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#and my focus doesn’t really allow for it
nervoussagittarius · 3 hours
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do you still have wisdom?
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matt sturniolo x reader
summary: in the midst of your wisdom teeth removal, your boyfriend and his brothers become your caregivers, request
warnings: fluffy, language, one suggestive comment, talk of needles and surgery, mention of a safe word
the camera started rolling as you lethargically placed yourself in matt’s arms. today was the day you were getting your wisdom teeth removed and it was safe to say you were extremely nervous.
“tell everyone how you’re feeling y/n/n” nick said.
you lifted your head from matt’s chest and you replied, “i feel nervous about being put under anesthesia and i’m just really tired.” you felt matt footing shift slightly as he chucked.
matt moved from holding you to just wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “yeah so y/n didn’t really sleep last night, but you’ll have all the time to sleep tonight, okay?” you looked up at him and nodded with a small smile.
“so we’re going to go to the dentist and we’ll see you guys there.”
about an hour went by before you were sat in the chair, laying back, getting ready to receive your iv. you were not excited. you didn’t have a big fear of needles, you could tolerate them. it was the idea of the needle being in your arm for a long amount of time.
the three boys stood around you in a comforting manner. nick and matt stood to your right. nick filming while matt held your hand and soothingly ran his fingers through your hair. chris stood to your left paying attention to what the doctors were telling you guys.
“we’re going to put your iv in and it will give you the anesthesia so you’ll be out shortly after that. we’ll be in and out for the next couple minutes to see how you’re doing.” your doctor said as he started prepping your arm for the needle. you turned your head towards matt as he made goofy faces at you as a distraction.
“thank you.” you guys all stated as the doctor left your room. your eyes almost instantly started to become heavy and you felt sleep begin to take over.
the drowsiness became more prominent as the boys started to make jokes. “y/n, what kind of cup doesn’t hold liquid?” chris asked laughing. your eyes fluttered shut as you held a finger to your lips to shush him. “a cupcake.” chris finished making nobody laugh but himself.
you reached your arm up over your shoulder to gets matt’s attention. you blindly hit him and he looked down at you. “what’s up, love?” he asked.
“please ask chris to stop making jokes. i can’t focus on him right now.”
chris gave you an offended face as nick and matt broke out into a laughter. “you heard her chris, stop talking.” nick said almost in tears from laughing.
the doctor came back in just as you fell fully asleep. “okay y/n, we’re going to test your memory later. your password is grape.” you deliriously nodded in agreement. matt stayed by your side rubbing your shoulder for as long as he could before ultimately getting kicked out of the room.
the three boys stood in the hallway half focused on eachother and half focused on you. “how are you feeling matt?” chris asked, patting him on the shoulder and coming around to stand next to him. “i feel okay. i know how much pain she’s been in so i’m glad we’re getting that taken care of. i’m happy we’re all here to support her.”
the camera panned to you in the chair just as you started to lift your head slightly. you quickly side eyed the doctors as they readjusted you to leaning back.
a short time passed before all four of your wisdom teeth were extracted and your three best friends were allowed back in your room.
“how are you feeling y/n/n?” chris asked.
your were still a bit out of it and the gauze in your mouth slurred your words. “i’m cold.” was all that you got out. you were feeling emotional so when the three boys all looked at each other because they forgot your jacket in the car tears started to brim your eyes.
“awe sweetheart don’t cry we’ll figure it out. here you can have my long sleeve.” once you realized matt was next to you it was like your heart did a one eighty. “oh hi matt! i missed you!” you exclaimed lovingly as your words blended together.
“i appreciate the offer but i can’t put the shirt over my iv.” you said with a tiny frown. almost instantly chris started removing his zip-up and draped it over you. “hey! thanks chris.” you gave him a loopy smile.
“hey y/n, do you remember your password?” your doctor asked as he came back into the room to type on the computer. you instantly gave him, and the three brothers around you, a very confused look. “my safe word?” you questioned “yeah, it’s pian-” matt quickly but gently put his hand over your mouth to stop your talking.
you pushed his hand off of you. “what baby? he asked.”
“no y/n, he asked what your password was.” “like for my phone?” you were extremely confused at this point and you couldn’t get much out of the three boys who were laughing their asses off. your doctor took over trying to explain. “we gave you a password that you were supposed to remember. do you?” you shook your head at him. “that’s okay we’re going to give you another on and if you remember then you can leave and go home. your password is ocean.”
“ocean, got it”
you thought for a second before speaking up again. “hey doc, how long until i can suck dick again?” nick and chris had officially lost it at this point. cracking up at the fact that you had no idea that your exposing all of your and matt’s secrets. matt only blushed and tried not to smile when you smiled up at him and grabbed his hand in yours. you tried to wink at him but it came out more as a delayed blink.
the doctor didn’t look shocked at all. you figured he’d been used to receiving this question. “you have to wait until your incisions heal. so a couple weeks.” and with that the doctor left the room again.
you looked at matt with a sorrowful face. “sorry matt.” you remorsefully said. trying to change the subject matt spoke up, “what’s the password, sweetheart?” you looked at him lovingly. “you’re pretty.” you said reaching you hand up to rest on his cheek.
“thanks baby.”
“hey, between me and nick whose your favorite?” asked chris as he poked your shoulder in an annoying but excited manner. you looked at him, then at nick, and then back to matt. you looked straight into the camera nick was holding before firmly stating, “i don’t have favorites.” chris rolled his eyes at you.
“and if i did have a favorite it would be matt, duh.” hearing this matt leaned down to kiss your forehead.
“y/n, what’s your password to go home.”
“um? lake?”
“ohhhh so close. it is a body of water. it was ocean.” chris cooed at you as he rubbed your shoulder.
“your new one is sushi.” “oh i love sushi.”
you reached up to rub your eyes forgetting that your were still connected to a couple of wires. “ow you mother fucker.” you commented looking down at you arms. “please kiss it.” you said lifting your arm up to chris since he was closest to your iv.
“listen kid, i love ya but i’m not kissing your arm.”
“that’s so fucked up. i’d do it for you.” you complained. hesitantly, chris leaned down to place the lightest peck possible to your arm. “thank you. matt, i love you” you quickly changed the subject. he was caught off guard at your sudden outburst. “i love you too, y/n”
“nick, chris, i love you guys too.” “we love you y/n.” “love ya y/n/n.”
the doctor made his way back to the room to see that your medicine was all injected through your veins. and started to take your iv out. “do you remember the password to go home, y/n?”
“yep it’s sushi.” you said as you kept your eyes on matt to avoid noticing the needle coming out of your arm. he ran his hand up and down your arm to comfort you. “that’s right.” nick said patting your leg to congratulate you on remembering.
the doctor got a wheelchair to take you to the car. when you made it to the parking garage matt helped you into the passenger seat and gently kissed your cheek letting you know he had to go get the parking pass.
you leaned back in your chair and sighed contently. “i just love him so much. he’s so perfect and babygirl.” nick and chris laughed as matt came back to the car.
you held your teeth to the camera showing them the container. “i have to put my teeth under my pillow so the tooth fairy brings me money.”
“you’re bloody teeth are not going anywhere near my bed.” “our bed.”
the video ended shortly after that with you grabbing matt’s hand and telling the viewers to enjoy the video while you enjoyed the dominic fike album chris put on for you.
comments:
i love how flirty y/n is in anesthesia
matt was so boyf in this video
y/n is right matt is babygirl
chris is such a little brother it’s unreal
nick is really giving us the content we need
an: this is all i’ve been thinking about for the past day. also i started a tag list so go comment on it if you want added 🤍
taglist: @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt
tags for this post: @thetriplets3 @mazzystar111
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The Decay of Complex Characters and Character Development in Helluva Boss (Stolas and Octavia’s Relationship: Part 2 of 2)
Part 1 here
I felt I had to make separate part just for “Seeing Stars” because my other post was getting way too long, and I wanted to really focus on the treatment of Stolas and Octavia’s by the writers.
Please know that this is JUST my opinion and not a personal attack on HB’s writers or creators. I’m talking and venting a bit about my personal frustrations with the series regarding what I perceive as being MAJOR plot holes and inconsistencies in the show’s writing.
As of right now—and I do want to acknowledge this could change, but as of right now—it largely seems like any character development Stolas may have gone through after “Loo Loo Land” has been completely tossed out the window.
I personally believe that the writers of Helluva Boss think that they are writing Stolas to be more complex, but he has yet to have to actually be held accountable for his actions, and for breaking his promises to Octavia.
And the way the writers present him has really come to bother me. So I wanted to talk more about it, and about how Stolas cannot become a well-written, complex, and engaging character until the writers let him actually be imperfect and complex.
To talk about this more in depth, I gotta go over the second episode that features Octavia, Season 2, Episode 2 of Helluva Boss—“Seeing Stars”
(TLDR at the end)
To start, “Seeing Stars” is narratively very similar to “Loo Loo Land”. By “very similar” I mean that it’s almost the exact same plot, but frustratingly more clunky. Here is an extremely short summary:
The main crux of the conflict in “Seeing Stars” is that Stolas forgot about a promise he made to Octavia to go see a meteor shower, and ends up neglecting her.
Specifically, he forgets because he is too busy yelling at Stella over the phone due to their contentious divorce. Octavia feels let down by her father again, and runs away to the human realm to see the meteor shower on her own.
Stolas and I.M.P. panic and go after her. Eventually Loona finds her and gives her a speech that essentially boils down to: “everyone’s got hardships and problems but Dads ESPECIALLY have problems. Your Dad is trying really hard right now. So that should count for something right?”
And that comforts Octavia in the moment. Octavia and Stolas reunite, he asks her why she ran away, and she tells him she was trying to see the meteor shower he promised to take her to. Stolas is horrified that he’d forgotten, starts to apologize, but Octavia cuts him off and tells him “it’s okay”, forgiving him.
I rewatched “Seeing Stars” before making this post to make sure I hadn’t misremembered any crucial plot points.
I thought I remembered that, at the very end of the episode, Stolas apologized to Octavia for breaking his promise and then she told him it was okay.
It turns out I had misremembered things, because the writers literally kept Stolas from saying sorry.
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This leads to the main criticism I have of Stolas as a character, especially from a writing standpoint. The narrative does not allow for Stolas to ever truly be in the wrong, or for anyone, including Stolas, to fully acknowledge that he is in the wrong.
And I know that it’s easy to go “BUT LOOK! Octavia says “I know, Dad”! She KNOWS that Stolas is sorry.
That’s fair, but for me personally, I think an EARNEST and verbal apology is needed here to show that Stolas has grown.
I’m very lucky in that I have a good relationship with my parents, but that doesn’t mean we never fought or they never said or did things that hurt me.
I distinctly remember a time when my Mom was apologizing to me for something she did, I said “it’s okay” and she immediately replied “No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me”.
That really changed my perspective on conflict. I think a lot of people, including myself until then, consider “it’s okay” to be a form of saying “I forgive you”. And I’m not trying to police like…basic language and substitute words. But I DO strongly believe in taking responsibility for when you hurt someone.
In all honesty, I think this scene actually could have worked for Stolas’ character development if he had actually acknowledged that, “No, it’s not. It’s not okay that I broke my promise to you. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me, but if you can’t right now, I understand.”
THAT, to me, shows character development. That would’ve shown that Stolas is, at the very least, trying to make an actual effort to change for the sake of Octavia.
Instead, though, SHE apologizes Stolas for running away to try and see the meteor shower that HE promised to take her to. And the writers refuse to even let Stolas say he’s sorry.
Let Stolas say he’s sorry, writers! Let Stolas be in the wrong!!! I promise it won’t make people hate his character!
