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fillinforlater · 1 month

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Eleven to One: Hotel Roommating

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin, Choi Yena, Kim Minju, Kim Chaewon

Length: 2014 words

Tags: Daddy kink, thigh kink, thigh fucking, pit licking, teasing, a slap, edging, cumming on skin, pet play, an offer you definitely should refuse but kinda can't, cum eating, missionary, fingering, orgy

TW: the usual, but I would consider this mostly tame... okay, maybe also not LOL

Inspiration: Yujin's outfit (check below (HOLY COW))

(A/N: Sex in the hotel continues... though it might not be the best or longest piece, I promise the ending will make it worth while ;) Have fun!)

“Room Service!"

For a second there, she got you. Fear runs down your back, ice cold, as you grab the door handle. No room service could ever be allowed to see or smell the absolute mess you made here. Especially Chaewon, who leaks down the phallic plastic onto the table, while watching a teary eyed Minju follow you to the door, your cock in her hand.

Fortunately, you do recognize the voice behind the door. It’s familiar, not some room service lady that could ruin your life and the reputation of at least one popular girl group. You turn the knob and reach for the woman behind the door in the blink of an eye.

“You scared me for a second, you fucking brat,” you yell at Yujin, but that was before you took a look at her outfit. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood right now.”

“Oh, I’m in a good mood too, Daddy,” Yujin teases and gets ready to kick off her shoes, open up her dress and offer herself to you (you know she is in heat; she has been for a while most likely), but you stop her.

“You keep that outfit on,” you order and spin her around. “My cock needs to be in between your thighs while you still look like a Goddess of fertility with that shiny, stupid fucking outfit.”

“Oh Daddy,” Yujin giggles and watches your tip glide in her tight gap. “Wasn’t Minju enough for you? And what happened to Chaewon-unnie?”

“Care to guess?”

“She is one of us now?”

You smirk and lean in to bite your girlfriend’s neck. “One hundred points.” You begin to slowly thrust in between the sweaty trunks that are Yujin’s legs, perfect sculptures of smooth marble, but a lot softer and infinitely more valuable. Yujin hums in pleasure and lifts her arms to reach around your neck while you continue to place marks on hers. There is no concert the next few days, so no one will notice the love bites you place on her.

“Minju, mind helping me out here?” you suddenly ask and Minju jumps in surprise. You know she is still needy, unsatisfied, but would never touch herself without your permission, so you want to give her a bit of a reward. “Lick our Daeng-Daeng’s pits clean. I promise you, she tastes wonderful.”

“O-okay, Daddy.”

You can see in her eyes that Minju has never done this before. It’s a waste though, so you pull at her strings (she is a good girl after all) and take into view how incredible she looks. Minju sticks out her tongue and drags it across the entire pit. Yujin trembles, her thighs gently swaying around your shaft. An incredible feeling, but what makes it exceptionally great is the lewd sounds the two produce. Tender moans, wet licks, soft bodies rubbing one another to the point where nothing could be more intimate.

“D-does it tickle, Yujinie?” Minju asks when she switches sides, her hands secretly placed on your own. You both have a hold on the young woman’s hips and Minju’s question goes unanswered when she goes straight to sucking on the opposite sensitive, hairless, sweaty spot.

Holding back would be offensive. There are the two best thighs wrapped around you, while Minju’s soft belly becomes a home for your tip. With every thrust you poke her and she seems to really enjoy it. Maybe she is—no, she definitely is—thinking that you are pointing at her fertile womb, ready to be filled and bred. That’s why her orbs sparkle the way they do, that’s why she pulls you two into a threeway hug where Yujin gets squeezed and overstimulated at spots she didn’t think could be this sensitive.

“D-Daddy, I thought you were teasing,” Yujin mumbles. “But I feel so good, so hot. Please, cum on me, paint my milky thighs, it would fit them so well.”

“I can feel you melting, baby girl.” You lean in to give her ear a love bite, with all your love and sufficient force to make her dizzy with pleasure. “Since you asked so nicely, I will cover you, claim you with my seed.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” A sudden make-out session ensues after Yujin lowers her arms, leaving Minju jobless and needy as ever. There is salty sweat around her lips and in her mouth while she watches you and Yujin trade sweat saliva in heated passion. Your cock is buried in her gap, then quickly peaks out again as you begin to rapidly fuck it. “I can’t believe you got Chaewon-unnie already. Was it really that easy?”

You both turn your head to the shivering, squeaking but not (yet) dildo-riding Chaewon, whose head might be in even more heat than Yujin. Her face is red like the ball gag in her mouth and the only thing cooling her off are a few tears from her unfocused eyes. You love that she looks so obedient and pathetic, far away from what she dreamed off. Yet you decide to be more than merciful.

“Minju, how about you put your hands on Chaewon’s hips? Maybe let some of Yujin’s sweat run down her cheeks? I think that should cool her off.”

“Okay, Daddy~”

With a sight like that—Minju behind Chaewon, who desperately looks up to the taller girl, hips in a firm, loving hold; then, Minju drools all over her face and you know that Chaewon is on cloud six, maybe seven, more pleasure yet to come—your orgasm is rapidly approaching. You bend Yujin over a bit, press her thighs back to you to meet your pistoning hips. The swollen cockhead peeks out a few more times before—

A knock at the door.

—you become an artist. Trapped in heavenly softness, you release all of your load on the inside of Yujin’s thighs. You use your throbbing cock like a brush to smear the white goo over more parts of her skin. It has to stick on her and not fall to the carpet floor. With a strained voice, you call out: “Minju, get our new pet in here. And don’t forget to close the door!”

“W-what? Pet?” Yujin tries to catch her breath, but her jaw drops the second she sees Yena run through the door and fall on her knees. “Yena-unnie, what, what is happening?”

“No need to call her Unnie, she is our new pet,” you announce and reach for Yena’s collar. “Isn’t she a beautiful kitten? Kitten, what did I say about clothes, hm?”

“Meow,” Yena responds, very apologetic. You kind of admire her for wearing just this thin, way too short crop top and hot pants that barely cover her small ass, but no kitten would wear those, so she quickly kicks them off, now just as nude as the other girls—most of the other girls.

“Ye-Yena, is this true, you are with Daddy too?” Minju asks, just as perplexed as Yujin is. Yena nods in excitement, while you get a leash for her beautiful pink collar. “But why a kitten?”

“Well, don’t we all like different things?” you ask Minju with a big grin. You secure Yena on the leash and walk her across the room for a couple of steps. “As long as Yena likes it, I think this would be a great addition to our… arrangement.”

“A family pet,” Yujin whispers, all eyes on her. Now it’s out there, this crazy idea. No sane person could say yes to it. Everyone at some point returns to their level-headed, not horny self. The mere suggestion of living together as a quasi-family where sex is boundless and the concept of patriarchy is pushed to ridiculous extremes should push them all away.

“When I’m the family cat,” Yena suddenly speaks into the tense silence, her voice filled with wonder. “I have to move in with you two. Would that be a problem?”

“No, we have enough space and money,” Yujin quickly responds. “In fact, I think we can cover all your expenses.”

“Sounds good, I’m in. Meow!”

Yena smirks and crawls towards Yujin who stares down at her with love and lust. Suddenly, Yena’s face dives in between Yujin’s thighs and she starts to lick off your cum like it’s ice cream on a hot August day. Yujin mewls, opens her legs a bit more so Yena can get every last drop.

“Well, I already live with Daddy and Yujin.” Minju looks at the floor, a little embarrassed. She scratches the back of her neck and then shares glances with you and Yujin. “If it’s okay, I will stay with your family, maybe as a sister?”

“That sounds great,” you tell Minju, as your eyes betray you. They are so fixated on Yena’s hunger for your cum, for Yujin’s scent, God, she is devouring your girlfriend. If it weren’t for the stage outfit, Yena surely would’ve pushed her tongue into Yujin’s cunt—who can blame her? IVE’s leader is irresistible. “Your presence is always welcome, Minju.”

“I think Chaewon c-can’t join,” Yujin murmurs, her hand in Yena’s pink strands, sweaty from all the hard cleaning she does to her thighs. Seriously, she starts to leave hickeys there now. You pull at the chain to signal her stop. “She has to stay at the LE SSERAFIM dorm.”

“Well, Chaewon is my best friend and best friend’s usually don’t live with another family,” Minju explains. You put Chaewon’s jaw into your hand and look at her begging eyes. Before you pull out the ballgag, you give her face a quick slap, one that stings for a bit.

“I bet you think we are all crazy, I get that, but—”

“Don’t defend yourself, Daddy,” Chaewon says, gasps, somehow she gets these words passed her pursed lips while the dildo is deep in her cunt. “As Minju’s friend, I sh-should come over every now a-and then…”

“I’ll make sure to reward you then, my little slut~”

“Thank you, Daddy.” You push the ball gag back into Chaewon’s mouth and give Minju a wink. It’s a sign she thankfully understands and suddenly, Minju makes Chaewon ride the dildo with all her power. A creaming pussy starts to cover the glass table, screams almost make it past the restriction in between her teeth and you can feel her bliss fill the air.

You step close to Yujin. She laughs weakly and shakes her head.

“You’re insane, a madman!”

“Oh yeah?” You reach for the back of her dress and a zip later, Yujin’s excellent body is free. Yena mewls at this first sight and if she had a tail (still on the list of items you have to get her) she would wag it like crazy. “You are probably right, I lost my sanity the first time I met you.”

Yujin giggles and removes the leather end of Yena’s chain from your hand. She puts it in her mouth and with doe, puppy eyes slowly kneels next to her kitten friend. Your cock twitches, obviously. Somewhere in this hotel room filled with the smell and sound of unbridled sex, your phone vibrates. You don’t care. They can leave a message. You have better things to do.

“Looks to me like you’re the insane one, the madwoman.”

You push her over, on her back. Yujin’s legs wrap around you like Yena’s pussy wraps around your fingers. You push your rehardened cock into that tight, tight little cunt of your girlfriend and fuck her into the carpet with no thoughts. There is nothing but blankness in your head and there will be for the next week or so. Just you and Yujin. And Yena, who sucks on Yujin’s tits and fucks herself on your hand. And Minju, who is thrilled about Chaewon riding that cock through multiple orgasms. Well, maybe Chaewon will be here too.

Text messages pop up on your phone. They are from Hyewon.

“Hey Daddy, my final day before maternity leave is next week. I need you here earlier though, because someone important wants to do an internship here.

“The one and only

“Jang Wonyoung.”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader smut #ive smut #minju smut #yujin smut #chaewon smut #yena smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim smut

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

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Know What You Are

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: Allusions to trauma, oral sex (m receiving), smut Word count: ~1k

Summary: Ettore explores the boundaries of consensual touch, and finds he isn't ready to relinquish control just yet.

Author's note: A little addition to The Hand that Feeds but can also be read as a standalone. Day three of the Smuffmas prompts - "in nature and deep throating". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She loves the garden. It’s the only place aboard the ship that doesn’t feel sterile and bathed in artificial light. Digging her fingers into the softness of the soil, allowing the rich, earthy scent to fill her nostrils, she can forget that she’s a prisoner. Every brush of soft green leaves against her skin is like a fleeting taste of freedom.

Her place on board is not undeserved. To some, taking revenge on the man who has raped you would be seen as wholly justified. To a jury, however, the violence of such an act was considered despicable. But it had felt good to watch the way his eyes had gouged from their sockets, to feel the way the knife had sliced through his flesh like butter, all the way to the bone. If she closes her eyes she can still smell the coppery tang of arterial blood. It makes her mouth water. She had enjoyed it, and to derive such pleasure from such depravity is well worth where she finds herself now. She’d do it a thousand times over.

Getting acquainted with fellow inmate, Ettore, has made her time here infinitely more interesting. She had noticed him straight away. Without confirming what he was here for, she’d been able to hazard a guess, it was obvious in how he carried himself. And more than apparent that she’d caught his eye too, he was always watching her.

She ought to be disgusted by him, knowing what he is, what he’s probably done, but there is something lurking beneath the surface that draws her to him, an invisible string that tugs them both together. It has only grown stronger since their first tryst in the Box; him spilling himself onto her stomach with his face pressed between her tits.

He doesn’t allow her to touch him, but despite this she knows she’s the one in control. His desperation for her makes him vulnerable, and she enjoys toying with that, seeing how far she can push him. It’s been days since his hips had rutted against hers, taking her roughly from behind in a storage cupboard, so she knows he’ll be back soon. The Box can’t satisfy him like she can.

She senses him before she sees him, as if the mere occurrence of him entering her thoughts has summoned him to her. His approach is always silent, she never hears him coming, but she can feel his presence. He looms over her, casting a shadow over her prone form as she kneels in the soil, plucking away the browning leaves of a fern.

“Did you want something, or you just lurking?” She asks, not looking up from what she’s doing.

“Tchemy in here with you?” Ettore asks, his tone nonchalant.

“You know he’s not, or you wouldn’t be in here,” she says, ridding herself of her gardening gloves and turning to look up at him.

She begins to rise, preparing to stand, when he holds out a hand to halt her.

“Don’t,” he says abruptly. “Just…don’t. Let me just look at you for a bit.”

She drops back to her knees, staring up at him, watching the way his eyes darken as he looks down at her. It makes her core throb with want.

His throat bobs as he reaches out a hand, fingertips dragging with light pressure over her jaw, before falling to her throat, squeezing experimentally. She allows it for a moment, before pulling back.

“Stop that,” she scolds softly, narrowing her eyes in angry warning. “You don’t need to do that with me. Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

He blinks, huffing through his nose, before bringing his hand back to her face, pulling down her bottom lip with his thumb, before letting it go. “This,” he utters, “want your mouth.”

“Good boy,” she purrs, “go on then.”

“Hands behind your back,” he orders, pulling down his scrubs and freeing his already half hard cock.

She does as she’s told, parting her lips to allow him to slide into the warmth of her mouth. He is tangy against her tongue, the head of him pressing heavily against the wet muscle as he gives a few shallow, tentative thrusts, rousing himself fully.

Breathing through her nose, she inhales the heady scent of him, faint sweat mixed with the ship’s standard issue soap. It’s utterly debasing in a way, yet it has arousal wetting her underwear just the same.

Drool gathers at the corners of her mouth as he picks up the pace, and she suppresses the urge to gag as he repeatedly knocks the back of her throat.

His brows are knitted together, eyes glassy and jaw slack as he gathers a fistful of her hair at the back of her head, using it as leverage to propel himself faster and harder. She relaxes, allowing him to push down further and moans around him, causing him to groan and throw his head back.

Pushing himself all the way into the hilt, Ettore’s grasp on her hair is so tight it tugs at her roots, and he holds himself there, pubic bone grazing the tip of her nose. She looks up at him with glassy eyes, stray tears trickling down her cheeks as she watches his predatory expression, but he is unmoving.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finally he pulls back, all the way out, a string of her saliva connecting his hardened length to her lips, and she gasps and splutters for air momentarily, before he’s pushing back in.

His thrusts are shallower, salty precome and the pulsating of him in her mouth letting her know he’s nearing his end. When he finally climaxes it’s accompanied by a strangled cry and she quickly swallows, barely registering the viscous taste of him as it slides down her throat.

Releasing her, he tucks himself away and is breathless as he drops to his knees beside her. She wipes her mouth with the back one hand and swipes at her teary eyes with the other.

“I really…really want to hurt you,” he whispers, not looking at her. “But I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“I get that,” she says gently, “really, I do.”

“You’ve seen me,” he says, looking into her eyes. The emotion she sees reflected back at her makes her heart lurch.

“Yeah,” she replies, “and you’ve seen me.”

#ettore x reader #ettore #ettore x you #ettore x y/n #ettore smut #ettore imagine #high life #ettore high life #high life ettore #ewan mitchell #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fic #high life fan fiction #high life fanfiction #high life fan fic #high life fanfic

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seikkoi · 6 months

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ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ [2, 3] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 13k for parts 1+2 a/n: two weeks of brainrot later

The reflection in the tall store mirror looks like a mirage—an almost tangible fantasy. It’s you—enough, your eyes, nose, skin and hair. But the fabric wrapped around your body, a breath-taking sanguine hue, it distorts your perception.

You stood in silence, captivated by your own self-reflection. A delicate diamond necklace adorned your neck, its shimmer accentuating the sparkle in your eyes. You touch it delicately, trying to make the woman in the mirror feel real.

In a fleeting moment, you try not to think about the price tag on either item. Below you, the dress slits at your right thigh, stopping perfectly just before your ankles. You typically abhor dresses, frustrated by how they sit on your hips or pull on your shoulders. Yet this one felt different, as was crafted just for you, hugging your short frame.

