only like two or three seconds. You get up, sighing and ignoring Jin’s glance at you as you stand behind his camera, phone still in hand. You finally lift your eyes to meet his wide eyes and smirk as you drop down to your hands and knees, crawling underneath his desk. He knows what’s about to happen and instinctively scoots his chair forward, and brings it down a little so nothing can be seen on camera.

You sit on your knees and shins, feet tucked under your ass that’s only protected by your boyfriend’s boxer briefs that you stole. You wait for him to resume his stream, setting your phone down on the floor next to you so you can see him on stream, talking with his viewers and trying to get through the game, waiting for him to fail. As you wait, you slowly run your hands up his legs and back down, every time you go up, you get closer to his thighs. Once you finally reach the meatiest part of them, he quickly spreads his legs for you. He shifts in his seat as if he’s asking you to get on with it. You respond by digging your nails into his thighs through his pajama pants. He groans, forcing his character down the hill again at the same time to cover up what was really happening.

The second you hear him start to chant about the game again, and you see his character begin to fall, and this time because he actually fucked up, your hand reaches forward and palms him roughly. He lets out a moan between his angry chants and you have to resist the urge to laugh because it’s the same fucking noise he made earlier. You’re literally letting the world know what you sound like when we fuck.

You resume your massaging of his bulge, watching for specific moments in his gameplay to really tease him by pressing harder or tugging gently. Once you feel him growing beneath the layers of clothing, you decide to go a little easier, tapping his hip to signal to him he needs to remove his pants and underwear. He looks over at his other monitor and turns off his camera and mutes his mic. He waits until his stream just shows his gameplay footage and he sees his viewers spamming F in the chat. Once it’s confirmed the camera is off, he quickly backs up the chair so he can lift his hips for you to tug both his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, jagi,” he quickly whispers angrily at you, but you don’t care.

You shrug up at him. “Then don’t moan again. Don’t make a sound except for talking to your chat. Should be easy.” He gawks at you, unsure if he should put a stop to this. But he’s already hard and your mouth is heaven. You lightly tap his leg, “I think your viewers are starting to leave though. Should get back to it, babe.”

He springs forward, scooting his chair back into position under the desk and turning his camera and mic back on, making sure to turn the mic sensitivity down as well so it doesn’t catch too much noise.

“Oh, sorry sorry. I don’t know what happened there. The webcam went down and then the mic. Weird stuff. Seems to be working again now, so let’s get back to it.” He trails off, getting back into streamer mode but keeping in the back of his mind that at any moment you’re going to torture him.

You only have so much patience when it comes to teasing Jin and when it comes to wanting to satisfy him at every moment possible. So you wait only two minutes until you see him get close to the highest part of the game he had gotten to previously. That’s when you decide you can’t wait anymore and gently wrap your hand around the base of his cock. You felt it twitch as well as his entire body do a small jolt. You wait for him to resume, and when he does you slowly twist your hand up his perfect but still growing length, pressing your thumb against his tip.

For the most part, the man you love and love to tease is doing just fine. Actually, he’s doing better at the game because he’s putting all his focus into it and not on your hand’s actions. That won’t do. You pull yourself up enough that your head is a little squished between the chair, his thighs, and the desk above you. But it’s the perfect amount of room to form enough spit, lay your tongue flat against his base, and lick straight up, ending with the tip of your tongue kitten licking his tip.

That’s when you know you’re winning. A small, very faint, groan escapes Jin. He tries to pass it off as being frustrated by the mouse not being at the right sensitivity settings for it. You smile, bringing your hand down to massage his balls as you wrap your mouth around his tip, lightly sucking, licking up the precum that is slowly leaking out. You can hear his breathing get a little harder and since the game only requires the mouse and nothing more, his free hand reaches on the table to twist into your hair with his fingers, gripping and slightly pushing your head down.

You go with his ask, easing your head down to try to take as much of him down your throat. His hips jerk up accidentally, causing his cock to hit the back of your throat which causes you to gag and pull off him only a little as your head hits the underside of the desk. You desperately try to keep quiet and suffer in silence while he prattles on about accidentally hitting his knee. He tries to casually hand you his water bottle, but you push it away, swallowing one last time before getting back to it. You relax your throat enough that you can bring him past your gag reflex and your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

His free hand returns to your hair, a more gentle hold on it as he’s using it more as a precautionary tactic to prevent you from hitting your head again. His grip tightens only slightly when you start to swallow, your throat clenching around the tip and quietly gagging around him. His cock twitches slightly and you know he’s close so you almost pull off him all the way, leaving your mouth open to allow your saliva and his precum to drip down his cock, balls, and slide down to his chair. Giving yourself a second to breathe, you grip both of his thighs, getting into a better position on your knees before you begin bobbing your head up and down, using Jin’s hand as a guide of how high up you can go without making too much noise.

Jin, however, is making plenty of noise. Which should concern you. Why is he moaning loudly, whispering things like “Jagi -ah. Ah- just…just like that. Fuck.” on his stream? Again, you should be concerned. But your desire to please your boyfriend outweighs any rational thinking sometimes so you go for deeper bobs, hesitating at the base to swallow around him.