I mean, jfc, just look at the fandom around Hazbin’s Valentino. That guy could not be more evil if he tried and a lot of fans can’t seem to get enough of him.
My other issue with the treatment of Octavia in this episode, SPECIFICALLY the speech that Loona gives Octavia near the end.
Because. Oof. There’s a lot to unpack. Firstly:
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Maybe it’s just me, but I find the way the writers have Loona frame this situation as being really really weird. To be clear, I don’t think it starts off too badly. Everyone DOES have issues, and that can affect the way they act and treat others and make mistakes.
That said, dads are not inherently more messed up or dealing with more difficulties than anyone else.
Dads have issues the same as any other person, but they don’t get special privileges or passes because they’re dads. They’re responsible for themselves like every other person with issues and difficulties, and they’re still responsible for themselves and their mistakes.
It’s especially frustrating because the writers are using Stolas’ “issues” as a crutch to excuse their bad behavior. This happens a lot with writers trying to excuse or justify their character’s actions. The “issues” can be anything from a difficult childhood, relationship troubles or divorce, a traumatic experience, etc. but these things should never be used as a way to excuse a character’s every mistake and flaw.
Effective writing will use a character’s history to explain the reasons a character acts or behaves a certain way, not excuse that behavior. This leads to characters that the audience can become more invested in, and can form different opinions or interpretations about.
A really great example of this is Bojack Horseman, whose terrible upbringing and abuse definitely garner audience sympathy, but the writers never use this to as a justification for the Bojack’s behaviors. Bojack continually makes really terrible choices that hurt the people he cares about the most, and while we as the audience still sympathize with him to an extent, we still get frustrated with Bojack, and be disappointed by him.
The audience finally gets some catharsis from this frustration when Bojack is called out by his best friend Todd for this, after he finally breaks any remaining trust in their friendship with the following quote:
“You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep doing shitty things, and then feel bad about yourself like that makes it okay! You need to be better! [Bojack apologizes and then continues to make excuses] …BoJack, stop. You are all the things that are wrong with you. It's not the alcohol, or the drugs, or any of the shitty things that happened in your career, or when you were a kid—It's you. Alright? It's you. Fuck, man. What else is there to say?”
In my opinion, Helluva Boss’ writers seem to be determined to write the exact opposite of this sentiment.
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The writers frame Loona’s speech to Octavia as a heartwarming moment—a moment where Loona helps Octavia realize that Stolas cares about her and is trying his best, so Octavia should cut him some slack.
This is, quite frankly, a BAFFLING scene because Loona’s behavior for the ENTIRE EPISODE is her assaulting and yelling at her dad. Like, she has given Blitzø absolutely NO slack before this moment, and then doesn’t give him any in the scene DIRECTLY after this, where she assaults him again while he’s in the middle of apologizing to her.
Not only is it odd to have Loona tell Octavia all of this and then not act on it herself, but the whole scene really reads as the writers trying to sweep Octavia’s very valid and real feelings of hurt over her father’s neglect under the rug.
And look. Trying to be better can be important. Trying to change and be better IS worthy of being acknowledged. But at a certain point, as Todd points out to Bojack, you have to actually be better.
In part 1, I talked about how the end of “Looloo Land” had set things up for Stolas to start being more conscientious of Octavia’s feelings and needs. He took the first step of making amends with her, of listening to her and her concerns and fears.
“Seeing Stars” was an episode that could have shown him being better. But instead. Well.
In her speech to Octavia Loona says this:
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And to be fair, Loona didn’t know what hijinks Stolas and Blitzø were getting up to in the city. She probably did think Stolas was looking for her.
…Except…he kind of wasn’t…
During the search for Octavia, Blitzø gets mistaken for a famous Hollywood actor, and he and Stolas are essentially kidnapped to be in a sitcom. When this first happens, Stolas is anxious, clearly upset that there search has been further impeded:
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He’s scared that Octavia could be in danger, or hurt. Stolas seemingly wants to find her as soon as possible.
Well. Once they get to the Hollywood sitcom shoot, the following scenes happen:
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STOLAS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???? YOU JUST SAID THAT YOU DIDNT HAVE TIME FOR THIS ??? BLITZØ DIDNT EVEN WANT TO PERFORM, AND YOU MADE HIM! WHY?!?! YOU DONT OWE THESE PEOPLE ANYTHING? THE TV PRODUCER EVEN LEFT THE ROOM BEFORE THE SHOW STARTED, NO ONE WAS KEEPING YOU THERE!!!
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WHY ARE YOU INVESTED IN THIS AND WORRIED ABOUT THE AUDIENCE NOT LAUGHING?!?! STOLAS YOU LITERALLY JUST SAID YOUR DAUGHTER COULD BE IN DANGER IN THE VAN, WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY SO CONCERNED WITH MAKING BLITZØ ACT IN THIS SITCOM???? STOLAS YOU DONT KNOW WHERE YOUR FUCKING DAUGHTER IS?!?!?
I just…I’m sorry, I just think this episode is so so clunky and so poorly written. I think it may be one of the episodes with the least consistent character writing.
The scene continues, Stolas gets distracted by how attractive he finds Blitzø, and Blitzø acts in the sitcom for so long that even Stolas looks bored and out of it.
At this point in the story, he doesn’t know where his daughter is, if she’s hurt, or in danger, or even why she ran away in the first place. But instead of that taking the absolute top priority for him, he takes time to watch Blitzø make bad jokes in a wig for the whole afternoon.
Stolas isn’t even the one to get them out of the Hollywood studio, Blitzø is. Blitzø has a panic attack about the thought of Loona being taken from him during the sitcom shoot, and that’s what sparks them escaping.
The two escape the studio and meet up with Octavia and Loona, and the episode ends with Octavia apologizing for running away, and Stolas not having to apologize to her for his mistakes because Octavia already knows he’s sorry.
In Part 1, I talked about how at the end of “Loo Loo Land”, the writers set up the building blocks for Stolas’s character development in regards to his relationship with Octavia. S1 E2 of Helluva Boss ends with Stolas listening to his daughter, realizing his actions hurt her, and acting like he’s going to start putting her first.
“Seeing Stars” undoes all of that development. Which wasn’t even that much character development in the first place. Just the kicking off point for Stolas’ growth as a character.
Reviewing this episode made me realize that Stolas’ character development may have actually regressed. He doesn’t keep his promise to Octavia, he starts flirting with Blitzø when he should be looking for her, and wastes valuable time fucking around with Blitzø on a sitcom set.
And listen, I KNOW that Blitzø got Loona to look for Octavia right after he and Stolas got kidnapped by the tv producers. But after they get out of the Van, WHY does Stolas just continue to go along with it? He was so concerned and scared for Via before, wouldn’t he want to get back to looking for her as soon as possible?? And have as many people as possible working on finding her???
Blitzø doesn’t even want to go on the sitcom and for some reason Stolas makes him! The tv producer had left the room at that point too, and Stolas is a DEMON PRINCE, no one was keeping them there!
Stolas gives the reason for Blitzø needing to perform to be “so they can get back to looking for Via” but they can just do that without having to be in the sitcom?
I think the writers might have written dramatic irony into the story without meaning to? Loona tells Octavia that “[Stolas is] down there. Looking for you”, but we as the audience know that’s not true. Stolas wasn’t looking for his daughter. He was watching Blitzø star in a bad sitcom for 5 hours.
This becomes extra frustrating and gut-wrenching for me when I think about Octavia right before Loona’s speech about how “dads are special and have it extra extra bad and try extra extra hard and that’s super important, even if they fuck up and hurt you”
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This scene is absolutely heartbreaking to me. This is a 17 year old girl who has been repeatedly let down by one of the people she looked up to and relied upon the most, who rightfully feels abandoned and like she no longer has a home.
Specifically the line “Why does he hate [my mum] more than he loves me?” hits extra hard.
I don’t know what it’s like to have divorced parents, but I can imagine that anyone who has may have had this exact thought. Octavia needs support more now than ever, and keeps getting let down by the adults around her, and it just breaks my heart to see this young vulnerable girl not really have anyone who acknowledges that what Stolas did was hurtful. That it wasn’t okay, and that she’s allowed to be upset about it.
The reason she exists in the story isn’t to be her own person and to have character development of her own. She exists just to be Stolas’ daughter, and to forgive him for his wrongdoings and make him seem like a “good” person because even though he has issues, he still loves her! That makes him a good dad!
And I don’t know how Octavia is broadly accepted in the HB fandom, but I’ve heard that she may not be liked very well, and I don’t understand how anyone could see this scene and think she’s annoying or terrible.
Honestly, I would NOT be as frustrated and disappointed by the writing in this episode, if the writers and the fandom at large didn’t treat this episode like it had a heartwarming and satisfying resolution. If the writers treated Stolas as a complex person who is able to make mistakes, and who still really needs to own up to his actions and take responsibility for his broken promises, I would probably like him a lot more as a complex and nuanced character.
But the way the writers frame Stolas as being in the right, or being the victim, or being fully justified in all his actions isn’t just bad writing. It’s boring. Stolas is a boring character because the writers do not allow him to be in the wrong, to be morally ambiguous or dark, or to be called out or held accountable for his mistakes.
The writers MAY somehow undo the damage they already did in “Seeing Stars”, but given the way that the writers, show creators, and fandom go out of their way to excuse any morally grey, questionable, or harmful decisions Stolas makes, I’m not going to hold my breath.
TLDR:
-Despite Octavia being hurt by Stolas again, the writers refuse to put him in any situation where he’s held accountable for his mistakes
-The writers use Stolas’ “issues” to excuse away his bad behavior. And specify that Octavia should cut Stolas some slack because he’s a dad and being a dad is extra hard I guess?
-the framing of the episode acts like Stolas did everything in his power to look for Octavia when he clearly didn’t (he was goofing off with Blitzø)
-Stolas is ultimately uninteresting and not engaging as a character because the writers go out of their way to excuse his behavior and mistakes even when he’s in the wrong.
-Stolas cannot be a complex character if he is always absolved of the consequences of his actions and is not allowed by the writers to be better (in my opinion)
Also sidebar—WHY DID HE NOT CALL OCTAVIA ON HER PHONE!?!
In the VERY first episode of HB Stolas is LITERALLY INTRODUCED TO US by calling Blitzø on his phone and watching Blitzø in the human world from hell, without the use of his Grimoire!! HE HAS THE POWER TO DO THAT!!!
I was like, maybe Octavia didn’t have her phone for a SECOND before remembering that LOONA FINDS OCTAVIA BY LOOKING AT THE PICTURES SHES POSTING TO SOCIAL MEDIA WITH HER PHONE.
Like Stolas do you not know ur own daughters phone number. AND YOURE GIVING BLITZØ A HARD TIME ABOUT NOT KNOWING MOXXIE’S?? Also when Blitzø is in danger you can pinpoint his exact location, travel to the human world without the grimoire terrify and reveal your existence to MULTIPLE humans with absolute disregard for being discovered, but when your OWN DAUGHTER is missing and you have NO idea why or if she’s in danger, suddenly you have time to run around LA for a day getting into shenanigans???? She’s your DAUGHTER. No wonder she doesn’t think you care about her because I sure as hell don’t after that episode. Lord.
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eorzeanflowers · 4 months
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I really wish my adhd would do the whole focus thing on drawing instead of video games sometimes.
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exhausted-archivist · 4 months
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In regards to my last reblog on the scale of Thedas, latitude and stuff. I’ve been thinking about how much thought I give all this. Especially because this topic is one I’ve been talking with a lot of people about lately. It crops up a lot with people who, like me enjoy natural world building or are fanfic writers. Or really anyone who sits down and reads the lore at length. More times then not the question of Thedas’s scale comes up.