“Do you not like it?” Tony's firm voice interrupted your reverie, seated in a plush armchair nestled in the corner of the dressing area.

His own reflection caught your eye in the mirror. He too was impeccably dressed in expense— a midnight suit that mirrored the shadowy desire in his eyes. It was only then that you noticed the crimson tie around his neck, perfectly matched to your dress. A forgotten pit in your stomach sinks further at the realization.

You weren’t here exactly by choice. You’d met Tony a few weeks ago while bartending and since then, he hadn’t left you alone. Initially, he had left his phone number scrawled on a napkin, which you promptly ignored. Such advances from inebriated, lonesome men were all too familiar— their attempts at wooing the bartender often aimed at securing complimentary drinks or borne from relationship troubles that had led them to the bar in the first place.

They all normally moved on after one night, but not Tony.

Tony came back three nights in a row after, making pass after pass, calling you doll and honey through whiskey-tinted lips. You had been polite in declining him, partly because you had googled him after a $300 tip on the second night and realized who he was (some hot-shot CEO with a few legal issues you chose not to look into). But also because, against your better judgment, a small, insignificant part of you didn't want to decline. His appearance in the bar made your night infinitely more enjoyable. Funny enough, you’re certain his charisma was so enigmatic it spread the room and raised everyone’s mood.

Unlike your typical patrons, Tony possessed an undeniable allure, an allure that kept you talking and pouring drinks—well past closing time. Perhaps because your usual patrons didn't leave extravagant tips or wear thousand-dollar watches. More likely, was how easy it was to talk to him about anything . Local politics, the nature of friendship, European art- it didn’t matter.

On top of it all, there was no denying how attractive he was—towering over you with silk ties and shiny grins. Despite whatever attraction you held, you knew better than to get involved with him. Something told you he wasn’t worth the trouble, not to mention he was almost 20 years your senior.

Still, every night ended the same, with Tony insisting he take you on just one date. You’d give a kind smile, flip the sign to closed , and craft a polite but convoluted (and reluctant) excuse. This passive resistance only seemed to encourage him, possibly because he saw through you, recognizing that tiny part of you that longed to say yes.

Maybe it’s what gave him carte blanche to wait outside on the fourth night until you closed the bar—alone.

As you stepped into the cool night air, a sleek black car glided to a halt beside you. You thought nothing of it, locking the door behind you and starting your usual, albeit long, trek home. You glanced back at the sound of the passenger window rolling down, revealing Tony leaning over the center console, a playful smile on his face. Quieting the alarm bells in your head, you offered a curt wave and resumed your stride.

As you do, Tony calls out your name, gesturing you over. At the time, you hoped all he wanted to do was exchange some small talk or maybe he left something in the bar yesterday. You couldn't fathom why you obeyed, heading towards the open window instead of heading home. Just like now, Tony's true intentions were unknown. You convinced yourself that the worst he could do was ask you out again and make things awkward.

“Miss me?” he asks with that same flashy grin. His gaze roams over your simple jeans and t-shirt, heavy enough to make you feel exposed.

“Everything okay?” You choose to ignore his question to hopefully get to the reason he’s here after hours.

Under the parking lot’s harsh fluorescent lights, Tony's disappointment shines.

"Everything's fine," he replied in a sing-song tone, reaching across to open the passenger door. "Come on, let me give you a ride home."

The alarm bells grow louder, leaving you to stammer over your words.

“That’s generous, thank you, but I enjoy the walk.” A good lie holds a little truth to it, right?

Tony does a disapproving, almost condescending tsk , patting the empty leather seat.

“Now, what kind of guy would I be if I let a pretty girl like you walk home all alone?”

Despite the rhetorical nature of his question, you struggled to resist the urge to retort, to point out that allowing you to walk home alone would make him appear rather ordinary—a quality he clearly sought to avoid.

“Really, I’m fine, thank you.” You try to sound more assertive this time, but your voice still wavers under his gaze.

Tony continues to insist, using every persuasion tactic in the book. Your mind whirled with a flurry of thoughts and possibilities. After all, he was a familiar face, a regular patron who had never made you necessarily afraid (normally quite the opposite). And a highly respected businessman. Plus, eight hours of tending bar left your feet aching. You did like the solemnity of the long walk, but tonight you were dreading it a bit more than usual.

What was the worst that could happen?

So, you inevitably gave in, watching his smirk stretch into another toothy grin as you opened the passenger door. Tony’s cologne saturated the plush leather interior, filling every corner of your nostrils with bergamot. In the dim car, you grant him a meek smile.

“That’s my girl,”

There’s an edge in his words, suddenly forcing you to wonder if you were better off walking. You tell yourself he’s a handsome billionaire doing his charitable act for the week-nothing more.

Tony reaches for the gearshift, rolling your window up and muffling the sounds of the city.

“Let’s get you home.”

The worst turned out to be not so bad—still stunned by your own beauty in the mirror.

At first, you were nearly mortified when you noticed Tony’s route doesn’t quite follow the directions you gave. With a dry throat and skipping heart, you struggled to find the right words. Tony had remained unusually silent, not making witty quips or heavy-handed compliments. It worsened your unease. One he must have sensed, glancing over at you.

“Don’t worry,” he draws out, making yet another unknown turn. “I’m taking you home— just have a surprise for you first, dear.” he finishes, winking.

The vulnerability you knew you had—getting in this car alone with him—it swelled in your throat.

Now, you stared at that same throat, adorned with shimmering diamonds.

Tony’s surprise turned out to be a private fitting at some lavish boutique you never knew existed.

You tried to protest as the car pulled into the storefront, noticing a lack of light inside and still cautious about what he had planned. Tony simply gave you a stern shush, and pointed your attention back to the building. Then, to your astonishment, the windows filled with orange and white hue. Out of the ornate glass doors, a tall, blonde-haired woman peered, and a wave of fear suddenly ebbed away from your body, only to be replaced by a flood of bewildering confusion.

The blonde woman, whose name you can’t pronounce, devotes a half hour measuring every aspect of your body. She swatched an array of dark hues and fabrics against your skin, contorted and posed you in every conceivable manner. Despite the weird, yet so far, non-hazardous situation you were in, a cloud of confusion still clung to your thoughts, while Tony remained outside the dressing room.

Even still, you felt entirely too exposed, waiting anxiously. Your only recourse was to gaze at the marble ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell Tony was playing at. He wasn’t particularly eccentric all those nights at your bar, you figured he had to be more level-headed and reasonable than this.

The woman eventually reappeared, holding the tight red dress on a satin hanger.

Leading to your mesmerized trance, still engulfed in the mirage before you.

“Hey, talking to you there.”

Startled, you had forgotten he'd even asked you a question. Hell, you had forgotten he brought you here at all. Worse, you didn’t know what to say. The honest answer was an unequivocal yes – you adored the dress, but you knew alone it cost more than you ever made bartending, not to mention the necklace.

The pit in your stomach churned at the reminder of Tony’s presence. The beauty you saw in the mirror suddenly felt ill-gotten- like a bill you hadn’t paid. Technically, you were brought here against your will by a man who you, although reluctantly, rejected. An unforeseen product of his infectious smile and your polite demeanor.

You reluctantly turn slightly to face him, trying to find the words to get out of this without escalation. A shiver ran down your spine as his molten gaze traversed your form, causing your face to warm.

“I think you look stunning.” he says, gaze still fixed on your body. It wasn’t unusual for Tony to compliment you, as he often did at the bar regardless of whatever tired, stained state you were in. This time though, with the way he’s staring, it does something else to you.

“Thank you, but,” you trail off, stealing a quick glance back in the mirror. “I–It’s a bit out of my price range.”

Tony scoffs playfully, giving a dismissive wave as he rises from the armchair.

“It’s on me.” he declared, slow and deliberate as your nerves spike.

“Really, thank you, but I can’t accept this. I should be getting home.” you stammered, attempting to keep a level voice.

Your words tumbled out in a rush, but Tony continued, making your heartbeat escalate with each passing moment.

To your surprise, he stops his advance to sigh at your anxious form.

“ You are worth a million times that dress and more.”

You avert your eyes to the floor, left again without the right words to maneuver out of this awkward conversation and trying to ignore the heat on your skin.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, doll.” Tony’s voice shifts to an unfamiliar tone, one that forces your head up.

“What’s with the whole ‘ uninterested ’ act?” he hums, resuming his walk towards you.

You stammer, trying to deny his accusation, knowing wholeheartedly he was right. Tony came to a stop in front of you, reaching out to caress your shoulder. As you instinctively recoil from his sudden touch, his calloused hand stiffened to hold you in place.

“I’m not acting .” you finally manage with a wavering voice valiantly ignoring the want and fear his touch stirred in you.

“Oh, is that so?” he taunts sourly, bringing his free hand to your waist. “Why’d you get in the car then? Why are you letting me touch you?”

You don’t have an excuse for that one, staring back at Tony in silence. You could try and hate his arrogance, but that hasn't worked so far, so no point trying now.

“Just take me home, okay?” you whisper, eyes flickering between Tony’s hand and his slightly parted lips.

He makes a face at your words, eyebrows scrunching and mouth turning into frown.

“You think I’d hurt you?” Tony sighs, offended. He releases your arm out of his grasp and steps back from you. Still, he maintains the closeness between you, still locked on your eyes.

Instantly, you feel terrible for assuming the worst. Sure, you didn’t exactly ask for any of this, and maybe he was persistent, but all he had done was give you a dress and a ride home. Tony had ample opportunity to do whatever he wanted, and you were fine. And nothing he’d said had been wrong . So what exactly were you worried about?

“No, no,” you quickly scramble, shaking your head. “I just—what do you want from me?”

Tony sighs again, this time deeply, shoving his hands into his suit pockets. “Told you—a date, that’s all.”

“Really? You’re really doing all this just to take me out?” You asked in confusion.

“You keep saying no even though I can tell you want to. ‘Figured you could use a little push.” He chuckles and a hand leaves his pockets to rake through his brown locks.

“I-I, why all this, really, come on-what are you playing at here?” You gesture to your outfit, still in disbelief.

“What can I say, I’m all about presentation and you deserve the best.” Tony grins, making his second attempt to stroke your cheek. This time, you let him, even if you're not sure why. Maybe persistence did work best on you.

Regardless, you roll your eyes at the honeyed words. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s still waiting for a yes , and you’re running out of logical reasons to decline. God knows the idea of a date with Tony Stark was something any other woman would jump at. So why not you?

“I work nights , Tony—”

“How much?” He cuts you off sharply, the hand on your face tenses ever so slightly.

“What, I don’t—”

“How much do you make in a night? Hourly, tips, everything—how much?”

You’re starting to think he enjoys confusing you. “I don’t know, it varies. Maybe $200 on a good night?”

With that, Tony turns back to the armchair his jacket rests on, and you have to ignore the way the loss of his touch makes you feel. He fiddles with the garment for a moment, rummaging through the pockets until he produces a thin leather wallet. As five crisp hundred dollar bills emerge, he struts back to you.

“Here, now you can call in tomorrow night.” He says matter-of-factly, holding out the bills.

You scoff at his audacity, feeling a bit offended at his demeanor. “I’m not some product you can just buy.”

“Oh, doll, don’t think so low of yourself,” he chuckles, “Your time is valuable, I’m just hoping this makes it easier for you to spend it with me.”

The paper is folded between his fingers, before he takes your hand and places them inside. When in doubt, fall back to basics. Money normally fixes most problems. You could have said any number and he would’ve made it happen. He was nothing short of infatuated with you- so no cost was too high.

“Fine.” You respond indignantly, staring at what’s easily half of your rent before glaring back up at him. If a date was all he wanted— fine . If he turned out to be a huge dick you’re expecting, you could leave and never speak to him again. You're certain he at least wouldn’t keep showing up at your workplace after.

“We’ll see how much longer you can keep up this act.” He smirks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Just as you're preparing to tell (lie) him again that you weren’t pretending, he walks back to the chair and takes a seat, pulling his phone from his pants pocket.

“Go ahead and change, I’ll have everything wrapped up for you to take home tonight. You can be ready by 7 tonight, yes?” Tony doesn’t look at you when he speaks, fingers typing away on the electronic screen.

He misses the eye roll you give walking back to the dressing room.

Sure enough, you make it home without any bodily injuries or traumatic experiences. Tony kisses your hand when you go to exit the car, dress and jewelry in tow. He reminds you to be ready on time tomorrow, and you enter your apartment feeling like you just walked out of a movie.

This felt entirely too insane. You found yourself more than lucky all those nights he flirted with you, but this took the cake.

It’s nearly 5 in the morning when you toss the dress onto your green couch. The half-finished canvas and paintbrushes in the corner of your living room go abandoned for another night. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do anything, replaying every detail in your head. Instead, you find yourself sat on the worn cushions, staring at the lilac bag, adorned with the boutique’s fancy name in silver lettering. Next to it, sits a smaller version, possessing a white box. You’re fixated on the bags, mentally picturing your reflection from earlier.

Contrary to what might Tony believe, you didn’t think of yourself as ‘low’, just maybe not genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist levels. Self-confidence wasn’t something you were lacking, but it wasn't in extreme surplus either. You didn’t know his type, but you figured odds are you weren’t it. You could imagine the kinds of girls Tony could get, with a lot less hassle, too. So, why you ?

Eventually, the sounds of your roommate waking fills the apartment, forcing you to realize it’s around 6:30 and your mind’s been taken over with purple and red hues for too long. You give a short good morning and abandon the couch for the comfort of your bedroom, deciding to save the shower for later and get some sort of rest.

You don’t answer when she asks about the bags, convinced you’ll wake up in a few hours and find this was all a weird dream.

The train rushing by your window wakes you before your alarm gets the chance, blaring its incessant tune throughout the small space. The afternoon sun diffuses through the sheer curtains, covering the room in golden light. It gives you a peaceful few minutes where you’re groggy enough to forget about Tony.

Then, the memories pour in.

The night plays back in resplendence. You don’t know he managed to get you to agree after all that. A tinge of excitement filled you alongside the dread.

You hoped last night for it to all turn out as fiction, but lo behold, the shiny bags sit atop your dresser like a bad omen. Poking out from your purse are the crisp bills. A cursory glance at your phone reveals two things— one, it’s almost 4 pm and two, a text from an unsaved number.

[ hope you didn’t forget. see u soon. ]

You wondered where on Earth he got your number.

As much as you hated feeling you owed him something, a part of you was glad you did. Although you didn’t plan on admitting it, you were into him. You were just convinced his behavior was too good to be true, a precursor to something worse. Plus it bugged you that it was apparently impossible for you to hide it from him.

Nonetheless, you rise from your bed, heading for the shower you skipped earlier and thinking of a response.

[ 9 pm right? ]

The bathroom door creaked as it opened, drowned out by the traffic on the street below.

[ are you this difficult with everyone? ]

Water spouts from the shower head as a dry chuckle echoes in the chamber at his response. You hadn’t actively dated in a while, but it was a common complaint. Normally they would say stubborn or strong-headed, but difficult worked too.

You work through several different waves of nerves and anticipation as the clock ticks down to 7. Your boss, ever an asshole, wasn’t thrilled about you calling off. It almost made you reconsider, tell Tony you couldn’t. Something told you he wouldn’t appreciate that, though, so you stood your ground with your boss instead of him and got the night off.

When the time came to slip the red dress on again, you felt off. At the store, the lighting and lavish background only added to your beauty. In the dim, run-down atmosphere of your apartment, you’re out of place, like a fraud. The browns and greens drown the shimmer on your neckline, reminding you that you had no business dating someone like Stark.

Your mind’s saving grace is the buzz of your phone, a text from the punctual Tony, arriving right at 6:58.

You expected the veil to be pulled from your eyes. Tony’s true nature, whatever that may be, would be revealed and all his charm would fade away. Clearly, something was wrong with him to go after some bartender, to go after you. The date would go sour, he would move on, and your life could continue as planned.

Instead, you end up having one of the best nights of your life.

The restaurant is indescribably out of your depth. It’s clearly a popular romantic site for A-listers, with mostly couples filling the warmly lit dining area. Everything seemed meticulously prearranged— the host leading you two towards a tucked away booth just at the sight of Tony. You're worried he’d be overly touchy and make you uncomfortable, but instead his hand rests against the small of your back as you navigate to your table.

He was nothing short of a perfect gentleman, pulling out your chair and pouring your wine. Conversation flowed just as it did at work, at least once you got your nerves out of the way. You learned a bit more about Stark Industries, even though he was clearly skipping some details for reasons you were too enamored to think about.

Occasionally during the dinner, people would come up and exchange a few words with Tony, and he always introduced you. There was something about the level of attention that just pulled you in. You had started to think you were overthinking this whole thing, that maybe something nice could come out of this. If wooing you was the goal, he was well on his way to success.

