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beepboopkek · 5 months

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— Strip Starchess with Jing Yuan (Female Reader)

Including: Jing Yuan cw: afab!reader, pwp but barely, slight mention of reader having a size kink, unprotected p in v, first time writing a proper fic, first time writing smut (please send help), reader is a little bashful, overall its kind of a self-projection I guess. Jing Yuan is a little bastard (affectionate), stripping (who would've guessed), grammatical errors(I tried), Jing Yuan calls you pet names (dear, love), no use of y/n, light bondage ( reader gets their hands tied with a t-shirt nothing too bad), safe sane and consensual w/c: 3941 (might be a little off since I made a few edits in this post) a/n: I am so sorry for this I am going to die of cringe later but I needed this out of my brain so I made my best attempt at writing. There is a lot of stuff that is bad but I do not have the energy or patience to do it so, you have been warned, this is a first-time smut from an inexperienced writer whose first language isn't english :3 hope someone out there likes this

You were bored.

Extremely bored.

Jing Yuan had promised you he’d come home on time so that the two of you could enjoy dinner together. You had something fun planned for the evening for the two of you. Something you were excited to try out.

One problem though, there were still no signs of your boyfriend’s arrival.

You sent him a few messages asking him where he was but to no avail, you knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to respond anyway.

The sound of a door opening broke you out of your thoughts as you turned around and were met with an apologetic soft smile on Jing Yuan’s face.

“Yu.”

“My Love.”

You huffed at him in annoyance, realising what he was trying to do. He always knew how to soften you up.

“You’re late.” You said as you watched him unstrap his boots and place them near the shoe rack before he turned to look at you.

“I apologize, I overslept in the afternoon and had to compensate as a result.” Jing Yuan gave you a pitiful look.

“Regardless, I am here now,” He walked over to where you were seated and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on your head. “And I’d love to eat what my dear has cooked for me.”

You rolled your eyes at him a little and turned towards the table again as he took his seat opposite to you. You began eating in silence while Jing Yuan served himself some of the food you’d made.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” He spoke suddenly as you focused on eating and ignoring him.

“Be like what? I didn’t do anything.” You huffed back to him again while continuing to look at your food when you suddenly heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor, you looked up, only to be met with your boyfriend’s amber eyes boring into yours.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

You grumbled something with your mouth full.

“I didn’t catch that, love.”

You gulped down your food,

“I said, play Starchess with me”

“Do we not play Starchess on a regular basis already?”

“We do, yes, but I found a new variation of the game that I thought would be fun to try out. Only if youre up for it, though.” You made eye contact with him again as his eyebrow shot up in surprise.

He leaned in on the table and rested his head on the palm of his hand as he tilted his head lazily.

“Go on.”

Your confidence and annoyance all but vanished this exact second, you really hadn’t expected him to be this interested and knowing him , he probably already has an idea simply based off of the tone of your voice.

“...Nevermind.” You looked away, blushing as Jing Yuan continued to watch in lazed amusement.

“Is it-”

“Yes it’s Strip Starchess, okay? I thought it would be fun to play.” You blurted out as your ears turned a light shade of red.

“I was going to say Blitz Starchess.”

Your eyes widened in horror as you turned back to look at Jing Yuan who was now miserably failing at holding back his laughter as his shoulders shook silently and he pressed his lips together.

“I hate you.”

Jing Yuan laughed and you pouted.

“I didn’t do anything, though?”

“You know exactly what you're doing, Yu.”

Jing Yuan smiled apologetically once again as you pouted while avoiding eye contact with him. He sighed fondly and picked up his chopsticks again.

“Strip Starchess, hm? Let’s finish dinner and begin.”

You huffed again and turned back to your food and soon enough, Jing Yuan started some casual conversation and the whole ordeal was pushed to the back of your mind.

. . .That was until after you both finished eating and cleaning up.

Shit.

You suddenly had very important things to do in your library so you quietly started walking towards it, hoping Jing Yuan had all but forgotten about your earlier conversation. Just as you were about to open the door, a familiar voice called out from behind you,

"Dear?"