So, I want to establish I am very well aware that I’m likely giving it more thought than the devs. I have that luxury as a fan and consumer of the series. It is extremely relevant for me because I like making maps for the series, plotting out travel paths, and scaling things for da ttrpg campaigns I write.
So because I think about it a lot, I notice all the many different scales of Thedas in terms of travel time. How the scale they gave the ttrpg doesn’t match up with any scale they established in the main games or books. I think if the devs sat down and thought about establishing a standard scale and also considering just basic stuff we also wouldn’t have the Deep Roads be 2-4 miles / 3.21-6.43 km below sea level and display a lack of geothermal qualities. I think they’d consider how they built a world with at least 9.1 million people and tons of mega fauna such as giants and dragons and 14’/4.26 m tall bears that hunt dragons, all squished into roughly 1/4 of Europe and how much that isn’t really sustainable. How there would be much more impact if nature encroachment in civilization and how common things like that would be in places. Which they do consider it to a degree, I’m not saying they don’t. But I think if they thought about it just to make the world something that holds up a little better to idle musings, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. That the world would feel more real and alive and also narratively give them more to work with.
The contradictions and lack of consideration for the natural world has always been one of my critiques of Dragon Age, among other things. The reason why that is, is mostly because of a noticeable trend the lack of natural world building in fantasy. It’s a topic that has been discussed elsewhere and at length by other people, but to summarize nature is slowly having less and less impact in fantasy even in an ambient quality. Obviously this isn’t a universal statement, nor a universally required thing for a story to explore and have. That there are things that do focus on and explore it, but speaking in general terms, it is a trend in the majority of media.
Which for me is a bummer as it is an aspect of writing and world building I enjoy. I really like themes of man vs nature and to have that you need to have a basic level of natural world building. Which BioWare doesn’t really explore in Dragon Age despite having elements of it - such as how regular raw lyrium is explosive, mages get sick around all lyrium unless it is diluted to a safe amount for mages, and raw lyrium straight up kills them if they’re in the same room.
So then you have questions of how do mages go/handle being underground with such a risk? Dwarves have stone sense but would mages be able to tell when they’re getting close to large lyrium deposits because they’re getting sick? Does this impact grey warden mages? Darkspawn mages?
Things that don’t get fully acknowledged or explored despite being mentioned casually in codices most people don’t read. And they don’t for a couple of reasons such as potential coding issues but also all the questions you’d have to ask:
How would you implement that as a mechanic? Would you lock mage players out of entire areas featuring raw lyrium? Would they take environmental damage if you wanted the players to explore it regardless? Would it be a mechanic only applied by in harder difficulty modes? Do you acknowledge it in banter but not in any other way? Create a way to explain why the pc mage and their mage companions aren’t dropping dead?
BioWare’s answer seems to seemingly just ignore it because it would make gameplay too challenging/punishing and likely might not be fun for a player to deal with. But they compromise by keeping the lore active in the canon through codices and low impact additions. Which is a completely okay solutions, not my preferred but I get why they do it.
When I approach this lore, I do so without expecting them to fully flesh out each nation or know which city has the most resources and the geologically rich lands in said country. Dragon Age, and BioWare in general, relies on semi-soft world building. The world was after all designed for a game. They only need to build out what they need and what hopefully won’t paint them into a corner with future installments.
Additionally, the writing style for Dragon Age doesn’t suit the hard world building that I prefer, I’m quite aware of that but also know that when it comes to talk about world building in any media, there is always the issue of people (like me) who world build for fun and consider all these small aspects but ultimately they aren’t always needed and necessary for the story a game like Dragon Age is telling.
Dragon Age is told with the intention of things being given from an unreliable narrator. Built on the concept of: there’s three sides to the truth, what x thinks happens, what y thinks happens, and then what actually happened. Which works and I love the premise.
That said, I think that it also impacts lore that shouldn’t be subjected to the unreliable narrator. Foundation or anchor lore points to be specific. Which, as we know, BioWare has always struggled with consistency in their lore, particularly with Dragon Age.
Distance is one of those foundational points that shouldn’t change, and it’s also one of those points that you don’t have to give exact travel times. You can leave it vague and stick to the official statements like the ones we have of Ferelden being the size of England (or Ireland depending on the source you use). If you’re going to be giving specifics, then I think being consistent with how long it travels to get to point a to b and not changing it multiple times in one game should be a basic expectation that is met.
Other ones the series has and is pretty consistent with is how we know Thedas has 24 hours a day, they have seasons like we expect, and are in the southern hemisphere.
Do they sometimes slip up because editing doesn’t catch they’ve made a reference that applies only to the northern hemisphere? Yeah, and that’s not bad. There are a lot of people working on the project and things slip through.
I know I have the luxury to think about Thedas in a capacity that allows for the hard world building that I like. I also know I focus on and enjoy aspects of lore that are not exactly popular for their main audience and are pretty niche.
I don’t expect BioWare to world build how I do because I’m not world building for a massive and varied audience. Not even when I do world building for my tabletop games, because I’m catering to a smaller and more specific audience.
Still I think it’s valid and worth pondering these little elements of the world building. For fun, appreciation, and to nurture one’s own creativity and understanding of media, the world, and what they think makes a believable world.
Devs might not have time to consider it but we sure do and that’s half the fun of enjoying media I think.
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shadowedvales · 22 days
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LETS TALK ABOUT BECKY IVES FOR A MINUTE!
when you think about becky, you have to remember that she spent at least four years listening to terry’s “crazy theories” about hawkins lab, and the big bad man taking jane away. she knew terry took part in “hippie crap” and assumed that messed with her head. that those experiences combined with miscarrying in the third trimester had a terrible strain on her mental health, ultimately losing her connection to reality. she spent those years watching terry fight and lose legal battles against brenner and hawkins. she pleaded for her to stop, to get help, as their relationship grew stressed and strained because becky didn’t believe her, and terry hated her for it.
and then when terry’s mind was completely broken, she spent her days and nights caring for her. the show never touched on this. just what did becky think happened to terry? what story was she told? was terry put into a random hospital with doctors from hawkins lab, under a guise of caring for her, just to tell becky there was some kind of accident? maybe a car accident. did they claim the drugs used in the mk ultra testing from all those years ago took affect on her mind? probably not, because then becky would be in an opportunity to sue. i highly doubt there would have been any mention of the lab, opposed to some, "unfortunate accident." it really bugs me that there’s no story about what becky believed made terry catatonic. terry knew becky didn’t believe her, and as such, definitely did not tell her about her plans to break into the lab. so a story could have easily been concocted.
and then, one random day, a kid shows up at her doorstep, claiming to be the daughter she didn’t believe existed. immediately, by jane opening the door with her mind, becky held some kind of belief for she'd heard terry’s rants about her baby being used for experiments, experiments which gave her powers. and in comes jane, demanding to see her mother, able to open a locked door, blood dripping from her nose. all too soon she realises that there has so be some semblance of truth. the girl says her name is jane: she fits all the descriptions. the descriptions of the niece she never had. this child who her sister fought tooth and nail to get back. i can’t even imagine the guilt that would begin to fester for not believing terry, for thinking she was having a mental break, for trying to get her to see therapists and get her some real, serious help.
scared and confused for herself and her sister, and unable to fathom what is happening, what does she do? she comforts jane. there is distance, there’s awkwardness, but this girl is her blood and every moment that passed only proved that she could actually be jane ives. she makes her a sandwich, tries to comfort her, tells her that her mother is in a dream. probably a good dream. she comforts and tells her that terry never stopped believing.
she always believed you were out there. she always believed you’d come home one day. home? yeah, home.
she offered her, this strange little girl, a place in her home with her and her mother. she didn’t push, she didn’t need to know everything in that moment; she focused on jane and nothing else. the girl was obviously traumatised judging by the way she spoke, the way she sheltered herself. if everything terry claimed was indeed true, then becky couldn’t even begin to think about what she’d gone through.
i wanna help you, but to really do that, i need you to talk to me, okay? it doesn’t have to be now. it doesn’t have to be today. when you’re ready, okay?
she never moved a single thing in jane’s room. although she didn’t believe terry, she respected and loved her enough to keep it exactly as she’d planned. and at least she could give jane that, the vision her mother had for her, what the first steps of their wonderful life would have been like. becky claimed terry was “stuck” living the “same dream” over and over. where becky, too, was the one who was stuck. terry became 24/7 care, and unless she had helpers (which i highly doubt), becky would have given up her job, her out of home hobbies, her entire life to care for her sister. stuck in an endless routine until jane came along and struck her with the reality of it all.
as soon as jane contacts the void, you can see becky looks on edge and nervous. which, fair enough! she asks if she can sit and watch, but doesn’t interfere or distract jane. she even sits a little further away from her, perhaps out of fear (which would be completely justified. this girl physically moved things with her mind, who knows what else she can do) or just trying to take this all in within her own time and space. but the moment, the second jane departs the void and is in a state of distress, she moves to comfort her. she isn’t sure how, and doesn’t expect it to be returned, but offers it nonetheless. as far as she knows jane just spoke to her sister; she would be dying to know what happened, if she said anything. but remains silent and focuses on the child.
unfortunately we really don’t see much else of their dynamic on screen, but it is very justified that becky contacted hawkins and tried to get a hold of hopper. he and joyce were the only ones who seemed to have some kind of understanding; of course she would want to contact them. she put on a brave face in front of jane, focused on her and her needs. but as soon as she put the bed down and jane wanted some time alone in her room, becky had a moment to breathe. to think about her, her sister, all those wasted years because she didn’t believe. so, weeks later, when she gets a phone call from a weak sounding girl, saying she was sorry, the relief is immense. when recovered from her illness after closing the gate, the first thing jane wanted to do was call her aunt. hopper got on the line after the initial apology and asked if becky would come to hawkins, so they could work things out from there.
i just think becky is such a neat, complex character for the literal twenty minutes (probably less) screen time she gets. i adore the way she treats jane, and think she is such a good influence in her life. imagine all the stories becky could tell her about terry. things no one else could. her relationship with her aunt is one like no other, for both the sake of her mother, and that she is the only true family she has ever known, or as far as she knows, even has. becky never expects anything from jane (unlike a lot of the people in her life), and in that respect, jane does actually open up to her overtime. to becky, jane isn’t a girl who’s saved the world a few times. she’s the niece she didn’t believe in, and would spend the rest of her life making it up to her and terry.
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starlooove · 6 months
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My batfam gender sexuality hcs 🥰🥰🥰🥰:
Bruce: cishet he/him
Dick: cishet he/him
Jason: cishet he/him
Tim: cishet he/him
Steph: butch lesbian to ME! She/her but she’s trying out she/they and doesn’t know how to feel. Might fuck with neos but she’s not ready to take that step yet.
Cass: think early on in accepting that she’s a human being she’d psychoanalyze the fuck outta herself to see where she fits in and be super super super pressed about the entire thing to a detrimental point but as she progresses she’ll be fine. Lesbian, and she’s pretty sure she’s a girl most of the time sure 😄.
Duke: I think he knew he was not straight since he was young (moonlight opened his eyes and broke his heart) but he never really questioned his sexuality at all. The problem is that he doesn’t question it because the idea of gender roles (girls do this. Boys do that.) is so engrained in his mind that it’s not even something he thinks can be changed, if that makes sense? Anyways I don’t think he’s the type to get dysphoria he moreso experiences euphoria when exploring his gender identity. I think he would realize he has different views on his own gender when he sees other people expressing their own differently. Like genuinely he goes to school and sees another boy wearing lipstick and his brain blows up. As of this very moment he’s “exploring” but he’s actually a lil scared to genuinely confront himself about this and uses “there’s bigger problems in the world” to get out of it. End goal is non-binary but for now he’s at the veeeeeeery tail end of questioning.
