#but i think i really need to learn to just be myself i know it’s a overused lesson but god it’s so hard for me now..
Note
could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐
mad at you | l.mk
“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”
💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we
❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.
❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader
❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex
❯ words: 4.3k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.
an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.
The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.
But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.
You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.
So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.
He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.
He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.
The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.
“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”
You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.
“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”
You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”
"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."
Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.
“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”
“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”
“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”
“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”
You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.
“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.
“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”
“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.
Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.
“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”
You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.
“Oh, so you want to break up?”
He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”
The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.
Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.
Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.
“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”
“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.
Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.
He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.
After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.
It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.
Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.
Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.
As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.
You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.
The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.
However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.
“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.
You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”
Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.
His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.
"I thought you left..."
Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.
“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.
You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.
He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”
His kindness only amplifies your guilt.
"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."
Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."
"No—"
He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."
Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.
"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."
"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"
Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"
His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.
"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."
You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”
You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.
Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.
His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.
Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.
You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.
He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.
“‘s okay,” you whimper.
Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.
He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.
He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.
And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.
“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”
You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.
“Mark…”
“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”
You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.
And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.
As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.
You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”
He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.
Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.
The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.
You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.
You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.
Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.
Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.
And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.
You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.
So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...
“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”
You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.
“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”
And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.
And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.
The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.
You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.
You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.
"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.
"I’m sorry," you say softly.
You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."
#🏷frompaige#mark lee smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut#mark lee x reader#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct x reader#kpop smut#nct hard hours#nct oneshot
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Beastmaster's Bond II (NSFW) FT Chaehyun
Author's Note: I just really like Chaehyun. Make sure to wish my happy marshmallow a happy birthday.
I winced as I watched Chaehyun leave. “You are in charge until I get back,” Chaeyun responded I faked a smile knowing this week was going to be Hell. She had awakened something inside of me and I was not keen on being caged again. When we lock eyes she smiles gently.
“Hey it will be okay big guy I'll be right back, and we can figure out everything then.” I nod and Chaeybyun leans into my ear.
“Then we can fuck all day and all night,” she says with sadistic smile.
“As enticing as that sounds. I kinda just want to cuddle when you get back,” I respond conflicted. She was a joy to be around when the hormones in my brain weren't telling me to fuck her endlessly. Which I could already feel building up. we raced to get her ready so there was no time to “meet either of our needs” We could see it in the other's eyes. We kissed to scratch that itch but ultimately it left us unsatisfied, but we held strong as I saw her off. I drove back home then back to the zoo to drown myself in work. The first week was easy enough without Marshmallow. Running the zoo was difficult at first and took up most of my time, but I adjusted quickly. By the second week, the possessive and restless anger began to set in. The time difference made chatting together harder for the two of us, but any time she mentioned another guy besides her father I'd feel this violent urge to say “You know who you belong to right,” and it wasn't from a toxic place but this weird place of matter of fact. Needless to say, I missed her, and it was taking a toll on me.
By the fourth week, it hit me and I was out of it. Marshmallow had gone radio silent because the area she was in had no cell service, but on a positive note, I had everything ready for her to move her Magnamalo in, along with having “restructured” the zoo to be firing on all cylinders. I balanced schedules and helped Xiaotang (Chaehyun’s assistant) learn about the zoo because I was going to be helping Chaehyun with hatching Elder dragons moving forward. I also got my passport. Which made me feel worse as now Marshmallow was just a flight and a few grand away. I considered booking it just to see her, to hold her, but I had responsibilities.
On the 45th day of Marshmallow being gone(and the 45th consecutive day of work), I take the day off. I took the time to do a different passion of mine Photography. I drove over the the Aquarium of the Pacific and took pictures within the area. Due to it being a random weekday aquarium was quiet. So I got to have time to think. The possessiveness still raged within me but it was a dull pain by this point and not the throbbing ache as before. While I spent the morning contemplating and putting myself at ease I was interrupted by a call. I took out my phone and answered it
“Ahoy,” I answer
“Hey, Daddy it's your favorite marshmallow can you pick me up,”
“That depends are you asking as a friend or as an employee,”
“I'm asking my Daddy to take care of me,” Marshmallow teased in a tone that sent a shiver through my spine.
“I'll be there in a bit,”
I arrived at Marshmallow’s apartment 35 minutes later where she was lounging on her couch only her bra and panties. As I walked closer to her I smiled at her cute expression. When I was close enough to touch I sat her up got on the couch with her and just draped my arms around her. Chaehyun smiled as she nestled herself in my arms.
“I missed you, Daddy,” she said content. I chuckled and replied
“As funny as this has been can I ask why you insist on calling me daddy?”
“Well at first it was to get under your skin but now it's kinda stuck like how you call me Marshmallow,”
“That was never to get under your skin. you're soft and pale like marshmallows. So my brain made the connecting the fire time we… connected, but you're also sweet like one so it made sense to me,”
“Wait so it's not an insult to my weight,” Chaehyun asked
“Heavens no I love Marshmallows they're great and you're great like one,” I answer. Chaehyun looks at me and smiles before kissing me. I could feel myself losing to lust but I wanted to enjoy our time together a bit more so I broke the kiss and ran my hands through her hair as we lay together.
After another half hour of this, Chaehyun began to grind her ass on my crotch. She did this at an agonizingly slow pace before I lost control and the lust I'd been holding back took over I unclasped her bra and pushed her panties down. Chaehyun mewls as I begin to squeeze and paw her pliant and soft body. I squeeze her thigh and Chaehyun moans aggressively.
“Fuck stop teasing me,” she growls as she gets on top and pins me down. Her eyes are hazy with lust.
“I tried so hard to stay focused but I needed you. I needed this cock in me,” she growled. I gave her a shit-eating grin as she began to stroke me, “So here is how it's going to go. You are going to fuck me until I'm satisfied then we're going go over to the logistics moving into together because I need you and this cock to put me to bed every night,” I smirked at her and replied
“What if I say no?” her vision goes red as she takes me. I groan at the softness of her pussy as it envelopes my dick. She starts grinding figure eight into my crotch.
“You couldn't deny me even if you wanted to. I see it in your eyes. You want me as much as I want you,” she says powerfully. Her voice and atmosphere resonate with a deep part of my soul. Something primal. I look deep into her eyes and I see that primal possessiveness mirrored In her. I flip our positions as I wrap her right thigh around my waist. I massage her tummy with my left hand and her right thigh with my right hand as I forcefully thrust into her.
“God how could I ever say something mean about your body it's just so soft and velvety smooth.” I moan. Chaehyun mewls as I continue thrusting. Chaehyun’s moans are music to my ears as we continue fucking. I alternate my arms and I grip her other thigh and breast.
“Oh God, you're so deep,” Chaehyun moans as I lift her hips slightly to get a better angle. Her pussy tightens around me as I continue thrusting. We lock eyes and I see hers clouded with an intense lust that terrorizes her. She can't stop herself from nearing her peak. “God breed meme fill my fertile pussy with your seed. Let's have kids together,” she screams. My body takes over thrusting into her harder and harder as I chase my peak. Hers hits her on the way there. “Oh my god. I'm cumming she moans as a wave of her juice crashes into me.” Her pussy tightens as I fuck her through her high, and she moans the filthiest encouragement to breed her.
“God fill me with your cum. Make my pussy spill it. Please give me your cum I need it. I need to feel full and make my belly swell. Make me a mommy. Making us official fills me up so much that I can't help but get pregnant. Make my tits swell and my stomach bulge with life, please. Make me a mommy make me pregnant,” Chaehyun moaned, and hearing her say all those things gave me the push I needed to climax. Five weeks of a needed release hit me all at once. I groaned as I flooded her insides white as I gave into her incessant breeding demands, but I couldn't stop thrusting. I needed to breed her more. I felt my body kick into a second gear and I flipped her over and began taking her from the back. Her pussy tightened delightfully as I yanked her prone body up.
“Oh yes,” she groaned as we
“Don't ever leave me again,” I growl at her.