As the final bites of dessert lingered on your plate, a subtle disappointment crept in, acknowledging the inevitable conclusion of the evening. It had been an embarrassingly long time since you'd gone out for a night like this, and you wished you’d agreed sooner.

The idea of shedding the vibrant sanguine dress and returning to the routine of crafting dry martinis the next night sounded more dreadful than ever.

Yet, that’s exactly what you did.

When Tony drives back and walks you to your apartment door, you half-hope he’ll ask you on another date, and half-fear he’ll try and make a move. To your surprise and disappointment he does neither, opting instead to tell you what a wonderful time he had before departing.

You feel a bit foolish for expecting anything more, closing your door with a heavy sigh. Your roommate seems to read your emotions on your face, deciding it best not to ask why you were dressed like that.

The remaining hours of the night pass with you getting ready for bed and staving off sleep to not wake too early for work. Every so often, the urge overwhelms you to see if Tony texted. Teeth brushed— no text, shower—nothing, late night popcorn snack—nope. Every time you look, you grow more annoyed, feeling like some sort of teenage schoolgirl.

By the time your head hits the pillow, you’re close to desperation.

When you wake, it doesn’t take a few minutes for Tony to come to mind. He’s the first thing you think of. You groan in frustration when your notifications disappoint you again. Two texts from your roommate about her night out, a missed call from a friend, and a few emails, but no Tony.

You really do try to make it through the afternoon without thinking about him. You fail regardless, spending every second of the day consumed by bergamot and red. The one thing that keeps you from reaching out first is the certainty you’ll see him this evening. He’ll saunter in, order a single malt and overpay. The script unfolds in your mind—engaging conversations that span the night, and it’ll end with another pass made your way. This time, you won’t hesitate to say yes.

The hours at work tick by painfully as you wait for him to show up. For the first time, you’re doing terribly at work. Wrong servings are poured as your eyes bounce between the bar's entrance and the mocking hands of the clock.

Inevitably, you switch the sign to closed . A sliver of hope remains, hinged on the small chance he could appear outside as he did before. And still, he doesn’t.

Self-doubt starts to overtake you. Maybe you said the wrong thing, or did something abnormal that made him suddenly change course.

Once you're home, your resolve breaks, and you open the messages app in an act of desperation.

[ thanks again for the other night ]

As soon as you hit send, you’re convinced it’s single-handedly the stupidest text ever sent. Before you can think of what to add on to repair it, your phone buzzes.

[ not a problem ]

[ i had a good time, nice place ]

[ miss me already huh ]

[ who said anything about that? ]

[ thought you weren’t interested, but look whos texting me ]

[ yeah, to say thx ]

[ you said that when i dropped you off. gonna have to try harder doll ]

How did someone so arrogant manage to have you swooned?

[ fine. maybe i did. ]

[ see, was that so hard? ]

With a huff, you crawl into bed. You weren’t the romantic type by any measure. Your romantic philosophy entailed waiting for the right person to come into your life. Naturally, you assumed what everyone said was true—that’d you know the one when you saw it. In the case of Tony, it wasn't a lightning-strike love at first sight, but rather a rapid realization that there was an intangible something about him. Excluding the early worries over his intentions, he spread this sense of ease throughout you whenever he was around.

On Tony’s side, it was more akin to obsession at first sight. He’d had decades of escapades under his belt, all incomparable to you. A limited edition, one of a kind, breathtaking woman he knew he couldn’t let slip away.

You were a fresh breath of air in his world of tragedy. People in his sphere were usually tainted by it, but not you. You didn’t have some preconceived, inflated notion of him. He was happy to recognize the mutual attraction. Unfortunately for him, you being from outside of his world meant losing you if you found the wrong information at the wrong time.

He felt you deserved a life without the grime and troubles of everyone else. He just knew that’d only be possible with him . He just had to keep a few things from you for a little while. Long enough for you to be too committed to leave.

Tony learned at a young age that planning is the key to everything, so that’s precisely what he does.

The lack of interaction was a purposeful step on his part, only partially. There was little fun in biting back the urge to talk to you again, to kiss you goodbye at the door, but he knew it was the best method to have you hooked. Originally, he meant to visit the bar once more tonight, see if your face brightened up when he walked in. That plan is foiled by an unmovable meeting, which keeps him occupied until close. You just happened to beat him to the text.

For you, the date served as a testament that he wasn't some idealized, too-good-to-be-true fantasy. It wasn't a dream; it was a tangible reality and you found yourself unwilling to let it slip away. The initial worries had given way to what you prayed was something genuine.

[ so do u often take people on one date then ghost or is it just me? ]

[ doll, i don’t bore myself or waste my time with people i don’t enjoy. ]

[ i’m sure there’s better options for you ]

[ not better than you ]

[ hows that? ]

[ i’ll tell you if you agree to see me again ]

In the dark of your room, the message illuminates your face, stirring the anticipation in your gut. This is what you wanted, the perfect opportunity.

[ deal . ]

From then on, you and Tony find yourselves going out a few times each week. Whether it's another intimate dinner or museum, Tony consistently showers you in gifts—ranging from exquisite jewelry to coveted concert tickets. He makes jokes about making even more grandiose gestures, like moving you to a better neighborhood or getting you a car so you don’t have to walk home at night. Despite the overwhelming generosity, you can't help but feel weird at the unfamiliarity of it all, lamenting that they aren’t necessary (though you never admit how much you were beginning to love it).

Nonetheless, Tony remains steadfast in reassuring you, emphasizing that the smile on your face is worth any amount. There’s little doubt to this, given he hasn’t made a move beyond kissing your cheek a few times. You’d like to think someone with ill-intentions would move a bit faster.

His charismatic nature continues, enveloping you in a world of affection and companionship beyond your wildest expectations. He treats better than you could ever fathom, and asks for seldom in return. Stark handles every detail, every direction providing you with much needed mental relief.

The thing you’re most grateful for is the ease of it all. It’s easy to indulge in him, to agree to his few, but necessary stipulations ( don’t spend my money poorly , answer when I call , be honest with me , etc. etc.) They were much milder, and more enjoyable, than ones you had in past relationships. Your most recent ex? He’d ask for a photo of your timecard from work, paranoid you were sleeping around.

However, it takes a while for you to shake off the nagging suspicion that he’s just playing the long game. Your relationships had often ended in emotional horror for at least one side, and you dreaded a repeated end. Gradually, though, you feel more secure, even as he pulls you more and more out of your comfort zone.

Although it didn’t really help you understand where his money came from, he brought you along to company dinners and fundraisers. These outings, while a testament to the serious nature of his work, become less enjoyable for you. Mostly because Tony’s line of work seemingly employs nothing but the most annoying of the 1%.

He has a terrible habit for making you feel like (and dress you like) fine art. Yet, amid a room of stunning women with envious glares directed at you and Tony, you feel like second-rate trash, despite the arm draped on his meant to signify your belonging. It didn’t help that at the end of the day you and Tony never put a name to what you were, and you had no idea who he was with when you were apart.

It doesn’t harm the connection too much for you, but it does lead to your first argument after a blissful first month.

Truthfully, it’s mostly your fault. You’d gotten a bit more than jealous at some socialites' snide remarks about Tony being with someone so young and ‘rudimentary’, as she deemed. You blame the alcohol for tossing your drink in her face. Tony had warned you before about keeping positive appearances, but oh well. Vodka has a tendency to do nefarious things.

The entire car ride back, Tony gets a number of phone calls, leaving you the sinking feeling you’ve angered the wrong person. There’s something semi-terrifying on every inch of his face as he talks in terms you don’t understand. The calls don’t stop until long after you make it back to the tower. You’re seated on a leather couch in his office, anxiously preparing your explanation for what happened.

At the end of what he hopes is the last call, he turns to you. The look in his eye disintegrates whatever words you had mustered together.

“What were you thinking?” he asks harshly, but with a low tone as if he’s trying not to sound as pissed as he truly was.

“Tony, I didn’t think it would-”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, holding his hand up in a quieting manner. There’s a few beats of silence, where you’re wretched with guilt, not even knowing fully what you did wrong.

“My associates are not people to mess with, honey. You need to be able to control yourself. Your little show almost ruined a deal I’ve been working on for months.”

“My little show ? You didn’t hear what she was saying and how was I supposed to know-”

“That’s my mistake for expecting you to have thicker skin than that.” Tony reprimands, his eyes reflecting an anger that leaves a mixed feeling in your gut. .

“You’re right, next time a woman starts talking about how better off you’d be with someone else, I’ll go ahead and give them your number. God knows you live for the fucking attention.” you retort, tears of frustration burning in the back of your eyes as you stand to head for the elevator.

Tony moves from his spot in the middle of the room to cut you off, blocking your path out.

“If you’re gonna act like a jealous brat, at least have the guts to admit it. Don’t try and make it about me.” His voice keeps its edge, standing close enough to force you to look up to meet his eyes.

He’d never been so much as annoyed by you, and the anger in his dark irises was unbearable. Behind the darkness is something else, a heat that trails down your lips. Still, the sourness in the room is enough to make you repentant.

“I,” you sigh, averting his eyes to stare at your heels. “I’m sorry, okay?” Your voice is small and shameful under his gaze.

Tony’s hand meets the bottom of your chin, tugging your head back up.

“Look at me.” he says sternly, and you’re reminded of the boutique that feels lightyears in the past. The touch twists your shame cruelly into a tight knot.

At the sight of your watering eyes, his expression softens. A flared temper had been a life-long condition, but his last wish was letting it off on you. There was something about the way you underestimate your value to him, it makes him want to stop holding back—show you just how badly he needed you. He’d done a piss poor job of keeping you isolated from this side of his life, but it couldn’t be undone, and you needed to be able to handle it. And a sobering part of you knew you were overreacting, at least a little bit.

“You can never do something like this again, are we clear?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. A calloused thumb strokes your face, rendering every word he said null.

“That’s my girl.”

It reassured you that this had to be a one-off situation-a unique, heat of the moment event that caused everyone to act out of character, not just him.

In the morning, the full weight of his words hits you like a brick wall. You do a bit of mental gymnastics on yourself, flipping between blaming yourself for Tony’s reaction and blaming him for behavior. Ultimately, at the battle’s end, you let the blame reside with you.

The next few weeks are a return to your new normalcy, turning any thoughts of ending things unnecessary. Aside from that night, Tony’s allure didn't stop, and it became safe to say you were falling, rapidly. You texted and called nearly constantly whenever you weren’t together, not that Tony seemed to mind at all (it helped that he was never far from his phone). It was clear Tony did all he could to make your outings last longer, but eventually one of you (typically Tony) absolutely has to head home.

You’re left with a somber emptiness every time, waiting to see Tony to feel whole again. The level of care you were showered in was, well, addictive. There was enough to ignore the ambiguity surrounding whatever your relationship was, and what his life was like outside of you. Trust wasn’t exactly your strong suit, so an occasional strife happens whenever you think about it too long. It still tested his patience, and resolve, irately wishing you’d take him at his word just once.

Something poetic could be said about rose-colored glasses and red flags.

One spring night, the rain grows far beyond what Tony’s outdoor plans can accommodate. Not wanting to cancel, he moves the date to an art gallery. There’s no hiding your excitement, and Tony expected as much. He was saving this location for another time, but you sound far too happy on the phone to regret it.

Unsurprisingly, the night goes just as fantastic as any other with Tony. You loved art in nearly any form, and dreamed of creating pieces worthy of hanging in a gallery. This one though, is unlike any you’ve ever seen, a high-ceiling bright open space, with prices starting in the six figures.

They’re all worth the price to you, elaborate shapes and colors sitting in huge antique frames. Like any other night, he occasionally slips away for a phone call, or you’ll turn to see him typing away another email or memo. It’s not frequent enough to bother you, and either way you accept it as an occupational hazard of seeing someone like him. Besides, you were too busy enjoying the art to care.

Tonight though, you feel bold enough to dig into it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Tony pocket his phone for the fourth time in a half hour, striding back over to you with a grin. You were transfixed by the painting in front you, having stared at it for the last fifteen minutes. It was a mirage of playful colors, swirling and fading down to a dusky abyss. Two faint abstract shapes floated in the gradient, seemingly intertwined and bursting outwards. You’re certain Tony will give you grief for fawning over what probably looked like kindergarten work.

“I could just buy it for you, then you could stare at it all day.” he taunts once he’s in ear shot, looping his arm through yours.

You laugh back at him, resuming your slow stride through the rest of the quiet gallery.

“It’s like eight feet tall, no way it’s making it up my stairs in one piece.” you laugh, “You absolutely have to buy something for yourself, though. Something that, y’know, inspires you.” you say playfully, stopping to get a better look at another piece.

“You are the only muse I need.”

He plants a kiss on your forehead when you roll your eyes at his saccharinity, letting you slip away. You really were all the motivation he needed, especially if you kept wearing tight black skirts like the one you're wearing now. When you finally turn back to him, his hands are occupied again, typing away incessantly.

“What kind of company do you run that they can’t survive without you for a few hours?” you taunted playfully. You’d idly clicked your heels on the dark stone floor, studying the machinations of his face, trying to get a sense of what transpired in his head.

The phone is switched off in his hands, abandoned in his pocket before beaming at you.

“A very important one.” he drawls, circling the soft skin behind your exposed collarbone with his fingertips. The padded digits trail around in random shapes, inkling up your neck slowly.

“But I have recently taken on a new,” Tony pauses, still drawing northward to caress your face. “-endeavor, that’s requiring a lot of attention right now.”

“A new endeavor?” You really try to act interested, but his touch sends shivers down your back. A subtle graze on the soft corner of your mouth becomes the most sensual touch in the past two months (and you weren’t expecting it here of all places). You, permanently apprehensive of scaring him off, never made a move to progress things physically, no matter how much you thought about it.

He says something else your brain can’t be bothered to process, giving a final circle on your cheek before meeting your eyes. “But, my attention should be on you, honey.”

Your mouth is suddenly painfully dry, clearing your throat before responding with a forced laugh.

“You’re fine, I was just prying.”

Tony reassures you softly, “Nothing wrong with that.” giving you one of those toothy smiles that makes your head a bit light, especially with his closeness. “But only if you listen when I answer.”

You chuckle at being discovered, shaking your head slightly.

“Sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Well, doll, you missed an invitation to Los Angeles, gonna have to pass that on to someone else I’m afraid.”

He shrugs his shoulders defeatedly when you scoff and swat his shoulder.

“Had you been listening , you would have heard that I’ve just been made partner in new company, and there’s supposedly a very nice celebration happening this weekend.”

It takes a beat for you to fully process the short time frame.

“So, you should definitely come.” The matter-of-fact tone he uses breaks your stunned state with a laugh.

“Unlike you I cannot just go to California for a weekend-”

“Aht!” He intercepts, smiling. “I recall two hours ago, a certain someone told me she was off Friday and Saturday, therefore, you can just go to L.A., this one weekend.”

Now, that was very true, and put you in quite the predicament, stammering at his growing smile until you finally found an excuse.

“I don’t have a valid ID.” you say proudly, crossing your arms.

“I have a private plane.” he responds pointedly.

“I’m terrified of airplanes.”

“That’s a lie.” he laughed, resting his hands on your hips. “What is the problem with taking a trip with me? Is it LA? Cause I can just ask for it to be moved—”

“No, no,” you gave a disheartened laugh and sighed, “It’s just, I don’t know, a lot?”

“California’s pretty normal these days-”

“Okay, okay. Just what is your end goal here? With all this?” The incessant question in the back of your head, which you hoped didn’t cause another instant implosion.

“What do you mean?” Unbeknownst to you, Tony knew precisely what you meant, from the countless conversations, and had a very concrete answer, but there was some enjoyment in stonewalling you.

“I mean you’re always trying to do insane things like trying to fly me across the country but you haven’t even so much as kissed me getting kind of confused-”

“Would kissing you get you to go to L.A. with me?” Tony cuts off your exasperated tangent, laughing softly.

You roll your eyes, bracing your arms by your side, preparing to walk away. Tony senses he might benefit from a moment of seriousness and stops you with a hand on your wrist and quick spoken apologies.

“Having you on my arm is more than enough for me, doll. If you want more, that’s up to you.” This was by no means new information to you. He’d given similar reassurances to you, none which seemed to ease you for long.

“So, answer the question, would that get you to go?” Tony pushes, leaning towards you.

“Probably.” You wish he didn’t have this effect on you so easily, but the words barely manage to register above a whisper.

