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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| you're here! Word count: 5317 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig This fic on AO3

— You’re really quiet, little princess.

König isn’t ashamed of staring at you the whole horse ride. He isn’t ashamed of touching you, his precious treasure – cupping your breasts through that pathetic excuse of a corset, trying to feel of your legs through the billions of skirts, his touches sprawling across your skin like bruises. He is a soldier in all regards – his touches are far from gentle, far from how he should behave with his bride. You feel like a piece of meat being presented for him to devour. Like an unwilling sacrifice for a benevolent god.

— Should I scream then?

Snarkiness isn't something that the princess should have – but it's the only weapon you have, although you are not sure if you can even use it. Emperor is laughing, and it is supposed to be a good thing – you were trained to receive such reactions, like a little dog standing and doing tricks on command; you were taught to strive for smiles on the faces of others. But König doesn’t allow you to see his smile, but König laughs all the time while describing to his soldiers the things he wants to do to you. It is almost surely, that he doesn’t think you know his language – you wish you didn’t know.

— I can give you a reason to scream. — You shall not threaten a… — I’m not threatening you, kleine Katzen. With a good time, maybe. — What are you referring to? — That I would love nothing more but to rip your skirt off and show your cunt a royal treatment, princess.

Emperor has a foul mouth, wandering eyes, and grabby hands – he behaves like a drunk man in a tavern, even though you have never once been in a tavern, and the only drunk men you barely saw were the castle guards on various celebrations. He doesn’t act like a glorious king from the romance novels – and you don’t think that you ever read a novel about a king or an emperor, not about princes and glorious knights. People with this much power don’t deserve love, they already have everything they have – so why would he kidnap you?

You turn away from him, the obscenity of his mouth makes your whole face burn. You are trying to hide yourself in your hands, you want to grasp something like a little fan or a handkerchief – everything to sustain your dignity. You are wearing the princess’s name and you have to behave like her – even if you don’t think that she would care about how you are behaving yourself. The dread of being exposed lingers in your chest, the only thing that doesn’t allow you to scream and launch on him like a wild cat. Rules and modesty tie you down stronger than any corset could.

Like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s trap – you steal looks at the nature around you, excited and terrified to see it for the first time – not the perfect greenery of the castle garden, but an untamed nature. You saw the city for the first time – your capital, not burned and agonized under the empire’s boot, but eerie quiet. The city doesn’t know your face, the princess was hidden, kept in the tower as a means to escape the burden of marriage proposals and possible wars for the sake of securing her beauty. Nobody here knows you for your face, and for them, it’s just the empire’s knights, a power from a country too foreign to be worried about, and a random kidnapped girl in a dissarranged dress and tears streaming down her face.

A hand on your waist secured you in place. No matter how much you squirm and cry, try to forget all the filthy nonsense he is whispering in your ear, you are forced to listen – and you want to cry every time his face hovers over yours. His hands are touching you, too much for comfort, your are still wrapped in his cape, but it’s a very small mercy for your torn dress and fragile body.

The road is long and short at the same time. Your kingdom was bordering one of Northern Empire territories, but it’s days away – you never once thought that having the Empire right on your border would be such a nuisance, that it would allow them to simply take whatever they want from your tiny country – the rules of politics are never applying to those in power and, unfortunately, you found out the worst way possible. The road is treacherous, with people surrounding you, with soldiers going through the beheaded country like it’s nothing. You were biting your lips the entire first day of the ride, trying not to cry – you do not want to give him the pleasure of seeing your distress, but you can’t help but sob every time he exits the cabin to yell at his soldiers or laugh at something.

You are not tied up, they trust you too much – they all know you would not be able to run, seeing just a helpless princess, a little war trophy of their emperor. The war trophy without the war, just a doll for him to enjoy. You steal a few glances at him – his spread legs that make you wonder how the poor horse even can handle him riding it, his mighty body, and his muscular arms. He could wrestle a dragon, you think – he could lift up the whole carriage and bring you back to the capital like this. He is a cocky bastard, not even having his sword in his hand whenever you move too much – too confident that this weak princess would not be able to resist him. You don’t want to fall from the horse and so you freeze in your tracks, even when they hit a small pause on the journey.

You can’t, of course – your hands are trained to hold clothes, to braid hair and, sometimes, fetch the water buckets – but you are mostly proficient in holding books, turning pages and embroidering. You can make tea, you can support the conversation, you can faint dramatically whenever the right opportunity occurs, but the ride has been happening for a few hours already, and you fainted three times – for specific reasons, of course, but fainting now would surely be a bit too much.

— Is little princess too tired to hold herself straight?

König chuckles in your ear, hands pushing you against his body. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather continue your ride until you’re completely exhausted – books were never talking about how hard it is to ride a horse, that your rear would feel numb after the first hour, and your head would be bouncing on every little bump on the road. You never thought that the roads of your kingdom were so terribly maintained – and never thought it would be such a problem.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of confirming just how weak you are – but he stops his horse once you are not responding, a hand slides under your hips to help you get out from the damned animal. You swear to god that you will never ride this foul creature again – but the god, as always, stays silent.

— What is it?

— Princess isn’t used to long detours. We’d have to stop before dawn if we want to keep this a secret for now. — Could travel for a few more hours before it’s too bright.

His second-in-command is a weird man, no doubt. Tall, broad, wearing armor with tiger prints all over the metal – although you never saw a tiger in real life, only on various illustrations of the books you were reading for the Princess. He is painfully informal in a way that makes you wonder how he can keep his head on his shoulders – surely, if he’d talk this way to a king, he wouldn’t be such a profound member of the army. König only shakes his head, pointing at you as the reason to stop – as you begged him to get off this bloody thing. — I need my princess with all innards intact. Especially the soft ones.

Emperor laughs, cupping your ass through the skirts. He somehow managed to grope your softness without breaking the corsage, and you’d feel thankful for him, but the dress was ruined anyway – all the hard work of redoing it over and over, every time you had to manage to squish the princess inside of the harsh corset and billion skirts, every little detail you were thinking through together…it feels somehow suitable, to wear a destroyed dress. Fake princess deserves fake luxury, but even the modesty he allows you to have with his coat wrapped around you feels forced.

Stopping right now, when you feel numb and your legs are getting weak and squishy like that weird transparent foreign delicacy, is very considerate of him. So much so you don’t even want to acknowledge it, hoping he’d just continue to go forward until all the traces of your past are gone. You’re too tired to consider anything from escaping to even opening your eyes. Suddenly, being on a horse of this size doesn't sound like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, you realize that the horses are tall.

— What’s wrong, princess?

— I’m not going down.

You are sitting, frozen on top of his horse. One of your hands is keeping his coat wrapped securely around your body while the other squeezes the reins, hoping not to fall miserably to the ground. You hear soldiers laugh – the embarrassment spreads around your cheeks when you understand that a true princess would have horse riding lessons. You two never did – it would give you too much freedom, and your castle would never accommodate to large grounds of free roaming to keep a princess and her loyal maiden entertained. You can only hope they won’t think that the absence of your riding lessons would be too suspicious – and you also hope that he would just allow you to never jump down to the ground that feels horrifyingly far from you.

— Do you wish to run with my horse?

— Yes, your Highness. — Run, then. I’ll be waiting, little princess.

There is a laugh in his voice – you squeeze the reins and try to holster them, maybe kick the foul creature to the side so it would take the hint and start running in the direction of the nearest forest. Maybe you would get lucky, and the horse would drop you in front of the house of a kind forest witch that would take you as her student – you can cook, and you can read, so, naturally, any witch would be happy to have you as a disciple. Maybe you will get even more lucky, and the horse will kick you in the head after dropping you, finishing your misery in a tragic road accident. Not a honorable death, but a quick and interesting one. The horse remains frozen in place – just like you. König gently caresses its face, giving it something to eat – an apple, perhaps, a nice and tasty fruit, or sugar cubes, the delicacy that the princess would often indulge in but never gave you, or something of a…ah, this is it – you are starting to get jealous of his horse. Mayhaps, death is the only choice for you now.

— I will run.

— Of course you will.