“I won't ever again. I need this cock. I want this cock to fuck Me every day,” Marshmallow replied.
I nod as I grab her wide hips to thrust in her deeper. The possessive feeling reaches a new high, “I'll make sure of it. I'll breed you every day and night. You will begin and end your days full of my cum. Even when you're pregnant I'll fuck you. You're mine marshmallow and no one else.” Chaehyun moans excitedly at that before succumbing to another orgasm. When her body goes limp I realize I may have overdone it a tad. I pick her up and carry her to her bedroom. Well, mission accomplished I guess I think to myself as I wait for her to recover. She sleeps soundly on her bed as I lay next to her. She snores lightly so I adjust her so she can sleep on her side. Feeling her body naked body all over as I try to get her comfortable causes me to stiffen again, and I almost give in right there but I remember the time and place. She's probably tired from all the stuff she did. While she sleeps I field some emails for her about the zoo and play with my switch for a bit (I always keep it and my camera with me.) I let her sleep for a few more hours until I grew hungry. I put some pants on and walked into her kitchen to see if there was anything I could cook. Funny enough she had all the stuff from French toast and omelets. So despite it being almost 7:45 pm, I began work on “breakfast” When I was finishing up I heard the shuffling of her little feet. She yawned as she walked in now draped in the same panties and bra from earlier. Marshmallow looks at me and squints.
“You taller,” she says annoyed
“There's no way,” I reply. Marshmallow groans and goes back into her room before coming out with a tape measure. She walks over to me and uses a step stool to be closer to my head.
“Yep when we first met you were five-ten now you're six-one and three-quarters.,” Marshmallow teased. I looked at her confused. “I know every inch of your body dear and when we started today I had trouble hitting the spots I could normally get to now I know why,” she said with a smile. She looked behind me to see the food prepared. She swipes a piece of French toast and bites into it. She hums in elation at the taste,
“Ah mashta,” she mumbles as she chews. When she finishes she laughs, “Is there anything you can't do?” Marshmallow teased, I replied, “Talk to women normally,” Marshmallow replied with laughter as I fixed her a plate. After that, I fix myself a plate and we eat standing next to each other. I feel content and happy here with her. I never want this feeling to stop.
“Hey Chaeyhun,” I start
Chaehyun looks at me surprised,” using my real name you must be serious,” she says with a serious gaze. I nod and lock eyes with her.
“All that stuff about being together did you mean that,” I ask shakily.
Chaehyun smirks, “is that nervousness I hear? How unlike you.” Chaehyun teases in a dulcet tone that drives me wild. Feeling a little feral and done with teasing I lightly smack her ass and reply,
“Yeah now can you be serious before I fuck you stupid,” Chaehyun smiles as she takes a break from eating to stare at me
“What If I want you to fuck Me stupid, what if I want you to fuck Me stupid for the next week straight,” she asks I try to stay focused I try to fight my urges to pounce on her again and I hang on barely. Her body and voice are just so enticing that I always struggle to resist fucking her every second I am around her.
“Please Chaehyun I want to know where we stand. I…” Before I could finish laying out my worries Chaehyun kissed me with such a deep and passionate fervor that reduced all my worries into sad whimpers.
“You are mine Dinovaldo Bear, and no one else’s,” Chaehyun says with a lustful and possessive fire. She kisses me again with a ravenous hunger that she transfers over to Me. I join her in ravenous lust.
“And you are mine Kim Chaehyun,” I say before kissing her again. I rip her bra off and grope her breast before moving her panties to the side and plunging into her again. Chaehyun smiles seductively as I thrust in and out of her.
“That's it fill me again make sure my hungry pussy is always full of your cum for the next week,” Chaehyun moaned causing me to cum in her again. Chaehyun smiles.
“Oh someone liked that,” she smirks reveling in the power she held over me.
“Can you go again,” I nod then she does the sexiest and grossest thing I have ever witnessed. She put my last two pieces of French toast on her tits and said “Come Finish your dinner.” part of my brain was repulsed but damn was it hot. I got down to her right tit first and lapped up the soggy bread and sucked on her syrupy nipple. Chaehyun moaned as I feasted on her body. I have never experimented with food play (or many kinks for that manner but Chaehyun brought out this ferocity in me that thrilled and frightened me. The passion and desire were there but what if in my zeal I hurt her was something that plagued my mind. As multiple people had mentioned multiple times at this point; I was stronger and taller than I had been before. this meant that I had to readjust to my new strength which would make things awkward. as if sensing my hesitation while I devour her other tit and remaining French toast she said, "Come on Tiger be rough with me I can take it. I'm not delicate. I'm as tough as you are." Rex did it for me. I grabbed her waist and laid her flat on the ground as I thrust into her. we rut in syncopating rhythms clawing and marking each other as our own as we chase another mutual high. Chaehyun (with the help of some groping here and there) reached her release first and came violently. I was so caught up in her body that I hadn't realized she was also milking another orgasm out of me as well. As we basked in the afterglow I smiled at her. She smiled back. "You liked that Rex thing huh?"
"you bet Tiger," I say in the spur of the moment as her hair falls over her face making it look like tiger stripes. I was unprepared for her pussy to tighten at that.
"Ooh someone likes that," I tease. Chaehyun growls and flips me over as she begins to ride me. her pussy demanding I get hard once again. Unable to resist any of her demands my body complies and I let her ride another orgasm. She lifts her head in ecstasy as she says, "Call me that again. I'm your tiger. You're white tiger," she says losing herself further to pleasure,
"Does my tiger-like her new nickname," I ask as she rides me. Chaehyun tightens again and moans as she comes again. I push her off of me and she growls at me. Her eyes are full of hungry lust. as she rubs her body seductively. she crawls to me and corners me in her kitchen,
"More," rolls seductively off her lips. Something in our body chemistry feels like it's changed because her scent is this intoxicating and arousing mix of cinnamon and her natural musk and I am hard again.
"What the fuck are you doing to me," I growl as I pick her up to fuck her again? her walls as usual provide no resistance as I slide into her. she moans in ecstasy. her velvety walls accept me with no effort as I thrust in and out. His body is perfect for me. the perfect softness the perfect taste the perfect smell. the perfect woman. I gaze deep into her eyes before kissing her again. her mouth relents to my force as I explore the caver myself before she moans and cums again.
"Rex give it to me. I need it. Make me your mate forever breed me. breed me again and again,” she says and I moan as I paint her insides white again. I watch as she rides out my orgasm trying to steal as much of my cum as possible. When we relax Chaehyun gets up and has me follow her to the bathroom. She showed me all of her contraceptives. She promptly throws them out.
That signal move changed something in me. A part of me I never knew was there awoken. I walked up to Chaehyun. I run my hands over her every curve and get lost in her eyes. I see many emotions reflecting in her eyes but the one that to me the most is vulnerability. She knows this is a risk but is willing to choose to submit to me as hers. My response is simple,
“You are Mine, and I am yours,” Chaehyun nodded desperately before she replied
“Yes, yes, yes. Please don't leave me.”
“Not a chance, but do be aware once we go down this road please know I'm a greedy and selfish lover there will be no sharing,” I reply. In my attempt to be seductive, it came out sounding abusive so I quickly tried to remedy that.
“WAIT that came out wrong. What I meant to say is that if we are doing this it's all in there's no open relationship no side pieces. We are together,” I reply. Chaehyun smiles and then says,
“I wouldn't have it any other way.”
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Hey.
Go ahead and get settled because this will be...long, in true Liz fashion.
So, by now I'm sure most of you have heard what's happened. If not, you can search this blog for some answers or others for more.
I joined this fandom offiicially at the end of September after being a long time lurker. I had just lost my job and times were uncertain for me. I felt inspired to write, and as someone whose formative years were shaped by the fandom experience, I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again - to feel like a part of a community. I've talked about it on here before, but I started my fandom days in the original Hunger Games fandom when the first movie had just come out, and then I shifted gears towards the SuperWhoLock fandom. If you know anything about SuperWhoLock, then you know you had to have pretty tough fucking skin to be a part of any of it.