You slowly turned around, trying not to look like you were caught committing a crime.

"...Yes?"

"Where would you like to play? I think the living room would be best since it is rather spacious. We can close the curtains but,"

Jing Yuan paused as he looked towards the box in his hands and back to you,

"I'm saying that while assuming that we will be taking off our clothes sooner or later. Am I wrong?"

He smiled innocently. This bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"... Fine, let's go to the living room then, I'll explain the rules to you."

Jing Yuan hummed pleasantly as he walked behind you, setting the board down onto the hard wooden flooring as the both of you sat down facing each other.

He opened up the box and set up the game and looked at you expectantly.

There was no backing out now, so you might as well give it your best.

"It's in the name, you strip when you lose a pawn."

"Strip entirely? Or just an article of clothing?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

You gave an exasperated sigh as you stared at him with the grumpiest expression you could muster.

"I'm afraid I don't, love."

He gave you a cat-like smile as he patiently waited for you to explain.

"...Only a piece of clothing. The one who has the most clothes off at the end of the game is the loser,"

You made yourself comfortable, you need your initial confidence back desperately.

"We'll play 3 games and see who wins. I won't be going easy on you."

You smiled at him mischievously as he chuckled and re-adjusted his seating position before looking right into your eyes.

"Very well then, let the games begin."

You focused your eyes on the board and played your first move, positioning the soldier pawn in front of your king 2 steps ahead.

Jing Yuan’s eyes lit up as he countered it by moving the same piece on his side. He knew exactly how you were going to play and he was going to ensure he won.

The game progressed and you eventually lost your first pawn, you sighed in annoyance at the realization as you looked up to see your boyfriend with his cat-like smile and of course, he had the most innocent look on his face.

Damnit.

You sighed reluctantly as you cursed him under your breath and removed your jacket.

“Happy?” You deadpanned at him.

“Very much so. Don’t be upset, you still have a chance to win.” He smirked lazily as he waited for you to play your turn

You were more cautious now, not letting him take any of your pawns when you realized you had a safe opening to take his pawn!

You took the chance and took his soldier with your bishop. Looking up at him in triumph.

He smiled back at you casually as he raised his hands in surrender,

“You got me there,”

You watchedn him in anticipation as your mouth watered a little, sure you’d been living together for a few months now but, nothing beat seeing Jing Yuan’s body.

He place his hand on his shoulder guard and removed it before smiling at you pleasantly again.

You blinked once.

Twice.

Scanning him to see if he removed anything else while you were day-dreaming.

Nope, nothing.

"I said one piece of clothing, your shoulder brace doesn't count as one."

"You never specified if accessories were also counted."

You huffed at him, "You never asked!"

"I don't recall having to ask, I gave you the chance to explain everything to me." He smiled innocently again.

He was right.

He knew he was and continued to play his next move.

Bastard.

Suddenly, it dawned on you that he was still in his armor and work uniform, meaning it would take at least 15 individual games of Starchess to get even the first layer off of him. Your eyes widened in realization as he looked at you and stifled his laughter.

Well, you certainly weren't in your work clothes and barely had anything on in the first place but you might have a few accessories on your person if you looked hard enough.

Two can play that game.

The game continued as you tried your best to defend your pieces from his attacks but he was too good… much to your displeasure.

By the end of the first game, Jing Yuan barely looked any different from how he was when he entered your shared home while you had to remove your own rings and piercings, putting them away in a corner neatly as to not lose them.

Jing Yuan won the first game by the rules of normal Starchess and the two of began your second round.

You were determined, but so was he.

Time passed rather quickly as you watched your boyfriend remove more accessories and you really wondered how he was able to walk or even fight with that much on his body.

You shook your head. Now's not the time for distractions.

The game progressed as you watched your pawns get taken one by one.

Rook, Bishop, a couple of soldiers and the list went on.

…You realized very late that you were going to lose.

You've never beat him in a game of starches, partially because he sneaks away your pieces but also because he's genuinely skilled at playing the game.

You were down to your last game, Jing Yuan in his shirt and pants along with some random trinkets of his uniform that you didn't even know the purpose of, you, however, were a different story.