For your admission, you're rewarded with the taste of bourbon on your lips as his hand abandons your arm to rest under your chin. His teeth graze the skin of your bottom lip, stubble tickling your chin. When he pulls away, he can’t help smirking at your dazed look. Really, Tony dreamed of doing a lot with you, but saw no need to rush. Especially since every light touch so far left you a flustered mess.

“We’ll leave early Friday morning, you can sleep on the plane, sound good?”

You don’t have a reason to protest anymore.

After Tony drops you off, he decides to get something for future you. The colorful painting finds a new home, wrapped in an empty room at the tower, shelves lined with blank canvases and paint.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ

#mcu fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #tony stark x you #dark tony stark #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #seikkoiwrites

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bakubunny · 9 months

Text

let me hear you

pairing: bakugou katsuki x uraraka ochako

wc: 7.73k

tags: aged-up characters, dildos, dom/sub undertones, embarrassment, hair-pulling, masturbation, mutual pining, oneshot, praise kink, fluff and smut, texting, banter, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, ochako is lowkey a size queen, bakugou is an asshole but also kind of soft, (slight) crackfic treated seriously, mina is sweet but has no filter and no chill

summary: Ochako moves back in with Mina after a busy five year contract abroad with a new hobby of collecting 'personal items,' i.e. fantasy sex toys. One day, Bakugou overhears her having some personal time on her day off. Stupidly, she invites him over to help when he won't leave her alone about it....

So Katsuki, the opportunist that he is, seizes an unconventional moment to try and show Ochako he’s changed since the last she knew him, at least a little… sort of.

preview:

“I can do that,” he said. “Sweet talk for a sweet girl….” Ochako snorted, finally freeing her face from his grasp. “You, sweet? Since when?” “I’m an asshole, not fuckin' stupid, Ochako. I can talk sweet for a pretty girl who wants to come,” he bristled as the intensity of his red eyes returned. “Could’ve fooled me,” she said playfully. “I’m not convinced.” “I think you are. You just want more of it,” he replied.

a/n: if you like this fic, i'm already working on a follow up, release date tbd. keep an eye out for it here or on my ao3, and thanks for reading!

“I don’t know if this is impressive or concerning,” Mina said.

Ochako turned around to see her friend and now roommate in front of an open box on her bed that was labeled DO NOT OPEN in multiple places while holding something very large, brightly colored, and phallic shaped.

“Mina, get out of there! What are you doing?” she said quietly. Red from her neck to her hairline, Ochako pulled the sex toy out of her friend’s hand and swiftly put it back where she’d found it. “I wrote ‘DO NOT OPEN’ in big letters all over the box for a reason.”

“Yeah, and that means it’s obviously the first box I’m gonna open when I see it,” Mina said.

“Or you could just, I don’t know, not open it,” Ochako said with exasperation.

Ochako loved Mina dearly. In fact, she was one of the few from UA she’d kept in contact with during her entire five year contract in the United States. But this was one of the moments she desperately wished Mina would utilize a little self control….

During her time overseas, Ochako had started a collection of ‘personal items,’ partly because she didn’t want a relationship or a hookup, and partly because they were all so pretty and enticing. Sure, fantasy sex toys from independent companies were pricey, but they were infinitely better than most of the generic, cheap ones she’d tried, and they looked beautiful. She didn’t really care as much for the ‘fantasy’ aspect as she did the feel of soft, smooth silicone and a wide variety of shapes, sizes, and textures, all custom poured into any color combination she could wish for. Beautiful marbles of pastels and fades of vibrant colors, ones that sparkled and others that glowed in the dark. Ochako knew from experience that they were worth every penny she paid, hence why she was unwilling to part with any of them when she moved back home.

“When the heck did you get so many dildos? And that one was massive! Is it even usable?” Mina asked way too loudly.

Ochako went red further.

“Shush, will you? Yes, they’re all usable. I started collecting when I went overseas,” Ochako replied.

“Why? There’s nothing wrong with it, and they’re pretty. But was it really that hard to get laid over there?” Mina said.

“No, I just… it’s easier. And I like them. That’s all there is to it,” she said.

Mina looked at her like she’d grown another head for indirectly suggesting her private ‘hobby’ was better than a hookup. (And truth be told, most of the time it was.)

“Where do you want the dresser, cheeks?” Bakugou said. He and Kirishima were carrying her dresser into her bedroom without drawers.

Ochako’s eyes shot wide open and she scrambled to close the box in front of her. She still hated when he called her that, and he knew it, too. After asking him to stop twice earlier that day, she gave up on it.

“Uh, the far wall should be fine!” she squeaked out as she shoved the box into her closet when the guys came in. She quickly closed the mirror doors behind her as Mina held back a snicker from the look on Ochako’s red face.

“To the far wall it goes,” Kirishima replied.

As they carried the dresser to the far side of the room, Ochako was silently cursing Mina for even suggesting she needed help moving to Kirishima, let alone insisting on it. She was Uravity. A bed frame, a dresser, and a few heavy boxes were nothing for her. It was just a thinly veiled excuse made by Mina to see her boyfriend in a cutoff shirt carrying heavy things. Kirishima, kindhearted and clueless as ever, agreed without a second thought about it, and he’d somehow roped Bakugou into helping, too.

Not that Ochako was complaining; he was still a hot tempered asshole that she wanted nothing to do with, but she wasn’t blind. Time had only gone in his favor, and he looked hotter than she’d ever remembered. He was slightly taller now and his muscular frame had filled out. Soft, baby faced features had started to fade, unlike hers. At twenty five, she still looked like a child, at least in her own eyes, with her mousy brown hair and round cheeks.

“Thanks again, I think that’s everything that goes in the bedroom. I should be able to take it from here,” she said with a bubbly smile when they’d set the dresser down.

“Drawers?” Bakugou said.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you want the drawers for your dresser, Ochako?” he replied with a cocked brow that only seemed to deepen when he saw the flush on her face.

Ochako.

It felt weird hearing her name come out of his mouth. Uncomfortable.

“Right. Of course,” she said. “Drawers in here, and then I think the last few boxes can go down the hall.”

With that, she nearly shoed everyone out of the room to get the drawers, making sure she was the last person out.

**** “I just can’t believe you genuinely think all of that would be better than the real thing,” Mina said as she took books out of a box and put them on the bookshelf near Ochako’s dresser. “I can hardly go two days without Eijiro.”

Ochako was unpacking her toy collection into proper closet storage; against the wall on the inside, she’d put a narrow, white bookcase where she could keep things easily accessible and visible but still tucked away from prying eyes. It was the only box left, and at this point Mina already knew about it and kept asking questions, so she had no reason to hide it. The most used ones were on a shelf at eye level; a variety of moderate to small sizes with different shapes. Smallest ones took up a portion of the top shelf, and larger toys were neatly arranged on the shelves below. Her collection wasn’t as massive as some she’d heard of and seen online, but it certainly wasn’t anything to scoff at either.

“I never said it was better. I said it was easier and I enjoy it,” Ochako replied.

“Okay but like. When was the last time you had a good fuck? You know I’ll happily be your wingwoman and we can solve that problem real quick,” she said.

Warmth bloomed in Ochako’s cheeks.

“I-It’s been a while. But you definitely don’t have to do that. I don’t want a hookup. Or a date,” she said with a laugh.

“How long, Ochako?”

“I told you, a while,” she replied.

“Weeks?… Months?…” Mina pressed.

Ochako was silent as the last item was set on the shelf. She started to pick at the tape on the cardboard box.

“Years?”

“…yeah,” Ochako admitted. She peeled off the tape and threw it away.

“Seriously, girl? Did you get laid at all while you were gone?” Mina said incredulously.

“I mean I tried at first. I just never found the time,” she said.

“In five years?”

“First it was the language barrier. Then after that, I was busy and tired from work. And when I did, it was so bad, Mina,” she said. Ochako flopped onto her bed.

“Yep, that’s what we’re doing. We’re fixing this like tomorrow,” Mina replied.

“Please, I don’t need anything fixed. And before you get so dramatic about it, it’s not like I haven’t done anything. I just haven’t…” she trailed off.

“Gotten dicked down?” Mina asked.

“Yeah…. The few times I tried, I somehow wound up with guys who couldn’t find my clit let alone get me off with a little guidance, and that just kinda ruined it for me. Either it didn’t go any further or I faked it before sex started. Then one year alone turned into two, and….” Ochako sighed.

The other part she didn’t say was that Mina had always been infinitely more comfortable talking about - and seeking out - sex than her. With her little hobby, every thought and desire stayed in her head. She didn’t have to tell a damn soul. And Ochako was more than okay with that.

“It’s okay, really. I’m satisfied now, so why mess it up? Plus, now that I’m home for good I’ll eventually start dating again…. Probably,” she said.

Ochako had longed for that for some time. Someone to be close to. Someone to care for who cared for her in return. But that was far more complicated than a simple hookup.

Mina stopped unpacking books and gave her a look between pity and horror.

“My god you’re worse than I thought,” Mina replied.

Ochako let out a laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I just know what I want. So I’m not itching to hook up with anyone.”

She could practically see the wheels of scheming and mischief turning in Mina’s head.

“Don’t go getting any wild ideas,” she said.

“It’s not a wild idea. Just one you’re not gonna like,” Mina replied.

Ochako raised an eyebrow in question.

“Didn’t you see the way Bakugou looked at you the other day?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Ohhh no. No. Absolutely not. You’re right, I hate that idea,” she replied.

“But he was practically eye fucking you any time you weren’t looking! And even when you were looking he still did half the time,” Mina said.

She snorted as her body grew hot. “Was that the weird look on his face? I just thought he was being moody.”

Okay, so maybe she’d noticed. He wasn’t exactly subtle. But Mina didn’t need to know.

“Chako. Really?”

“What? Yes, really,” she laughed. She was blushing so hard that she felt it creeping down her neck.

Mina shook her head.

“Okay, fine…. But just like you, he’s changed at least a little bit. Just think about it, okay?” she said.

“Sure, but my answer isn’t going to change,” Ochako said.

“Not if I have anything to do with it…” Mina mumbled.

“Mina!”

**** Three weeks later

Ochako held her breath as her hips rose and fell, hands pressed into the wood floor. She had to hold herself back from slamming down onto the soft, warm, deliciously full feeling sliding in and out of her cunt as she took it all the way to the base with each slow thrust. Try as she might, every now and then a whimper or moan would escape her throat.

Her phone buzzed, a text. She checked to make sure it wasn’t an emergency text from her agency. It was a number she didn’t recognize.

Unknown Number: what are you doing 9:33 PM

She put her phone down nearby assuming it was spam and went back to sating the desires of her body. Two texts came in shortly after.

Unknown Number: dont ignore me cheeks 9:35 PM

Unknown Number: i can hear you 9:35 PM

Ochako’s heart stopped when she saw the notifications. How was that even possible? Were the floors made of paper?

UO: Bakugou? I'm working on a project. 9:36 PM

UO: Put earbuds in or something. I'll be done soon. 9:36 PM

A stream of texts came back.

BK: thats me 9:36 PM

BK: must be some damn project 9:36 PM

BK: no if youre not gonna stop i wanna hear you finish 9:37 PM

BK: and dont be shy about it 9:37 PM

The blood drained from Ochako’s face as the text came in. She swallowed thickly trying to come up with a response, but ended up erasing every one as he watched her type.

BK: come on i know you want to 9:40 PM

BK: let me hear you angel face 9:41 PM

UO: I don’t know what you’re talking about. 9:41 PM

BK: you gonna keep going for me? 9:42 PM

BK: gonna be a sweet girl and make yourself cum? 9:42 PM

UO: Gross. When did you become such a perv? Get lost. 9:42 PM

Ochako could hear the teasing tone of voice he had through text. Palms sweating, she peeled the suction cup base off the floor with shaky hands and climbed onto her bed. She laid there for a minute undecided on whether to continue or not, heart racing with embarrassment and shame.

BK: thats ok i know youre gonna think of me anyways 9:43 PM

BK: have fun roundface 9:43 PM

UO: Ew. I’ll pass. 9:44 PM

She tried to ignore the thoughts swimming in her head as she started again, this time more to find release from what she’d started than because she really wanted it. But it wouldn’t leave her head. Thoughts of Bakugou listening to her through the floor. Of him blowing up her phone with those stupid texts. Of…. She pushed the thought away. Unfortunately, the thought of him was exactly what made her come, and hard. Miraculously she managed to do so in silence.

Ochako felt gross inside and out as she took a shower and went to bed.

**** Ochako had just started lunch when her phone buzzed. It was Bakugou. She sighed. Hesitantly, she opened the message. It was a photo of her bathroom. Specifically, it was a picture of one of her toys drying on the counter: a thick, smooth, gently curved S-shape that tapered into a slightly wider base, much bigger than any average person could logically be but not absurdly large, at least to her. It was a pretty color, too; a light lavender shade with glittering gold streaks and shimmering teal-blue marbled through it. Her newest one. She hadn’t even tried it yet.

BK: holy shit you need to get out more 12:02 PM

She nearly spit out her tea.

UO: What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?? 12:04 PM

BK: mina let me in 12:05 PM

BK: our waters turned off downstairs and i need a shower 12:05 PM

UO: I don’t care. There are two bathrooms. Use the other one. 12:06 PM

BK: no can do cheeks 12:07 PM

BK: kiri is in minas and i dont wanna wait 12:07 PM

BK: your toy is cute tho 12:08 PM

UO: GET OUT BAKUGOU. 12:08 PM

BK: makes me wonder where you keep the rest 12:09 PM

BK: is that the one you fucked on the floor last week? 12:11 PM

UO: OUT. NOW. 12:11 PM

BK: bet it fills you up good doesnt it 12:13 PM

UO: CREEP. 12:13 PM

She wished to melt into the floor or float herself all the way to space when a second picture came through. It was a quick, low effort selfie but it was enough to make Ochako nearly pass out in embarrassment. Bakugou was clearly naked in front of the mirror, the bottom edge of it stopping just above any improper places. Her sex toy was still openly visible in the corner.

BK: too late its shower time 12:19 PM

Ochako sent Mina a text. There’s no way she was innocent in this.

UO: Mina, what the fuck is Bakugou doing in my shower? 12:19 PM

UO: Did you look in the bathroom before letting him in? 12:20 PM

AM: Woah, calm down. Its okay, it'll only take a few minutes. 12:22 PM

UO: No, I will not calm down 12:22 PM

UO: Because it’s not okay 12:22 PM

UO: Okay is the last word I would use to describe anything right now 12:22 PM

AM: ??? 12:23 PM

After carefully deleting the text referencing last week, Ochako sent screenshots of the conversation she’d just had with Bakugou.

UO: I’m leaving Japan and never coming back 12:26 PM

UO: My life is over 12:26 PM

UO: Back to the land of the Free of Bakugou 12:26 PM

AM: OMG IM SO SORRY 12:26 PM

AM: RUNNING TO BR NOW 12:27 PM

AM: PLS DONT RUN AWAY ILYSM 12:27 PM

AM: WHERE DO I HIDE IT 12:28 PM

UO: I don’t care just get it out of the bathroom please 12:28 PM

UO: And for the love of all that is good make sure my closet is shut 12:29 PM

UO: And maybe just ask next time? 12:29 PM

She sighed and looked at the food in front of her, now having lost all appetite. This was not how she anticipated her return to Japan. Staring out the cafe window and onto the street, she observed the many passers by through the lens of Ochako instead of the vigilant eye of Uravity. It hit her just how much she’d missed home even though she suddenly had another anxious longing to leave.

Ochako had turned down a second lucrative five year contract in the US because she missed her family and friends back home. Luckily enough, all of her hard work was paying off. She was able to land a contract near home at almost the same salary with none of the extra living expenses or general barriers of life overseas on a working visa; now that she was home, she was being recognized for the hero she was. More than that, though, she was able to take care of her parents the way they had taken care of her for so long, especially now that her living costs were so much lower.

Being away from Japan had helped her grow tremendously; she was out of Deku’s shadow and able to come into her own, proving herself to be a strong and competent hero in both rescue and combat. No longer was she being offered sidekick roles for her peers. She was the one who could hire a sidekick now, if she wanted to, but it didn’t interest her.

Mina’s text tore her out of her thoughts. Ochako had fifteen minutes left before her lunch was over and she was back on patrol.

AM: Also like. This only confirms my theory that you basically have a good fuck staring you in the face and you’re gonna try to ignore it 12:45 PM

UO: I told you, being attractive doesn't mean anything. 12:46 PM

UO: He’s probably shit in bed like the rest of them. I think I’ll take solitude. 12:46 PM

AM: Oh come on Ochako he HAS changed some 12:47 PM

AM: He’s basically like my brother but I’m not above admitting he’s hot and a little less asshole-y than when we were younger 12:47PM

AM: And do you remember nothing about UA or the last time you lived with me?? 12:48 PM

Ochako remembered a lot about UA and the two years she’d lived with Mina before going to the US. She’d tried to simply forget that Bakugou even lived next door, the experience was so scarring. She ignored Mina’s question.