Of course, this was back in the day when fandom was an actual community and not authors having to beg for scraps of engagement and people thinking its a numbers game. I was a fairly large blog within the SuperWhoLock community (Waywardly-Carrying-On was the username), but I left fandom for a few years because life got hectic and I felt like I had outgrown the fandom itself as I was no longer watching any of the shows. As the years went on, I started to yearn for the fandom experience again, which is how I found myself dipping toes into several different ones.
I was so excited to publish my first fanfic. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a good writer (much to the chagrin of my irl friends), and I had put a pause on writing my original story. I wanted to write this idea about a cowboy and a girl using characters that I had grown to love like I did way back in my older days. So, I started posting, and I was so excited for the story, that I kept posting almost daily. MamaMay was one of the first people to embrace not only my story, but me as a person into the fandom. She made me feel welcomed and wanted.
Pretty much right off the bat I was already getting anons telling me that I was being too much and that I needed to calm down with all the posting. I was confused because...this is Tumblr. It's literally a blogging website? Why wouldn't I post? I decided to ignore the mean words (not before giving my opinion, of course) and kept on doing my thing. Well, the anons got continually worse and worse. I had a suspiscion as to who the anons could be, but I never had concrete proof. So, I experimented with blocking suspects until finally it worked. I'm not naming names because that's not my style, so don't even bother asking.
The fact of the matter is, some of you have entered fandom spaces for the first time, and you don't know how to act. You don't care to learn fandom etiquette as you've made abundantly clear by calling fandom olds every name under the sun while utilizing the anonymous feature. Newsflash, you're part of the problem. You're the reason why authors don't want to publish anymore. You are the reason that something that's supposed to be fun is starting to feel like a goddamn chore.
How many times can authors on here say that we aren't machines? We have lives outside of this website: family, friends, jobs, school, etc. Some of you really are just hellbent on making everyone around you miserable, and it's sad. You can't just leave well enough alone and let people enjoy something, no you feel like everyone has to enjoy it the same way as you.
Some of you go after authors on here because of some weird sense of jealousy too. I don't know why my shit blew up, babe, I really don't. But I started out with no followers and no support just like everyone else. I'll tell you what helped me though: following fandom etiquette and reaching out to other creators to build an actual community. None of this "I've reblogged three of your things and now I'm messaging you so that you return the favor." No, I reached out to make actual friendships which is what fandom is SUPPOSED to be. If someone was clearly not interested, it was fine!! I backed off and kept doing my own thing.
Some of you think being mean on the internet makes you big and bad. Guess what! It doesn't! It's loser mentality and I feel genuinely sorry for you. I'm sorry that people in your own life made you feel so small as to feel like you had to lash out at strangers on the internet who are just trying to have fun.
Anyway, this is my really long way of saying that I am taking a break for a little bit. I have no idea how long it will be - could be the weekend, could be a couple of weeks, could be forever. I need time to decide if this is something I want to keep persuing. If I come back, I don't know if I will remain a TGM blog or if I'll shift gears and hop into another fandom with a rebrand. Guess we'll just have to see.
To the people on here who have been a constant source of joy, laughter, and support: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence has meant everything to me, and I hope that my break sees me wanting to come back and giggle about the silly plane movie with you all again.
Nothing but love,
Liz 💛
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Kanna Natsu Idol Story - 1
(Unproofread)
[Two years since ES was established. In a corridor of an ES building leading to the Starpro office]
Kanna: Thank you very much for helping me, Miss Anzu.
Kanna: As you can see, I am a child, so escaping from a situation where I am surrounded by a crowd of people is difficult.
Kanna: Though, if I had used my head, I think I might have been able to escape, call for help, and have my pursuers apprehended.
Kanna: But using my brain on those people is a total hassle.
Kanna: A complete, and total, hassle.
Kanna: … Yes? No, I’m not lost.
Kanna: So you’re the type of person that judges people based on their appearance, right.
Kanna: No, I’m not criticizing you. Just categorizing.
Kanna: I find talking to other people to be a hassle.
Kanna: Ideally, I would like to be able to have a conversation by categorizing people as much as I can, and then only using a fixed set of phrases that correspond to that category.
Kanna: I want to have conversations using only a set of standardized phrases, like: “For sure”, “Maybe”, “That’s nice”, and the like.
Kanna: A computer could do that. It could handle things with just some numbers and a program.
Kanna: Why can’t the same method of operation work for humans?
Kanna: Ah, It’s okay. I wasn’t actually looking for an answer. It was just a question I asked myself, and presented.
Kanna: Please don’t worry. I will think for myself and find the answers to all of my questions.
Kanna: Yes. I have no expectations of you, or anyone else.
Kanna: Now, if you would excuse me. And really, thank you very much for helping me out just now.
Kanna: … Hm. Yes, what is it?
Kanna: Aren’t. Yes, yes, how can I help you?
Kanna: Quite the annoyance you—
Kanna: Yes. No, I’m affiliated with ES.
Kanna: I’m Kanna Natsu, and I’ve recently begun working as an idol here.
Kanna: Yes. People say that I’m like a stray cat that can’t quite get used to humans. It means I am ‘Natsu Kanna-ected’ with and don’t miss other people. Quite interesting, right?
Kanna: Would it be better if I had laughed? But that would be a hassle.
Kanna: I think my life would be much easier if I at least learned to smile politely, but that really is such a hassle.
Kanna: Yes. Ah, you know about me? I thought so too.
Kanna: I have long since concluded that I am like an exotic creature that has a tendency to make the headlines of newspapers and magazines.
Kanna: The people pursuing me earlier were magazine reporters that have been following me around recently.
Kanna: The entertainment industry is a world where you could throw a stone into the crowd and hit a genius, quite literally, so I didn’t see the need to bring it up.
Kanna: That sort of sensibility, I envy it.
Kanna: When humans see something behaving oddly, it’s surprising and interesting to them, it seems.
Kanna: Ah, I wasn’t being sarcastic. I honestly envy it. It’s quite tedious to have to add a note clarifying my intent at the end of each and every sentence.
Kanna: Hm. Eh? You’re asking me if I’m a celebrity…?
Kanna: So you only knew who I was because of me being a new idol, Miss Anzu? You remember seeing my name and face on the roster?
Kanna: I get it. Yes, you are that kind of person. I understand now.
Kanna: That’s right. There are people who don’t know who I am. Heh.
Kanna: So. It seems I have overestimated my importance.
Kanna: Ah, that was my first laugh in fifteen days. Tomorrow, my facial muscles are going to be sore.
Kanna: Thank you very much. I was able to have a rare experience.
Kanna: …Hm? Yes, anything else?
Kanna: I am an ES affiliated idol, so you should know that it isn’t out of the ordinary for me to be walking around here.
Kanna: Do you not understand this? It would be a hassle if you didn’t.
Kanna: ……
Kanna: Hm. So you thought that there might still be reporters remaining around the area? You thought to call for security, just in case?
Kanna: “A kind and gentle person”, “A respectable member of society”, “A very noble, goddess-like person”.
Kanna: Of these three, which do you prefer?
Kanna: I would like to present you with an evaluation. Because I appreciate your concern, and your words are commendable.
Kanna: However. I am inexperienced at communicating with people, so I don’t know which words would be most touching.
Kanna: That is why, I would like you to pick what words I should give you.
Kanna: That is all. ...Is that wrong of me to do?
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Hello Cowboy Jen! I was wondering if you had any advice for me
Here’s the situation- I’m a young lesbian (I’ll be 17 going into college) and I’m going to study geology. I’m assuming my classes and later on my work environments are going to be mostly men since geology is a male-dominated field. Any advice for being in spaces without very many women? And picking a different field’s not a very good option either, geology’s been my obsession since I was five and I doubt I could give any other field as much attention and focus.