— Sir, should we prepare the archers?

— Don’t know it yet. Maybe the princess escape would be too swift for them.

You feel your whole face burn – they laugh, they all laugh, looking at you like a piece of meat, a funny joke between them. You don’t want to fall from the horse, and you don’t want to stand here either – but every time you look down at the ground that is so, so far away, you can only shake in your seat. You feel like crying once again – and this is what brings you to the edge. With a deep sigh and shaking hands, you jump down swiftly, your eyes closed and your legs getting tangled in the various skirts, dragging you down. ***

The emperor had an understanding of what he was getting into when he kidnapped a princess. Princesses, pretty and young ones especially, are mysterious creatures that should be carefully studied by the imperial scientist in order to determine how in hell they can even exist without killing themselves on something stupid three times per day. This one, however, was a crowned ruler of weird girls – sometimes throughout the journey, he was thinking about returning her to the king and choosing another one. Then he remembered that he beheaded the king – and so, the bloody dot was sealed in the history of relationships between Northern Empire and this tiny shithole in the middle of nowhere.

Besides, the princess was too adorable to really throw her out. She is smart – for someone like her, anyway; her snarkiness combined with the primal fear of him and his men made him feel strong, more significant than before. It’s funny, in a way – König had defeated countless great warriors and spent his life turning the tiny Empire into the most powerful nation on the blonde, and yet, he never once felt this achieved as when he held the princess in his arms. The emperor never thought of marriage as a necessity, his whole magic endeavors securing that he would never have to worry about leaving an heir or having someone else to rule – but the loneliness can hit you like a royal stallion bred for the purpose of battery ramming into castle doors, and you can find yourself yearning for something that you never thought you’d want. Speaking of royal horses…

The princess is cute, the princess is dumb, and the princess is the most weird and perfect creature in the whole wide world. Makes him wonder just what was you doing in your little castle with your little servants, running around like ants under your dainty heel. You are snarky to him when you know that he is too busy to strike you and too tired to care about his opinion – he likes that about you, little yawns and feeble attempts to appear strong in front of him. He doesn’t, however, like the way you are frozen on top of his horse. He needs his wife helpless, yes, dependant on him in everything – and he also needs her to ask for help when needed, not…well, not jumping from the height of a royal horse in that stupid dress of yours.

God, hive him strength.

König, the ruler of the Northern Empire, biggest royal regime on the globe, thought that he overcame his anxiety when he was young, so long ago, he forgot how fast his heart can beat when the situation is going out of his control. He remembers this dreadful feeling now when that stupid brain of yours has decided that jumping from a horse is a good idea. He is fast, swift enough to catch you before you fall to the ground, and he squeezes your hips enough to hear the crack of that stupid dress construction.

He has to stop himself from yelling. From putting you in your place and slapping you across that perfect face of yours – never the one to beat women, König feels like spanking the shit out of you now. His eyes are flashing with anxiety, and he grabs your shoulders, putting you in front of him – you can’t see his face, covered by his mask, and it’s a small grace for someone like you. He is scary when angry, nostrils flashing with rage when he thinks that you’d rather break your neck than ask him for help.

— Made others set the camp for tonight.

Horangi is as perfect as a knight can be – his friend, his partner in crime, one of the only ones who still can survive his temper and not be intimidated by it. He can see the worry in his eyes when König is pushing the little princess down to his hold, draping the various skirts across his hands to rip them away – and he quickly yells at the other soldiers who produced the operation, making them run in various directions to collect wood, stones and set up the tents for tonight. They have to move away from the popular roads, even though nobody in this kingdom would be strong enough to hurt them anyways – but this operation should be a secret, at least relatively, until the princess is secured as his empress, and her body is sprawled across his sheets, withering from pleasure and…

Ah, Scheisse. König cannot stay mad at her when the mere thought of her smile makes his dick twitch in his pants. He survived through horribly throbbing erection against the metal plates of his armor for the whole ride, the small mercy of not having her soft body press against him directly. It didn’t stop him from wanting more, from whispering filthy things, completely undeserving of your virtue. You are bringing him down to his knees – even an emperor is just a man when a pretty girl looks at him, and even at is age, he could feel like a young lover searching for his bride’s hand.

Oh, but König would love something more than just your hand.

He should be thankful to his knights for how quickly they made a tent for him to secure the dignity of the first moment between a man and his sweetheart. He usually does everything himself, not wanting to make a lady in waiting out of his knights, but he enjoys their help now – he surely won’t be able to prepare for sleep with his wild cat of a bride in his hands. You are unusually active for a princess, trying to get out of his hands, kicking him with your adorable legs, still wrapped in a ruined skirt. Perhaps you were so mad at him for destroying your dress – he gets it, knowing how sensitive ladies are about this. He’d buy you a new one right away, but, for your stupidity, you deserve to wear only his coat until they are inside the borders of the Empire.

— Did you hit your head before I got you, princess? What were you thinking? — You told me to run. I did, Your Royal Highness.

He pinches his nose through the mask, not believing just how arrogant you sound – he wants to push you down, to open that dumb skirt of yours and give your precious ass a few spanks before setting you down, making you sit on the ruined muscle until you’d learn your lesson. The king was definitely not punishing you enough if you still think that you can talk to your betters (and elders) like this.

— I dared you to run. Thinking you’d accept the consequences with the dignity of a royal lady.

— Why don’t you kill me then? For belittling your dignity.

You look too snarky for his liking – he can see how terrified you are, little shakes of your hands and tears in your eyes. You are provoking him, picking the dragon with a stick so he’d burn you to a crisp. König knows that the customs of your kingdom value a good death over everything and just how much you’d love to fall into the grasp of a common tragedy. He also knows that he will not bury his bride before they are even married.

It’s only natural that the emperor grasps the front of your dress, the edges of the corset you tried to tie down to save some of your dignity. The fabric rips with ridiculous ease, all the gold spent on making it runs with the speed of a thread being torn. Suddenly, your front is exposed, even the underwear is not enough to conceal your privacy. König indulges in the view of your open skin, glossy from sweat and so, so delicious in dim magical light erupting from an artificial candle. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game, that not touching you now would be his greatest accomplishment and greatest torture at the same time – your body meant to be touched, you look like a doll and like a statue, like the greatest treasure and the most desirable slut he ever laid his eyes on.

The emperor is a man in the end – a war dog, closer to death than to the start of his life, a perfect incarnation of a horrible match to a young princess like you. Too wrathful, too arrogant, with more chips on his shoulders than the hair on your head, and yet, he holds you closely, putting you out of the torture device you are calling a dress.

You breathe for the first time in forever, and your mouth is shaking from unspoken tears and spoken pleas. He holds himself back from cupping your face in his hands and crushing your lips in a kiss, not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because you deserve better than to be fucked on the ground of his tent without proper preparation and some relaxing oils for your body. One kiss would never be enough for him, and he hadn’t touched a woman in far too long to handle himself properly now.

You look like you need to be ravaged – the greatest temptation König ever experienced.

— I can do so much to you, little princess. More than you could ever imagine.

— i’m not…n…not little. Your Highness.

— You are, compared to me. Should be scared, not snarky.

— I’m not snarky.

Just for this, he loses control – your voice, shaking with tears but never losing that arrogant edge, that delicious drawl that cannot be described as something that belongs to a princess, makes him lose all of the composure he had. König had prepared himself for a lady who would fall in his arms and cry the whole night long, he prepared himself for a fierce fighter that would try to kill him immediately – but you are soft and vengeful at the same time, too weak to resist him, but not too helpless to not run his mouth. You speak before you think, and it’s an adorable quality for a princess and horrible – for an empress. good thing you would be his regent, a pretty thing like you should never be annoyed with politics and mingling. König pushes you across his lap, his free hand is tearing through various skirts, and what is left from that awful strick construction you tried to pass as a skirt support. He never understood why anyone would live through this torture – you’d look way nicer in his shirt and nothing more. Or, even better, nothing at all, chained to a bed in his bedroom until he’d think that you are tamed enough to be shown in public.