UO: You did this on purpose, didn’t you? 12:49 PM

AM: Okay maybe I did 12:53 PM

AM: But I’m only trying to helppp 12:53 PM

UO: Well stop. I don’t want help. 12:55 PM

AM: THATS ONLY WHAT LONELY PEOPLE SAY 12:56 PM

Ochako let out a sigh as she put her face in her hands.

**** This time, Ochako had a plan. It was her day off. She’d double and even triple checked for over a week that the apartment below her would be empty today with Mina and Kiri…. Mostly because she thought Mina might ‘conveniently’ not tell the truth. After preparing throughout the morning to make sure it wouldn’t hurt too much going in, she took her new lavender dildo and stuck it to the floor, checking to see that the suction cup base was secure.

Ochako felt a little more heat pooling between her legs as she generously applied lubricant. She hovered over it, slowly guiding it to her hot, wet core. Her eyes went wide as the head slid in easily, still much thicker than expected with a stinging feeling. She let out a moan that was louder and more lewd than she’d ever want to admit to herself or anyone else as she sank down about a quarter of the way and stopped to give her body time to adjust.

Leaning forward, she made herself comfortable realizing that even if this wasn’t the biggest one she had, this one was going to take work if she wanted a chance to use it at all. After several minutes of playing with her clit and gently moving her hips, she sunk down half way. Goosebumps ran across her skin when sparks of heat and electricity slid from her core to the rest of her body as she did. Her cunt clenched tightly in near protest as it wept with desire. It felt so unbelievably perfect. The sound it elicited from her lips almost felt wrong, how vulgar it was. The process of waiting and adjusting started again… and again… until her hips finally came close to reaching the base.

Ochako could have sobbed from the overwhelming fullness inside her once she’d taken the whole thing, and she all but did. Her breath was heavy and panting even as her hips remained still. Little groans left her mouth as she waited until she couldn’t take it any longer. Her hips slowly moved up to the head, then down slowly, slowly. She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle a cry as she sank down a second time before a desperate sob bubbled up out of her chest.

She may not have gotten fucked in a long time, but even if the ‘real thing’ was better, there was no dick in existence that could give her this.

Ochako jumped when her phone buzzed with a text notification.

BK: fucking hell ochako keep it down 11:13 AM

BK: i know youre horny but have some decency 11:13 AM

Her stomach dropped as hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Of course. Of course. She was instantly mortified. Now her day was fucking ruined.

UO: ?????? 11:15 AM

UO: I thought you weren’t home?? 11:15 AM

BK: change of plans its my day off 11:16 AM

Tears spilled down her cheeks, quite possibly just from the overwhelming embarrassment and the growing heated need in her stomach she so badly wanted to relieve. She just wanted one day in solitude without having to worry about being overheard and promptly shamed for it. Ochako sat back and wiped her burning, flushed face, trying to shake it off.

UO: Well I planned today long in advance. 11:23 AM

UO: How about you be the one to have some decency for once and give me the privacy I planned on for an hour or two? 11:25 AM

BK: takes you that long to get off? 11:26 AM

BK: can you even find your fucking clit? 11:26 AM

UO: No. I’m going to edge myself and come until I can’t think if you really need to fucking know. 11:30 AM

UO: Now fuck off and let me have one day to myself. 11:31 AM

Ochako almost slammed her phone down onto the rug nearby and as she quietly sank back down, hips burying the achingly sweet fullness and let it sit inside her. Tears threatened to fall down her face again. She had to block it out. But he wouldn’t leave her alone and she was stupid enough (or horny enough) to entertain him.

BK: no wonder mina practically begged me to fuck you 11:32 AM

UO: I already told her I’m not interested. I said you were probably shit in bed anyways. 11:33 AM

BK: only one way to find out huh 11:33 AM

BK: let me hear you cheeks 11:35 AM

UO: No. I’m not here to fuel your wank session. 11:35 AM

UO: I’m sure you’re already stroking your dick. You have zero self control or decency. 11:36 AM

BK: quit being such a brat 11:36 AM

BK: youre the one that cant keep your fucking mouth shut for five seconds and im the one who has no self control? 11:37 AM

UO: I’m not a brat. You’re a presumptuous asshole. 11:37 AM

BK: get the hell over yourself and keep going 11:39 AM

BK: i know you dont wanna stop 11:40 AM

BK: let me fucking hear you damn it 11:44 AM

BK: or do i need to come up there and watch? 11:47 AM

Heat radiated out of her chest and down her spine as she stared at the blinking cursor. Ochako wasn’t sure if she was turned on or angry or nervous. He wasn’t even near her but she could hear the words in his voice. It might have been playful, but it wasn’t a question. It was a threat.

BK: come on stop staring at the screen and fuck yourself 11:53 AM

Heart pounding hard, desperation won and Ochako gave in. Just a little, that’s all she needed. Just enough to sate the ache of desire…. She gasped at the initial movement. Ochako slowly let her hips rise and fall once more. Her moans were soft and whining at the start, but they quickly devolved into something that was low and needy and impossible to hold back as she gradually increased her pace.

Ochako's phone was going off periodically. It went ignored until a call came through. She stopped and answered.

“What?” she said.

“I’m gonna help you, cheeks. I wanna fuckin' hear you for the slut you are.” Bakugou’s voice was heated and rough.

Ochako went weak and she started riding again.

“Then why did you call? And don’t call me that,” she said breathlessly. She moaned as another wave of pleasure hit her body. “Use the spare key before I change my mind.”

Ochako hung up.

**** Katsuki walked down the hall to her room and as he got close, he could hear her. Moans that were needy and lustful. The sound of her ass kissing the floor. Shit, he needed this so much. Don’t fuck this up, Katsuki.

The heady scent of her arousal hit his nose as the door opened and he swallowed a groan. Fear struck her eyes as he looked down at her. Bare from the waist down, Katsuki noticed her soft thighs twitching slightly as she sat back. Her cheeks were flushed, both with what looked to be nervousness and lust. Fucking adorable, that’s what she was.

Ochako froze when she heard the doorknob turn and click. The door swung open. Bakugou’s crimson eyes were dark and ravenous the moment he saw her. Now that he was here, she was panicking, kicking her stupid, horny brain for picking up the phone at all. She hadn’t had a guy in her room for years and Bakugou was her choice? This was possibly the worst decision she’s made in a long time.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Ochako smiled but swallowed hard. “You can come in I guess.”

Bakugou shut the door behind him as he walked in. She looked down and started playing with the hem of her t-shirt He knelt down in front of her but she didn’t look up. The warmth of his breath hit her face and the hair on her neck raised, a little shiver running down. Ochako was staring at his distressed black jeans where one knee met the floor in an attempt to find a focus point. Something about it, him kneeling to meet her gaze, filled her belly with warmth and made her blush. Even if she could pinpoint it, she wasn’t sure if she’d want to. Say something, Ochako, anything….

“I don’t know why I asked you over and I’m kind of regretting it,” she blurted awkwardly.

“’S okay. I won’t bite… unless you ask nicely,” he teased.

The heat and fullness between her legs was throbbing as he spoke. Ochako gripped the fabric in her hands so tightly her knuckles went white.

“And I don’t want to have sex or do anything like that. I… I just wanted you here, so don’t expect anything from me,” she said defensively.

“Never did. Just wanted to watch.” Bakugou lifted her chin, his face inches away from hers.

Ochako kept her eyes shut tight.

Oh god oh god this was absolutely a horrible idea, you dumb girl, she thought. The warmth of his fingers, his breath, the look she knew he likely had on his face, it made her ache for more of his touch and he hadn’t even done anything.

“Look at me, Ochako,” he demanded.

Fuck, her name sounded so good on his lips. She opened her eyes to find his full of heat, ready to devour her whole. He stared her down with crimson eyes in a cocky, hungry way that melted her fears into wanting.

“Gonna let me do that?” he said softly.

Ochako’s heart raced. She nodded.

Bakugou sat down with his back against her bed with his legs spread wide, one knee up. He patted the empty spot in front of him. She wasn’t sure how he made black jeans and a gray t-shirt look so damn good, but he only seemed to look better sitting that way with his eyes watching her intently, blond hair askew as always.

“Put that thing in front of the mirror and face me. I wanna see all of you,” he said.

With clammy hands and a wet sshhlick as she got up, Ochako did as he asked. Her cheeks burned hot. Now she was somehow more anxious, feeling so exposed as Bakugou intently watched her core meet the soft silicone as she slowly slid back down onto the brightly colored dildo stuck to the floor between her legs. The fullness of the head and then the shaft as it gently slipped in was dizzying, pulling another groan out of her body. Ochako gripped the hem of her shirt in one hand. Bakugou grabbed her hand and moved it to his leg, the fabric of his jeans smooth under her fingers.

“What the hell happened to you, cheeks? You’d fuckin think we were still in high school with how nervous you are. Relax,” he said.

That got a little laugh out of her.

“Get out of your damn head for once.”

“I don’t know how sometimes,” Ochako replied.

He scoffed and grabbed her face; his voice got darker.

“Yes you do. Don’t be shy. Do it,” Bakugou goaded.

Ochako flushed hard; the way he provoked her was so stupidly hot. Slowly, she lifted her hips and let them sink back down with a gasp and a quiet moan. “That’s it, keep going. Just like that…. So if you don’t wanna be a slut, what do you wanna be?”

Fresh heat crashed over Ochako’s face at the question. Little waves of tingling pleasure shot through her core and up her spine, drawing out a whine. She tried to pull away from his grip, but he didn’t let her.

“I-I don’t know,” she whispered, trying to escape his intense gaze. She did know; she had plenty of ideas. But all of it was going to stay in her head.

“Gonna have to find out together then, huh?” he said as he stroked her cheek.

“Y-yeah.”

“You’re doing a good job, angel. You look so pretty…. But I think you can do better for me, can’t you?” he said.

Ochako’s eyes got a little wider. She stopped. A shudder rolled down her spine. His voice was soft and low, almost sweet; it jumbled up her insides and scrambled her brain. This was not the Bakugou she remembered.

He grinned slightly. “You like that, huh? Want me to keep being a little sweet, princess?”

Ochako’s reply was instant.

“Y-yes, please,” she said sheepishly.

“I can do that,” he said. “Sweet talk for a sweet girl….”

…sweet girl…. Something in her mind went a little fuzzier when he said that….

Ochako snorted, finally freeing her face from his grasp. “You, sweet? Since when?”

“I’m an asshole, not fuckin' stupid, Ochako. I can talk sweet for a pretty girl who wants to come,” he bristled as the intensity of his red eyes returned.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said playfully. “I’m not convinced.”

“I think you are. You just want more of it,” he replied.

The Bakugou she had in her head was grumpy and loud and aggressive. He was simultaneously full of himself and anxiously insecure. He was impatient and did what he wanted. And in the few weeks she’d been home, she’d seen that in many ways he still was all of those things… just less so than before. But this Bakugou almost had patience and a hint of softness and it made her thoughts sputter.

“Come on, angel face. Fuck yourself for me. Show me what you really want,” he said quietly.

Goosebumps washed over Ochako’s skin as he spoke and she whined, pushing herself down just a little harder and faster with each thrust. The thick and gentle curves of her toy teased every little tender spot in her cunt just right; shudders rippled down her back as the tension in her body grew. The needy moan that ripped out of her chest from the overwhelming sensation felt embarrassing as he stared at her face. She wanted to hide, but Bakugou only encouraged it; the look he had as his eyes went from her face to the mirror behind her and back was almost reverent.

“Fuck, you look so good, Ochako. You take that toy so well for me. I love the way it fills your pretty cunt and makes you so damn wet. Makes me wish I could be the one making you feel good. You’re perfect. Don’t stop sweet girl, I wanna watch you all fuckin' day,” Bakugou said.

Ochako moaned under his praise as heat slid over her body, causing her cunt to tighten and flutter. Every sensation was dialed up to ten with how achingly, wonderfully full she felt. Pleasure licked her back and legs with every movement she made.

“That’s it… just like that. Make yourself feel good for me. Your voice is so pretty when you moan, angel…. So damn cute,” he said.

The look of lust and flushed cheeks on Bakugou’s face only made her want him more. She broke her gaze from his and chanced a look down to his lap, gripping the fabric of his jeans tighter with wide eyes when she did. His cock was hard and it was big, but in that perfect way where it was thick and just long enough to make her ache for it. Ochako groaned with want and cursed at the sight.

“Katsuki…” she whimpered.

Bakugou smirked.

“Like seeing what you do to me, cheeks?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Good. ’S been that way for a long fuckin time,” he said.

Before she could process what he’d said, he took her face in both hands and kissed her hard and fast.

**** Katsuki was already really fucking impatient. He wanted to rip Ochako’s shirt off and run his hands and mouth over every part of her body, kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, make her look up at him with that little bit of fear mixed with desire, make her ride his face until she couldn’t fucking string words together, hold her down and fuck her until her mind went numb. But he could see that patience was what she needed, and that was the one thing he never fucking had. All of that would have to wait for another day, no matter how bad he wanted it. If there even was another day.

Somehow, watching Ochako gave him the patience he needed if it meant he got to see her like this…. The way her bottom lip quivered and her breath went shallow and quick before letting out a whining moan. The way she pushed her face into his hand when he stroked her cheek, yearning for his touch. How she flushed and got a little closer to coming when he said something she really liked. How she sobbed when his hand slid back, gathered a large fistful of hair, and gently pulled, and she begged, “harder, please Katsuki,” with her brown doe eyes staring back at him, full of want and desperate need. The sight of her thighs quivering a little every time the pleasure seemed to be overwhelming, and the feeling of her gripping tighter onto his thigh when it happened…. Hell, just the sight of her ass moving in the mirror, the lips of her dripping cunt gripping and swallowing her dildo whole with every thrust, getting filled and stretched so good would be enough to make him bust if his cock was out.

But not today. Today was for her, he’d decided, not just some girl who could get him off.

Maybe proving that he’d grown some amount of self restraint over the years would be enough.

Maybe then she would finally fucking get it.

**** If Ochako thought she needed to come before, it felt nothing like the need she had now. Every time she got close, he told her to stop. Whenever she tried to reach between her legs for that last little push, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away. And stupidly enough, she listened.

The look on Bakugou’s face grew more sadistic the more restless she got.

Ochako whined as he snatched her hand for the fourth time.

“You told me you were gonna edge yourself. Just trying to help, princess,” he said with a grin. “Can’t have you thinking I’d keep such a sweet girl from getting what she wants.”

“Katsuki, please,” she begged, “I need it.”

A thin film of sweat was on her back. She couldn’t think as she continued to thrust; everything inside her was so mixed up and horny and achy and needy. Her breath was heavy. Her clit throbbed. The down hairs on her skin raised as shudders and shivers danced across her skin only reminding her of what she wanted.

“But you’re doing so well, angel. You’re being such a good girl, making me so proud…” he purred.

Ochako groaned. He’s getting too good at that, and way too quickly… she thought, as a shiver slipped down her spine.

She took his hand and guided it to her wet cunt where her hips moved, eyes glossy and desperate as she looked back at him.

“Please, Katsuki,” she said softly.

Katsuki caved. Either he was some kind of weak little shit, or a fucking goner. It was her damn eyes that made him too soft; he would give her anything if she asked, at least right now.

“You want me to make you come, pretty girl?” he said.

“Yes, please,” she replied.

The heat of his rough, calloused hand met with her hot, slick skin where he rubbed firmly. Ochako cried out and grasped his wrist tightly.

“G-gently,” she stuttered.

His touch lightened and she felt her body relax a little. A wave of relief washed over her skin.

“Slower…”

“Like this?” he asked.

Bakugou’s movement slowed and Ochako moaned, her body beginning to tremble as he stroked her clit softly with the pads of his fingers. She leaned more of her weight into her hands to support herself as the tension in her body unraveled at his fingers; her legs quivered with weakness.

“Shit, yes, fuck,” she babbled. “That’s perfect, please don’t stop.”

“Good girl, you asked so nicely. That's exactly what I want,” he said.

Ochako’s climax built as her body unwound and she groaned. She looked at Bakugou to take in the lust on his face; his breathing was ragged, his eyes dark with want, his face and neck flushed. Seeing his desire for her drew a whine from her throat, her breath heavy and panting.

“You’re so damn gorgeous, you know that, Ochako? You’ve been so fucking good for me, listening so well. I love how wet and desperate you are,” he said, voice wrecked with desire.