When I was DEAD SET on being in the DNR or a Forest Ranger or some kind of Park worker I was in my tweens and early teens. I loved the idea of working with people and animals and outside and getting to use my hands and my knowledge of land and history. Then some Jack Ass at the Corps of Engineers station I volunteered at told me women couldn't really do the job right and it was too dangerous and I lost confidence. I stopped going and didn't reapply for the Mayor's Youth Parks program I had worked at for two years. I just left the idea behind.
I see now all the older women park rangers that are around and read stories of women like my current boss who was a naturalist for years in our county. I work at a nature center almost entirely staffed by strong women with the exception of the CEO, the marketing guy and one outreach guy. If I had seen any of these women in my teens i would have said "heck yeah women can do this".
You are going to be that leader, that beacon. That is a thought to keep in your pocket on hard days.
The truth about working with men is, in general, they don't really care and they kinda just feel awkward. They lack social skills around women so they end up saying the dumbest stuff. I am not saying men can't be total pains in the ass or feel threatened by you being around, they absolutely can. At the end of the day we are all human and women are 50% of the population so at some point they have dealt with women in class or at a job.
Mostly just start off with giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Saying stupid stuff to try and be funny is not the same as harassment or hate. If you don't feel offended or insulted or threatened don't try feel like you are because you think you are supposed to be.
Look them in the eye, do listen to those who have good things to share, teach or discuss. Don't dismiss men for being men. Just as many humans, they want to share what they know and tell you what they have learned. I have been taught so much by the men I work with at the farm but I had to tell myself to listen and not just paint them in my brain as being bossy or mansplaining.
Don't shy away from questions when you need help. Ask when you need to ask and thank them for helping when they do. If you are interrupted by them say "I am not finished, please wait your turn" or something similar. Stand up for your right to share what you know or to get more information when you require it.
Basically, think of men as neutrally as possible until one proves he is to be avoided or ignored. Listen to your gut if you feel unsafe or degraded and keep notes on that behavior. If you must, tell your professor or a dept head if you feel like the bad actor will continue or possible endanger you.
Once you learn your trade you can recruit other women and share your love of your job/degree and some day it will not be more men than women around you!
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hi. it's sqh/yqy again. you're going to need to read the preceding segment of this for it to make sense.
1 - Critical Failure!
The thing about Yue Qingyuan was that he was really fucking good at this whole cultivation thing. It wasn't for nothing that OP protagonist son Bing-ge had to catch Yue Qingyuan in a trap first to get a good chance at killing him! Even now, years before he'd really hit his prime, Yue Qingyuan was the perfect model cultivator, with a strong and expertly trained body, and, relevantly to this situation, actually pretty fast and possessed of a very good reaction time.
All this to say, Shang Qinghua got out the window.
He did not get much further than the window, because Yue Qingyuan also dove out the window (gracefully!) and (less gracefully!) proceeded to bodily tackle Shang Qinghua.
There was some rolling and shouting and flailing involved. Let it not be said that Shang Qinghua went down without a fight! Or at least without some screaming and crying!
Yue Qingyuan still managed to pin Shang Qinghua down, because of course he did.
"I'm not a chair, stop sitting on me!"
"Just a moment, I really do--" Yue Qingyuan paused to deal with Shang Qinghua's elbow to his face and also slam it down so Shang Qinghua couldn't elbow him again -- "appreciate -- your concern. But there's really no need to bother Shen-shidi with these things, so if you could just -- hold still--"
"Hahaha, no way bro!" Shang Qinghua said, and bit him.
Was this a smart decision? Not really, but it sure was satisfying!
Yue Qingyuan made a noise that could have been an aborted swear. "Shang-shidi, I don't think that was necessary."
"Necessary is a subjective term!" Shang Qinghua said. "It's necessary to turn in paperwork, but have you seen how many people I need to chase down for that?? Clearly the definition isn't universal!"
"That's not the same --"
"It's absolutely the same!"
"You don't bite them!"
"And what if I did? Maybe I should!! Maybe they'll learn to fill out the requisition forms correctly then!!!"
"That isn't--" Yue Qingyuan exhaled. "This isn't... are you... still going to tell Qingqiu?"
"I don't know, am I???"
"It's... private. Please don't tell him."
"If I don't, will you?"
Yue Qingyuan laughed. It was an empty and unpleasant sound. "He wouldn't want me reminding him how I failed." His head drooped down, closer to Shang Qinghua's chest. "I broke my promise, Shang-shidi. Who wants to hear about that again?"
...Was Yue Qingyuan about to cry on him?
.Wow! This situation was already uncomfortable! It was about to get even more uncomfortable!
"If I say I won't," Shang Qinghua wheedled, "then will you get off me."
Having the thighs of a strong and beautiful cultivator on either side of him was the stuff of the shitty romance novels he still liked reading. Every man's dream! Super sexy! Except the romance novels never accounted for when the cultivator was about to have a nervous breakdown! Opposite of sexy, actually!
"You still want to tell him, don't you?" Yue Qingyuan said. "I don't think it'll be better that way. Even if it's you and not me -- especially if it's you and not me -- won't it be worse? Wouldn't he just be angry that I couldn't tell him myself?"
"Isn't this conversation pointless if you're not planning on telling him yourself?" Shang Qinghua said.
Yue Qingyuan looked down at him with big, sad eyes. "Qinghua, please don't say anything."
Ah? Aaah?? Was Yue Qingyuan trying puppy-dog eyes? That wasn't going to work, Yue-shixiong! Too bad! People did that on An Ding everyday! Shang Qinghua was immune! He had no sympathy!
"Don't cry on me," Shang Qinghua said.
Yue Qingyuan laughed again.
Somebody choked.
It was... not Shang Qinghua. It was very much a sound Shang Qinghua would make, but...
Shang Qinghua tilted his head back, and there it was. A little Qiong Ding disciple coming through the brush, scroll in hand, probably playing messenger boy. He was staring at them, wide-eyed and white-faced.
Shang Qinghua suddenly became horribly aware of his position -- Yue Qingyuan on top of him, straddling his hips, pinning his hands over his head, both of them disheveled and breathing hard. He'd been bucking up to try to get Yue Qingyuan off, but at first glance, it looked like... well, that he was, ha, trying to get Yue Qingyuan off. You know, the other way.
"Ah," Yue Qingyuan said, in the tone of someone who was experiencing the same revelation as Shang Qinghua and was just beginning to conceptualize the impact of it on his honorable and righteous reputation.
This would be really funny if Shang Qinghua was not involved.
"I see Da-shixiong is busy with private matters!" squeaked the little Qiong Ding shidi. "Sorry to interrupt! I'll come back later!"
"That's not necessary," Yue Qingyuan began, hastily straightening up. Ah, but that was too little, too late. Shidi was already way out of earshot and disappearing into the distance, clearly intent on respecting the privacy of Da-shixiong.
"So," Shang Qinghua said conversationally, "what are the chances your shidi is going to tell everyone not to disturb you because you're busy?" He put as much suggestiveness in the last word as he possibly could, just so Yue Qingyuan got the point.
Yue Qingyuan winced. "Yan-shidi is... not subtle."
"So everyone's going to know this happened."
"... Likely, yes."
"And they're all going to think we were about to fuck nasty outside."
"Um," Yue Qingyuan said.
Yue Qingyuan was still sitting on him.
Shang Qinghua let the back of his head hit the ground with a thump. "Fuck."
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Chapter 14: Into the lion's den /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: Y/N enters Koschei's lair and finally confirms some suspicions
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Again mentions of trauma and grief.
Notes: I'm so glad that I have almost all the chapters written cuz my fingers are fucking useless now and I can't write 🙄
Main Masterlist
Worlds Apart Masterlist
The dark living room was immediately illuminated by faelights, papers scattered around the table, potions and a liquid simmering in a cauldron near the fire. She scrunched her nose at the rotten smell. A screeching, like a trapped creature sounded somewhere behind the closed doors that led to the basement, she shivered thinking what could be suffering in his hands.