You yelp in surprise, precious dumb thing. Just like a princess, you are not accustomed to the consequences of your own actions – you think that you can just run your mouth or do dumb things without his wrath falling upon you…and, little princess, you’re in for quite a shock. Your emperor doesn’t have enough patience for this, even though he did want you as his wife and knew what chaos it could bring. He just never thought that he’d have so much pleasure in looking at your adorable bottoms, all modest and long. Your underpants are adorably white, not stained from multiple washings, crisp and new – he feels the fabric with his fingers and almost thinks to not rip them away, just to appreciate the fine silks that went into constructing it.

His mercy is cut short by that sweet whimper of yours. You plead with him not to touch you – like you have a saying on this. König defiled the death itself, so why would he even consider such silly things as chastity before marriage? He certainly had enough women in his bed to forbid him from ever going to heaven, and robbing you of your innocence would be a small crime against all the countless sins he already committed.

But, he doesn’t want you to hate him – and you would, certainly, not in the fiery and passionate way he might enjoy, but a quiet, broken anger. He doesn’t want to turn this fragile thing into the broken shell of the betrothed princess, even if you need to be taught a harsh lesson – and you deserve much better than having your cunt destroyed on the harsh floor of his tent.

— You’re lucky, little princess.

He laughs, taking down your underpants – a harsh hand on your bottom, rough fingers that almost burn you without a glove to conceal his touches. You whimper when he lashes on the sensitive skin, stroking sensitive skin. If you knew how hard you make him, you’d run away with his horse already.

— How am I lucky? You…you killed the king, you destroyed my country, you…

— I killed your father, yes, but I left you alive.

— To make a show for your soldiers, I assume..

— If I wanted to leave you to waste, I would allow them to bounce you on their dicks a while ago.

— How d…

— You’re lucky because you’re mine, little princess. Not going to share you with anyone. But…

— But?

Your voice has finally gone down. he can almost taste the dread in your tone. König was burning down villages, destroyed his enemies with nothing more but a rusty sword and hatred in his heart – but he truly feels like a monster when he slaps your ass for the first time and sees your tear-filled eyes staring at him. God, he never was faithful, but hurting you feels like defiling an angel.

And he loves every second of it.

— You need to learn a lesson of respect, little princess.

It’s a small grace that he doesn’t make you count his slaps – he simply pushes you down, makes sure that your face is lying on his cloak, just for something soft to rely on, and gives you enough slapping to make the rest of horseriding as painful as possible. Maybe, it would teach you a lesson that if you need help, you’d have to ask him, to beg him for this – and not try to hurt yourself by doing it on your own. You’re awfully independent and resilient for the princess.

It took him at least five strong, harsh lashes of his hand on your rear to make you cry as loud as he wanted you to. He cups your face in his palm, forcing you up his lap – and smothered your lips with a kiss. König knows he is overstepping; he wouldn’t be able to let go of you after devouring your lips like that, but he doesn’t care, at least for now. He wants to be your everything, to push every thought out of your head and fill it with himself.

He adores the thought of being your first kiss, your first everything – you’re so inexperienced, so fragile in his hold. Never once thinking of himself as an appreciator of all the thighs dainty and artsy, he wants to worship that pout, your closed eyes, and little prayers of mercy you whisper between each kiss. Your body feels too enticing in his hands, a treasure he needs to keep all to himself. It’s a miracle he didn’t push your underwear down and took you all the way – as much as he wanted to touch you.

König smiled when you cried into the kiss, trembling in his hold like a caged animal. Never once he thought he’d have this much fun without taking some plumpy woman on his dick, but you are full of surprises. Another five smacks on your ass left you with a bruised bottom and tear-strained, wet face. The look of misery in your eyes made him cackle – god, you were adorable. Continue like this, and he’d spend the rest of his life with you on his lap.

— We will sleep now. The Empire borders are still days away, and you don’t look like you could handle the road right now.

You pout, pushing yourself off his lap. Even the hard floor of the tent was better, the cold fabric made your butt sting a bit less. You still couldn’t sit straight, still miserable, with a burning feeling in the depths of your tummy – hate, perhaps, that made your hands shake and your thighs feel a bit too wet and warm for your liking. There is a knot in your lower stomach that makes you feel weird, anxious, that makes you squeeze your legs shut as you push through the pain and get your underpants on again. The soft silks of the princess’s undergarments made you feel a bit better.

— I’d love nothing more but to run away while we’re still at my home, Butcher.

He smiles under his hood, pushing his hand on your backside. You freeze as he rolls you over, making you fit perfectly against his broad chest. He is a horrible, disgusting human being, clingy and warm around you – his bear-like hold is too strong on your limbs, making you freeze completely.

— I’m sure you are, Liebling. And I would love to catch you and spank your rear again.

— I will…you won’t catch me.

— Someone will. I’ll pay handsomely to any knight or wandering hunter to bring my wife back to me.

— I’m not y…your wife.

— Yet.

You turn away from him – try to, at least. He squeezes you against his chest makes you calm down in his hold like a wild cat he picked up on the side of the road. You don’t want to admit it, but he is warm, cozy, and even the harsh fabric he threw on the ground to make you a bed feels nice compared to the castle floors where you spend so much time. You still squirm, trying to find a good position to lay next to him without feeling like a toy in the hands of a grabby kid. König feels your wounded, perfect ass grinding against him – out of most of his armor, he can’t contain his erection now. Oh, how the strong emperor wished he’d have

— Stop moving, princess. Unless you want to consummate our marriage early.

— I’m not…I’m not moving.

— You are squirming. Is the ground not to your liking?

— I must prefer sleeping in a grave with my papa. — Can’t promise you this…but isn’t sleeping with the Death himself would be enough? — You’re not death, your highness. A blight, maybe. Or a plague. — You’re making me blush, little princess. There is a smile in his voice. You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t say anything. Too many nights sleeping by the princess’s bedspot, always being the first one to greet her at sunrise and the last one to tell her stories before going to sleep. Like a loyal dog on the wooden floor, with a pillow under your cheek for comfort – all of her other handmaidens, precious ladies from good families, had their own quarters and rooms.

You had a cot by her bed and her endless affection.

Compared to this, sleeping on the floor of a rich tent with an emperor by your side isn’t as bad. You have to remind yourself that you are sleeping with a murdered, pillager, kidnapper and colonialist – you shouldn’t feel warm by his side. But, he hugs you like a lover. But, he buries his masked face in your hair and inhales your scent – sweet fragrances mixed with the blood and sweat of a long journey.

You fall asleep in his arms before you can think of something smart to say.

König doesn’t fall asleep until hour later – too busy looking at your precious form, wrapped so perfectly in his arms.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig x you #konig x y/n #cod x y/n

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branchofcinnamon · 7 days

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Love the canon of Max/Lucy.. they are so sweet i was lowkey rooting for them since they first smiled at each other. The parallels of him growing up in the wasteland- being misled by the brotherhood- while she’s growing up in the safe closed off world of the vault- being misled by her father. Them both believing in goodness and doing what’s right but having to make sacrifices to stay alive. The “come live with me in my vault” “I’ll wait for you” I’m going crazy

But Cooper/Lucy…. I confess I was also lowkey rooting for them but I didn’t think the show would go there/knew people would be mad at that ship/don’t know where his wife is/ but the parallels of them indirectly knowing about each other. cooper being there back then advertising for the vaults only to survive that long to meet the daughter of one of the men behind it. Lucy most likely having watched his movies and possibly being a fan of The “Cooper Howard.” Both now having the experience of pre-war/the vault equivalent and wasteland life. Her reminding him of kindness for the sake of just being kind and him showing her you have to be ruthless up here or you’ll get killed. “Enemies to lovers,” “beauty and the beast.” I am also going crazy

#fallout show spoilers #fallout amazon spoilers #vaultghoul #vaultknight #lucy x maximus #lucy x the ghoul #I’m not really a multishipper but 😂#always about the parallels lol #also just adore the ship name ghoulcy lol

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muzansfangs · 7 months

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Babydoll.