You'd managed to get down just to your t-shirt and panties, shivering a little in both anticipation and the chill of the night.

“Do you need a blanket? You won't have anything to cover you soon enough, I'd hate to get you sick, dear.” Jing Yuan looked at you lazily.

Bastard.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I'm good. This is the last game and by the look of it, you've lost more pieces than I have.”

He made a content noise in the back of his throat as if agreeing with you before looking down at the board and smiling.

“I'm afraid you are correct, I admire your confidence in the face of calamity. However,”

He moved his bishop in line with your king.

“Checkmate.”

You glanced around the board, trying to find an escape route but there were none.

There was no denying it, you had lost the third game as well.

But the rules were about clothes, you looked up at him and back at yourself.

“. . . Fuck.”

You sighed, reluctantly admitting defeat.

“Alright , alright. You win the 3 games and the whole game considering you have more layers on you than I do.”

Jing Yuan smiled in amusement as he crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly,

“So, what's my reward for winning?”

You were already packing up the board as you looked at him with a huff and stood up.

“I'll let you nap in the afternoon more tomorrow, that's your reward.”

But before you could move your half naked self away, Jing Yuan moved closer and swiftly knocked your knees back so you toppled down onto him.

“Jing Yuan! I almost knocked the board on your head!”

You had wrapped your arms around his neck, scared to lose balance and plop onto the floor if he were to drop you.

“I'm interested in another reward.”

“What?”

“I'm the winner so isn't it natural I get to pick my reward? Besides, no proper terms were set for it when you explained the rules to me.”

“You little shit, you knew this was going to happen.”

“Dear, I am the divine foresight for a reason.”

He chuckled as his hands slowly moved down your torso and to the hem of your t-shirt.

He grasped the hem as he leaned into your body and spoke lowly in your ear

“Of course, if you don't want this, we could just revert to my original reward.”

His hold on you was firm but gentle, indicating that he'd let you go if you wanted him to.

“But, something about the way you're trembling in my hold tells me you don't want to stop, do you?”

Your breath was coming out in shaky puffs now. You simply looked away in embarrassment before he pressed himself closer to you, you could feel the warmth of his body through the clothes he was wearing.

“Answer me.”

“. . . I don't want you to stop”

He smiled against your ears and you swear if he had a tail it would be swishing around in excitement by now.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?”

Kissing the red shell of your ear he moved your face towards him and kissed you deeply before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Now, allow me to claim my reward.”

He peppered kisses along your jaw as his hands finally, finally took your t-shirt up to your neck as you raised your arms to help him get it off.

You were down to your panties and bra now, coincidentally, you were wearing one of his favourite sets’.

His kisses continued downward, unbuckling your bra with one hand while the other appreciatively squeezed around your body.

He leaned down on your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth as his other hand tweaked with the other and you gasped, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Your hands immediately found purchase in his soft hair as you closed your eyes and whispered his name.

Jing Yuan always , always made sure to lather extra attention to your chest, you never understood why but it had now become a sensitive spot for you.

He kissed and licked around your nipples, leaving little bites in between so that he can see them in the morning and fuck you all over again.

Deciding he'd done enough to your chest (for now) he moved his attention downwards, chuckling breathlessly at the small wet patch on your panties.

His large hand slid down as he started moving his finger up and down on your panties, making the wet patch grow bigger.

“You call me a bastard and yet have the nerve to be this wet for me, hm?”

“S-Shut up.”

You panted as your brain became fuzzy and warm, not being able to think of anything else except Jing Yuan touching you.

He smirked as he added pressure with his finger on exactly where your clit is and you gasped loudly. The fabric of your panties providing a weird but not unwelcome feeling.

“Do you think you can cum just from this alone?”

“I don't k-”

You cut yourself off with a loud moan as he pinched your clit and rubbed it.

“You don't know? Well, that's too bad. We'll just have to find out it seems, hm?”

You were gasping for air and moaning loudly at this point, thrashing and tugging at Jing Yuan’s hair like your life depended on it.

“I'm feeling nicer today, let's take this off, dear.”