Drawings adorned the walls, receipts and terrifying creatures. Her breath hitched as she recognized the circle with wyrd marks used to summon the ridderak. This was even more scary than Baba Yellowleg’s tent, the Matron would send her there regularly to check on the older witch and her home always made her bones cold.
“So..” He cleared his throat, those golden eyes turned to her direction, pinning her in place. “Tell me what. What troubles your heart?” He once again extended his hand and she quietly placed it onto his.
Mantyx almost gasped with the swirling of emotions that hit him when he touched her skin. Anger, hatred, pain, grief, pain was what burned brighter in that array of feelings that clouded her mind. He tried to take a look but he was met with a wall made of pure steel, unbreakable, unbendable and impenetrable.
But another thing caught his attention, singing beautifully to no one hear, a mating bond stood, he had learned everything about it in the years he was trapped there. A bond shared by two people that was stronger than everything, once the bond was accepted nothing could break it. He tugged at the string lightly, watching closely as she startled, her free hand flying to her heart. She didn’t understand what this was.
Near that cabin, a worried shadowsinger yelped in surprise as he felt a tug in his chest, like someone was pulling a string tied to his soul. Lucien looked at him with a raised eyebrow, asking him if he was alright. Azriel just shook his head, hand rubbing circles in his chest, in a soothing manner. His eyes focused back on the cabin door, he wanted to go there and kick it down, rescuing her but he knew he couldn’t.
“I see that you lost someone very important to you.” He pointed it out, going for the easiest approach, usually wasn’t hard to know what troubled people, they were too simple to read, always thinking they were good at hiding their emotions and thinking of him as a god for being able to read them like a cooking book.
“I lost everything.” She quietly replied, Y/N never really opened up to anyone after the war, just brushing their concerns off and focusing on her work to suffocate those drowning feelings. “I lost my sister, the only person that truly loved me, I couldn't even say goodbye. I lost my way, I lost myself after she was gone, and I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to what I was.”
Mantyx looked at her, the despair pungent on the tip of his tongue. The shadows in her eyes darkened as she frowned, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. He took a deep breath, feeling all of her negative emotions fill the void in his chest, he had to suppress a smirk at it, he fed from negative emotions, draining them and leaving the person numb.
“You can’t ever go back, all you can do is keep going and adapt to the change.” He offered and she scoffed.
“I would give anything, do anything to get her back.” Mantyx approached her. It was like the light couldn’t reach it, being sucked into a black hole, not reflecting. If it wasn’t for his proximity she wouldn't even have noticed.
But there it was, resting with an unsettling melody, the wyrd key that opened the gate atop Ramiel, what she needed to get home. She couldn't risk getting it just now, or else he would kill her and all of their efforts would be useless.
“What if I told you that I can bring her back?” He offered and her eyes lifted from the key to his gold orbs. She never knew about the extent of the other Kings powers, if Erawan was that powerful she imagined how powerful Mantyx and Orcus would be.
“You can do it?” She inquired, doubt started to coat her thoughts, she missed Asterin, what if she could see her one last time, or even better, get her back fully?
“You just need to do me a simple favor in return.” She closed her eyes, that was the only way. She shook her head in agreement.
“What do you need?” She opened her eyes, determination burning in that gaze. “I’ll do anything.”
“Bring me Nesta Archeron.” He said and she nodded, Mantyx smiled. His hand extended towards the door that slowly opened to reveal the green island he lived in. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”
Y/N bowed to him, her eyes tracing the key that moved up and down with each breath he gave. She turned around, slowly walking outside, she could still feel his eyes on her when she crossed the bridge, so she didn’t dare to look to where she knew they would be, she kept walking forward until her frame disappeared from his line of sight. Just then she let out the breath she was holding.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Azriel and the others reached her halfway back to the Manor, she hadn't even noticed she had walked so much, her tensed muscles and shivering body were the only indications of the fear she had felt alone in that cabin. Azriel touched her arm, making her spin in her heels, collapsing against his chest. Shuddering breaths left her lips as she tried to calm herself.
“Did he hurt you?” She shook her head and Azriel breathed with relief, his shadows moved around her in a protecting way, ready to strike at anyone who dared get too close to her.
“We should go back, we don’t know what is lurking around in those woods.” Lucien advised, also worried about the fragile form that clung to Azriel for dear life.
They all started to head back, being surprised by the giant wyvern baring his teeth at them, poison dripping from his fangs, he looked anxious, like he felt all of her distress through the connection he shared with his rider, and by the way she pushed Azriel out of the way, stumbling until her chest and forehead were pressed against his nose, he probably felt.
Meraxes instantly relaxed with her touch, sniffing her scent and declaring she was alright. Y/N sobbed against him, her hands rubbing his leathery skin up and down, until she calmed herself down.
“I’m okay, I promise.” She breathed and the wyvern nodded, giving one last look to the males before stepping aside and allowing their access to the house. She let go of him, following the rest of them inside, plopping herself on the couch.
“Why did you go inside? You could be dead now.” Lucien slowly started, worry filled his voice, Y/N had become someone important to him and he couldn’t fathom the idea of her being killed by that damned monster.
“We needed answers.” She simply replied, shrugging.
“And did you get them?” Jurian asked, leaning against the wall that led to the kitchen.
“His name is Mantyx, the middle brother of Erawan and Orcus, a Valg King.” She started, all of the males looked at her. “He was the one who summoned the ridderak that attacked me, he was after Nesta and her powers.”
“Does he have a key?” Azriel asked, his eyebrows furrowed as the engines in his brain worked.
“He carries it around his neck.” Lucien cursed loudly, how would they get it?
“How did you get out?” Jurian once again asked all the right questions.
“I promised him that I would get Nesta.” Azriel's eyes widened. “I just needed to get out to tell you all this, chill.” She said to him, her blue eyes piercing him back in place and he didn’t dare to argue.
“What do we do now?” Lucien inquired, rubbing his temples.
“I don’t know about you, but i’ll have a bath, i’m feeling disgusting.” She said getting up, leaving the males behind her.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Her chest ached as she sat in the scalding water, trying to rub all those feelings away from her, but it was useless. She then reached for the book Morrigan had found in the Hewn City, not having time to read it in the trip until now. She opened the book and focused on the fancy handwriting, allowing her brain to shut down from the real world and just pay attention to the words in those pages.
“It was during the night that he came, talking with a sweet voice, promises of a better world and absolution to those who bowed to him and allowed his angels a home. The god of conquest was how they called him.
He brought her, with dark hair and dark eyes, she feeded from life and used the remains to build weapons made of human bones. They called her The Weaver, and her twin, The Bone Carver, one more terrifying than the other. They weren’t angels, they were the gods of death, draining life from the earth and eating our souls.
They talked about how lucky we were, claiming to be princes and princesses from their homeworld. No one knew how they came or where they came from, but all we knew was that it was all related to that necklace, made of a dark stone and with an unknown shape. They had come from the north, many guessed they were a plague sent by the Night Court to terrorise us, but even the High Lord feared them, he couldn't control them, no one could, so they took what they pleased.
It was Celeste Vanserra, the Fireborn that brought us hope, the most powerful fire carrier the world has ever seen. She locked The Bone Carver with the help of the cauldron in the prison first. This made the fae wars easier, but their army was too big to be brought down, so they had to change their strategy.
Divide and conquest is what they called it. They managed to separate The Weaver, and once again, with the help of the cauldron, Celeste and her fire locked Stryga in the woods, in a cabin no one dared to get close to. Whenever a general fell, their army fell with them.
The High Lords followed Celeste to the battlefield, following her command and doing what she said. The final battle was in the lake, where Celeste used her powers to create a fire circle around Koschei and his monsters, trapping him inside, not knowing this was his biggest weakness, her fire was the only thing that could kill him. But before Celeste could, he killed her, piercing her heart with a sword.