Starring: Douma x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, kind of gang au, criminal Douma, corruption kink, use of alcohol, dirty talk, language, choking, breeding kink, small age gap, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers dynamics, kind of toxic relationship, dacryphilia, dom!Douma, sub!reader, vaginal sex, slight manipulative behavior, unprotected sex;

Plot: you should have not fallen for him, the devil himself, the handsome hitman of Muzan Kibutsuji. His charming personality, however, had you wrapped around his finger effortlessly. Sometimes, when you blabbed out some reserved informations of your gang to him, you felt how he was taking advantage of what you two had. All it took for him to calm you down, though, were his sugarcoated words and the promise you were his only one.

Track: Babydoll — Ari Abdul: “When I meet your eyes, the devil, he wins”.

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Same old story. A bottle of saké on the coffee table, his red button down clutched into your hands, his multicolored hues boring into yours as you sat on his lap. You wanted to stop this, but you could not.

His lips curled up into his trademark smirk, his long-dark eyelashes contrasting with his pale complexion and the variety of shimmering colors mixed in his irises, as he ran his thumb over your lower lip.

If you did not know him, you would have said he was a gift from the gods. However, Douma was a gift from the haunts of Hell.

You knew you should have not even allowed him to approach you that night at the bar. You were not clueless, his identity and his reputation were well-known. But he was enticing. You were alone, dealing with a break-up, feeling like the ground was shaking under your feet. He was a little bit older than you, three years, but they had granted him enough experience to deceive you. You were fragile in that moment and he knew it.

That time had long gone, however. Months had passed by and you had fully recovered. Staying by his side now, letting yourself being ruined by him over and over again, was your choice.

“You’ve been so helpful for me, darling. I wonder how I can reward you for your sacrifice” Douma chimed, forcing his thumb into your mouth and pressing the pad of his finger onto your tongue.

His actions were laced with lewd intentions, his words creeping under your skin.

He had mentioned a ‘sacrifice’. Of course, he had. He knew that what you were doing for him was the equivalent of killing the good and loyal part of yourself that would have given up on anything just to make the people you cared about happy. What were you doing for them now? You were stabbing them on their backs, spitting on their faces, putting their lives in danger, for the sake of a toxic and secret relationship with him.

As his thumb entered your warm mouth, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut only not to let tears spill out of your eyes. He knew what his words did to you.

His dirty talk made your panties sticky, but the way he never failed to remind you of what you were doing for him, for a criminal, for the man who easily manipulated you and played with your heart like a guitarist played with the strings of a guitar, well, it broke your heart.

Your lower lip quivered and a soft chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“Ah, I’m sorry, baby. — he whispered, slowly removing his thumb from your mouth and grasping your jaw roughly — Look at me” he added, his voice velvet but still firm.

A command. One of the many he gave you, when he was about to watch you crumble in his arms. You slowly lifted your lids, letting your teary eyes meet his ones. In his shining ones, you could see two small versions of you. But you could read two identical words too: betrayal.

A sob escaped your lips, your shoulders shaking and a grin crossed Douma’s face. There it was, your fragile part. Your tears falling from your lashes, your mascara drawing patters on your cheeks that resembled brenches of a leafless tree, made him lose his cool. You could feel his cock underneath you twitch, you could see the way he enjoyed your whimpers.

Depraved, he was depraved.

“You’re so beautiful like this. — he purred, wrapping his hand around your throat and slipping the other one between your thighs, tugging your thong to the side — Bearing a baby into your tummy. Your womb swollen, my baby growing into you” he said, his voice dripping desire and lust.

“Douma…” you whispered, as his deft fingers plunged into you effortlessly.

“Tsk, you’re dripping… Can you hear it? The lewd sounds of your cunt yearning for more, waiting for me to fill you up. Can you hear them, love?” he hoarsely said, involving you into a fervent kiss.

A moan, another one, this time louder, erupted from your throat as his slender fingers searched for that spongy spot that made you squeal out in ecstasy for him. It did not take long for him to find it. He knew you like the back of his hand, your body was like a piece of paper for him to write on.

“Ah, chant for me, baby. Sing for me, sing because you’re my only one” he whispered, his grip on your neck tightening significantly as you gasped for air.

Your eyes widened, your inner walls clamping onto his fingers as he pinned you down onto the couch, underneath him.

Your toes curled, as you lolled your head back in pleasure. The gultiness, the shame you felt for the way you let him manhandle you, for your morals bending only to stick by his side when the sun set, they were all gone. He stripped you out of your sanity, his sinful hands breaking the sheer of pride you loved to show off in public.

You felt his fingers leaving your core, the hand around your neck following suit, as he unbuckled his belt and hastily unzipped his pants. He needed you. He wanted to ruin your innocence again. It was never enough.

“I promise, I’ll fuck you so good you’ll leave this place slithering around like a viper. My pretty, little viper” he crooned, spreading your legs wide before hooking his thumbs underneath the waistband of his tight boxers and pulling them down his thighs.

The sight of your essence leaking out of you for his previous actions made him let out a moan of anticipation, while your cheeks heated out for the predatory look plastered over his angelic face.

You were glad he had streatched you out properly. His shaft was not exactly easy to adjust to. As long as he loved seeing tears stream down your face, he wanted you to enjoy the way he messed up your insides. It had to feel good for you too.

“Tell me that you love me” he said then, hovering over you and resting your legs on the top of his broad shoulders. His fingers dug onto the plush of your thighs, earning a soft whimper from you as his tip started to tease your entrance.

“I love you. You know how much I love you…” you breathed out, arching your back in hope to get some friction from the spot where your intimacies met.

Douma chuckled, his teeth grazing the tender flesh of your neck as he shoved himself into you slowly, making sure you could feel every inch of him exploring your warm channel. He surely was vocal, he had always been. A long, strained moan left his lips as he bottomed out and your cry of pleasure echoed into the luxurious living room of his house.

Your breaths mixed, his thrusts hard and steady as you ran your fingers through his long, silky and silvery hair.

Douma was too handsome to be a devil. Then again, as he made you reach your climax, whispering sinful words into your ear, making sure his thrusts hit your g-spot, you were reminded of that fallen angel. He was an angel, in the end, you were right.

Douma was God’s favorite, he was Lucifer. Therefore, as he released into you, moaning into your mouth as his tongue dominated yours, you were ready to let him drag you to hell with him.

“Yeah, I definitely love you” you murmured, panting as you stared at the ceiling above you, his body still pressed against yours.

Sinning never felt that good.

TAGS: @doumadono @doumaslotus @mrskokushibo @misaki-the-lotusflower @flakeygod @cyberdazetragedy

#douma x reader #douma x y/n #douma x you #douma smut #upper moon two #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader

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oikasugayama · 19 days

Note

ok why is mad at the whole "Hurry up and go you damn fool" or whatever scene with akutgawa? I don't get it😭

TL;DR: In the manga the scene had a kindness that was replaced with harshness in the anime!!

Akutagawa has been growing a lot as a character because he has to work with Atsushi, and this moment specifically shows him making the selfless decision to save Atsushi's life by giving his own.

In the manga when he dies, he smiles in a way that implies this is sad but was his only option, and he tells Atsushi to go, does not yell. He tells him to go. Atsushi is completely stunned by Akutagawa's selflessness and kindness in that moment, because he normally sees Akutagawa as a bad, mean, evil guy. Atsushi's view is challenged by Akutagawa's willingness to sacrifice himself for not only Atsushi's sake, but for the sake of the greater good. It's unexpected. It's powerful. It's genuine. And it's kind.

Buuuut in the anime, partly because Studio Bones draws Akutagawa ugly as fuck, not only was all the soft, gentle kindness and genuineness taken out of the scene, but they also made Akutagawa yell and say something harsh to fit their narrative of how Akutagawa is. Which is NOT how manga-Akutagawa was in that scene. So people, myself included, are disgruntled that this beautiful gesture of enemies-to-doomed-friends(/lovers if you ship them) was just turned into another rough tough rumblin' boys fighting scene.