He tugged at your panties and your hazy mind cleared for a second

“Jing Yuan! Don't I-”

A loud ripping sound echoed through the room as you stared in horror at the shredded remains of your panties but before you could utter a word, Jing Yuan kissed you and simultaneously continued to make circles around your clit.

You weakly slammed your fisted hands onto the hard planes of his chest but to no avail, he wasn't going to let up.

He continued flicking your clit at a faster pace before speaking into your ear.

“Be a good girl and cum for me”

You moaned as you clenched his (now crumpled) white shirt in your hands as your eyes rolled back and your orgasm flooded over your body in waves.

The general continued to make slow and gentle circles on your clit as you got down from your high, peppering your body with kisses and bites everywhere.

You were still breathing heavily when you regained your senses again.

“So, my hypothesis was correct.”

“You're gonna pay for that, Yu.”.

You said, not sure if youre referring to the torn panties or the fact that him massaging your clit was enough to get you to cum.

“Of course I will, and any other matching set you like so I can rip them all off of your body.”

His voice was so calm while speaking you'd almost think he was unaffected by the situation but that was far from the truth, sitting on his lap gave away that he was extremely hard underneath you.

He kissed you again, gently this time as he pulled back and bore his eye into yours.

“Do you want to continue?”

You didn't respond, only leaning in to kiss him before bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt and unbuttoning it.

“I'm not the only one that's going to be naked here.”

He helped you take off his whole shirt, watching you as you admired his sculpted and scarred torso.

“Turn around for me, love.”

You did as you were told, sitting in his lap with your back against his chest.

His hands suddenly came up on you again, going downwards to your pussy as he outlined your lips. Pressing gently on the soft flesh.

Your hands immediately found purchase on top of his much bigger ones, your breathing picking up again.

He inserted two fingers in you, pushing them in and out and curling them in just the right spot, hitting your already frayed nerves and stretching you open for him. Keeping the rhythm of his fingers up, slowly getting you towards the edge again when suddenly,

You were left empty as Jing Yuan retracted his hand and wiped it onto his pants as he unzipped them, before hooking both his hands under your plush thighs and lifting your slit above his cock.

“Tell me if you need a break.”

Before you could respond, he was already impaling you on his cock, pushing you down slowly as you reached back with your hands and grabbed his neck while arching your back.

“F-Fuck- too much-”

“You can take it, I know you can.”

He whispered breathlessly as he continued pushing you down until you met the base of his cock.

“There we go.”

Jing Yuan waited for you to adjust while rubbing gentle circles on your clit, watching intently as you fought to gain back your breath.

You were struggling at this point, mind in a haze at the feeling of being so full. Not knowing where to place your hands you blurted our the first coherent thought that came to your mind.

“. . .Tie my hands, please.”

Now it was the general’s turn to be surprised, you were not one to beg usually. He smiled coyly as he grabbed your discarded t-shirt and rolled it up to form a makeshift knot.

“If i was aware we were going to this tonight, I wouldve prepared more.”

You pushed your hands out together in front of you impatiently, just wanting to move but not trusting your shaking legs to carry through.

Jing Yuan kissed around your ears again started working on binding your hands immediately. Securing it as tight as he could, he tugged on it before pecking you on the cheek.

“There. Is that better?”

“Yes.”

You were fully panting now, subtly grinding yourself on his cock.

Jing yuan took it as his cue to move and hooked his hands under your thighs again before lifting you off his cock.

The split second where you were left empty was enough for you to whine. He wasn’t a cruel lover, though, he thrusted back in, filling you instantly.

He kept the tempo of fast but deep strokes and before long you could feel your second orgasm approaching.

Suddenly, there was a change as he pushed you down onto the wooden floor face first and ass up, the angle making him reach in different areas.

Your tied hands were above your head as you got rubbed on the floor like a mop cloth from his powerful thrusts. Jing Yuan bent over and draped his larger frame over your back, holding down your shaking hands with one of his own and thrusting faster.

“Come on, come for me.”

He whispered into your ear, again, reaching his other hand down to play with your clit.