Damian: I think at the moment Damian’s just not thinking about any of that but it’s in the opposite of duke; he knows he’s probably some kind of queer, both in sexuality and gender, but it’s just. Not top priority for him at the moment. I wanna bring up clothes rq bc, extra hc time, in MY mind Damian does express himself a lot through his clothing and getting to the manor made him a bit shy when it came to skirts and dresses. Seeing the way boys, and especially black and brown boys, who explore their femininity are treated, he just doesn’t mention it at all and the scenario never comes up. He gets more comfortable as time goes on though and later on gets bold enough to wear a dress to an event. He’s stonefaced but slightly regretting it till some younger kid sees him and is awe stricken, like stars in his eyes and asking if he can do that too. Damian feels better about it and resolves to wear whatever he wants more often. I don’t think he ever comes out in big big way (he’d tell the people closest to him but everyone else can just figure it out) but he genuinely doesn’t feel the need to label himself at all.
#the way y’all do Duke and Damián in these hc posts….#Steph I wanted more for you truly but sorry ur unfortunately white#u get more than the boys but today ain’t about you 💔#I WILL say buzzcut steph true#and she’s black in MY mind so in MY mind stud steph true#Cass I have a lot of thoughts about#like for me early on in her lil suicidal era I think she’d find the whole labelling thing complicated and stupid#but surface level deep inside she likes that idea of community but she doesn’t think she deserves it and it burns her#post trying to kill herself with Bruce’s full support#she throws herself into the idea of this community but she kinda like. wants a good grade in being queer as opposed to truly exploring-#-herself. comes to head when she just breaks like crying screaming throwing up and Steph is like ‘why do you even wanna do ts anyways’#and cass doesn’t have an answer#she starts looking inwards and kinda. sets it up as a yes/no question tree for herself and lands with knowing she’s a lesbian but nothing#really concrete about her gender and she’s actually ok with that#imo she ends up with mirror pronouns#as in whatever you call yourself you can call her#I want it to be that earlier she was suffocating herself for others approval but now she’s allowing for vulnerability in a way that serves#her and her alone. this is in the tags and not the post bc y’all are actually pretty ok when it comes to cass in them hcs.#and I wanted the main focus to be on the black and brown boys since y’all always do them dirty 🙃#and just to be mean#Bruce wayne#tim Drake#dick Grayson#Jason Todd#Duke Thomas#damian wayne#cassandra cain#Stephanie brown#btw bringing back my Joey soft adopting damian agenda: damian absolutely made sure Damian knew he could do whatever he wants. Damian’s not-#-used to feeling hesitant about this kinda thing but he’s double embarrassed and joey says he’ll wear the damn thing with him. he does
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shadowedvales-a · 11 months
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LETS TALK ABOUT BECKY IVES FOR A MINUTE:
when you think about becky, you have to remember that she spent at least six years listening to terry’s “crazy theories” about hawkins lab, and the big bad man taking jane away. she knew terry took part in “hippie crap” and assumed that messed with her head. that those experiences combined with miscarrying in the third trimester had a terrible stain on her mental health, ultimately losing her connection to reality. she spent those years watching terry fight and lose legal battles against brenner and hawkins. she pleaded for her to stop, to get help, as their relationship grew stressed and strained because becky didn’t believe her, and terry hated her for it.
and then when terry’s mind was completely broken, she spent her days and nights caring for her. honestly the show never touched on this. just what did becky think happened to terry? what story was she told? was terry put into a random hospital with doctors from hawkins lab, under a guise of caring for her, just to tell becky there was some kind of accident? maybe a car accident. did they claim the drugs used in the mk ultra testing from all those years ago took affect on her mind? probably not, because then becky would be in an opportunity to sue. i highly doubt there would have been any mention of the lab, over just some random, "unfortunate accident." it really bugs me that there’s no story about what becky believed made terry catatonic. terry knew becky didn’t believe her, and as such, definitely did not tell her about her plans to break into the lab. so a story could have easily been concocted.
and then, one random day, a kid shows up at her doorstep, claiming to be the daughter she didn’t believe existed. immediately, by jane opening the door with her mind, becky held some kind of belief for she'd heard terry’s rants about her baby being used for experiments, experiments which gave her powers. so in comes jane, demanding to see her mother, able to open a locked door, blood dripping from her nose. all too soon she realises that there has so be some semblance of truth. the girl says her name is jane: she fits all the descriptions. the descriptions of the niece she never had. this child who her sister fought tooth and nail to get back. i can’t even imagine the guilt that would begin to fester for not believing terry, for thinking she was having a mental break, for trying to get her to see therapists and get her some real, serious help.
scared and confused for herself and her sister, and unable to fathom what is happening, what does she do? she comforts jane. there is distance, there’s awkwardness, but this girl is her blood and every moment that passed only proved that she could actually be jane ives. she makes her a sandwich, tries to comfort her, tell her that her mother is in a dream. probably a good dream. she comforts and tells her that terry never stopped believing.
she always believed you were out there. she always believed you’d come home one day.
home?
yeah, home.
she offered her, this strange little girl, a place in her home with her and her mother. she didn’t push, she didn’t need to know everything in that moment; she focused on jane and nothing else. the girl was obviously traumatised judging by the way she spoke, the way she sheltered herself. if everything terry claimed was indeed true, then becky couldn’t even begin to think about what she’d gone through.
i wanna help you, but to really do that, i need you to talk to me, okay? it doesn’t have to be now. it doesn’t have to be today. when you’re ready, okay?
she never moved a single thing in jane’s room. although she didn’t believe terry, she respected and loved her enough to keep it exactly as she’d planned. and at least she could give jane that, the vision her mother had for her, what the first steps of their wonderful life would have been like. becky claimed terry was “stuck” living the “same dream” over and over. where becky, too, was the one who was stuck. terry became 24/7 care, and unless she had helpers (which i highly doubt), becky would have given up her job, her out of home hobbies, her entire life to care for her sister. stuck in an endless routine until jane came along and struck her with the reality of it all.
as soon as jane contacts the void, you can see becky looks on edge and nervous. which, fair enough! she asks if she can sit and watch, but doesn’t interfere or distract jane. she even sits a little further away from her, perhaps out of fear (which would be completely justified. this girl physically moved things with her mind, who knows what else she can do) or just trying to take this all in within her own time and space. but the moment, the second jane departs the void and is in a state of distress, she moves to comfort her. she isn’t sure how, and doesn’t expect it to be returned, but offers it nonetheless. as far as she knows jane just spoke to her sister; she would be dying to know what happened, if she said anything. but remains silent and focuses on the child.
unfortunately we really don’t see much else of their dynamic on screen, but it is very justified that becky contacted hawkins and tried to get a hold of hopper. he and joyce were the only ones who seemed to have some kind of understanding; of course she would want to contact them. she put on a brave face in front of jane, focused on her and her needs. but as soon as she put the bed down and jane wanted some time alone in her room, becky had a moment to breathe. to think about her, her sister, all those wasted years because she didn’t believe. so, weeks later, when she gets a phone call from a weak sounding girl, saying she was sorry, the relief is immense. when recovered from her illness after closing the gate, the first thing jane wanted to do was call her aunt. hopper got on the line after the initial apology and asked if becky would come to hawkins, so they could work things out from there.
i just think becky is such a neat, complex character for the literal twenty minutes (probably less) screen time she gets. i adore the way she treats jane, and think she is such a good influence in her life. imagine all the stories becky could tell her about terry. things no one else could. her relationship with her aunt is one like no other, for both the sake of her mother, and that she is the only true family she has ever known, or as far as she knows, even has. becky never expects anything from jane (unlike a lot of the people in her life), and in that respect, jane does actually open up to her overtime. to becky, jane isn’t a girl who’s saved the world a few times. she’s the niece she didn’t believe in, and would spend the rest of her life making it up to her and terry.
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pussy-ache · 8 months
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i’m gonna have to stop smoking for at least 4-6 months
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crpingdeath · 2 years
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..
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lilgynt · 13 days
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no i don’t care that most of my moms commutation to me especially to direct question is just straight up ignoring me or some other form of non verbal communication. like grunting or vague pointing. the glass i broke outside is unrelated
#personal#no i don’t think this affected my siblings either and that they love to ignore direct statements :)#like i’m fine with it most the time#not fine but just used to it#but i asked can you handle dog food tonight i got it this morning#and after realizing we both got it this morning i asked again if she can get it tonight or not#to be clear the understanding we both fed her was her giving me a weird look then goin back to watching tv then i said it’s a yes or no i#can do it can you just answer THEN she said she did it this morning#anyway i ask again and just keeps looking at the tv#and the only time in months she felt like cleaning the kitchen was when i was doing my taxes#so eventually i’m like fine let me go through turbo tax bc im sure im doing it wrong on the irs site#and god. god. the dog pissed on the floor i put a piss towel down so we don’t trip she immediately picks it up to wash it - which would be#fine except it’s soaking wet piss all on the floor and she’s like okay?#also speaking of the floor i deep cleaned it twice spent some of the last of the money i have for cleaners next day all fucked up with shoe#marks and dirt and i’m like mom what happened#she’s watching tv and she’s like dog peed#so from the front of the kitchen to the back door to the fridge the dog pissed all across and might i add dirt black piss with foot marks#cleaned it again but it’s already so fucking dirty#she can’t even put her laundry in the dryer#i asked her to leave so i can focus bc the plates and washing and moving things is too loud and i can’t focus i don’t tell her all that#but she starts laughing at me meanly and doesn’t even go back when i’m done#so it’s like what just bc i needed the kitchen you decided to clean??? for the first time ever???????#i’m always begging her to move her stuff bc i’m not allowed to but we’ve been balancing whatever food items we need just on top of WHATEVER#BUT THIS IS WHEN? and im telling ben im not in a good space between mom and the break in and he’s like sorry :( also you should go into#debt for mom bc i’m not which i’m really happy he’s not but im never getting out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#and he can’t comfort me about mom and frank won’t comfort me about dad and mom hates me and it just feels like none of them fuck with me at#all whatsoever and that’s so upsetting#this house is so dirty and i’m not doing great at all actually im doing awful and my whole family hates me to some degree and i wish i#wasn’t born bc like. it’s bad enough life is bad can my family like me. and im never getting out so im stuck like this forever
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lessson · 2 months
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.
#I know this is selfish with everything going on in the world but I’m really struggling to not lose all hope#with life and with the world#I’m sitting here trying to focus on more important things in the world but I’m really struggling to fight the urge to end it#it doesn’t get better for people like me#I have what I need. my partner keeps breaking things in our apartment when he gets mad#he accidentally broke what I was going to tie the ‘rope’ to#I have other ways and instead of going to do it I’m just sitting here.#and he’s gonna be upset when he comes back because I didn’t do anything all day except try not to kms#I just want to go do it and honestly why am I even stopping myself#for other peopl. not for me.#everyone’s better off without me anyways.#why am I bothering ?#I’ll never be what the world needs or what in the people in my life want me to be#I’ll never be allowed to exist as I am and be accepted for that. nobody wants to fucking hear it and I don’t#blame them#talking to professionals doesn’t help and I’m sick of not being understood. or heard.#and I’m sick of having to deal with this. there are more#important things happening in the world#than my feeling suicidal. I feel so fucking stuoid and selfish for just being suicidal.#and apparently my boyfriend doesn’t believe that it’s real anymore which just makes everything so much worse. he’ll have to believe it when#he’s the one to find me I guess#I’ve been barely hanging on and he just makes it worse every time.#I have nothing. nothing but a guy who needs me#to be his mom and his therapist and have no feelings of my own besides love for him#I’m just a shell of a person now anyways what’s the harm. everyone I love will ne better off#everyone I’ve ever loved and have ever known will be better off
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sooniebby · 3 months
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Don’t ask how I thought of this… it’s trans male reader, no set character—imagine whoever you want. Bottom reader. Use of pussy, and other “feminine” words. This lowkey just self indulgent, so the reader isn’t fully transitioned 🫶🏼 don’t read if you get dysphoric easily.