I'm mostly mad that Bones keeps making Akutagawa look ugly. He's so fucking pretty, just draw him better 😠

Here's my analysis of the exact verbage, as a writer, editor, wordsmith, literary analyst, etc.:

"You damn fool." (Said almost fondly, as if Akutagawa can't believe Atsushi is actually shocked for his sake. Atsushi is being a fool. He's panicking. He still doesn't know he can trust Akutagawa. He still doesn't realize how important he is and why it has to be him to survive and keep going.) "Hurry up and go." (Said while smiling. He's saying Don't wait for me. I'm doing this for you. You'll be fine.")

"You fool. Get out of here!" (Said quickly, spit out at Atsushi, very little emotion. Calling him stupid father than said fondly. Telling him to go away as if Akutagawa is going to hold Fukuchi off even though he's dying. The friendship dynamic just isn't here. Bones is still running with "Akutagawa=Mafia=Bad but Atsushi=ADA=Good" even tho the manga definitely explores characters as being more complex than that.

There's my two cents!! Thanks for asking, I hope this helps!!

#ask answered #anon #sskk #Atsushi #akutagawa

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yarrayora · 5 months

Text

filling a prompt from the kinkmeme

summary: Shamrock asked his lover if he was allowed to visit his best friend's grave

Who was it who made the poem that said 'do not stand by my grave and weep'? When Grey died his utmost desire was for Yoshimasa to mourn for him, to regret his death, for him to be the ghost that haunted the man for life. When Shamrock was born, though...

There he was in a grassy field alone with his supposed enemy, and then he woke in bed that wasn't his, mourned by the man who wasn't as much as a monster as he hoped.

The need to be grieved was gone, replaced by the desire to hurt.

So he happily embraced his newfound monstrosity. Seeking for the man who betrayed him.

And yet.

And yet!

And yet, Yoshimasa was still the same man as he remembered. He didn't abandon the child who was accompanying him. He offered himself for the sake of Kamiya Tsurugi's safety.

So what did that make Grey?

Was he not good enough for Yoshimasa to save?

Did he want Yoshimasa to sacrifice himself for him?

Shamrock thought he had killed the last of his human heart, but turned out it was still beating somewhere inside.

When he saw Yoshimasa's son all grown up—with a face just like the dead man but soured by a nasty frown— Shamrock couldn't help it. Surely, surely, this was the answer. Surely, all he needed to do was kill Shuuhei so he could kill the last of his humanity.

The boy was all rage and fire, the thing Shamrock couldn't get out of Yoshimasa the last time around.

Maybe hellfire really did feel like penitence.

As his own darkness swallowed him, a thought crossed Shamrock's mind: Isn't this why Yoshimasa abandoned me?

He wasn't a good man. He sought retribution from Shuuhei because he couldn't betray Tsubaki who saved him by killing himself. But even then, the young master saw through him. He couldn't become a monster capable of standing by Tsubaki's side, so Tsubaki let him go.

Shamrock's human heart was coaxed out of hiding, bit by bit, as Yoshimasa's family welcomed him back. He would always second-guess himself, wondering whether or not he deserved this seat at the dining table that should have been Yoshimasa's.

He thought of Shuuhei's hand reaching out to hold his under the table.

Maybe not quite Yoshimasa's.

"Shuuhei...?" Shamrock's voice was small, unbefitting of a Tsubaki's elite. "It's almost Obon, isn't it?"

Shamrock didn't pursue the conversation. He was trying so hard to sound casual. But Shuuhei caught on anyway. He mentioned Obon—well known for its grave visits— it wasn't exactly subtle.

"Do you want to come visit Dad together with us?" Shuuhei's pinky hooked itself around Shamrock's and tugged. It was a gentle invitation for a man as awkward as Shuuhei.

Shamrock's 'yes' died in his throat. "If your mother and sister are fine with me..."

There was a lot of thing for Shamrock to apologize for. Not only for the misery he brought Yoshimasa's family, but also for his shameless desire to keep Yoshimasa's son for himself.

But even if Yoshimasa didn't forgive him, that was alright too.

#servamp #shamshuu #servamp shamrock #tsuyuki shuuhei #shuuhei tsuyuki #shamrock servamp #yarra writes stuff #servamp kinkmeme

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june-again · 9 months

Text

CHILUMI: # a chasmic mistake.

CHAPTER V: notion.

chapter summary. in which, inevitably, the darkness fights back. in which the hunters locate their bounty.

wc. 2.5k. genre. enemies to lovers, action/adventure.

warnings. lowkey psychological manipulation!! dddne!!

table of contents / final chapter

Lumine was sure he really had fallen into slumber, after what must have been hours of her narration. She whispered, “Sleep tight… Ajax,” before lying back on the wooden floor of the mining construct.

He was really pretty, she thought. Cursed or not, she found herself fascinated with the curve of his lips, the length of his lashes, the shape of his jaw. She thought about when she had first met him all that time ago.

He hadn’t necessarily saved her life, then, because she would have been fine defending herself from the soldiers in Liyue. But he had protected her. How much of what he had done for her had been purely for Fatui purposes? How much of what he said to her was to be considered a lie? How many of the perceived sacrifices were underhanded violations of her trust?

Lumine was aware that he fancied her in some way; he’d never really hidden that from her with his needless flirting and charming. Despite her attraction to him—which was growing more undeniable—she could not allow herself to admit anything further than it to herself. But she wanted to. She wanted to act upon the feelings she had for him without feeling like a traitor to all things good and decent.

Lumine had only planned to rest her voice and her body, which was growing sore from sitting. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, thinking about what she might do if she edified her moral standards for Childe’s sake.

She regained consciousness to the sight of Childe’s face, still, only a foot away from hers, but he was very much awake.

For a moment they held eye contact. Childe studied her face with a growing smile on lips and Lumine tried to differentiate dream from reality. Again, she thought… He had such a nice face. Had he always had so many freckles?

He looked kissable. Lumine’s ears caught fire at the thought.

“Morning, Lumine” he said, baring his teeth in a grin.

It would be nice to hear him say that every day, she thought.

Damn it.

Lumine rolled to her back and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She stretched, praying that her face hadn’t gone too red. This Chasm curse was going too far. “Did—did you sleep at all?”

He sat up and shrugged. Lumine noticed the chain under his collar shift. For a moment, the charm, a translucent gold-red diamond like his earring, dangled within view for just a second before he absently adjusted his shirt. It disappeared beneath the burgundy of his button-up but her gaze lingered, feeling overwhelmingly curious about it.

Was it a gift from his family? His father? Or a Fatui charm?

Had it been given to him when his name was changed to Tartaglia?

What was it made of? How long had he had it?

“Let’s get going, shall we?” he recommended, breaking her out of her trance. He sounded far too cheery to have just woken up, she thought.

Lumine frowned, getting to her feet. Her neck and back were still aching from the wooden floor and she stretched her arms across her body to get her blood circulating. “Down that tunnel? How?”

The method Childe had in mind was one she would not have guessed, but should have. Knowing Childe to be relatively reckless should have prepared her for his straightforward and simple plan.

That plan was jumping.

With only a charged shot or two of his arrow to find a ridge to land on before each jump, they stepped off of the edge and plunged into darkness. At first Lumine went to use her glider, but since they jumped at the same time, she realized landing after him would make her look bad. Pride was what she had to blame for her equal recklessness as the air swept past her face and her dress fluttered and her eyes threatened to close—as they threw themselves further and deeper down.

As they landed the first time, she landed steadily but began to shake immediately after. Childe put a supporting arm around her as she braced herself. Then, they went on.

The last jump was the hardest because she hadn’t known it would be the last. Though Lumine might not admit it aloud, this was the most fun she had had since the last time she had dueled Childe. The exhilaration was almost too much for her to handle and yet she didn’t want it to end. Those smiles exchanged with No. 11 of the Fatui Harbingers, the landings making her appreciate the solidity of rock beneath her feet, those shouts of, “And… jump!” each contributed to her elation. It did end, however, and it ended just in time. She felt like fainting.

They landed in a small pool in a strange, dimly lit cavern. Lumine’s legs were shaking too severely for her to pay any more attention to her surroundings, and so she tread to the edge of the pool to sit down and catch her breath. Tartaglia, landing next to her with a small splash, looked ahead in the cove.

“Oh,” he whispered. “Lumine?”