The High Lords seeing their strongest fall, decided that they weren’t enough to kill Koschei, so they used the cauldron imbued by their powers to trap his soul to the island. As long as this world still exists, Koschei cannot be killed, his soul is bound to the Earth itself. Only the power of the cauldron or the fire of Celeste can free him from his prison and finally kill him.
With their failure to end the biggest threat our world has ever seen, they erased Celeste’s name from history. If no one remembered her, no one would remember how weak they were compared to Koschei. But her fire was still alive in the blood of her offspring, and the family Vanserra is the closest we have to a chance of killing him, unfortunately those who don’t learn their history tend to repeat it.”
Y/N gasped, the water already cold as she discarded the book and jumped out of the tub, opening the door to her and Azriel’s room. He sat on the bed, eyeing her up and down, following the droplets of water that ran down her curves, but her sombre expression brought his eyes back to her face, ignoring the temptation of looking down.
“What happened?” He asked and she took a deep breath.
“I know how to kill him.”
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Taglist: @fieldofdaisiies @blackgirlmagicforever @a-frog-with-a-laptop @going-through-shit @asweetblueberry2
@roses-r-red54330 @mis-lil-red @sheblogs @hibye02 @impossibelle
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#azriel#shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#moonlightazriel#night court#velaris#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#sarahjmaas#azriel acotar#azriel x oc#worlds apart fic
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Oh my god I just had a horrible realization. It's a really personal one so please bear with me but I need to share it because…Idk, maybe it's not just me.
But I realized. I didn't actually grow up being a part of any culture. I grew up with seeing culture around me, and sometimes participating in culture temporarily, but I was not raised with a cultural identity of any sort whatsoever.
I identify as an American only because I live in the US, not because I'm acculturated American. I only have the cultural senses I have because it just so happened to be what I was surrounded by.
None of the stories told to me, none of the food I ate, and nothing I wore, were used to convey "This is who we are as people" by my family or community. Stories were just for entertainment, food was just for eating, and clothes were just whatever I liked wearing from the department store. These things weren't, in any way, identity, outside of things I could use to express my own personal identity if I wanted to.
Fuck, I wasn't even given the cultural knowledge associated with the class I was raised in. No leadership skills, no business sense, nothing.
"But what about religion?" No religion either. My family has culturally Catholic leanings, but it's residual and unrecognized.
"What about being white?" The fact that I can't describe what "being white" even means—beyond how I've heard it described—goes to show you my expertise in the matter.
"What about subcultures?" I only know how to participate in subcultures as either a spectator or as a guest. No culture has ever identified me as belonging to it, despite welcoming my participation, and I can't consider myself part of cultures if they don't claim me.
In terms of my cultural identity, I'm completely blank. It's like I have no name.
I write all this because I was thinking about why some Scandinavians would be upset at me using "Heathen" (as well as bigger questions of cultural appropriation in general) and came to this realization.
For the record…I don't consider myself Heathen because I identify as part of Scandinavian culture. That would be absurd. I use "Heathen" because I accidentally befriended a Heathen god. Loki hid his identity from me for years, and I was very upset when when he finally told me who he was—I felt like he betrayed me, and also like I was going insane, because my worldview prior to that did not support the existence of gods.
I dug deep into learning about Norse paganism because I knew understanding Loki within his cultural context was vital to understanding who he is. The reason I started digging around in Scandinavian culture directly, though, was because—surprise!—nothing we have published in the US actually has this context.
…I'm embarrassed to admit I wasn't aware "cultural appropriation" describes a situation where one person walks into another person's culture and says, "Yes, this is my home now," like a cuckoo taking over another bird's nest. I always thought it was a function of mishandling a culture—using it in ways that was careless and ill-informed—but no, it's taking away other peoples' identities in the name of playing dress-up for yourself.
"You're robbing me of myself for your own stupid aesthetic desires!" That's how I imagine it must feel.
It disgusts me to think that's how my actions may have looked.
#zan speaks#personal#I need to figure out how to resolve this but idk#no culture has gone 'ah yes that's clearly one of ours' before#not even the ones I'm demographically a part of#I'm upset yes but also extremely bewildered by how this happened
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I recently got my first office job where I am interacting with my coworkers regularly. do you have any evil conversation skills that you think i should learn first
1. Figure out the easiest/most comfortable ways to say the whole spectrum of soft no’s to hard no’s from a scale of ‘genuine regret (invites future attempts if scheduling allows)’ to ‘polite deferral (respectful and evasive, somewhat firm)’ to ‘stone-cold shut down (professional Fuck You)’; you gotta know them all and you gotta be able to deploy them as needed. or at the very least, you gotta know how to give yourself time so you don’t automatically say ‘yes’ when you don’t want to.
2. The easiest way to make a good impression on people is to balance being useful and making others feel useful, which means offering some of the specific knowledge/insight you have and also asking for/acknowledging the knowledge/insight of others. offering/asking can be a weird balance, sometimes for some people in some contexts it comes pretty naturally, other times I find myself parsing out one (1) resource bit by bit to gauge whether someone’s actually looking for it or if it’s received in a lukewarm way. If ‘useful’ can’t really be a selling point at the moment (e.g. starting with zero experience rather than having an established knowledge base in a new environment) then you can always swap out ‘useful’ for ‘interesting’. know a charm point you have that can hook other people’s interest, know how to find and highlight other people’s charm points. If you want a mutual relationship it’s better to make an effort to share equally (for some people that means intentionally holding back, for other people that means intentionally speaking more), but if you’re just trying to coast it’s usually easiest to keep turning the conversation back on them and track topics the other person can get chatty about (pets, kids, shows, how they’re doing, etc).
hang on those are too reasonable and not evil but I’ve typed it all out so I’m not deleting. so, there’s a bunch of worksheets about ‘rules for fighting fair’ and if you ever meet a coworker you fucking hate then you wanna take those rules and do the opposite of all of them in order to have an on-purpose bad faith conversation and to make it as miserable for everyone as possible
1. If the coworker you hate is trying to talk about one specific problem, disagree with whatever their definition is and refuse to compromise
2. Bring in as many stupid tangential asides as possible so their original point gets buried
3. If you want to be legit evil, always imply or directly state that whatever they’re going through is a personal problem and a Skill Issue
4. Always find a way to vaguely disagree with your coworker. If they have a good point, say ‘Well, no, it’s actually like [basically rephrasing their point]’; you can either be subtle about this (negging) or blatant about this (The Mansplainer)
5. There’s a limit to how disrespectful anyone can be as a new employee. Find that limit and keep just short of it.
6. Always deflect and blame someone else, or if there isn’t someone to blame, have different excuses at the ready for anything that anyone might take issue with.
to some, evil communication skills is to win. but I think the most successful (insufferable) application is when the point is to make everyone as miserable as possible. I’m not trapped here with you, You’re Trapped Here With Me. also I wouldn’t actually recommend doing many of these things if you want functional working relationships. but it’s good to keep in mind if you’re ready to go nuclear! but more seriously, I do think these are important evil communication skills to learn because if you recognize someone using them against you, it gives you the chance to make strategies based on their behavior. 1. If someone is disagreeing with you any time you try to express a problem, shut down the conversation and reengage with a mediator that will be fair to you; 2. if stupid tangents keep showing up, it’s up to you to be the terrier with its teeth sunk into the mailman’s leg; etc. anyway this has gone too long and someone else should probably be giving more legit advice
#ask#anonymous#whoops this got long#oh almost forgot#congrats and good luck! hope you don’t have to use the evil skills!
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Gratia. (An As Above, So Below Story)
Gratia. Charitas. Solamen.
Grace. Charity. Peace.
The oath of the Knights of the Holy Order.
Summary: You and Eddie-- separated by time and endless suffering--don't realize how many strings keep you connected on the web of fate. What players are there trying to cut those strings? And when will you both find out that they are unbreakable?