You knew your friend did “sex work” on the side. And the reason why it wasn’t true “sex work” was because it was just him and his girlfriend recording themselves having sex and posting it onto Twitter.
It was just a kink for them, really, he never said anything about getting paid for it. But you remember them thinking about putting a paywall to see the full videos.
More power to them, or whatever. When you became roommates with said friend, him and his girlfriend made sure to record any videos when you were gone. Which was great.
It wasn’t until the two broke up, amicably actually, she just found out she was a lesbian—you thought his Twitter porn days were over now he didn’t have a partner. Since he didn’t like doing solo content
What you didn’t think was that he’d ask you to do something with him
“It’s just until I find someone else,” he said, nonchalantly.
“But it doesn’t give you money.”
“Oh we did make money off it. Not a lot, but decent money. Julie was gonna keep doing it with me just to keep some money but now she’s making lesbian content.”
“But girls! Wasn’t it straight porn?”
He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m straight… the viewers won’t care, pussy’s pussy!” He laughed until he saw your face. “Oh well if it makes you uncomfortable you don’t gotta do it. It is a strange request.” He moved to get up until you grabbed his hand.
“How much?”
“Huh?”
“How much do you earn from the videos?”
“Depends. The viewers love oral sex and teasing videos. Those usually get over… 2k—”
“—I’m in.”
“Seriously?”
“Cash is cash. They won’t be seeing my face right?”
“No. The focus,” he kneeled down close to you, “will be on down here.” His hand trailed against your crotch. “You just gotta lay there and be pretty, baby.”
No wonder the girls who ever dated him cried when they broke up. Who would willingly leave someone with a tongue like this?
You had told him there was no way you’d allow him to call you baby girl or anything of the sort which he happily agreed.
“Don’t worry. It won’t take long.”
“Wouldn’t want it to.” You muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed to be nude from the waist down in front of your friend. He smirked slightly grabbed his phone as he aimed it to film your crotch area.
“Don’t say that—not when you’ll end up begging for more.”
You didn’t even get to retort that as you felt his finger rub against your clit. Your breathing hitched as he was slow with his touch, teasing your outer lips. Down and up, small strokes, and a light push.
You could see why these videos got viewers—it was driving you crazy each time he teased your clit before pulling away. Your hips began flinching slightly, subconsciously trying to rub your pussy against the palm of his hand.
“Did I say you could do that?”
You instantly froze, dropping your hips right back down on the bed.
“Good boy.” He whispered, making sure the phone didn’t pick it up.
What the fuck?! That… that was for you alone, right? While you were reeling at how easily he could command you, you cried out feeling two fingers shove itself inside your hole.
His fingers moved fast, spreading you open. You didn’t even realize you weren’t hiding your whimpers as you tried to calm down from the sudden pleasure. Your legs twitched and spasmed, fingers digging into the bedsheets for some sort of stability.
But then he stopped. Just as fast as he started.
He ended the video and wiped his fingers against your thigh, smirking. “Alright, last video, then that’s it. You doing alright?”
“H…huh…?” You could only sputter out, reeling in shock.
“Starting video now.”
You glanced down, watching as he pulled out his cock from his sweatpants. Oh, he was.. a bit big. His cock flopped right against your pussy, causing you to shudder in response.
It wasn’t that you were a virgin… but fuck, you were embarrassingly excited to have his cock so close, just inches away from your hole.
“Condom?” You whispered
He didn’t answer, subtly shaking his head. You watched as he started the new video and placed his cock right against your pussy. You couldn’t look away, wanting to see if you could really take in something so thick and long.
But he didn’t.. push in?
With his free hand gripped tightly on your hips, he began rubbing his cock right against your pussy. You whimpered, biting your lip to try and keep your voice down.
You tried to rub against him but he held you down easily with his hand on your hips. It surprised you that he could do that with just one hand but you weren’t complaining.
“You want it, huh? Just look at it,” he moved the phone down to get a good look at your soaked pussy. “Never seen someone this wet for me. I’m flattered, baby.”
His hand released your hips and he suddenly stopped moving. You looked over to him, wondering why in god’s name he would stop. But all you saw was a shit eating grin. He wanted you to do the rest.
Any sort of self respect you had was gone. You just wanted to cum already.
You began to move your hips, rubbing your pussy against his cock. A few times, by pure luck, his cock threatened to push inside—but each time he’d fix his cock. Why would he let you get fucked?!
No matter, you reached down to begin rubbing your clit, needing some form of stimulation when he grabbed your wrist.
“I thought you were a good boy?” He asked, a false sense of sadness in his tone. “C’mon, be good for the camera.”
Once again, he made sure only you heard that. Why’d he keep doing? To rile you up? You’re already close anyway.
But then he stopped…? Again?!
“All done. Thanks again, man.” He patted your tummy and got up, pulling his pants over his cock. You wouldn’t deny that you felt your word shatter seeing it being covered by those stupid excuse of pants.
“That’s…?”
“I’ll send you your cut by the end of the week!”
He was leaving? After all that? He was just going to leave without fucking you? You quickly sat up on the bed and grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving. He didn’t turn over to face you, keeping his gaze on his phone.
“Wait… that’s it..? N..nothing else?” You whispered breathlessly, needing release, quickly. And you didn’t want to rely on some plastic dildo when there was a real thing just a few inches away.
“Yeah. I just needed two videos for this month. Why?”
“I… I…”
“Begging for me?” He asked, cheekily, looking up to finally look at you. “C’mon, use your words. What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“Do I? Because if you don’t say it, I’ll do what I want with you.”
It didn’t take long for him to make you cum. As soon as his cock entered your pussy, you came. And then he really did what he wanted with you. You were too far gone to really think as it happened, but you were sure he took many pictures after, enjoying the sight of your cream filled pussy.
You certainly helped him again, and a few times after that…
Though… you’re starting to wonder…
You can’t find his and Julie’s twitter account…
And when you, embarrassingly, asked Julie—
She said they deleted the account when they broke up
Ooh. Spooky lol, what can I say? I love manipulative men…
Tag list: @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life69 @remdayz @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @smellwell @tomoeroi @tehyunnie @love-kha1 @star-3214 @rhetorical-conscience
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melrodrigo · 2 months
Text
on your knees - c.s.
Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader
Summary: It’s Valentine’s day and Cairo really needs a date.
Word Count: idk i’ll fill it later
A/N: Hiii, here to feed my babies. Beware the last few parts because i did nawt proofread this. Will come back to edit it eventually! Thanks for all the love
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“Come onnnnn, go on a date with me?” The girl in front of you practically begs, leaning forward till her whole body is pressed up to the front of your desk.
“Very funny.” You tell her, dryly.
Cairo’s been whining all week about not having a valentine’s date, but you don’t know why she specifically chooses to whine to you about it. After all, you had heard from around school she had a crush on Mr.Miller.
Your nose crinkles in disgust at the thought. Their coupling would be wild at best, and illegal (not to mention boring) at worst. It would be like seeing Einstein and an Instagram model holding hands. Except Mr. Miller wasn’t Einstein, he was Henry Miller. A spectacularly boring middle aged white guy.
To be completely transparent, you wouldn’t have minded going on a date with Cairo. Since, truth be told, you might’ve had a (tiny) crush on her.
You let your mind wander, think of what it would be like to take her out. The perfect date.
She loves nature, so it would be outdoors for sure. She doesn’t love extravagant gestures, you’d probably make her a little picnic. Your train of thought is cut short by the evil voice that tells you she could be fantasizing about a certain professor on your imaginary date.
Cairo breaks your daydreaming by falling to her knees beside your chair, hitting the carpet with a loud thud.
Your eyes widen, and you quickly grab her shoulders and try to push her up, but she refuses. For such a small girl, she sure had a lot of strength.
“What do you want me to do, beg? I can beg.” She tells you, still on her knees, dress pooling atop the rug.
You’re ashamed to admit the position has a bit of an effect on you. But who could blame you? Anyone would be flustered if Cairo Sweet was looking up at them like that…
It’s a little awe inspiring, seeing Cairo so, desperate. You’re not sure what’s brought this all on, but the cold cut Cairo you once knew has disappeared completely from the equation.
“Cairo.” You hiss, eyes darting between the door and the girl in front of you, praying that no one comes in.
“What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?” She whines again, reaching for your shirt cuffs for something to hang onto.
There’s a swoosh and a quiet “oh!” that brings your attention back to the door.
Mr. Miller.
He stands somewhat awkwardly, smiling the type of smile that somehow indicates he’s unhappy. His eyes narrow when he notices it’s Cairo on the floor, his beloved teacher’s pet.
Okay, now you really need Cairo to get up. You support (force) her up and onto half of your chair, reprimanding her quietly as Miller walks past, coughing.
She straightens only slightly before settling once again on your lap, claiming it’s more comfortable and “a more suitable place for her to focus on her studies”.
“Why don’t you just sit at your desk, hm?” You point at the table, a single chair, smack dab in the middle of the classroom, in front of Mr.Miller. She was such a nerd.
She stares back at you blankly, big brown eyes making you a little distracted.
“That’s not mine.” She says, and you breathe out a laugh. The tension breaks. Her eyes crinkle lightly at the sound.
“You’re so weird.” You mumble, but allow her to sit further into your lap, no doubt much more comfy than her previous position.
“Can I sit here the rest of the class?” She asks, a little bashfully. You give her a pointed look, but nod nonetheless.
“Whatever you want.” You tell her, and she seems happy with that, taking her laptop and notebook out, ready to learn.
You see her lock eyes with Mr. Miller, who looks very confused. She smiles shyly and breaks the contact by nudging herself into the crook of your neck.
Oh.
Maybe all this was just to make Mr.Miller jealous.
You frown at the disturbing thought. Cairo’s breath tingles your skin as she tilts her head up so her lips are right beside your ear. The sensation makes you shiver, quite unwillingly.
“Now will you go on a date with me?” She whispers, huskily. Her confidence has returned, cocky like the Cairo you know so well.
You weigh your options.
You do really want her to get away from Mr.Miller…it might be a good time to slap some sense into the young girl.
“Alright.” You say curtly, already regretting your decision.
Cairo removes herself from your neck, smiling wide. For a second it quells your anxieties, her milky white pearls blinding.
She turns back as more students start filing in, ready yet again to learn.
You can’t focus for the duration of the class, mind wandering. Valentine’s day was tomorrow, what were you going to say? What were you going to do?
You stay quiet until class ends and all the way while you walk her back to her home. Cairo pokes at you a couple times to try and get you out of your head.
“Don’t forget flowers!” Cairo teasingly yells from ahead of you, already one foot into her house. You straighten up, dumbly answer with a “You got it!” and a face palm once she’s out of sight.
-
Okay. This was it. Last night was spent toiling on your bed, writing a script of what you’ll tell Cairo, prepared lillies- her favorite flowers, and a batch of the best things you could possibly find in your fridge.
Bread, butter, freshly sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and two slices of turkey left, you’re all ready and set.
The script is tucked away into the back pocket of your jeans, snug and cozy. It radiates warmth that makes you think it’d be terribly rude to ever take it out.