Bakugou’s words made her moan as he stared back at her. The muscles in her core fluttered erratically as chills ran down her spine. Ochako clamped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet herself, her moans increasingly wanton and unhindered as her mind slowed down to feel every little thread of pleasure radiating from her cunt, weaving itself across her skin.

Bakugou took his free hand and pulled hers away.

“No. Let me hear you.”

“There are other neighbors, Katsuki,” she said with a hint of anxiety.

“So? Who gives a fuck?” he replied. “You want me to make you come, and I wanna hear it. You gonna let me do that?”

Ochako went back and forth in her head for a moment before she gave in. “You better make it fucking worth it.”

“You’re damn right, I will,” he growled as his eyes flared.

Bakugou slid his fingers across her scalp through sweat-dampened hair to the back of her skull, gathering as much as he could and pulled her head back with a firm grip. Ochako’s mouth fell open and her eyes rolled, a deep, heated groan bubbling up out of her chest. His tone was low and rough as he spoke, the heat of his breath on her ear making her tremble as shivering goosebumps raced across her skin.

“You’ve been so fuckin' good, Ochako. I’m gonna make you come so hard you see stars. I can’t wait to see how perfect you look when you come. You’re gonna sound so pretty for me and I fuckin' love it,” he said.

The steady pace of his fingers on her clit pulled her deeper into ecstasy as each thrust of her hips sent toe curling pleasure radiating down her legs to the soles of her feet. Ochako moved harder and faster, chasing her impending release.

“Just like that, keep going. You’re so beautiful like this. Given in, let yourself feel good…. You’re doing so well,” he said.

The number of different pleasant sensations firing in her body was dizzying as she lost herself in it.

“Katsuki, I….” Her thoughts trailed off into a moan when another wave of mind numbing pleasure hit and her legs began to shake.

Bakugou gave her the final push she desperately craved. “That’s it, babygirl. You’re so fuckin' close, aren’t you? Don’t hold back, give it all to me. Come for me, angel….”

Ochako came with a loud cry, orgasm crashing down on her body as she shook. Her eyes went white and her mind blank; pleasure hit again with intensity that made her legs give out.

“Good fucking girl, fuck…. That’s it, princess. Don’t stop. Don’t stop coming for me. I want it all. You’re so pretty when you come.” Bakugou wrapped an arm around her and she braced herself against the support as his hand between her thighs carried her through the rest of her climax.

She reached down to grasp his hand when it became too intense and he stopped.

“Good girl…. That was perfect. I’m so fuckin proud of you, angel face,” he said.

Ochako whimpered in his arms, little shivers still coursing through her veins. As she came to, the weight of what had transpired hit her. Her eyes went wide. She froze, trying to think of what to say.

Bakugou interrupted her thoughts.

“Don’t overthink it, cheeks,” he said. “I sure as hell don’t regret it and neither should you.”

Her ears grew hot.

“Right. You’re right,” she said stiffly. “Um. I - have to shower and clean up. But you’re welcome to stay for a little while… i-if you want.”

He scoffed. “You think I’d just leave?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’ve never been that close. I don’t know what kind of person you are outside of what I remember.”

He crossed his arms with a grumpy look. “Give me some credit, I’m… not like that,” he grumbled.

Ochako couldn’t help but grin a little at his attempt to display some modicum of kindness. Wincing slightly as she pulled off of the toy between her legs, her body quickly started to feel the aftermath of it all. She fumbled trying to peel the slippery dildo off the floor.

“Leave it. I’ll take care of it,” he said.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know,” Bakugou replied.

He was met with silence as Ochako processed her next thought.

“Okay. Um. There’s mild soap in the top right drawer in my bathroom. Wash with that and leave it to dry,” she said.

“Got it. Now go,” he said.

Ochako didn’t have to be told twice; her mind was reeling with a million thoughts after a decidedly strange day, unsure if she wanted it to happen again. With clean clothes in hand, she closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower.

**** Katsuki ruminated on the day while he laid in Ochako’s bed with her nodding off in his arms. The sweet, floral scent of her shampoo filled his nose as his fingers ran through her hair.

“This isn’t going to happen again,” she’d insisted when she got out of the shower.

“Didn’t plan on it,” he’d replied as he laid back on her duvet.

“You don’t have to stay to be polite,” she’d said.

“I’m not,” he’d said as he got under the covers. “Relax, cheeks. I’ll leave soon.”

He’d locked the bedroom door to keep out a nosey Mina, though with luck, he’d planned to be home before she or Kiri ever found out.

After several minutes, faint little snores filled the quiet space. Katsuki didn’t want to go, but he did want a chance of Ochako not being pissy with him later because he got caught in her room. Slowly and carefully, he got out of her bed and pulled up the covers.

Katsuki grabbed the spare key he’d left on her nightstand, slipped his sneakers on at the front door, and locked it behind him.

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doodlemancy · 3 months

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uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhh

so here's the deal re: this fucking horseshit. god i hate this.

i, personally, have mostly given up on trying to dodge inclusion in AI datasets. the stuff i make generally isn't what they're looking for anyway and there's no real way to 100% avoid being scraped short of becoming entirely invisible online, which would um, lead to me having no money and dying. that's part of the cruelty of all this, but also, in a way, it's the same risk artists online have always taken; if you want people to see your work, you have to post it knowing that some of those people are fucking lowlife piece of shit scumbags who will try to resell it on redbubble or something for a quick buck. AI is just a new and exhausting way for garbagey people to stink worse. i am not in any way excusing that behavior or trying to imply people should not be mad about it or that we shouldn't condemn this move and fight back. "if you don't want your work stolen, don't put it online" is the kind of shitty Internet Tough Guy talk i've always hated since my dA days. it's as useless and heartless as telling people that if they don't want their bikes stolen, they shouldn't leave them at the bike rack. i'm saying that i, personally, will not let a bunch of soulless thieving shitheads drive me offline. i belong here. they belong in a wifi-proof dumpster.

nightshade and glaze eat my artwork alive. they make it look terrible. when you have to sell things on the basis that they look nice, it's a big problem when protective measures make them look like dogshit. my work is not a good candidate for these processes. even if that weren't the case, i don't have the stamina, especially right now while my chronic pain is flaring for the third month in a row and my adhd meds are scarce, to go back and shade/glaze everything, and it wouldn't work on reblogs anyway. given the way midjourney and its equally stinky siblings have already scraped years and terabytes' worth of image data from popular websites, it doesn't seem worth my time. if you think it is worth yours i am not going to like, yell at you. i am just one person. but i want to be clear about the kind of situations some of us are being forced into.

i think some of the doomsaying about AI and what it will do to us has been overblown-- they need you, for marketing purposes, to believe that someday their shitty robot will be as good at "drawing" and as practical to work with as a human-- but the consequences of "AI" (which is not even actually AI) are already real and visible and obvious to anyone paying attention. i unfortunately am not infinitely wise and powerful and therefore do not have an ideal all-encompassing solution to this deeply stupid problem that the Most Unlikeable Manbabies On Earth have imposed on us after NFTs fizzled out.

what i do have is a very large repository of nice anime and game screenshots i've taken, knowledge of many archives of nice public domain images, a computer that can run nightshade overnight or while i'm off doing other things, and, most importantly, near-infinite capacity for pettiness. i do kinda feel like the jury is still out on how well nightshade/glaze will work in the long run, but in the meantime, i suppose it wouldn't cost me a lot to... perhaps... every time i get Mad About AI™, channel that anger into dumping some thoroughly-but-not-spammily-tagged, high-quality, inconspicuous poison onto this godforsaken hellsite via a secret side blog. i could make a batch of poison ahead of time, keep it on my phone, use my Toilet Scrolling Time or my Public Transit Time to post and tag up an image here and there. it could be a fun challenge to try to make some pretty robot poison that some humans will still enjoy.

the other thing we need to poison at this point, IMO, is the word "AI" itself, by being loudly and mercilessly critical of any company that dabbles in it, the same way we all clowned on any company that pushed their luck with NFT/crypto shit a couple of years ago. we need to have every corporation terrified that association with AI will tank their sales and hurt their brand. AI must = number go down and lots of people screaming at you. companies will fuck around. we must provide the finding-out. we shouldn't have to. but we can!

so make sure to let tumblr know you hate this. maybe you could include this interesting link (tw child abuse) about how Stable Diffusion was trained on some extremely serious crime. or these screenshots of Midjourney devs just sort of admitting what their whole thing is, which i got here but which have kinda been spread all over since January.

spite and anger can be forms of hope. that's all i have to say, or at least all i'm willing to type with my left hand tonight.

#long post #big long sigh

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lgwilt · 19 days

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks @loki-is-my-kink-awakening for the tag! Pretty sure it’s still Wednesday somewhere.

A snippet of something slightly silly I drafted right after watching “1893” and haven't revisited since. Not sure whether I’ll end up doing anything with it, but I liked the idea of Mobius cajoling Loki into queuing for one of the attractions.

—

“I thought we weren’t sightseeing?”

Loki fidgeted impatiently, craning his neck to see whether they’d moved any closer to the start of the queue. Progress was agonisingly slow; they’d shuffled forwards only a few inches in what felt like hours, even though Mobius kept insisting it hadn’t been nearly that long.

“This isn’t sightseeing,” Mobius countered. “This is strategic.”

“We’re supposed to be looking for Renslayer,” Loki reminded him pointedly. “And investigating sightings of a spectral clock.”

“Trust me, if Ravonna’s trying to blend in, this is where she’ll be. Besides, we’ll get a bird’s eye view of the fairground from 264 feet.”

Loki gazed at the Ferris Wheel rotating serenely overhead. Hundreds of Midgardians in identical glass boxes gazed back. He lowered his eyes, trying not to think about the increasingly erratic revolutions of the overloaded Temporal Loom, infinite strands of raw time straining to burst free from the godlike contraption built to contain them.

“And how likely is it that we’ll be able to spot Renslayer in the crowd? There must be thousands of people here. Tens of thousands.”

“150,000, give or take.”

“Exactly. This isn’t strategic, Mobius, it’s a waste of time. We’d have more luck wandering aimlessly around these so-called attractions.”

“What’s the matter, Loki? Aren’t you having fun?”

Mobius held out the paper cone he was still (inexplicably) clutching in his hand, shaking it enticingly. Loki let out a long-suffering sigh, reaching inside to grab a sticky handful of dried corn. It was almost worth it for the way Mobius’ face lit up in a smile, some of the tension draining from his shoulders.

—

Tagging @insert-witty-user-name-here @dewdropreader @blackbirdofasgard @starport-seven-five (for next week, if you like!)

#wip tag game #lokius #my fic

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Text

about strawberry jam - e.m.

Summary: Eddie knows what kind of jam you like.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings/tags: discussion of food and a sort of unhealthy relationship with food, but no mentions of eating disorders! reader just isn't fond of eating with people. reader is anxious about relationships and has commitment issues but they are trying their very best, like i know all of you are <3

Notes: first of all, i want to say how blown away i am by the response that about a boy got! thank you so so much! i have some ideas for future snapshots so please enjoy this one here, which takes place about a month after about a boy (though you do not need to read that to understand this one). that being said, this fic is loosely connected to the series.

divider by firefly-graphics

"Pasta sound okay?"

You doze on Eddie's bed. It's weird, being in his space, but you're practicing. You have to remember that he wants you here, and if he doesn’t, he'd tell you. You're not an intrusion or a wrong piece of furniture. You belong here. Eddie had told you so.

"Pasta is good. Mac and cheese?" you ask.

Eddie's head pops up from his pillow. Affection overwhelms you. You need to be close to him, suddenly. You scoot closer so your knuckles brush his. Eddie links your pinkies and kisses your hand.

"Sounds great. I can go—"

"I'll start it," you say.

Your brain itches with the thought that you take too much when you're with Eddie. If you want to earn your keep, you need to do more than laze about in his room.

Eddie's expression suddenly turns serious. With his other hand, he gently pushes his thumb into the center of your brows.

"What're you doing?" you ask.

"You're thinking too hard again," he says. "Had to smooth it out."

Eddie molds your worry into something pretty, like you are dry clay and his hands are damp with love. You wonder if this is what creation feels like.

"I'll start it," you say, trying again. "And… and you can help in a bit?"

Your forehead stays smooth. Eddie's eyes crinkle at the corners from his smile.

"Sounds like a plan, sweet thing. You know where everything is?"

"Yes. But, um… your uncle isn't home, is he?"

You feel terrible asking. You do. It's not that you have an issue with Wayne Munson. You're sure he's a great guy, with how Eddie gushes about him. You know that, at the very least, his love for his nephew is cavernous and infinite.

"He's not," Eddie confirms. "But y'know he wouldn't chase you out with a broom if he was, right?"

"I know. It's just… we're new and I don't want to rush things."

You're a new fixture in Eddie's life and a part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. A part of you thinks this is too good to be true; your clay will dry out beyond fixing and Eddie won't want anything more from you.

"Hey." Eddie doesn't kiss you, just brushes his lips onto your cheek to get your attention. You look at him.

Eddie licks his lips and chews on chapped skin, studying you for a minute.

"Do you like this?" he asks finally. "Do you like how things are going?"

"Yes," you say.

It's only been a month but it's been one of the greatest months of your life. And if this is the time you have with Eddie Munson before you overstay your welcome, it will have been worth it. If only to have found a home in a person.

"I do too," Eddie says. "I really, really like you. And I want us to stay like this."

"Now."

Eddie tilts his head. "What?"

"You want to stay like this now. But in a month, you might get tired. Or you might want to leave and I'll hold you back."

Eddie's eyes turn soft and sad. Sometimes you do that, with your stupid, clumsy words. Eddie never turns sad around anybody else. It's only you that pulls it out of him.

"I wish you wouldn't think of me that way," he says.

"I'm sorry."

You're afraid, and it makes you selfish. You should think of others, but you don't, because that's when you get hurt. And you don't think you can take it if Eddie hurts you because you think of him.

Eddie brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it. Your lips draw down.

"I'm sorry," you say again. "I'm scared."

"Of me?"

"Of what you've become to me."

"I would never do that to you," Eddie murmurs. "Leave you. Hurt you. Never."

You release a slow breath. "Okay."

"It's okay if you don't believe me right now," he says. "But I wanted to tell you. So it's somewhere in there."

He kisses your forehead. You want to try once more.

"We can start the pasta together," you offer.

Eddie's smile doesn't scrunch his face up this time. But it's fond. It's good.

You get up with him.

You're not fond of people watching you eat.

Eating with people feels like a sin. You enter their space and you're caught. They can watch you hork down whatever glutton you feed yourself that day, and you can't do anything about it.

Or it's a bribe. Come to lunch with me, and food suddenly becomes a leash. A chain with expectation collared to your throat. You reach for your fork and you are an animal with your claws in a raw steak, blood dripping down your chin. You howl and your companion sneers at how you can't even control your hunger under their gaze.

Eddie asks you to come over a lot more now, and, being that you have a real heart and a real stomach, the time does come when you eat together.

"I think we have Velveeta in the bottom cabinet," Eddie says, digging through a top shelf for a box of macaroni.

He turns on the stove. You hear him open the fridge and dig through there.

The unopened package of Velveeta is exactly where Eddie said. You take it out and pause.

A jar of strawberry jam sits at the front. You take it out and stare at the label.

"Find it?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah… Eds, can I ask you a question?"

"Fire away, pretty."

"What does your uncle eat for breakfast?"

"Hmm. Eggs, bacon, y'know. He grew up down south, though, so he really loves grits."

"Oh. So not a jam on toast type?"

"Nah, he's not much for sweets. Why?"

"Grape jelly," you say.

Eddie comes over and closes the cabinet doors. You give him the Velveeta but you cling to the jam like it's your firstborn.

"Grape jelly?" he asks.

"You only like grape jelly. It's one of the first things I learned about you. Steve made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and you said you wanted grape jelly or no jelly."

Eddie nods. "Sounds like something I'd say."

"Well, I—" You swallow and hold up the jar. "I think you made a mistake, Eddie. You bought strawberry jam."

"That wasn't a mistake, sweet thing. I bought it for you."

Macaroni bubbles in a pot and you want to run because you know this is a trick. It must be.

"For me?"

"Mmhm."

You watch Eddie's hand twitch, like he's about to tug you into his side, but he stops, because he doesn't want to overwhelm you. Your tongue tastes sour.

"Strawberry's your favorite, right?" he says.

You look at the jar again. When you come over for breakfast, you will turn the lid, and the seal will pop. Eddie will smile at you from across the table and tell you about the campaign he's writing. And you'll eat the reminder that you are a part of someone else's life now.

"You thought of me," you say.

"I think about you a lot," he replies.

"You do?"

"I do."

"Oh. I never thought I'd have somebody to think about me.”