“Jagi, please. I’m going to come. Where? Where?” Instead of responding, you cease the bobbing and wrap your lips around him, sucking like your life depends on it until he lets out a loud high pitched moan like you heard earlier immediately followed by his cock pulsing in your mouth, shooting spurts of his hot white cream down your throat. You swallow immediately, not wanting a single drop to go to waste, and clean him up with your tongue. It’s only once you feel he’s cleaned up that you realize he was a moaning mess on stream. You look at your phone to see This Stream Has Ended. You crawl out from under the desk, glancing up at his computer to confirm that he did, in fact, end the stream at some point.

“Ya! That wasn’t part of the deal!” You yell from the floor, smacking his thigh.

“I wasn’t going to make it! I admitted defeat! I had to end it before we became one of those couples that make porn together!” He shouts back, rubbing over where you just smacked.

You stay seated on the ground, arms crossed, and pouting. That is until you realize he said he admitted defeat. “So you’re saying you lost? You’re a loser?” you quirk an eyebrow up at him.

He slowly nods, “Yeah…I guess so?”

“Great! You owe me for not being quiet and you owe me for not following through with the deal!” You jump up excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him off his chair that’s a little sticky now. But that’s a later problem. You make him step out of his pants as you lead him out of the room.

You drag him back to your bedroom, kissing him with everything you’ve got until he pulls away. “Wait wait wait. What are we doing? What do I owe you?” he slightly panics as you unbutton his pajama shirt and push him back on the bed, urging him to slide farther up as you remove your underwear.

“First, for failing to not make a noise, I’m going to sit on your face and you’re going to make me come twice.” You announce with a big smile, crawling on top of him and straddling his chest. “Then, you’re going to make me a delicious brunch because I’m starving after sucking your dick. Sound good and fair, loser?” You lean forward, squishing his cheeks in one hand and giving his big pouty lips a light kiss. He nods. “No, babe. You need to say it. You lost.”

“I lost, you won. Two orgasms and brunch, coming up.” You both laugh, lips pressing back together one more time before you move to line your hips up to his face. His big hands are holding onto your thighs as you lower yourself down to him, grinning.

“Get to work, baby.”

Again, feedback is always appreciated 💜

167 notes · View notes

candiid-caniine · 8 months

Text

[cw: infidelity, mention of doxxing]

sometimes i wonder if there aren't secret kinksters reading this blog. people in totally vanilla relationships...for now...

imagine you're in such a vanilla relationship. you don't really do anything adventurous. you call having sex "making love." and then one day your partner leaves their phone open. it's not that you mean to snoop, you trust them, but you catch the words "whore" and "puppycunt" and you have to know. as far as you know, they don't read erotica--hell, maybe you're one of those couples for whom watching porn seems akin to cheating, even!

so you look. and you scroll. and there's my blog. maybe even asks sent anonymously, but with little turns of phrase or metaphors that make you highly suspicious your partner sent them in. you're angry. disgusted. hurt. who is this sopping bitch your partner seems so fixated on? you quickly copy the name of this blog down before your partner comes back for their phone.

you don't know why you don't confront them right then. perhaps you're determined to make me pay for my role in this betrayal, find some information you can use to hurt me like you've been hurt. or maybe you need to discern what's so special about my blog, what dissatisfactions your partner might have been yearning to remedy. so you return here in the dead of night, relishing in the sick twist of your stomach. it's almost cathartic, giving in to disgust and anger.

you could be aiming to doxx me, working some obsessive divination over the times i'm "at work" or "back home" or "going to bed," picking through the backgrounds of my scant few photos, looking for clues. you imagine composing long, angry screeds to me, threatening me, calling me every filthy slut-shaming name you can think of, but it kind of steals your thunder that i'm into it, doesn't it...? because every ask seems to have some undertone of "you're a pathetic little whore, and it's even more pathetic that you wag your tail when people tell you that, dumb dog," on and on, telling me how stupid i am for not caring about being called names, insulted, threatened, degraded...and i just lap it up.

and it's then you get frustrated with me, because you're realizing i'm just so dumb and fucked-up that i can't even really be blamed. you can't find anything hinting at manipulation or self-aggrandizement or maliciousness or jealousness at all, just the shallow, instinct-driven creature-whines for attention, no matter how bad or divided or cruel. back to disgust: that your partner could be so easily swayed by something so pitiful and thoughtless; you thought they were deep, they were intellectual. there is nothing charming about me.

yet...still, you keep returning. the longer it goes on, the longer you watch in sick, dull fascination, the longer it becomes your small infidelity, your dirty little secret. because if it was a one-sided thing, you'd have confronted them a long time ago, wouldn't you? night after night, you wonder where the line is before you've trespassed equally, before it becomes your guilt to bear.

maybe it's a few days. maybe it's a few weeks. maybe your moment of clear action, rather than simple reaction, is when you send that first ask telling me how badly you wanted to blame me for your relationship issues, but how clear it is that i'm too pathetic to even be a threat. or maybe it's when i respond telling you to take it out on me anyway, that i'm sorry, that i should be punished. or maybe it's whn you send that follow-up ask with a task to debase myself in penance, or maybe it's when i actually do it.

maybe you can rationalize your engagement as a cry for help, for attention, hoping your partner will realize, catch you, be the one to start the discussion. or maybe at this point it's just therapeutic to periodically remind yourself of how pathetic i am, how nothing i am. after all...is it really cheating if i'm so far below real person?

#tw: infidelity #nsftext #cuckholding #lol the only situation where i'd be ok with being the cake #h/d #exh #only barks #blackmail kink

19 notes · View notes