Word Count: 2.1k
Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (The Knight - Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)
Warnings/Themes: Soulmates, Kas!Eddie, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Minor Character Deaths, Manipulation, Transformation, Corruption, Supernatural Encounters, Religious Elements, Criticism of Religion, Biblical and Other Literary and Pop Culture References
Note: So...originally this was going to be one long thing. A tale about the Knight and Eddie and their unbreakable bond. And I wavered about how relevant it would be to the larger story. How relevant are any of these blurbs to the larger story?
But if there's anything I've learned writing AASB, it's that I'm really writing the whole thing for myself. And after finding myself in an odd state of grief that kind of just keeps getting worse over the weekend, I know that this little fic...and the two that follow...really are only going to just be for me to help me get through it, so I need to be true to myself and write them anyway.
**So if you do read this, please know it can be read in tandem with As Above, So Below. And you should have at least read the Prequels, with maybe some bonus points for Genesis. Iif you've read the Hymns, this is set before Nachzehrer.**
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
“God is a comedian playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh.”
― Voltaire
November 10, 1986
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you."
"She's not suffering anymore. Tranquilla."
"Thank you, I know. She's been sick for a long time. She's at rest now."
"Mom brought mostaccioli. And chicken cutlets. She's setting it up in the other room then she'll be over. You should get some, you need to eat."
"I'll be alright, thank you for coming."
Today was the final day that you would spend with your Nonna.
Well, a more accurate description was that they let you have it.
Let you.
Let you have one day to sit on that stiff funeral home sofa. To stare at her, unrecognizably still in her casket, as friends and neighbors swarmed to offer their condolences. To mourn with you.
But somehow also separately from you.
And tomorrow, after she was behind a cold slab of marble, you'd be off again. Creeping closer to your own death until one day you might be placed in a plot adjacent to her.
Together.
But not really.
If there was anything left of you.
It wouldn't do to think of that today though.
Today, you would sit here. Enjoy your break and bask in the remnants of her soul that still lingered in and around her body.
It brought you some comfort to feel it move the way she did.
It danced like she danced around the kitchen, the boundaries of it crinkling like the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. A phantasmic remnant of her lovingly worried gaze was on you every now and again, creating the urge to say "I'm ok Nonnie." To lie to her, like you always did. And whenever one of her friends knelt their own aging bodies to pray at her side, you could practically see the softness of her cushion their jagged edges, comforting them.
You didn’t dare go up yourself though.
Not yet.
Not unless you wanted the Funeral Director to haul you out of the casket because somewhere deep down you just wanted to crawl into it with her and scream,
“Take me with you. Don’t leave me like I left you.”
Because you were not ok.
You closed your eyes as a phantom hand touched your shoulder, as it attempted to soothe the pain deep inside you but only managed to stir up another kind of pain. Another kind of mourning.
If only he was really there, you could ask him to take you with him too. Take you away from here to wherever he and Nonna would wait for you.
An impossible request.
The weight of the sofa shifted beside you and you opened your eyes. You expected to find Fortunata or Antoinette—two of Nonna’s closest friends who could claim a spot beside you if they truly wanted—but instead you found Gabriel’s stiff inhuman posture and expressionless face staring ahead of him at the casket.
“You could have helped her,” you said instead of a greeting. What good would a greeting do? “Healed her.”
You briefly wondered if you'd imagined the corner of his mouth quirking before he spoke.
“And if I told you I had? If I spared her a worse fate? Lessened her pain? Lessened yours?”
“I wouldn’t believe you.”
“Then I won’t tell you.”
You turned back to watch the casket with an unsatisfied hum.
Time passed and you sat silently together as you fought to keep your emotions in check with Gabriel's presence. You weren't nervous, per se; more annoyed. Angry, even. Questioning why he was here on this day out of all days.
All your life, you explained away his presence as a guardian. Unseen and unknown to everyone but you. He used to protect you or so you could recall, but as you got older that seemed to stop.
And he was more of a harbinger of doom than a deterrent of it.
Well, not doom.
Fate.
Or God's will or some shit like that. You didn't know anymore. Didn't care. You only cared about getting to the finish line. Freeing your soul of this curse. Getting your prize.
Heaven. Home. Peace with the ones you loved.
With Nonna.
With Eddie.
So if Gabriel was here, it meant something was about to happen. Something unsavory. Something...
You blinked and he disappeared from your peripheral vision suddenly, and just beyond the space he had previously occupied, stood a man in a black cassock.
Jinette approached you but you didn't give him the satisfaction of your attention until he said your name and offered his condolences.
"May I sit?" he gestured beside you.
"Seat's taken," you responded coldly.
"Ah, your mother, yes," he nodded in realization, and you watched him pull a chair up from one of the rows behind you.
You wouldn't be the one to tell him that your mother hadn't shown her face since you arrived back in Chicago late last night. She had done her duty, arranged the funeral and called you home. Beyond that her obligation was almost over; she could be free.
There had been a brief moment between the two of you when you let yourself into Nonna's flat and found her at the table surrounded by paperwork and old pictures, and you thought for the briefest second that this might be a turning point. That she might exhume whatever love she used to have for you, buried so deep in her heart, so you wouldn't have to mourn alone.
Instead she said she was sorry, then kissed your cheek and left.
And really you only had yourself to blame at the disappointment that punctuated the interaction. How could you have expected anything more than that when the bar was already set so low?
"California is a long way to come just for funeral rites," you said once Jinette was settled.
"I'm afraid that's not what I'm here for."
"Then to attend a funeral of a very devout woman," you amended.
"I'm not here for that either." You would give it to him, the remorse plastered on his features almost looked sincere. "Unfortunately, there is a very dire situation and the Order is in need of your experti--"
"No," you cut him off swiftly. "Tomorrow. You can ask me to go tomorrow. Not today."
The usual coldness of his gaze returned and he addressed you stiffly.
"You cannot refuse. Must not. This is your duty."
You turned to him, hand shooting from your lap of its own volition to grab his robe and pull him close enough that your noses practically touched.
The funeral goers around you began to murmur--your Nonna's friends whispering in fear and shame, saying a prayer to spare them of whatever wrath would befall you for defying and possibly harming his eminence--but you ignored them.
You knew you might pay for it later, but for now your rage was warranted.
"Don't lecture me about duty," you hissed at Jinette. "My entire life has been about duty. Her life too. If you want me to go? You'll beg me. Not guilt me. But I promise that the answer will still be no."
Something wicked flickered inside of you, and you wondered if you could smite Jinette. Just a little bit. If you could channel the deep-rooted grudge against your plight and let him feel the consequences that waited to befall someone who had nurtured it.
Then you felt a slight disturbance in the room.
The calm of Nonna's soul was shaken from its bliss, and you could practically hear the sharp, punishing clicks of her tongue as you fisted Jinette's robe tighter and tighter. The flame of the candles beside her casket flickered, the leaves on the flower arrangements that filled the room began to wilt, and the whispers around you got louder until they roared in your ears.
Your eyes burned with unshed tears as the feeling of Nonna's disappointment surrounded you--filled you--and you fought it for as long as you could.
But if anyone here was going to reprimand you in this room, in this world, it would be her.
You let Jinette go and fell back into the couch with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. He heaved several heavy breaths and patted his chest pathetically.
"Tomorrow," you told him as Nonna's soul and the murmurs of the people around you settled back down into a serene silence.
The tears finally fell after he left, and you closed your eyes as Eddie's ghostly touch softly wiped them away.
"Tomorrow..."
November 6, 1983
Twang.
He enjoyed it.
Twang.
Enjoyed plucking the guitar strings and letting the reverberation travel along his fingertips and into the very core of him.
Twang.
Deep down in that dark pit where you seemed to hide, every note was like a starburst of brightness and good feelings. Things so foreign and forgotten to him now, yet still so integral to Eddie Munson.
He wasn't Eddie anymore though.
So he resented the fact that he enjoyed it so much.
"Play something," you would whisper in those hidden depths, like a devil on his shoulder, and he constantly fought the temptation to follow that urge. "Play me a song, I know you know how."
He never gave in though.
Could never give in.