And that's all it took for you to orgasm, releasing over his cock as he kept his pace.

For a few seconds, you blanked out completely, caught up in the haze of your orgasm that you didn't even notice Jing Yuan continuing,

That was until you were brought back to reality by a hit of overstimulation, tears already collecting at your lashes as the pleasure soared through your entire body.

“Y-Yu-”

“Just a little more.”

He continued rubbing fast circles over your clit and you could feel the tendrils of your third orgasm creeping up on you as you clenched around him hard.

It pierced through you just as your boyfriend finally released inside you, hot liquid filling you up and you felt so full.

Jing Yuan panted as he rested some of his body weight on you, essentially pinning you in place and having no way to move. Just the way you like it.

He grabbed your hips with both his hands as he gently thrusted a few times to get the last few seconds of pleasure in, wrecking your already overstimulated pussy.

“. . . I think my reward is incomplete.” He said after a few beats of silence.

“Absolutely not.”

Jing Yuan laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back onto his lap and rested himself against the sofa, wrapping his hands around your waist and putting his head on your shoulder.

The both of you relished in the afterglow for a bit with him still stuffed inside you, just enjoying and soaking each other’s presence, you were the first to speak.

“Horny bastard, you really piledrived me on the floor of our living room.” You laughed while pecking at his cheeks.

“Me? I’m the horny one now? You were the one that suggested this game in the first place!”

Jing Yuan feigned hurt as he tightened his hold on you, eyeing you cheekily as your ears turned red.

“I didn’t proposition sex! It was a game to-”

“To what? Play house with each other?” Jing Yuan asked in an amused tone before continuing,

“You wanted it to end like this, didn’t you?”

“Not on the goddamn floor! I’m gonna have bruises from this tomorrow, I hope you're happy.”

You pouted and held your (still bound) hands close to your chest, hearing Jing Yuan snicker and feeling his chest shake.

“I’ll give you a massage right now, on the bed this time, to make up for it”

“And then what? Escalate it into having sex again? I need to walk tomorrow, Yu.”

“You know me too well.”

You looked at him into his eyes and he simply gave you a crooked smile

“Untie my hands, we need to clean up and get to bed”

“Hmm… How about I let you go now and you let me enjoy my reward in the shower again?”

You sighed before nodding in acceptance, you weren’t going to feel your legs tomorrow.

This is the price you pay for provoking the sleeping lion.

“Horny bastard.”

#jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #fem!reader #god i am not your strongest soldier #i am coming up #i just need him inside me #i had to let the demons out #send help #first fic #can i even call it that #in god we trust #i hope someone finds this ok #jing yuan smut #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut

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yuujispinkhair · 6 months

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Sukuna gave up on love years ago. But somehow, your eyes and your smile are all he can think about. -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event. A sweet anon requested the song "Lovebug" by the Jonas Brothers.

Pairing: Modern!CEO Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff Word Count: 700 Warnings: Mentions of alcohol. Sukuna and Reader meet as business partners, and feelings spark between them. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.

God, it's ridiculous!

Sukuna slams his vodka glass down on his desk, laughing and shaking his head. He isn't a sentimental person. He isn't one of those fools who let their emotions get the better of them. He knows love is more trouble than anything else, and he isn't chasing it anymore. He decided years ago to stop doing that. No, Sukuna hasn't been looking for love for a long time.

And yet, all it took was one business phone call followed by an afternoon and a dinner spent with you, and now he can't stop this weird feeling from spreading through his chest. He sees your smile even when he closes his eyes. He still smells your perfume even though it can't linger on his skin after such a short moment of holding your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

It is highly ridiculous. And irresponsible. And foolish.

He swore off love. Swore off everything that could tear down his walls. And he is good at this, brilliant even. No one can see beneath Itadori Sukuna's mask of arrogance and indifference!

And yet your eyes looked at him with that knowing look. As if you could see right through him. As if you knew.

You treated him differently than the others. Your eyes didn't stray to his expensive watch or his car keys. You didn't order the most expensive meal off the menu when he said he would pay. You didn't act mysterious or slutty or any of those other things the others did, who were always so calculating, so desperately trying to fit into the image of the perfect doll, not realizing that it only made them seem fake.