"Well, you do now,” he says, ducking his head so your eyes meet. “That okay?"

"It's good."

This jar of jam is good. That pot of macaroni is good. Being cared for is good.

Eddie strains the pasta, and you’re reminded of the fact that you're going to eat together.

But it doesn't frighten you as much. It doesn't feel like a bribe or blood on your chin.

You slice the Velveeta. The two of you make food and take care of each other side by side.

It feels good. It feels like Eddie says he'll stay and he means it.

It feels like a place on the shelf for your strawberry jam.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction

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aspoonofsugar · 2 months

Note

hey! Good day :) here to ask a question!! I was wondering about your process for analysis, character analysis, theme analysis- do you just write or are there specific things you look for? I suppose I’m curious if you have an idea/general gist of what you’re doing or steps you take to do your breakdowns. I’m trying to do something similar out of interest and your works are simply fascinating to read. I look up to your writing a lot!

hello!! Can I ask how you started analysing shows, how you went about it? I’m learning literary analysis and trying to do the same for hunter x hunter but I find it infinitely harder to analyse shows. Especially since I most notably consider diction in literary analysis lol

Hi!

Thank you for your nice words anon(s) and yay! I love meta-asks <3<3<3

So, it depends on the meta. In general, I try to focus on a specific topic, which can be:

a character (arc + foiling between characters)

a theme

the use of a specific motif, when it comes to a character or a theme

These are my three favourite kinds of analyses, but there are other types, as well. For example, some people are really into plot theories/predictions. Others prefer to focus on characters from a psychological viewpoint. Some other writers like to use philosophical lens or to compare different works. It really depends on your preference.

My preference is mostly for thematic analyses. This means that my character metas too tend to use a thematic lens. So...

WHAT IS THE THEME?

In short, the theme of a story is both:

the topic the story is exploring

the moral of the story, aka a phrase which summarizes its message

Stories explores topics through characters and plot, while the way the conflict is solved tells us the moral.

Some examples:

RWBY's main topic is humanity in both its weakness and strength and its moral is that victory is in a simple soul

Madoka's main topic is wishes and its moral is that it is worth to want things and to fight for them, even if it is painful

HXH is strange structurally, but its main topic is self-search, with its moral being that a person should not focus on the goal, but enjoy the journey

All of these messages and ideas aren't just things stated in dialogues (even if someone saying the theme helps). They emerge from the story itself.

RWBY's main conflict is about a destroyed world (remnant) surviving the anger of an evil witch (Salem). If humans let hate divide them, they lose. If they unite, they win. The main thematic question is then... can humans make the right choice? And the answer is that they can, as long as they remain simple souls (Ruby, but also Pyrrha at Beacon, Blake in Managerie, Yang in Mistral, Weiss with her family, JNR when they tag along and Penny in Atlas). The main message is that several people making the right choice leads to change. And that is humanity. This is why the characters keep being asked to give up their idealism and to embrace a more utilitarian way of doing things. And this is why every time they refuse and stick to their idealism. The conflict itself keeps testing their resolution.

Madoka's power system works through wishes, so the girls' powers and their backstories are all defined by their wishes and by how they relate to them. Madoka doesn't know what she wants. Homura's wish turns into an obsession. Mami makes a wish too early and thinks only about herself. Kyouko and Sayaka make a wish for someone else and have opposite reactions to their wishes ending poorly. Finally, it is revealed the girls' wishes are literally the force that keeps the world at balance. So, the plot, character arcs, conflict and worldbuilding are all about wishes.

HXH is made up of several arcs and each arc has its own theme. That said, the overall structure conveys the main theme. Gon's objective is to find Ging, but he keeps taking detours and getting engulfed in unrelated conflicts. However, the moment he meets Ging he realizes it is not his father who defines him, but rather it is all the people he met in his journey and his own experiences. Basically, HXH's strange structure conveys the main theme.

So, the theme (both topic and moral) should emerge by the characters, the worldbuilding, the conflict and sometimes even by the structure itself. In order to find it, one should start with the topic and ask themselves "What does the story really talk about?". The answer to this question will let you understand the theme as topic. The second step is to see how the story explores it.

DIFFERENT POINTS OF VIEW ON THE TOPIC

There are different ways a story can explore a topic. Still, the best stories have different perspectives clash with each other. Very often these different points of view are embodied by different characters.

Here are some examples, with some linked metas that explore the respective stories more in depth.

Madoka (topic= wishes):

Homura is determined to fulfill her wish no matter what

Kyubey is her opposite, as they are unable to wish since they lack feelings. This is why they need to recruit girls into creating energy through wishes

Madoka is in the middle, as she wants to wish for something, but doesn't know what

Mami, Kyouko and Sayaka all explore negative effects linked to wishes, which are connected to other secondary themes. Specifically, Mami explores the consequences of an immature wish, while Sayaka and Kyouko explore the selfishness/selflessness inherent in wishes

The conflict is solved through Madoka learning about the price of wishes, but still choosing to make a wish and to sacrifice her whole self for it. This ending conveys a specific moral: despite the pain and sacrifice that comes with them, wishes are still beautiful and worth it all. If Madoka had chosen to give up being a magical girl and had ended up the series without making a wish, the moral would have been the opposite: that a normal life is better than grandiose and dangerous dreams.

Monster (topic = the value of life)

Tenma believes that all lives are equal, which is why he chooses to save Johan as a child, despite being ordered to operate a far more influential patient.

Eva and Nina believe that not all lives are equal. In particular, Eva thinks that social status and importance in society influence the value of one's life. Nina instead believes that people who commit crime should be punished and lose their lives.

Johan believes no-life has value, including his own. In his words, the only thing all humans are equal in is death.

Here, the moral is conveyed through the Tenma/Nina vs Johan's conflict. Tenma is tested in his beliefs, but ultimately does not abandon them and ends the story by saving Johan. Nina instead is asked to change her mind, as she ends the story embracing Tenma's point of view.

RWBY - The Atlas Arc (topic = trust)

Ozpin lacks trust, as he is unable to trust others, no matter how loyal or dedicated to his cause they are

Ruby wants to "trust safely". She wants others, like Ironwood, to prove themselves to her before disclosing the truth to them

Ironwood is initially on Ruby's same page, but he spirals and comes to embody the "enemy of trust" aka control. He doesn't trust others, but wants to control them.

Oscar embodies trust, as he wants to trust Ironwood since the beginning. Even later on, he keeps on trusting people like Hazel and Emerald who are his enemies.

Cinder embodies another "enemy of trust", aka manipulation. She doesn't need to trust others to work with them, as she can use their feelings and wishes against them.

Penny embodies faith, which is a more extreme form of trust. She sacrifices herself and leaves the maiden power to Winter. She has no proof Winter will be able to save Weiss, Jaune or the relic, but she entrusts the future to her.

All these characters struggle with trust and its dangers. Some, like Ozpin, Ironwood and Cinder decide that trusting is too dangerous. Others, like Ruby, Penny and Oscar realize that to trust is the only way to move forward. Moreover, they learn there is not way to trust safely. As a matter of fact the moral of the arc is that "trust is a risk" and risks mean that things can end up badly. Still, not to take risk means to give up hope.

Hazbin Hotel - You didn't know song (topic= knowledge)

This song explores the idea of knowlege. The characters are after all in the middle of a questioning, which leads to several secrets coming out. Moreover, throughout it all the characters either admit or realize how ignorant they all are. The way they deal with this lack of knowledge establishes different thematic stances.

Charlie and Emily are both naive and ignore the darkest sides of their loved ones. Charlie doesn't know Vaggie used to be an exorcist and Emily has no idea Sera ordered the exterminations. Still, their answer to ignorance is to keep on questioning. They have no idea why only certain souls are admitted in heaven. Still, they think it is important to investigate the phenomenon and use it as evidence that there might be hope for the spirits in hell.

Lute and Adam don't know why some spirits end up in hell and others in heaven. Still, they do not bother to question it. So, Adam is caught by surprise by Charlie's question and has to improvise an answer. Not only that, but even later on the duo insist that Angel not being in Heaven proves he is unholy. And that's it.

Sera does know about the extermination, as she knows the system is unfair. Still, she refuses to question it and forbids others to do the same. She is the only one whose sin isn't ignornace, but knowledge.

There is no a clear thematic resolution to the question posed by the song. This is because the series is not over yet. However, the scene sets up the theme and the way characters will deal with it in later seasons will give us the moral.

As you can see, not only whole stories (like Madoka, or Monster) have themes, but also arcs (RWBY) and even episodes or scenes (Hazbin Hotel). That said, the way to go at it is always the same. Pintpoint the main topic and start investigate how the characters or the worldbuilding deal with it. You are gonna get several stances. The one which emeges victorious is the moral.

Let's highlight that the moral is not always embodied by the protagonist. For example, in the Madoka and RWBY's examples, Madoka and Ruby are initially at a loss and come to learn the moral by the end of the story (for Madoka) and arc (for Ruby). Similarly, Tenma initially does believe the moral, but doubts it throughout the story, only to be reminded and helped by other characters (like Nina).

In any case, the way the protagonist and characters in general relate to the main theme and to secondary themes is key for their arcs.

CHARACTERS AND THEME

When it comes to theme a character can either:

Believe the moral since the beginning

Not believe the moral since the beginning

In the first case, the character either stops believing the moral by the end (negative arc) or keeps believing the moral until the end (positive arc). In the second case, the character either learns the moral (positive arc) or doesn't learn the moral (negative arc).

In short, the story keeps challenging the character on their beliefs and they must either stick to their point of view or change it, depending if they believe in the moral since the beginning or not.

Exhibit A:

Charlie's belief that sinners can be redeemed is right. Still, in the beginning nobody else agrees with her, so she is challenged by the world around her. Her objective is not to lose faith in the Hazbin Hotel and to inspire others to change their mind too. Throughout her journey, she is bound to grow too. She starts as sheltered and naive with a simplistic idea of what redemption is. By the end, she will gain a deeper understanding of redempion and will grow as a result.

Exhibit B:

Eren's journey is about realizing what freedom (the main topic) is about. The problem is that he fixates himself on the idea that freedom means no boundaries, either natural nor humans. This leads him to embrace destruction and nihilism and to lose himself. In the end, the character who realizes what freedom truly is is Mikasa. She doesn't discard her bond with Eren, but is still able to make independent choices and to live as herself. In short, Eren doesn't learn the moral, hence why he spirals instead of growing.

Charlie is a protagonist who knows the moral and will grow with it in a positive arc. Eren is a protagonist who doesn't know the moral and never learns it. This is why he has a tragic negative arc.

These are just two examples, but there can be different combinations. By interrogating yourself on how characters relate to a theme, you get better a better understanding of their role in the story and of their overall arcs.

Still, how to find themes in a story? Luckily, each text is full of hints that are there for us to interpret them.

MOTIFS

Motifs are repetitive details within a story, which are used to communicate themes.

Anything can be a motif: a line, a musical tune, a specific imagery, an object. By repeating them in key moments throughout a narrative, they become symbols, which means they can lead to bigger metaphors and convey specific meanings.

In the song More Than Anything, dream is one of the main topics. We realize it because the characters keep mentioning it. At the same time, light keeps popping up. Lucifer summons light and throws it away, Charlie rememebrs a light show Lucifer imrpovised for her. Lucifer and Charlie start the song in the shadow and they end it in the light. This means that "light" is a motif throughout the song and by seeing how it is used we better understand the theme and the relationship between the two characters. We understand that light is a metaphor for dreams. Lucifer gives up on it, Charlie is inspired by it and eventually Lucifer summons it back as he has decided to believe in Charlie's dream. By looking at the way light is used, we can see that Charlie teaches Lucifer the moral that it is worth it to fight for dreams and not to give up on them.

In the CAA of HXH, gungi is a motif that comments both the topic of humanity and Meruem and Komugi's relationship. Their matches become a metaphor of monstrosity vs humanity, as humanity slowly conquers Meruem to the point he himself chooses to live and die as a human, rather than the King of the Ants. Similarly, Kokoriko symbolically becomes Komugi and Meruem's child, in the sense they give birth to this move and evolve the game.

Sometimes, their meaning is unique to the story. For example, gungi is a motif that makes sense within HxH and can't be brought outside of the series, as it is not a real world game. It only exists in that universe. Some other times, a motif can tie to bigger sets of symbols. For example, light and shadow are universal symbols that bring with them several additional meanings:

Good and Evil

The Jungian persona shadow

In the Hazbin Hotel song the first dychotomy doesn't fit, while the second one does. Initially both Lucifer and Charlie hide things from each other (shadow), whereas by the end they show who they are (light).

In short, to analyze a story, you should find its key motifs. They are hints to better understand the theme and the characters. Different stories will use different motifs and tie them to different wider sets of symbols. To find the right ones can help a lot in better understanding a story, as a whole.

Some examples:

RWBY uses fairy tales and alchemy as its main motif, so these two sets of symbols are the most useful to analyze the series

HxH is a shonen and uses its powers and fights to convey character arcs and themes, so to analyze one's nen abilities helps a lot

Hazbin Hotel is a musical series that takes inspiration from religion and mythology. So, it is probable that the best understanding of it will come from analyzing its songs and from looking into its religion inspiration

Of course this doesn't mean you should only use one motif to analyze a story. For example, you can use RWBY's semblances to look into the characters, as well. And there are some fairy tale allusions in Hazbin too. In the end, it is about using what best helps you understand a story as a whole.

What is more, there are general sets of symbols that can be useful in most stories, such as jungian archetypes. Finally, you might want to start from other aspects of the story itself, rather than theme or characters or plot. For example, you might be drawn to the world-building and realize it is used in a special way to explore the theme. Or you might be curious about character designs and see that they have their own symbolism (for example, I believe RWBY ones do and probably Hazbin Hotel ones, as well).

SOME PRACTICAL ADVICE

I have linked in the title of each paragraph, but this last one an article by @septembercfawkes. Her posts are great to better understand narrative structure and I found them enlightening.

I think the best thing you can do is to start with focused metas. Choose a scene, a character, a motif that intrigues you and start exploring it. It is better to start small and to narrow your focus, it would be easier to organize your article.

I usually outline the contents of the meta before starting to write it. Still, it sometimes changes as I keep writing.

It can be useful to write at the beginning of your analysis what you are gonna do. It will help you remember what the point of the meta is. For example, in my RWBY allusion meta or HxH nen meta, I always start with the motif I am analyzing. I summarize the fairy tale (even if many people know it already) and I explain what the character's ability is about. It helps organizing the flow and the contents.

The more you analyze the better you become at it, so it is just a matter of starting :)

Thank you for the asks, I hope this was helpful and not too much confusing!

Have a nice day!

#writing #meta-asks #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #sweet anon

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yukimomodivorce · 26 days

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Unecessarily long explanation/analysis of what Re:vale's name might mean

I don't know how to start this ok so basically this post and these tags from @nitunio

inspired me to try to explain my own interpretation and I maybe accidentally spent several days looking into the etymology in the process and now I have more to say about it than I did initially. So I wanna start by outlining every potentially relevant definition/use of re and vale that I found and then I'm gonna talk about how some of them relate to Re:vale. This post has sections and a reference list baby let's go

1: Definitions of re

1. In music terms, re is the second syllabic note in a diatonic scale (do re mi etc.)

2. Re: specifically with a colon at the end is often used as an abbreviation of 'reply' (especially in emails) and/or as the Latin re meaning 'regarding' or 'in reference to'

3. In most cases, re as a prefix/affix indicates 'back' (as in return) or 'again' (as in repetition)

2: Definitions of vale

1. The Middle English vale (pronounced like veil) is another term for valley (derived from the Latin vallis), used in literary/poetic contexts or place names to mean:

A low stretch of land surrounded by hills or mountains, usually with a river flowing through it

The world or mortal life (figuratively and often with connotations of sorrow or hardship, such as in the phrase "vale of tears")

2. In most modern uses, the Latin vale means 'farewell' or 'goodbye', especially in the context of death (apparently this is really common in Australia? I've never heard it before)

3. This use is derived from valeō (or present infinitive valēre), which basically means 'be well/healthy' - so vale in Latin means 'goodbye' in the sense of wishing someone good health, safe travels etc.

Valeō/valēre can also denote strength and worth, and it's the root of both valour and value

4. From what I can find, vale in Spanish is mainly used as a colloquial term similar to 'OK' or 'cool' in English, but it's an inflection of valer which can mean 'valid' or 'worth' and is also derived from the Latin valēre! everything is connected :D

TLDR two main uses of vale both derived from Latin: vallis meaning valley and valeō meaning to be well/healthy/strong/worth

3: What 1 year and 4 months of being a Re:vale fan does to a man

Yuki and Momo's symbols are both repeats, and the two dots (resembling a colon) are what distinguish repeats from final barlines in sheet music (more of me rambling about their symbols here - it's also where the design on their rings comes from, which is something that I keep realising and then instantly forgetting about).