It was bad enough that he hid you from Henry, that he even listened to you at all. But feeling something--doing something--was better than feeling nothing in the boring, timeless eternal void of the Upside Down. So he would allow himself these brief visits to the trailer, he would tolerate your soft words and the ever-present softness of the ghost that seemed to haunt him here, so he could pluck a few twangs of the guitar strings and bask in the sparks of euphoria they would bring.
And it was enough. It had to be enough.
Then, when he got bored or hungry or irritated by you, away he would go again.
"I would argue that me being annoying is the reason you still keep me around."
He hissed at you and pulled his hands away from the guitar spitefully.
Twang.
He watched as one of the strings seemed to pluck itself and debated whether he could reach out and take a swipe at you, but there was a sudden pain beneath his sternum. Odd, seeing as he barely felt pain in this body now. He clicked his claws together contemplatively, then hesitantly rubbed at it to soothe the ache, and as he did, he felt the echoes of your soft sigh somewhere deep inside him.
He faltered for a moment, unsure if he should feel some sort of satisfaction that he had comforted you, or resentment that he had fallen for it.
He hated you. Hated your presence there. Hated that you were somehow here when you left him to this fate. Hated that you made him weak again when Henry had remade him to be strong. Infallible.
You might very well be his downfall one day.
And still he couldn't fathom being without you again.
He growled deeply and, unexpectedly, the trailer shook around him, walls clattering, remnants of knick knacks falling.
For a moment, he watched it in awe. Believed that he was the cause of it. That the power Henry had helped him unlock had been activated with his spite.
Until everything started to shake.
The Upside Down became unsettled, the very ground beneath him shifting with some seismic agitation. Roiling and churning, changing.
There was a cacophony of restlessness through the collective consciousness as all of the creatures of the Upside Down felt the disturbance. As Henry felt the disturbance and questioned its origin, because it had not been of his design.
Almost immediately, he was singled out amongst the masses, ordered to his Master's side.
Who else could find the cause of this turmoil than Henry's right hand? His loyal servant? The Beast he created to strike on his behalf, to herald in the end?
Eddie didn't hesitate.
He left the trailer and took flight swiftly and dutifully, beating his wings powerfully to get to Henry as quickly as he could.
To get away from you as quickly as he could.
You and your comfortable constant presence in the respite of the trailer.
“Do not be afraid. Our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno
#aasb#as above so below#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#Eddie Munson x oc#Eddie Munson fic#stranger things fic
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Basically, my philosophy around disability fakers is: I would rather a thousand people fake a disability than have one disabled person suffer without care, aids, compassion, or any help.
#disability#disability advocacy#and there's a difference not many people seem to recognize between faking and realizing you don't have [x] problem...#...such as realizing you don't have [x] disorder because it is instead [y] disorder...#...or you haven't completely understood your care needs/your symptoms/what helps you...#...and some people see ANY change in your understanding of your disability as proof of maliciously faking...#...when i suppose in my personal experience people don't *maliciously* fake disability...#...i'm not saying it could never happen but that i don't think it's the *only* thing motivating people called fakers#i just think (like most everything) this is complex and nuanced because it's a *human* experience#like for me personally i /know/ i still have a lot to learn about my disabilities...#...like... i realized recently that my hands shouldn't be in AGONY when warm water is ran over them when it's SLIGHTLY cold inside or out...#...and i realized that i likely have a Noticable limb difference that needs checking out. does this sound like i'm faking...#...or that maybe i just didn't really explore my own needs and body because of a variety of factors?#i can assure you it is because i haven't really thought before about how i deserved to understand how to best help myself
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do you ever realize after masking intentionally and unintentionally so much in your life, you completely forget who you are.. and how it feels like every time you mimic someone you lose a part of yourself and personality. and fear you’ll never figure out who you are or who you were once.
yeah.
anyway pictures of moth !!!
#YEAHHH#came out to my neurotypical friend as autistic today and she was like “but you don’t act like one”#SIGHHHHHH#the quote i hear a million times#i’m just decent at masking i think#copying other people’s behaviors can be easy SOMETIMES#but i think i really need to learn to just be myself i know it’s a overused lesson but god it’s so hard for me now..#ANYWAY ROSY MAPLE MOTH N MORE…#my babies forever i love you i wish i could give you forehead kisses but too little :(#ily ily ily#moths#neurodivergent#autism#adhd#tw bugs
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More FNAF movie doodles
#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#fnaf movie#artists on tumblr#freddy fazbear#bonnie the bunny#chica the chicken#foxy the pirate fox#micheal schmidt#micheal afton#abby schmidt#golden freddy#I really need to learn how to just post stuff without overthinking it#cause I have a lot of art but I can’t bring myself to post it cause it had to be Good Enough ya know#still thinking about the movie#my art#art
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The man truly can’t take a genuine compliment 🙄
#my art stuff#digital art#baldur's gate 3#bg3#astarion#astarion ancunin#this is part of a series I like to call “I’m never settling on a singular detailed artstyle”#I have no consistency in drawing realistic people/characters other than my shapy cartoon style#but I truly don’t get enough opportunity to properly shade anything with art in that style-!!! it always looks weird to me-!!!!!#I think some rude lil worm in my brain is wriggling around telling me it’s a futile attempt at still doing realism#cus I’m one of those “gifted” artists that grew up promising his parents he’ll end up among the big names or whatever#constantly training to become better at art but with realism oil paintings as the goal#you know how it is 😔#I wanna shade my lil funky designs but they never feel good enough to really put energy into or whatever so I compromise with stuff -#- like this where I try to draw characters more accurately while still stylizing them and shading them however I feel like it#which is great and all but I should really learn to give my more relaxed and less perfectionist art a chance#I deserve to enjoy the process and the result without working myself dead#it’s so much easier and rewarding to copy cartoon styles - stylizing realism makes me too anxious of doing it “wrong”#at least cartoon styles give me a goal to reach or a reference to strive towards#man I really should just cut myself some slack altogether#either way - this man is a flustered mess and he’s embarrassed about being called adorable in public or something#being teased in an affectionate way about his sweeter side and stuff#don’t ask why he’s shirtless - anatomy is just a lot more fun for me to draw sometimes#tasteful nudity and all that is extremely gorgeous to me#i need to practice anatomy more cus I just kinda did some shit and went with it this time with a BIT of consideration for muscle structure
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One thing they don't tell you about the Senshi tulpa that WILL inevitably manifest in your mind to tell you to eat better is that. Every time I make myself a coffee via kuerig instantly, I can hear him. Lamenting the fact that I have become so accustomed to convenience and ease that even a standard coffee machine has become foreign to me. I am thinking about how to make coffee without use of a machine in the first place, I am wondering where my french press went, I can see him. In my mind. Showing me how to make coffee in The Dungeon. Dungeon Coffee.
#dungeon meshi#i'll allow this one to be set free into the wild. i think the world needs to know.#i really love senshi's character too how like. it's easy to feel guilty too if you aren't doing something 'the right way'#and despite him being very set in his ways he manages to alleviate that specific guilt#just by being senshi about it. i have never wanted to learn how to cook. too much work/too many steps#i like instant/ease bc that means i can devote myself completely to the things i AM passionate about#but senshi will manifest in your mind to tell you. you need nourishment to do that#he is just as passionate and detailed about it as i am my art. all i ever want to do is art. esp traditional art#which i think almost feels similar. to magic (digital) vs non-magic (traditional mediums)#each takes a very specific set of skills. one 'feels' easier than the other but a lot Does go into it (digital)#and there is an ease of access esp sharing wise. but i am autistic about the medium itself#yes sometimes i have to wait a day to even share my stuff cause the sun went down#yes there's less ways you can take shortcuts. you have to do Everything by hand#but that's what i love about it. espppp blending my pencils.#but going back i do not have that same level of interest (not even NEARLY) for anything that Isn't related to art#it's like. i really don't WANT to .... but senshi ...... makes me think about it.#senshi
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