You sit down onto the grass, arms on both sides straightened, palms rubbing uncomfortably with the tablecloth.
“I shouldn’t be this nervous.” You remind yourself, but it does almost nothing to quell your worries.
You can’t keep lying to yourself, the truth swims in your head and you’re afraid it’s going to leave your lips the second Cairo arrives. You aren’t nervous about the letter, or anything to do with Mr.Miller. In fact, you’re nervous about the date.
A tiny part of you, no matter how much you try and shun it away, hopes that, maybe, just maybe, if Cairo liked this date, she might start liking you.
The minutes count themselves down too fast, and it’s almost time. You sit straighter, checking your shirt for any wrinkles.
You see a tiny figure make it’s way onto the lawn, and you have to bite back a smile when you realize it’s Cairo.
She looks almost shy as she walks up to you, twiddling with her thumbs.
It’s like a wave washes over you when you finally see her up close. She’s wearing a gray turtleneck, with a denim jacket over it, hair all nice and wavy. She looks unbelievably good.
It takes a second for you to grab your bearings and act like you weren’t just blatantly staring at her.
“You look beautiful.” You say, as casual as you can muster, and Cairo breaks out into a smile. You notice she’s wearing water liner, and it makes your knees feel like jelly. She’s only ever done makeup like this once, during your school dance, and it had all but made you swoon.
“Yeah?” She muses, mindlessly. Bending down and sitting on your makeshift picnic cloth.
“Yeah.” You breathe, even though you can tell she didn’t really need an answer to that. She reaches for your face, pushing a stray hair back.
“You look good too.” Is what she comments, all soft like.
You’re a little ashamed to admit you dressed up particularly for this occasion. Some rosy pink blush, your favorite lipstick just for her.
You cough awkwardly, and it breaks you both out of your trance. You reach for the food and serve her her plate.
You get a good while into talking and laughing that you bring up Mr. Miller.
“So…do you have your eye on anybody right now?” You ask nonchalantly, pretending like you haven’t mapped this whole conversation out in your head a million times.
Something flashes in her eyes but it disappears so quick you can’t tell what it is.
“You know you can tell me anything,right?” You tell her, and you mean it. Whatever or whoever it was, you’d be fine with it. You wouldn’t just stop being friends with her because of complicated feelings. She mattered more to you than that.
She bites her lip, then speaks quick, like she has to get it out before she overthinks too much.
“Yeah I am interested in someone. In this school, actually.” She says.
You feel your heart drop to your ass, you’d hoped against hope that the rumor wasn’t true- but with this new information, it had to be.
So much for ‘being okay with anything.’ That’s it. It’s over for me.
“Oh?” You try and ask, but it comes out as a little squeak. Cairo shoots you a weird look, but continues telling you about it.
“Yeah…I really like her. I just, I don’t know if I should pursue it.” She purses her lips.
Now it’s really time for your heart to flip. Her? Did she say ‘her?’
“Yeah, I did.” She confirms, small smirk playing on her crimson lips.
“Shit, did I say that out loud?” You ask her, cheeks heating up immediately. She gives you a quick nod.
Oh god.
“You like a girl?” You ask again, disbelieving.
This time she huffs, sounding almost impatient.
“Yes, I like a girl.” She says, exasperated, with a bit of bite in her tone. Something defensive and possibly jealous stirs up in you fast and quick. Why does she look annoyed?
You can’t help but answer in the same way.
“Okay, so who is it that you like so much?” You ask pointedly. The fire in her eyes that was there just moments before simmers, and just like that, she reverts back to her normal self. It’s almost concerning how she does it so quick, like the flip of a switch.
She suddenly looks nervous again. You give her a small encouraging nod, take her hand in yours as support. They tremble slightly.
“I like you. And I know you probably-” She continues but all you can hear are the echos of her first statement.
I like you. I like you. I like you.
I like you.
You retract from her hands, surprised beyond belief. You regret it immediately when her smile drops.
Her mouth is moving rapidly, and you use the best of your abilities to try and hear what she’s saying.
“I mean why do you think I even begged you on this date? I swear your head is so thick-“ Her words pass through your ears in intervals, and finally, after she’s done, and looking at you expectedly, all you can do is croak out a weak, “You don’t have a crush on Mr. Miller?”
Cairo blinks once, twice.
“What?” But there’s no fear or judgement or any hint of any emotion except disbelief.
Huh, so she didn’t know about the rumor.
“Who said I have a crush on Mr.Miller?” She asks, nose scrunching in disgust. You sigh, looking up to the sky and thanking god.
At this revelation, you’re elated. You scooch just a tad closer and tell her about the rumor. When you’re done, you expect someone shocked, or weirded out, but all she does is letout a hefty laugh.
“God, just because I like a class doesn’t mean I want to fuck the teacher.” She smiles, and you marvel in the way she’s able to shake it off so easy. She’s always been like that, carefree.
You let your mind wander to what she said before. She turns her head to look at the scenery, allowing you guys to sit in comfortable silence.
You say her name, a simple sound, but it makes her look up into your eyes, curious.
“Did you really mean what you said? You like me?” You ask, soft.
She gives an adamant nod, assuring she really does. God, you could not focus right now. She looks so pretty.
“I like you too. Like, a lot.” You breathe, and watch as her eyes sparkle.
“Really?” She blinks, in a state of vulnerability you’ve never seen. You can’t believe that she wouldn’t believe it. You give her the same nod, grin breaking out on your face.
“Can I kiss you?” She asks, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your lips.
It’s all you’ve ever wanted- you can’t even speak.
Her kiss isn’t what you’ve always imagined. Something soft, something gentle. That’s how it always was with the first kiss. You should’ve guessed long ago Cairo wasn’t just anyone.
She surges in, grabbing your face tight like if she lets go you’ll disintegrate. She’s so rough, and you can’t get enough of it. She climbs over your body and settles in your lap, grabbing the collar of your shirt to deepen the kiss.
You break away when it gets too much, both of you panting. Her cheeks are now another shade of pink you can be proud of causing; her hair messed up in a way that makes you want to grab her and kiss her again. And so you do.
You guys stay like that, laughing and talking and kissing till it’s dark out.
“It’s a good thing I forced you on this date, isn’t it?” She muses, rolling in your arms.
You giggle, high from the endorphins.
“You didn’t force me, it was a two person thing.” You try and justify, hoping she doesn’t think you didn’t want the date.
“It’s sweet of you to say that, but we both know you would’ve never asked me out.” She tells you, booping her nose against yours.
“Oh shut up.” And you take her lips in another kiss before she can retort.
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edenavari · 3 months
Text
On the Matter of Mirrors
Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 
‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 
But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 
“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 
They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.
All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 
“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.
He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 
“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 
“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 
“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”
“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 
“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”
Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”
It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”
“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 
Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 
Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 
His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 
He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 
The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 
Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”
A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 
“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 
Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 
“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.
“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”
Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 
“You should forget all about Nancy.”
Steve frowns too. “That so?”
“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”
“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”
“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 
“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 
When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.
Give us a kudos, if ye dare x
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freedomfireflies · 8 months
Text
Yellow*
Summary: An extra for One for the Money*
The one where you have to use your safeword with Mr. Styles and you worry it'll ruin everything.
Word Count: 3.4k
(TW: Panic attack and mentions of panic attacks)
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
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“Just like that…shit, just like that, Peach. So fucking good. Can feel you, honey. Fucking feel you—”
Mr. Styles’ hand intertwines with yours before he brings them both to your stomach. Pressing your palm taut to the flesh until you can feel the subtle bulge from his cock. Thrusting into you so deep, your eyes roll all the way back into your head.
He’s been at it for hours. Showing off for the camera, allowing them to see him at his most powerful. And you at your most vulnerable.
You’re used to it by now. More than used to it, and on any given day, you thrive off it. You indulge in his prowess, his intentions. More than willing to be flaunted in front of the large audience of onlookers as he takes you anyway he wants you.
So you’re not sure why today feels different. Why the weight on your chest is heavier than it usually is. Why his hands – while always kind, always comforting – feel like tools in a game of your misery.
You don’t want to stop him. Don’t want to scare him or upset him. You know the moment you utter the words, the dynamic will shift instantaneously. And perhaps that’s what you want, but the repercussions might be more than you’re prepared to handle.
Yet the thought doesn’t leave you as he lowers his fingers toward your clit to pinch and tweak your next orgasm out of you. But you’re already far too sensitive, far too gone in the stimulation and the pain to enjoy it.
Instead, you try to focus on the little red light that blinks from the camera, try to imagine how pleased the audience will be to see this. How all of this will be worth it. It has to be worth it.
“Feels good, honey, doesn’t it?” he groans, now pushing your knee into your chest until you’re whimpering. “My pretty pussy takes me so well, doesn’t she? Let’s me fuck her exactly the way I want. Till she’s fucking crying.”
You nod weakly and the sight of your wet eyes makes his cock twitch as he drives himself in at a quicker pace.
And suddenly, you can’t breathe. Can’t slow the racing of your pulse or ignore the ringing in your ears. It’s everywhere, this pain. Your vision of him has gone blurry and your poor pussy feels swollen and abused.
But you tell yourself it’ll be fine. That you just need to catch your breath. You just need a second, and it’ll be okay. 
Because you don’t want to say it. You’ve never had to say it before, and you don’t exactly want to start now. And you aren’t sure why, you know he’d be more than understanding. But this is silly, you feel silly. Because you’re fine. You just need a second. And it'll pass. 
It will pass.
But it doesn’t pass, and you don’t feel in control of your own body anymore. Which is normally the point, but not today. Today you need to feel grounded, to feel some semblance of power over the anguish. And he’s so good, and so kind, and you can’t say it. You can’t do this to him, can’t do this to yourself, and if you can just catch your breath, it’ll be okay. 
Because he feels good, he really does. And you’re making him feel good, and you don’t want to take that from him. Because then he won’t get to cum, and he’ll be upset, and he’ll never treat you the same. He’ll always remember that you were too weak to take it.
So you’ll take it, you will. You’ll be his good girl, his good little slut, and you’ll make him proud. 
You will.
Your eyes squeeze shut as you repeat this mantra. As you command yourself to like the pain. Because you do. You have to. You can’t say it. You can’t, so you won’t, and you won’t do this, and you won’t ruin it, and it’s fine, and everything is fine—
“Wait,” you whisper, hands tugging on the sweaty curls at your disposal. Hard enough to capture his attention. “Wait, hold on, hold…yellow.”
Just like that…it all stops. He stills, instantly. No more thrusts into your cunt, no more pinching or pulling on your clit, no more kisses to your neck. It all stops in the blink of an eye, and you hear him inhale a quick breath as his body freezes above yours.
Seconds pass. Quiet and filled with a charged, tense energy that’s so eerie, you can almost hear your heart thumping in your chest. 
Then, he murmurs, “Okay. Okay, m’waiting.”
Your lashes flutter shut as a wince stretches across your expression. He doesn’t sound upset, but maybe he is. And you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, can sense how hard he’s trying to hold himself back, how difficult this must be for him to stop like this.
And you realize now that you’ve ruined it, and he’s gonna be pissed, and he’s going to end things, and he’s never gonna fuck you again—
“Peach,” he says softly, face still nuzzled against your shoulder. “Talk to me, what do you need? What would you like me to do?”
You don’t trust your voice. Can feel the influx of tears racing up the back of your throat as you squeeze his hair harder and shake your head.
But this isn’t an answer he accepts, his fingers gently tugging on your waist. “Peach, I need to hear you. I need to know what to do—”
“Nothing,” you exhale, the words getting lost in his cheek as you hold on for dear life. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just need one second. One second and you can go, okay? I promise, I’m sorry—”
“Peach.” It’s not angry but it’s fervent. Determined. “Don’t…shit. Don’t you dare fucking apologize right now, just tell me…tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to pull out? Or do you want me to stay still?”