Considering this, I think that the most relevant and likely intended meaning of the 're:' in Re:vale is repeat - we also see English words with the prefix used in this sense pretty frequently with Re-raise, 'revive' and 'rebirth' in Dis one., and 'restart' and 'reborn' in Period Colour. The 'back' aspect also has some significance here, especially in Re:member (the word remember doesn't mean you're like. membering again. it refers to memories. but the title re:member is very intentionally split that way because re:vale both gains and loses a member, so it works with both the again and back implications. anyways). This is also a bit of a recurring theme in i7, what with the whole "the ideal idol is one that doesn't end" thing.

Turning our attention to vale as in valley, once you look into it the whole "vale of tears" meaning doesn't really align with Re:vale unless you only interpret their story as a tragedy, but if you were to look it up and just see the definition "the world" with very little context, then it seems pretty fitting for the most famous currently active idols in the Idolish7 universe. But it actually symbolises how they mean the world to me and also to each other. And the figurative world of suffering that they have put me through thank you and goodnight. Just kidding there's more. I would say something about the valley (landform) and how Yuki is the river and Momo and Banri are the surrounding hills but you get the idea. Momo would live by the river...... he wouldlive by the river. I think about this every day

Anyways. So I really can't say how much of this is intentional but the 'goodbye' vale is especially accurate if you consider the underlying meaning - it's a way of saying goodbye, but it's also sort of a way of saying good luck and be strong. It's the same as how Banri has to say goodbye to Re:vale, but he also tells Yuki to "find a place to sing as yourself". And valour is kind of Trigger's thing (see: valiant) but reaching a little further for the 'value' meaning, it goes back to the whole Mikansei Na Bokura thing - all three of Re:vale's members had to lose something important to them, but the time they spent with it was still valuable and in the end they're able to retain those experiences and move forward to something just as valuable. In the end the name is a bit of a cluster of things vaguely related to them but I guess if you put it together it's like. The repetition of them saying this to each other. Yeah Momo after his injury getting that push from Yuki and Ban's concert to start saying goodbye and moving on and yeah like nitu said him affirming Yuki. Banri saying goodbye/I can't be there next to you anymore but I'll cheer you on from the sidelines and remember the time we spent together fondly and be able to smile once we meet again (<- from the end of his re:member pov). Yuki stabbing me 12 million times in the chest I mean um. Yuki... yeah I'm gonna need another 14 days to write that post let me get back to you on that one. But you get the idea. You get it

I think I had another point somewhere in here but this post has been sitting in my drafts for ages and I still haven't thought of it. But thank you very much for reading if you've gotten this far!!! As a reward you get a hug from me and the reference list :D

4: References

These aren't organised well at all but hopefully it's not too bad

Australian Writers' Centre: Q&A: The Origin of 'Vale'

Dictionary.com: Re • Vale

The English Idolish7 Wiki (my beloved)

Reddit: Contextual Use of "Vale"

Wiktionary: Vale • Valer • Valeō

also the google definitions of most of these terms but idk how to link those and I can't be bothered

#alabastxr.txt #idolish7 #re:vale #on an unrelated note i think i might have autism

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ostrichmonkey-games · 10 months

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Everything I see from Dark Confluence looks sick, and you should use this as an excuse to talk more about it

I don't think I've actually talked a ton about what Dark Confluence is going to be like as a completed game, so I'll take this as an excuse to do so lmao.

So, I like the souls-borne "series" a ton. But my favorite part of all the games is the world that you're let loose in and get to explore. Piecing together the story through bits and pieces, hidden clues, secrets, implication and interpretation. The goal of Dark Confluence is to do that together at the table.

To that end, Dark Confluence is all about the setting and unfolding story you all put together. It is as much a game as it is a chopped up setting book that never tells you exactly what's going on - because that's the fun! Making it all up! Crafting your own unique crumbling, melancholy universe and then rooting around in it to see what you can make sense of.

Character mechanics draw a lot from my other game Extracausal, so its a lot of tag/trait based stuff, but there's also DNA from games like Wanderhome in there, with how the Realms ("levels") and Lords of the Tower ("bosses") work. I want the game to give the table a bunch of tools for getting into weird and complicated situations, and then stringing it all together into something uniquely cohesive.

Most of the mechanics are mostly done and written at this point, all that's left is just all the other writing lmao. There's 36 character backgrounds (each with their own set of 3 unique items), 12 Realms, 12 Lords, 18 Magical Spells, 18 Artifacts, 18 Major NPCs, 36 Creatures and Wretches (and more!), all of which have embedded within them little "lore sparks" for the table to play around with. Nothing is "canon", but there's a lot of moving parts - building blocks - for the table to play around with.

You're all gonna be wandering around your unique version of the Infinite Tower (the dark confluence of the multiverse), confronting the Lords of the Tower as you shape the universe to come. Along the way, you'll meet weird and interesting NPCs, horrible and dangerous Wretches, and uncover and create your own deep lore and secrets.

As a reward for everyone reading through all this text, here's a new Artifact

Ossifrage Great Bow; tags - ravenous, violent A great bow shaped from many fragments of bones. It glistens in the light, bleeding like an open wound. Effect: The wielder never runs out of arrows, as the bow fires massive, barbed, missiles grown and harvested from the skeleton of the wielder themself. Burden: The wielder’s sternum must be kept pried open, beating heart exposed. Augments The bow can launch a flurry of smaller arrows that darken the sky The bow can steal the bones of another whom it has injured The projectiles fired from the bow leave a burning stream of blood in their wake

And! A new Spell!

Fragmentation Effect: Unleash your manifold soul, allowing the hungry, grasping hands of Fate within you to reach out and unravel whatever they touch. Requirement: Consume an entire age’s worth of Fragments, becoming infinite, fractal, and glorious. Ember Moves Like tangled strands of a knot, all Fragments are secretly connected. All Fragments must take a Curse. The howl of the dying cosmos echoes louder, consuming the dreams of those within the Realm, replacing them with something else. One of your many soul-pieces sloughs off, becoming a Fragment all its own, one with the Fate of bringing about your final Dissolution. They say that souls are the building blocks of the cosmos, and the gods merely stonemasons. From where then, do souls come from?

It's gonna be done eventually. I might be on the lookout for playtesters once I have the text done. So, keep an eye out for that maybe?

#dark confluence #ttrpg #indie ttrpg

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laf-outloud · 8 months

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So, I wasn't planning on sharing IG OPs and stories from FanX, but I did find a few that stood out (if you're interested in more, you can find them by going to Jared or Gen's IG pages and clicking Tagged.)

@my.ostomy.and.me This weekend was Fan X in SLC, and one of my favorite actors came! It was so amazing to get to hug Jared Padalecki, to get his autograph, and to tell him how much his show has impacted me. With having an autoimmune disease life is so unpredictable. Having a show that can be a constant means so much. When you’re sick and hurting and lonely, you can turn on your show. Supernatural is a show that focused on family and how important family is. The show started the year that my mom died. It has meant so much to me to have a show that constantly reminded me how grateful I am for my family and our relationships.

@allthingsjaredpadalecki Sept 22, 2023 — My goodness! ME SUPERNATURALLY HAPPY -how the photo turned out —

My surrealistic flash-moment Jared Hug experience was infinitely priceless — it was worth the five years of waiting for that BOTH TOGETHER Someday to come —

My intended pose was thrown out when Jared unexpectedly and gently pulled me in, squeeze-hugging me— as I was suddenly feeling dazed, utterly speechless upon being in his presence -

In fact, I mentally intended for Jared to be in middle to hug Gen and Me because I wanted him and Gen to stand together at least — for I drove down from Tacoma WA through my native Idaho to SLC to see just BOTH of them “BETTER TOGETHER”

I took several beelines to just see Jared 💕 Gen — even there were 100+ celebrities 😁

@rachel.winchester.19 Genevieve Padalecki!! She's actually the reason I flew out here, not her husband 😂 She rarely does cons so I'm super stoked I finally got to meet her! She is genuinely a lovely person.

@linneapugmire Thank you @jaredpadalecki for turning my worst week into my BEST! Thank you for the hug and the advice. They mean more than you know.

#jared padalecki #gen padalecki #fanx 2023 #jared and gen photo ops #jared photo ops #gen photo ops

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inf1nyxw0rlds · 2 months

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reposting my infinite is not weak essay because i got anxious and deleted the last one <3 i've been meaning to do this for months, but i'm not exactly the most functional person and i don't often put myself out there. in the process of rewriting it, i also altered the wording and added a few things, as you might notice if you've seen it before; and if you haven't, then welcome to whatever it is i'm doing here!

this is written with all my love, all my frustration, fueled by years worth of listening to a cycle of minsinformation that left permanent damage in the form of skewed perceptions – based in a false claim and the jokes that came with it – and a hesistance on sega's part to even address him save for a few tossed crumbs over the span of the last half a decade. originally i had an elaborate metaphor here, but there was no need for it and i'll cut right to the chase; there has always been good in infinite's character – but not everyone cares to look for it.

it's been six years since the release of sonic forces. which is insane! it's wild to me! as somebody who's been here since before the game even released, i've seen it all. to commemorate the occassion, when i wrote this originally, i thought that i would talk further about infinite's reception; in particular, the Weak thing. i've discussed it before in brief, and you can read that one here; this time though, i'm going to get more into dissecting the actual problem, and debunking arguments that supposedly prove infinite to be objectively weak and pathetic... when canonically, that isn't the case. i'd actually argue the opposite, but at the very least he isn't lacking strength – his skills are average at worst.

the first reason that i see, the one we're all plenty familiar with and the one i brought up previously, is that infinite is weak because he lost to shadow. once. that's it. do i really have to explain why this is stupid? yeah, he did lose, one time. even against a normal opponent, one defeat in comparison to what we can assume, based on his title, many victories, isn't much of an indicator toward being weak. shadow is also the ultimate lifeform, in case anyone has forgotten that detail, and bear in mind that infinite knows shadow to have just slaughtered his entire team – do you really think he would be at his best in that state?

there's also a fuckton of context clues implying that infinite had issues prior to this encounter, specifically inferiority issues. shadow literally told him, after having wiped his whole team out, to never show his pathetic face again. the face with the, you know. the big scar. the blind eye. (shoutout to the person who pointed this out in the tags in the "first part" of this, by the way! based for that)

this argument is so full of holes that it just drives me kind of bonkers how it can be used to claim infinite is weak and stupid. do i think that the scene is without flaw? of course not. if you want to say that the way they handled his breakdown wasn't the greatest, you can, you have every right to your opinion. but that's just it. we're talking about something else. i get it, the "i am not weak" was a memeable line, but it doesn't actually make him weak. people that reduce his reaction to "just" hating shadow because he got his ass beat, people who call it a "temper tantrum", i ... the context is right there. it was never "just" because shadow beat him up. would people say this about anyone else that shadow happens to beat up? that they're irrefutably weak? no. that's stupid. obviously. so why infinite? because it wasn't a strong enough spectacle. let me illustrate this more with another example;

another reason people say that infinite is weak is because sonic didn't need to go super in order to beat him. and... again, this one, too, falls apart pretty easily. sonic has beaten other characters without going super, and this includes shadow. the difference is the when, the how, the context. it's not that infinite is weak, but it was a weak final boss fight. do you get what i mean?

forces, in general, suffered a lot with this problem. it wasn't a problem that was exclusive to infinite. unfortunately, as the new character, he got the most heat. there was a huge amount of hype for him, so when the spectacle fell short, people were pissed. and i get it. but then that issue became, "infinite bad". that issue became "infinite's weak". it has never been that, though. this is why i personally hate weak jokes – because they're rooted in non-issue and misinfo.

a point i saw made once was that the characterisation of sonic and the rest of the cast are part of what made infinite's character hard to take seriously, and i'd agree! infinite actually fits the setting quite well; he has a mysterious, serious presence. he's harsh, he's edgy, but it's cheesy enough that it works in the typical style of the sonic franchise. the problem is, when the other characters aren't taking things seriously, it throws the whole thing off. we're being told this is a hard-hitting, high stakes plot, but how can we see it that way, when they're all just cracking jokes?

as a side-tangent of sorts, you know what's real funny? infinite's backstory, the one thing people use more than anything else to declare his obvious weakness, quite likely wasn't originally going to exist anyway, and he was instead going to be made by eggman. i say "quite likely" as, as i've stated, i don't like misinformation, and sega will probably never confirm this one-hundred percent, but this is something fans – myself included – have discussed a few times.

first, there's the odd dialogue and enviroment in stage 29. tails states outright, as you go through the fortress, where containment/test tubes line the walls in countless numbers, "so this is where eggman built infinite". the tubes do, in fact, appear to have low-res bodies inside them. this is also something they detailed in an early version of the script. infinite's remark on sonic's "data" also fits in with this idea of him being some form of android. prior to release, there was also a cryptic message that, when decoded, referred to infinite as "the fated son of daedalus"; in other words, icarus, who flew too close to the sun; his father being an inventor! that's really dope foreshadowing.

you can argue that tails and amy's commentary is speculation rather than solid fact and that they're mistaken, it's a possibility i definitely consider here, but given how rushed the dlc and prequel comics feel, the fact that there was a statement that big changes were made late into development... yeah. i'll buy it. i often find myself wondering what people would think of infinite had this been his story, whether they would view him differently. also, speaking of the dlc being rushed, there are actually unused lines for episode shadow implying that you would have fought the jackal squad; they were likely just unable to implement it in time. it's a shame, as it would have added to that spectacle factor i mentioned. but hey, gotta push for that holiday release!

what i find really interesting is that you can look at his character through either lense: the former mercenary turned war criminal, or the creation of our ol' doctor, and he still reads well! his behaviour makes sense in whichever context you choose to apply; what he thought he had to become, versus what he was made to be. it's cool and it makes me a bit insane. a lot of people criticise infinite for his one-dimensionality, but in my opinion, like... it's the point. he's meant to feel hollow. because he's masking; or because he wasn't made for feelings, but rather for destruction.

something that seems ironic is that many people attempt to "fix" him by... putting him into a box and inflating a single trait into his entire character and calling it "better writing". now, here's the disclaimer, okay: i'm all for people having fun and being proud of their work! i don't think that we should police what others can create. this is just about the phenomenon of watering a character down or changing them to fit ships and narratives rather than those characters being what shape the direction the story and their relationships take, things like that; which... i mean, i'm not a cop, you can still do these things even if i don't like them! i'm not saying it isn't allowed, but i think that you're kind of missing the point.

he never needed fixing. his story needed refinement. that's different. it's more about exploring what we've been given, looking below the surface; infinite is not just an evil, ruthless tyrant that deserves death nor a traumatised sadboy to be made good by the power of love and friendship – not to me. his trauma and anger are both part of him, and you cannot – or rather shouldn't – reduce him to one thing or another. it does him a major disservice, i think. there are good things there, things you can dissect, you just have to be willing to look.

in choosing to ignore what made him who he is, disregarding the loss of his squad and blatant insecurity unless it's funny, you're purposely looking at him through a faulty lense. bad writing doesn't mean that the intent isn't there. context is so important, and you can't analyse him or critique him with worth unless these things are acknowledged. it's like if you were eating a cake, avoiding the frosting and complaining it's not sweet enough. the frosting is there, not even being withheld from you. it has always been there. you decided not to eat it. sorry i'm making weird analogies again but hopefully this makes sense.

this has gotten long, wow. the point i want to highlight, overall, is that infinite is not nearly as awful as people make him out to be. it was never about his strength, it was about the limits and shortcomings of the narrative, a problem not exclusive to him yet one that has been pinned on him for so many years. i don't want it to sound like i'm saying he is immune to criticism, or that forces is, even though i've criticised forces during the creation of this post (and don't think that i think forces is terrible, either! it's my favourite game and i have lots of things i like about it as well! i've just been drawing attention to these parts to better explain what i want to convey lol); but i do hate how the wrong thing is being criticised.

this issue has been watered down into "infinite weak" when it's way more broad, way more complex than that, and i cannot stand it. it seems like such a trivial matter, like, oh, fandom is being mean about my favourite guy, but it did actual damage and forever altered people's perception of him. i am pissed about it! i'm mad! i don't care if you don't like infinite (because i can just block you as we will not get along!) but... it's about why people don't like him. they don't have to justify it, they can continue hating him, but it always bothered me that the reason is so often not a real problem. yeah.

okay, i think that's it. thank you for taking the time to read this, and if you made it this far, you're gay

#transmission #infinite tag #infinite the jackal #long post

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