He kept his back to her. She followed the implication of his gaze.

An enormous figure of a faintly blue creature too man-like to be an animal but too cruel to be a man crept in the shadows of the other end of the pool. From its masked head two spikes like sharp, cornered devil horns shot, a third creating a fiendish crown in the center. Its limbs were long, and at the end of each finger were blue vile talons. No face was visible, but its intentions were clear: to kill.

It was, undoubtedly, an Abyss Herald.

Lumine had seen one before in the ruins she had explored with Dainslief. Fending off such a demon had been ghastly. She had hoped she would not have to repeat the experience.

And yet now there seemed to be no choice. She drew her sword.

“Lumine,” Childe whispered again, “don’t move.”

She stood, her feet steadying, but remained still behind the Harbinger. “My sword follows yours.”

He hesitated, and finally looked back at her over his shoulder. He looked… almost afraid, but more so worried for her. Then, he grit his teeth in a reassuring half-smile, nodded at her, turned back to the Abyss Herald, and drew his bow.

The Abyss Herald did not make a sound, but its high head twitched and turned in their direction. They had been noticed.

“Ah… A surrogate of the Abyss,” it growled. “Winter hails you.”

Childe held his ground in front of Lumine. “I am no friend of the Abyss.”

She stared at the back of his head, confused. What was he doing? Didn’t he spend months there?

“Darkness has no friends,” it said, creeping towards them. The distorted voice pierced Lumine’s ears. Her head would start hurting soon. “But there is no escape once you become one with it.”

Childe drew his Hydro blades, stepping forward so that he again blocked Lumine’s view of it. “I won’t let you hurt her. Prepare to feel pain.”

The Abyss Herald laughed. It was an atrocious, screeching, panging sound, one that Lumine thought should never be heard by a mortal’s ears. “She is the mortal. She will feel pain.”

Lumine charged forward with her blade raised, but Childe stopped her with his arm. “Easy, now.”

She ignored him, running past and swirling the water around them into an Anemo blast. The Abyss Herald was only mildly knocked back, and began chanting Abyssal curses at her, readying the blade in his talons. Her blade did not rest, striking rapidly as she tried to find the demon’s weak spots.

The Abyss Herald attacked once, and she dodged it. The second attack, however, struck her coldly and she fell against the wall, momentarily drained of any stamina for recovery. This was when Childe swept in, bombarding the creature with attack after attack. It bore the attacks all too well, laughing again, and ignored him to lunge at Lumine. She managed to dodge this by a hair.

“You cannot evade the darkness!” it shrieked.

She could certainly try. Ducking under another attack, she grasped Anemo into another vortex, battering it consecutively with swirling Hydro. Childe struck it with an aimed bow shot from behind, finally managing to stagger it.

It was finally beginning to look like they could win this fight. Lumine took the opportunity to gust it with a tornado, and Childe hit it with a signature melee strike. The Abyss Herald’s vitality seemed to be declining quickly. Lumine wouldn’t even have to break a sweat.

She wouldn’t need to, because an attack from above them both managed to catch them off guard and douse them in ice. They were knocked back harshly, and the Abyss Herald received an icier glow than before. It was an indication of a shield. Lumine could not get up in time as it surged at her again, and so instead she braced herself for a second painful impact.

It came again, and again. Her vision went black as the pain overcame her. She could hear Childe shouting and panting and trying to fend the Abyss Herald off of her. And failing.

“Lumine! Lumine! Get out from under him!”

“You cannot defeat us,” the Abyss Herald snarled, grabbing Lumine by the neck in its razor-edged talons. It turned its head towards Childe eerily. “This will only end when we kill her. You may die too, unless you choose to end her by yourself. Hark, cold shall claim all!”

Childe hesitated in his next attack. He looked at Lumine, who was choking and wrestling under its terrible grasp. He did not speak.

“Make your choice, Youngling. The mortal will die, but by whose hand?”

Lumine struggled wildly, eyes fixed on him.

Wasn’t she supposed to be able to trust him here? Why was he hesitating? He would do something, right? After all this time, they had grown to protect to each other—to depend on each other—to keep an eye out—to—

“Will you really relinquish your own life… in a sad attempt to protect this bounty?”

Both Childe and Lumine’s eyes widened.

Bounty?

“The prophecy will prevail. Death is calling from the darkness.”

Lumine would not wait for him to decide. The strength that was pinning her down was unearthly, but so was she. Bracing her hands against the metallic nails at her throat, she conjured a vortex of Anemo. It would hurt her, using it this close to her body with shaking hands, but she hoped it would hurt the Abyss Herald too.

A sound akin to windmill rotor blades striking an object repeatedly came, and after that, the scrape of sharp talons against her neck overwhelmed her as she fell back. The Abyss Herald was knocked back from her with a shrill cry, and Childe swept in to finish it off. Lumine pushed herself with trembling arms into a sitting position, her neck ablaze. She watched the Fatuu deal the final blow with a Hydro blade.

Neither of them spoke as they watched the Abyss Herald crumble to the ground and disappear back to wherever it belonged.

At last Childe walked over to her and knelt by her side. She still had not gotten to her feet, only able to wince and groan as he put a few gloved fingers to her neck to gauge the severity of the wound. He withdrew his hand and stared for some time at the blood on it, a crazed look on his face. Lumine watched.

His mouth slowly opened and he wet his lips, glancing up at Lumine. “Are you in much pain?”

She tried to shake her head “no,” but gasped in pain as turning her neck ever so slightly managed to strain the wound.

He curled his lips at her apologetically. “Careful,” he whispered. “It looks bad.”

Lumine only stared back at him, something screaming in the back of her mind. Childe took the scarf attached to his jacket and wrapped it gently around her neck. He was saying something about how she had better keep it covered.

She remembered, then, what was bothering her, and struck his hand away from her neck.

He frowned. “Am I hurting you?”

Lumine struggled a bit, and stood. He followed suit, eyes falling to her hand on the hilt of her blade.

“Lumine?”

“What did it mean?” she spat, ignoring the pain in her neck.

“What are you talking about?” Childe replied. He sounded half-confused, half-defensive.

Lumine drew her sword and sliced it towards his chest.

He blocked it with a Hydro blade, giving her a curious look. “You know, Lumine,” he said, voice strained, “I’m always more than down for a duel, but I must ask you to explain the suddenness.”

She said nothing, swinging her sword at him again. He blocked each with one blade, standing far too calmly for her liking.

Childe seemed to notice that something was different. During each of their duels, she had only ever been going for victory. She had only ever wanted him beneath her heel, to force him into defeat. By her relentless attacks now, however, it became clear to both of them that she was going for more. She was going for blood; for her blade through his heart.

If he even has one, she thought.

“My, my, girlie. Your attacks are sloppy. Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Lumine flashed her sword to his side, cutting a bit of fabric off of his shoulder. “Didn’t think you ever needed a reason to kill.”

His eyes widened. Quickly his expression changed. Childe’s expression turned dark, a strange grin spreading across his face. “I see.” The charm had left his voice, giving way for malevolent jeer. “Well, alright then!”

It was as if he had caught aflame from the fire she wielded. His haunting blue swords disappeared, ones of purple lightning taking its place. His mask appeared on his face. Childe was playing the part of someone who was going to try to kill her, too.

And yet she still felt that he was holding back, and it infuriated her.

The whole thing made sense to her now. The chasing—he’d known she’d chase him, somehow, and he had lured her into the trap of this accursed cave. The Chasm’s psychedelic effects had been known to him, too. He had weakened her and beckoned her into a place she could never escape, into feelings of love that were false but overpowering. He was sick. He was sadistic, crooked, and Fatui. She should have known.

She had known. How could she have made such a mistake?

But it was clear now. For whatever sick or perverted reason, the bounty was on her. He had been hunting her. Luring her into his despicable nest with his childish quips and puppy eyes. And now he was holding back while fighting her. Was she wanted alive… and docile?

She refused.

“Kill me, Ajax,” she snarled. “Kill your precious bounty, before it kills you.”

author’s note. goodness gracious, somebody is mad! madly in love, perhaps? (i don't condone manipulation/lying but also like. this is childe, he lied to us on a huge scale the day we met him, let's not be shocked)

all will be explained in the final chapter ....