And you want to answer, but you can’t. Because there’s too much happening in your head right now. In your heart. It’s going faster than you think it ever has, and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, and you want to cry—God, you want to cry. Can already feel the tears slipping down your face, fast and without mercy.
Because he’s so good, and so wonderful, and so kind, and you don’t deserve him. Especially after making him stop, and why did you make him stop, why did you do this, why can’t you just get over it—
“Hey, hey.” His head lifts, eyes finding yours as his hand comes up to cup your jaw. As delicately as he can without startling you. “Okay, it’s all right. You’re okay, Peach.”
His lips press to the tears on your skin. Gently and with great compassion. Which, in turn, only makes you cry that much harder.
“You’re okay,” he whispers between slow kisses to your cheek. “Deep breath, my love. You’re all right, I’ve got you, yeah? M’right here. Won’t let you go until you want me to.”
You melt into the mattress as he continues holding you to the best of his ability. As he attempts to comfort you without causing you any more pain.
“Honey, I need you to tell me what you need. What your body needs,” he repeats after a moment, nose faintly brushing against yours. “Do you want me to pull out or do you want me to stay still?”
Truthfully, you aren’t sure what you want. It doesn’t sting the way it did before, but you’re worried if he moves, the pain will return tenfold.
And the thought of him taking himself from you makes your chest ache.
“I don’t know,” you whimper, attempting to hide yourself in his neck. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying—”
“Hey.” The stern voice returns as his palm tightens against your chin and pulls your focus to him. “What did I just say, hm? I don’t want to hear one more apology out of this pretty mouth. Is that understood?”
Your bottom lip quivers. “…I’m sorry.”
With a gentle but slightly amused sigh, he says, “Peach—”
“I am,” you insist, nails curling into the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I made you stop, I’m fine. I’m fine, really. I think I just got scared or something—”
“Scared?” His demeanor shifts on a dime, brows furrowing, and expression quickly growing distressed. “Scared how? What did I do? What can I do?”
“Nothing,” you repeat, gasping slightly at the implication. “Nothing, no. You didn’t…that’s not what I…fuck.”
“Okay, easy, Peach,” he mumbles, sweeping his thumb along your bottom lip soothingly. Waiting until you calm. And he studies you for quite some time, as though looking for the answer written somewhere on your face. “It was a lot, yeah? I pushed too hard.”
“No,” you try again, but his look of disapproval makes you wilt. “I mean…it was a lot, yes, but you didn’t…normally, it’s perfect. It’s never too hard or too much. You didn’t do this, I think I just…my mind wasn’t here. Maybe.”
He nods once. Contemplates this. “I should have checked in with you more frequently. Especially with the camera on—”
“No,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap his shoulder. “Stop putting this on yourself, it’s making me sad.”
“And your apologies make me sad,” he counters. “But that’s the point of the safeword, isn’t it? The system we have in place? It’s nobody’s fault. It’s about communication. About trust, about safety.”
You swallow thickly and settle into the calming safe of his eyes.
His finger continues to trace the outline of your mouth, almost as if in an attempt to collect himself. “Do you trust me, Peach?”
Your stomach sinks. “Of course.”
“Do you feel safe with me?”
“Yes.” You leave a kiss to his thumb. “Always, Sir. I promise.”
He begins to frown. “No, I don’t want you to call me that right now. I want you to call me Harry.”
And this shift – this instruction is what you were afraid of. Lashes fluttering as you whisper, “It’s…it’s okay. You can still be Sir, I promise—”
“No, I don’t want to be your dominant right now,” he corrects firmly. “I don’t want to be your Sir. Or your boss or your investor. I want to be your partner. Your equal. I want to be you and me. Us.”
And you know he means it. Can sense the truth of it behind his assertion and it feels like the first deep breath you’ve been able to take all day.
 “Okay,” you agree, taking hold of his wrist to keep his hand close to your face. “Okay, we’ll be us.”
He seems relieved, dipping down to kiss the center of your forehead before asking, “Now…tell me what you want. Do you want me to pull out or keep still? What does your body need right now?”
You take a moment to find the right answer. “I don’t…honestly, I don’t know. I’m okay right now. Doesn’t…doesn’t hurt as much. You can…you can keep going if you want.”
“It’s not about what I want,” he reminds you. “It’s about what you want. What you need. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want me to go, I will.”
“I…I don’t want you to go. Really, I didn’t mean to make us stop, I swear—”
“We’re not stopping yet,” he interrupts. “Not until you say red. Right now, we’re just taking a break. Reassessing what you need. Okay?”
You nod weakly. “Okay.”
“Good.” He presses his palm to your cheek. “Do you want to say red? Do you want to stop?”
Again, you deliberate this. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
The frown returns. “I need you to do more than think, Peach. I need you to be sure.”
“I am,” you rush to clarify, shifting a bit beneath him as you squeeze his arm and fight against a pained wince. “I am, I promise. I just…I don’t know what happened. It just…there was a lot happening all of a sudden, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t enjoy it. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe or…or understand why I felt so off.”
A certain sadness finds him again as he nods and presses a couple more kisses to your temple. “I think you had a panic attack, my love.”
It’s an odd thought. One you aren’t quite familiar with, as panic attacks aren’t that common for you. In fact, you don’t believe you’ve ever had one before. At least not that you were aware of.
“Oh…” The words feel empty in your head. Weightless, with no meaning to grasp onto. “I…why?”
The corner of his mouth curls up, and the delicate smile makes your heart soar. “I don’t know. Sometimes we can’t find the cause, it just…happens.”
You blink up at him. “You’ve had a panic attack before?”
“I have,” he says calmly, and it surprises you more than it should. “I get them occasionally. Not as much anymore, though. With you.”
And this admission feels like something you can’t explain. Another piece to the Harry Styles puzzle you get to add to. Letting you see his big picture.
“I didn’t know that,” you whisper, and he shrugs.
“I never told you.” Another kiss to your forehead. “But I know how disorienting they can be, and I think it’s best we take a longer break before we continue.”
You feel your expression fall as he gently begins to move. “No, I…I don’t want to stop, I’m fine. You can…you can go—”
However, when he suddenly shifts his hips, it forces you to suck in a sharp, pained breath. Making it clear that continuing is no longer an option.
And for some reason, it feels like a punch to the gut. Knocking the wind from your lungs until that heaviness returns to your chest.
He really is going to stop. He’s going to take his body from you, and his weight, and his heat, and his cock. And the scene will be over, and maybe you won’t start again. Maybe he won’t be in the mood, or he’ll jerk one out in the shower without you, or he’ll look at you differently.
And you hate that thought more than anything in the world.
“No,” you practically whimper, grabbing onto his hips to keep him still. “No, we don’t have to stop, I’m fine. Really, it was just…it was nothing. Please, Harry.”
His thumb quickly returns to your face, brushing just below your eye to help dry the fresh set of tears on your warm, stained cheeks.
And he looks so very wounded. “Peach…this isn’t a punishment. There’s a reason we use the traffic light system, and it’s for moments like this. To keep things safe—”
“But I am safe,” you argue, the sound of your plea timid and riddled with distress. “And I’m fine now, really. You can go, we can finish. I want you to finish—”
“Peach,” he says again, but it’s a bit more resolute. “This isn’t about me finishing. It will never be about me finishing, all right? We can always resume the scene later if you’d like, but right now…I want to hold you. I want to help you feel steady again.”
And it’s the most perfect thought in the world. From the most perfectly imperfect man, and yet the idea of stopping sends sharp needles down your spine.
“Please,” you whine again, sniffling softly. “I don’t want to stop, I promise. Please don’t make us stop, please don’t…don’t…”
He dips down and nuzzles his nose to yours, forcing you to take a deep breath. “Honey, I’m not doing this to hurt you. Or upset you. I want to help, I want you to let me help. To honor our system and take a break.”
But you tug on him tighter, face disappearing into his chest as you shake your head. “Please don’t. Please just ignore me. I’ll feel worse if we stop, really. I’ll get worried and I’ll overthink, and I’ll panic again, and it’ll just be so much worse. So just…let’s finish, okay? I want to finish.”
You hear – and feel – him sigh. “Baby, I need you to listen to me right now, okay? This is my answer.”
It’s rare he uses this nickname, and even though it might be a little cliché, it makes your stomach wrench in the best possible way.
Yet still, the anguish is evident. “Harry,” you whisper, pleading desperately with everything you have left.
He slips his palm around the back of your neck to pull you from his body and allow him to see your face. It’s scrutinous, his expression. Slightly stern and somewhat doleful. “Do I need to be your dominant again? Is that the only way you’ll listen to me?”
Truth be told, you wonder if it is, and your sad little hiccup seems to be answer enough.
So, while fighting a smile, he says, “Then I want you to be a good girl and let Daddy hold you. I don’t want you to argue with me, or fight me, or act like a brat. I want you to say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ and be done with it. Is that understood?”
With a shaky inhale and a feeble nod, you murmur, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good,” he hums before landing his mouth on yours. Kissing you for the first time in what feels like years. “Much sweeter when you behave for me, my love. Aren’t you?”
But you don’t have the strength to answer.
“I know,” he says for you, chuckling against your lips. “Now…I’m gonna pull out. And I’m gonna go slow, all right? Try to be as gentle as I can. And I want you to tell me if it aches or if it’s too much, yes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
With this vow, he begins to draw his hips back, cock retreating from your pussy until that full feeling begins to diminish.
And at first it’s a bit uncomfortable. Tight, in a sense but eventually, he’s all the way out, and your cunt is provided a moment of much needed reprieve.
The moment that relief finds you, it seems to melt across your expression. And he notices, smiling gratefully but with a twinge of regret. As though he’s punishing himself for causing you the displeasure in the first place.
But before either of you can argue about it again, he’s settling on the mattress beside you and slipping an arm around your stomach. Keeping you pressed against his body to hold you the way he promised.
“There,” he sighs, lips returning to their rightful place on your neck. “Is that better?”
Your eyes fall shut in blissful ecstasy as you lace your hand with his. “Yes, Sir.”
He grins and that familiar dimple reappears. “Attagirl. And you’re gonna let me hold you, yeah?”
“Mhm. Always, Sir.”
He kisses the spot below your ear. “Good.”
The large bedroom falls silent while the little red light from the camera blinks the seconds away. You imagine you’ll have to scrap this video, and you want to feel regret over wasting so much content over this.
But you know, deep down, it’s not about the videos, or your OnlyFans, or the money.
Because all you really need…is here beside you.
“Sir?” you whisper into the delicate air.
His head rolls back. “Yes, Peach?”
“Thank you.”
He squeezes your hip. “Don’t have to thank me, honey. This is my job. This is what we agreed on.”
“I know,” you admit, allowing your other hand to travel to his hair. Fingers absentmindedly sweeping through the curls. “But I don’t think any of my other partners would have been this understanding. And I really appreciate it.”
His eyebrow raises. “Well, that’s why they aren’t your fucking partners anymore. You needed someone that wasn’t a total fucking twat.”
You smirk. “Touché.”
Another quiet lull as you listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Reveling in the feel of them against your heated skin. The way they keep you present in this moment with him instead of losing you to the voices in your head.
Contented, you turn and press your cheek to his forehead, nails scratching down his scalp gently. “Harry?”
“Yes, Peach?”
With a racing heart, your eyes flutter shut.
“…I love you.”