— table of contents / final chapter

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

#a chasmic mistake.#favoniuslibrary #chilumi #genshin fanfic #tartaglia x lumine #chilumi fic #childe x lumine #ajax x lumine #genshin x traveler #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin enemies to lovers #genshin impact imagine #tartaglia x traveler #childe angst #childe fluff #manipulation tw #mind control tw

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nnnneeev · 10 months

Note

Now Solomon told you to side with humanity, not him, right?

If humanity stands against Solomon, who ardently wishes that you stand with humanity, which side would you choose, O Solomon lover? 😈

Nah but i was also thinking of the same question since lesson 11 dropped 😭

Let's see... i guess i may have to choose humanity. It's what he would've wanted 😔 (lovers to enemies arc, ugh the potential)

on the other hand, if i sided with solomon, we'd become the enemies of the state (which isn't half bad i guess..) (it's us against the world <3)

secret third option: choose both. surely there must be some way to side with both...right? perhaps a divine intervention? another possible solution that we're not aware of? if humanity is really against him, we'll just have to find a way to fix things up. and if solomon's really pushing me to choose humanity over himself, i'll just have to convince him that it's not really necessary to leave himself out. what do you mean you love humanity so much you're willing to sacrifice yourself for their sake? nah dude you're coming with us

this is really interesting lol. let's hear what other people would do in this situation! 🫵

#asks #this is like the trolley problem but for solomon kissers #secret fourth option: avoid situations that will force you to make a choice #aka eliminating the root cause lmao but this is more unlikely to happen #i might just as well stab myself to prevent choosing only one side #sorry i am not the most sane person around here #disclaimer: this only applies to obey me's multiverse of madness okay #i love this ask hkdhfks #obey me solomon

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thecomfywriter · 2 years

Text

Tropes Masterlist

Hey! It's your girl, @thecomfywriter, back with another post. I'm going to keep the intro short for the sake of convenience, but here's the promised list of writing tropes , organized by genre. Also, don’t forget to check out my socials, and if you like my posts, support me with a coffee! Enjoy!

༺ ༻

Socials:

Insta:

Writing: @tovwriter

Art: @gkmarts

Pinterest: @gkm075

Wattpad: @gkm075

Tumblr: @thecomfywriter

BuyMeACoffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/nvna

༺ ༻

Romance:

Boy/girl next door

Bad boy x nerd/good girl

"You're just, not like other girls" (*gag* Ә)

Makeover scene

*character A takes character B to their secret "special spot"*

Love triangles

Enemies to lovers

Best friends to lovers

Star-crossed lovers •

Unrequited love (highkey love this one lol)

Character A is so logical and sciencey that they don't believe in something so unquantifiable as love until character

B, the artistic and emotional one, shows them what it's about

Fake dating

Forced marriage/alliance

Opposites attract

Instant love

Billionaire fantasy

Alpha x rebellious defiant ("strong independent woman" vibes)

Supernatural x human

Virgin x player

Reincarnated lovers who must find each other to stop the cycle

Mystery // Crime:

Dark past

Murder for secrets

“It was *insert ordinary unsuspecting random-ass character* all along” (“Scooby-Doo villain phenomenon”)

Note: a lot of crime is committed by random strangers unbeknownst to the victim, and a lot of it is personal crime where the victim was selected for a reason. Whichever one your story falls into, just know the appeal of mystery is the audience’s ability to try and figure it out before the big reveal. If that isn’t possible because they’ve never met the character before… you see how that can be disappointing?

The only witness/protagonist with amnesia

The hidden staircase/passage/attic

The important clue in the book

“Escape Room” Plot (they’re stuck until they solve the mystery)

Red Herring

The Raged Confession (the killer/culprit exclaims their confession in a fit of anger)

Good Cop Bad Cop

Eureka!

The genius detective ((they can see clues and the case in a way that no one else can)

Clue hunt

Planted evidence in the protagonists possession

The slip up (the cul[rit/suspect reveals information they shouldn't know about the crime, thus incriminating themselves)

The mystery kingpin

Fantasy:

Medieval setting

The Chosen One

The Wise Old Woman/Witch

The Rebel

The Runaway Royal

The Dark Lord // “Evil Leader”

The Gang (group of friends/fellowship)

The tumultuous journey

The Mentor

The Lost Object/Artifact/Weapon (necessary or the key to the adventure)

Do not make this object a plot device to explain away everything or help your hero in every situation PLEASE. Let them struggle

The secret/lost heir

The underdog

The Prodigy

The Damsel in Distress

The Badass Heroine

The (evil) Enchantress

The animal companion

The benevolent king

The ancient wise immortal who rEFUSES to help or get involved

The prophet / oracle

The price to pay for key information (the sacrifice)

The martyr (hero or close to hero that dies for the cause, thus becoming motivation to succeed in their mission)

The gala/ball (bonus points if the enemies/-to-lovers must dance with each other while having an intense, sarcastic and witty conversation)

Time travel // into the past

Action/Adventure Tropes:

The badass

The sexy female badass (bonus points if she’s not like other girls)

The undercover spy

The womanizer

The chase scene

Butting heads with authorities

The vigilante

The villain monologue

Closely relates to “The Incompetent Villain” who somehow always loses even though they have the clear advantage and might have even cornered the hero

The explosion walk-away

The feisty love interest who hates the protagonists’ guts and won’t be swayed by his charm

The gadgets

The ticking bomb

The stalker

The party / event where the gang must go under disguise

America, the heroes! (why is everything so america centered lol)

The snarky dark humour protagonist

Example of pulling this trope off successfully: deadpool

The tough cookie crumbles (the strongest character begins to lose hope/strength/motivation/feel scared or weakened)

The impossible unexplained escape (hero escapes high security prison/chains off screen, with seemingly no logical explanation)

Thriller/Horror:

Cabin in the woods

Serial killer on the loose

Home invasion

The masked killer

The (idiot) group of friends

“Let’s split up”

Sexy-time couple dies first

The shadow monster

Paranormal events/activities

Flickering lights

Sudden loud crash

Angry spirit

Demonic possession

Revenge killer

Ouji board

The smart character that dies before revealing the secret of how to stop/survive the supernatural force

Everything happens in the dark/night

Cryptic messages

Breathing on the phone

Wild animal/dog

“They're behind you”

Everyone dies in the end

Glitching technology

Possessed doll

The hunt and quarry (the characters on the “quarry” for the killer/creature hunting them)

The creepy synchronized twins

Creepy children in general

Animals and children can see what others can’t

Dystopian:

Post-apocalyptic

Zombie invasion

Rampant disease

Alien invasion

A long war

Protagonists are the common underdog who became a symbol of rebellion/change

The competent but unwilling companion who helps the protagonist

authoritarian/dictator government

The tyrant leader

Extreme class divide

Poverty and slums vs riches and nobility

The rebellion / uprising

Journey through the wastelands

Toxic environment

The bunker

A tournament/trials character must compete in

The utopia that isn’t actually a utopia

Conformity and cruel law enforcement

Advanced futuristic technology

Future setting

Collapsing society

Alright, this is where we’ll end. If you have a genre you want covered or if I notice I’m missing one on the list, I’ll edit and update this post. Hope this helps!

Happy Writing :)

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princesssarisa · 1 year

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Some more thoughts on Little Shop of Horrors...

I've seen online that it's common to analyze and defend the original tragic ending by pointing out the way its structure mirrors a classic Greek tragedy. But it's strange that some people insist that the order of the deaths in Little Shop – Seymour's enemy, his father figure, his love interest, and himself – is THE classic structure of a Greek tragedy. As if a Greek tragedy's hero "always" causes first his enemy's death, then his father figure's, then his beloved's, and finally his own.

Who first said that? Was it Howard Ashman? Alan Menken? Someone else not on the creative team? Because Greek tragedy isn't nearly that rigid in structure!

Just look at some of the most famous examples:

Oedipus Rex: Oedipus killed an enemy years ago who turns out to have been his father. The revelation leads to his wife/mother's death and his own exile. He himself doesn't die.

Antigone: Creon is this play's tragic hero. He refuses to bury his dead enemy, then kills his enemy's sister when she defies him, which results in the deaths of his son and his wife. He himself doesn't die.

The Oresteia: Agammemnon killed his daughter as a sacrifice, which leads to the deaths of his love interest (Cassandra) and himself. Clytemnestra kills her husband to avenge her daughter's death, which leads to the deaths of her love interest (Aegisthus) and herself. Orestes kills his mother and her lover to avenge his father's death, and is tortured by the Furies as punishment, but is ultimately pardoned and doesn't die.

Medea: Medea slew a dragon, rebelled against her father (but didn't kill him), and killed her brother for Jason's sake, then kills Jason's bride and her own sons after Jason abandons her. If Jason is the tragic hero, he killed his enemies with Medea's help, but then abandons Medea, which leads to the deaths of his bride and his sons. Neither Medea nor Jason dies.

Hippolytus: If Hippolytus is the tragic hero, his mistake is to reject the love of women and offend Aphrodite, which leads to his death. If Phaedra is the tragic heroine, she causes the death of the man she loves and kills herself (in what order depends on the version). If Theseus is the tragic hero, he kills his son for a presumed crime, only to learn too late that he was innocent; again, he doesn't die himself.

While it's clear that Little Shop does follow the same type of pattern as a Greek tragedy, where the hero's actions that seem right or justified at first (often the killing of an enemy, though not always) lead to the deaths of his family members, and/or his wife or love interest, and to his own ruin and sometimes his death. But Greek tragedies most certainly don't always follow the structure of "enemy dies – father figure dies – love interest dies – hero dies"! If they did, jut think of how boring the genre would be!

I'd like to know why so many Little Shop fans seem to repeat that claim about the non-existent "structure of a Greek tragedy."

@ariel-seagull-wings

#little shop of horrors #greek tragedy #greek mythology #oedipus rex #antigone #medea #hyppolytus #tw: death #tw: parricide #tw: filicide

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moonbeamnights · 8 months

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A Collection of Belle x Milah AUs

Tropetember Day 1: Enemies/Friends/Strangers to Lovers

Author's Note: So this is a very unconventional piece to post for a writing challenge because it's... not actually a fic. I would call it 'three very extended summaries for hypothetical fics'. But it's what I was inspired to write, so here we are.

Enemies to Lovers - Canon Divergence AU

After her ex-husband murders her lover and cuts off her hand, Milah becomes the fearsome Captain Hook, set on revenge no matter the cost. She doesn't care who might get caught in the middle of their feud, particularly not if that person is Belle. She believes Belle to be Rumple's evil minion and despises her for her unwavering acceptance of his villainy. Belle, for her part, just sees Milah as the crazy pirate who hates her, and the dislike is mutual.

However, as Milah starts to work with the heroes, trying to redeem herself for the sake of her son and grandson, she realizes she may have misjudged Belle. Belle may love Rumple and forgive him far too easily for Milah's liking, but she's hardly joining him in his schemes the way Milah had suspected. With the realization that Belle isn't evil, Milah starts to see the situation for what it is - Belle trapped by Rumple's manipulations just as she herself had once been. Her sympathy towards the young woman grows and Belle soon joins Neal and Henry on Milah's list of people she wouldn't sacrifice to her quest for vengeance.

With Milah no longer attacking her and Rumple, Belle finds her surprisingly easy to forgive and get along with. Their uneasy truce shifts gradually to friendship with a strong undercurrent of romantic tension. When Rumple's possessiveness of her escalates following their final break up, Belle turns to her former enemy for safety and comfort - and acts on the feelings that have been building between them.

Friends to Lovers - Modern AU

Belle and Milah met through the book club Belle hosts at her job as a librarian. They quickly became close friends, bonding over shared interests - and the shared pain of their unhappy marriages. Milah's husband Rumple and Belle's husband Gaston were both emotionally cold men who showed little love and less care to their wives. But Belle and Milah had once thought they loved them and were now trying to tough out the relationships for their children's sakes.

Until Milah had an idea. They could get divorced from their husbands and immediately remarry to each other. They would spare themselves the struggles of single motherhood and having a two-parent, two-income household would give them an advantage in the custody decisions.

It would be a strictly platonic arrangement, strictly for the sake of the children.

But as soon as they move in together, Belle and Milah both start striving to be a better partner than each other's last spouse. Milah cares for Belle through the end of her pregnancy and Belle gives Milah the gentle understanding for her depression that no one else ever has. On top of the domesticity of living together and the romantic facade they put on for the world, the affection quickly blossoms into love and Gideon is born into a family built not on a pretend marriage, but a real one.

Strangers to Lovers - Enchanted Forest AU

When Milah asks Rumple to move to another town, he declines, reasoning that they already have a home and a stable if small income. The uncertainty of a move could be dangerous for Baelfire. As much as she hates to agree with him, Milah can see the sense in Rumple's argument. So she comes up with a new plan: Rumple will stay with Baelfire in their current home while she leaves and establishes herself in a new town, at which point she'll return for them.

If anything, Rumple likes this plan less, accusing her of abandoning them.

But Milah is determined. "It's not abandoning if I'm coming back," she argues, and begins making preparations to leave. One morning in late spring, after explaining to Baelfire where she's going, she sets off down the road in search of a better town.

Weeks later, when a traveling herbalist and his daughter drive their cart past Rumple's house and see him dyeing yarn out front, they stop to sell him some roots and flowers that make good dyes. As outsiders unaware of his standing as the town coward, they are kind and professional and the merchant's daughter, Belle, even flirts with Rumple. Even after learning of his reputation, Belle maintains her more positive first impression and their flirtation continues on her every visit to the village. Rumple never believed Milah was coming back and soon asks Belle to stay and marry him. She happily agrees.

Meanwhile, Milah has done exactly what she said she would. She found employment in another village and after much hard work was able to purchase a house. She returns to her former home, eager to see her family again, only to find Belle there.

"Who are you," they both ask.

"I'm Rumple's wife," they both answer.

She's very pretty. My husband has good taste, they're both secretly thinking.

They each explain their side of the story and by the time they're through, they realize that despite the jealousy they're feeling, they don't dislike each other and could never blame each other for the situation. They finish their talk just in time for Rumple and Baelfire to return, shocked by Milah's presence. Baelfire is overjoyed to see his mother again after Rumple had convinced him she was never coming home.

What should have been a happy reunion is complicated by Rumple's lies to Baelfire and his new relationship with Belle. But both women want to find a resolution that lets them all be happy.

"And I want our children to get to be siblings," Belle adds.

"Wait, what!?" both Milah and Rumple exclaim.

And that is how Belle announces to her husband that she's pregnant. They'd been civil up until that point, but Milah's rage at Rumple unleashes once again when he admits that he never told Belle about the contract, thinking that if they simply didn't have children it wouldn't matter that they shouldn't.

Betrayed and terrified for her child's future, Belle spends that night crying in Milah's arms. The next night, Milah does what she'd come to regret not doing in the first place - she kills Fendrake.

Everything, it would seem, had been resolved. Milah had prepared a safe new life for Baelfire. Belle and Milah had agreed to allow Rumple to be married to both of them. The contract was no longer hanging over their heads. And yet, when the time comes to return to Milah's new village, Rumple still refuses to leave. This annoys his wives greatly - after everything they've done to try to salvage their marriages and everything that they were going to forgive, he wouldn't even make the minimal effort to pack his things and admit that Milah had been right. They decide they're leaving with or without him. Still angry that Rumple had convinced him Milah abandoned them and excited by the prospect of living somewhere he won't be an outcast, Baelfire chooses to go with them.

Milah's new friends and neighbors know that she'd left to bring back her family, so when she returns with Belle, they assume that this was always the plan and that Belle is her wife. At first Belle and Milah find it funny, the townsfolk assuming that they're married. But having started to fall for each other, they see no reason why they shouldn't be.

#tropetember 2023 #once upon a time #ouat milah #belle french #belle x milah #my writing

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