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Previous Part:
~ How Many?*
~ Full One for the Money Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @closureesny
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vampcubus · 7 months
Text
:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑 : 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊
𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
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:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!yandere!zenitsu agatsuma, mean dom!fem!reader, modern au, spit kink/spitting, finger sucking, light master kink, light oral fixation, spit as lube, dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation, sadism/masochism, pet name (lamb), fingering (m!receiving), cumming in pants/untouched, referenced stalking, zentisu is aged up to twenty-one in this.
:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 2.2k+
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 : 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓
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Zenitsu kneels at your feet, arms hugging your legs as his wide, brown eyes bore into you through dewy, blond lashes. His gaze is reverent and desperate as if he can’t tear himself away from you. The sight is reminiscent of how a golden retriever would look at its owner, equal parts pathetic and adoring.
‘Pay attention to me,’ his eyes say, ‘Love me,’ they beg, ‘Take pity on me,’ they plead with your own.
These are the eyes of the same man you’d just discovered snooping around your home. There’s something familiar about him as if you’d seen him before.
No, you’d definitely seen him before. All those times you’d felt watched, followed, or hunted. 
His hair is the same canary-yellow you’d see retreating in your peripheral when you’d look over your shoulder. Your heart sank into your stomach at the realization that you hadn’t been paranoid after all. Someone really had been out to get you all along and now they’re here, clinging to your legs like a child.
You lower a hand to stroke your fingers through his golden hair in a placating manner, and the simple gesture of affection seems to flip a switch in him. His breathing quickens and he buries his face into your stomach, hugging you tight enough to hurt as he begins to sob. His band-aid-riddled fingers bunch in your shirt as if he’s afraid you'll slip through them if he doesn’t cling.
“You’re touching me… you’re really…” The blond murmurs, his words muffled against your tummy. He shivers and trembles like the sensation is overwhelming, but he shoves his head into your hand anyway, chasing the affectionate caress. “Keep doing it. Keep… petting me, please…”
"I-I'm not dangerous, I swear,” he whimpers with a sniffle and looks up at you, hoping that his doe-eyed gaze would be enough to get you to relent. "I just... I burn for you. Please, just let me stay! I'll do anything! Anything!”
Your fingers tighten in his hair, forcing his head back none-too-gently.
“Ah!” Zenitsu recoils in a mix of surprise and pleasure, not expecting you to manhandle him so firmly. He lets his head be forced back, his eyes still puppy-like, but a faint blush has spread across his cheeks. 
He looks dazed, drunk off of your mere proximity. He hardly cares if your touch is rough, just that you’re touching him at all. 
You lips curl into a sadistic smirk at this realization.
“Kind of pathetic aren’t you, lamb? If I didn’t find it mildly amusing I might have turned you in to the authorities,” you taunted, entertained by the way his bottom lip trembled. Zenitsu looks up, his face splotchy from tears as he sniffles wetly, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation.
"Lamb?" He croaks, looking up at you through his dewy lashes at the pet name, allowing himself to hope. “Does that mean you'll be my shepherd? My master?"
“Of course you’d focus on that part,” you tsk, though you can’t say you’re displeased at the tears dotting his lash line. Sick in the head or not, he was a pretty crier, and you’d be lying if that didn’t turn you on. “That’s all you’re thinking about; being a dumb, mindless slut for me aren’t you?”
Zenitsu moans aloud at that, cock twitching in his pants. But he frantically shakes his head ‘no’, trying to insist it wasn’t true, cheeks aflame with humiliation. 
“Don’t say that! I-I’m not p-pathetic. I’m just–” he warbles, only to cry out as your foot presses against the prominent bulge tenting his pants, calling his bluff in a simple movement. 
“What’s this then?” Your self-satisfied sneer and vibrant eyes glimmering down at him make his mind go blank. 
“Th-that’s- haaa~ mmh!” His voice trails off into a mewl, and he can’t stop himself from humping himself against the arch of your sock-clad foot. “I’m sorry, you’re just so beautiful. It gets like this whenever you’re around. I’m sorry!”
Your eyes darken with lust at his pathetic display, tongue dipping out to drag across your lip as he wraps both arms around your leg and bucks his hips. Heat pools between your legs, and you clench around nothing.
“Aren’t you embarrassed? Look at how hard you are, and all I’ve done is degrade you. You truly are pathetic,” you laughed, fingers tightening in his hair.
“Ssstop, I’m gonna cum,” he sniffles, teary, amber-colored eyes rolling back and tongue flopping out as his dick gets even harder. “Y-you’re gonna make me cum.”
Zenitsu squeezes his eyes shut and sobs when you take your foot away, humping the air uselessly, chasing friction that’s no longer there. His eyes flutter open at the feeling of your thumb tracing the seam of his lips, and he hums curiously.
“Open,” you instruct, and with minimal hesitation, his lips part. He shudders when your thumb dips into his mouth, stroking over his teeth and tongue. You explore his wet cavern with little regard for his comfort, trading your thumb for your index and middle fingers and purring in delight when he begins to suck without coaxing. 
“Good boy,” you crooned, and your cunt throbs at the hopeful, puppy-like look he sends you at the praise. 
He suckles at your digits more enthusiastically, gagging cutely when you press them deeper. Despite the tears stinging at his eyes, he lets you fuck his mouth open with your fingers, swirling his pretty pink tongue around them with even pinker cheeks. Desperation seeps into his expression, and you raise a brow, retracting your fingers to let him speak.
“Please kiss me,” he begs, drooling dribbling down his chin from practically blowing your digits. “P-please I’ve imagined your lips on mine so often… Dreamt of how you might taste.”
You hum, tapping your chin as if considering his request. You drag him by the hair up to your level, and he gasps at the sting, though he looks so damned excited when you lean in. 
“Open your mouth,” you nearly growl, and if Zenitsu had a tail he’s sure it’d be wagging. He obeys eagerly, parting his lips in anticipation of the hot caress of your lips over his own. 
His brows crease in confusion when your finger hooks into his mouth again, holding his jaw open, unsure of why you would need to–
Zenitsu’s body goes rigid when instead of kissing him, you spit directly into his mouth. His eyes cross as your saliva lands on his tongue, and with a startled shout, he cums in his pants completely untouched. The blond convulses and moans out, sounding unhinged as he paints the insides of his pants with white ropes and nearly collapses to the floor. He swallows your spit greedily, and his hands cling onto your waist, blunt nails digging into your hips. 
“A-again! Please, spit in my mouth again!” He cries, rubbing his overstimulated cock over your thigh despite the bright sting. “Fuck me, spit on me. I don’t care, just use me!”
You gnarl your fingers in his hair and tug him by it over to the bed, throwing his smaller form onto the mattress in a careless manner. He lands on his belly, with his lower half slightly raised, and the position brings your attention to his round ass. He attempts to pull himself up, only to be shoved back down, and then yanked to the edge of the bed until his legs are dangling off the side of it. 
“W-what’re you doing?” Zenitsu whines, nearly choking when instead of answering you yank his pants down his legs. His underwear follows shortly after and he gasps as the cold air hits his cum-slicked dick. But you ignore his throbbing half-hard sex, fully fixated on the cleft of his ass, which you’re quick to spread to get a better look at him. “A-ah! Are you-? Are you really going to fuck me?”
“That’s the idea, got any complaints?” Your hands rove over his thighs, hips, and backside, kneading the heated flesh in your hands. 
Zenitsu can hardly believe this is happening, that you’re truly rubbing him down right now. He had fisted his clock to the thought of this very moment for months on end, imagining every which way you’d take him. You’re not as tender as he’d hoped, but even your roughness is intoxicating. You’re throwing him around like a doll, doing with him as you please. He can’t help but lap up all the attention you’re giving him like a starved animal, even if you don’t love him, he’ll settle for this.
Even so, he’s eager to convince you to keep him.
“Please do! I-I’ll make it worth your while, promise! I’ll be the best toy you’ve ever— Ow!” His babbled reassurances are cut off by a harsh spank to his plump rear, and the deranged thing that’s decided you own him only wriggles his ass enticingly in response.
You even hear a choked giggle escape him and you mirror it despite yourself.
You lean in to trail kisses along the red handprint you’d left behind, and the boy erupts with shivers, his cock twitching back to full hardness whilst pinned between his tummy and the mattress. He cries out when you spit on his taint, his entire body jerking at the warm, wet sensation of it dripping down his hole. 
Your finger follows the wet trail, pressing down on his rim. He startles like a spooked rabbit, a clipped ‘Eep!’ tumbling out of his drooling lips.
“Has anyone ever touched you here?” You drawled in an amused tone, forced to admit you were quite taken with the shameless blond now.
He shakes his head rapidly but grinds his ass back onto your fingers enthusiastically, brown eyes nearly heart-shaped as strains to watch you touch him over his shoulder, “Just you, master.”
You press a slicked finger he’d drooled on earlier into him and he arches, mouth agape at the sensation of being filled. You fuck him open with one digit for a while, and then two, and the stretch makes him whimper, “Hurts.”
“Relax, lamb. It’ll feel better soon, it’ll feel really good. You trust your master, don’t you?” You comfort him in a soft tone, mesmerized by the ways he clenches around your digits.
He nods quickly, and even as he moans that it ‘hurts’ his inner walls keep trying to pull you in deeper. Yes, master knows what’s best for me.
He doesn’t quite say it aloud, but his body relays the message well enough.
Soon you’re fucking him open with three fingers, and the small thing can only writhe, moan, and drool against the sheets of your bed. Your scent is all around him, your fingers deep inside him, your voice guiding him along toward his orgasm like a lover would. He’s ascended to heaven surely, and you’re an angel picking him apart.
Your fingers brush over his prostate and he nearly wails, delirious tears streaming down his face, choked praises and gory promises to always protect you spilling out of him.
He’s close, so so close but he needs more from you.
“Y/nnn, my love. Please spit in my mouth again. Need all of y-yo-ou insiiide me!” Zenitsu begs, voice already hoarse from screaming his lungs out in pleasure. 
He’s sniffling and sobbing so hard it’s a wonder he can speak at all through the hiccups. 
Something about his pathetic cries resonates with you. Here this stunning man was, clearly ill for you, begging you to desecrate and disrespect him. Treating your spit like it’s a blessing. He deserved better than you, or maybe you were perfect for one another in your fucked-upness. 
You slide your fingers out and turn him over into his back. You crawl up his body, his hands grabbing at every part of you he can reach. Your clothed cunt presses against his flushed-red and leaking cock, and he keens at the feeling of your slick soaking through onto him. When your finger hooks into his mouth again, he’s quick to open it, anticipating your spit.
Instead, your lips find his own.
His limbs lock up, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your lips as he frantically humps against your pussy for a few more agonizing seconds. In the end and then he cums so hard it feels a little like dying. He lets out a strangled moan into your mouth, happy tears pouring out of him as sticky ropes spill out over his twitching abdomen. 
It feels so good he can do nothing but cry and cling, hoping to god he won’t wake up to find it’s all been a dream. But when he comes to, all he can see, smell, and hear is you. A tired, dumb grin spreads across his face.
“You kissed me,” he rasps stupidly.
“So I did,” you replied resolutely.
“I was wrong before, about you being my shepherd. I think you’re more like a hungry wolf,” Zenitsu sighs, eyelids drooping sleepily. He fights to keep his eyes open, to look at you a little longer. “You’ll eat me alive.”
“You seemed keen to let me gobble you up a moment ago,” you teased, grinding your cunt down on his oversensitive cock.
“Mercy on your lamb, please!” Zenitsu cries, squirming away from the friction this time. “Too much!”
“My lamb?” You ask with raised brows.
He looks a much too demure when he replies, “I was only ever yours. I don't care if you string me along. You can lie to me, pretend you love me. I'll be your stupid little helpless lamb, just never leave me."
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