There is nothing fake about you. You didn't hold back your laughter during dinner. You didn't worry about smearing your lipstick while eating. Your makeup was light, and the eyeliner applied a bit crookedly. It made his heart do a flip somehow. You didn't shy away from sharing a huge dessert with him, smiling and rolling your eyes in pleasure at how delicious it tasted. He had chuckled in genuine amusement and joy when you pushed a spoonful of ice cream towards him, telling him he simply had to try it.

So light. That's it. He feels so light when he is around you. It's as if all the small and big stresses of his busy CEO life just vanished into thin air, and instead, the sun is shining on him, and he can breathe in clear, fresh air.

He catches himself smiling as he thinks of how you snorted with laughter about one of his dry comments. Usually, none of those women laugh about his humor. And it's not just that you think he is funny. You replied with the same humor, making him laugh too.

He sighs and turns off his computer. It's late at night. Time to go home and get some rest. But not before he grabs his phone and types a quick message to you, thanking you for the lovely evening and wishing you a good night. He only hesitates for a small moment before he adds, "I would like to see you again. I know a place with even better dessert variations for two."

He is surprised by the smile he spots on his face in the mirrored walls of the elevator when he receives your reply, telling him that you would love to share a dessert with him again.

A catchy love song starts playing on his drive home. The type of song that Sukuna usually finds annoying and which would lead to him changing the radio station. But not tonight. Tonight, he lets it play, and maybe he hums a bit in tune with the melody. Maybe he feels a little fluttery sensation when hearing the lyrics about freshly found love.

Maybe all he can think of are your eyes and your smile and how good it felt to sit there with you and talk and laugh and not even realize how many hours had already slipped by, so caught up in his conversation with you. So caught up in your eyes.

He isn't someone who catches feelings easily. He thought for a long time that he had managed to become immune to all of this.

But does a man who is immune to falling in love hum along to a stupid catchy lovesong? Does a man who gave up on love smile to himself while he pictures your laugh?

Maybe the lovebug bit him after all. And maybe he is glad it did

Thank you so much for participating in my event! I hope you enjoyed this little story!! I am swooning so much thinking about spending a flirty business dinner with CEO Sukuna aww!!

Comments and reblogs would be sweet!!

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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usedpidemo · 6 months

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Shangri-la (Oh My Girl Yooa)

Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.

—————

“What the?”

What welcomes you inside the bedroom takes you by complete surprise. It’s the kind that leaves you with more questions than answers. She had been very vague about the whole ordeal, skittering around the details. she was completely straightforward about one thing: to get fucked. That’s the main selling point.

Her inviting tone, her sultry expression, her lust—it’s still freshly imprinted on your mind from an hour ago. You’ve heard those words—their many variations—a handful of times, but hers is by far the most enticing and the sweetest sounding:

“Wanna have sex with me tonight?”

—————

Admittedly, it was never on your bucket list to attend a concert, let alone a group who sings primarily in foreign. It was supposed to be just a kind gesture for a roommate.

He’s your resident nerdy K-pop fan, the kind that gets bullied in real life and on the internet. He’s the full package; posters on the bedroom wall, a book full of photocards, and a shelf of albums and lightsticks which he considers as his sacred temple. You were never meant to go beyond a toe’s dip into this unhealthy obsession he’s engrossed himself in; completing his homework was enough exposure.

If there was one takeaway from your observations, it was quite obvious: the girls are really hot. And that’s all that you needed to convince yourself to go.

Besides, you were his roommate—and his only friend. Out of the kindness of your heart, you have an obligation to be there for him, at least until you graduate.

For the most part, the show was entertaining. Again, the girls were pretty attractive, and they were dressed in outfits that flaunted their bodies exceptionally well. Your friend’s relentless screaming accustomed you to the crowd’s energy, which was no joke. Even in a small, intimate venue, there were several moments where you felt that the place might collapse off the audience’s deafening shouts alone. At least you came prepared with noise canceling earplugs.

It’s not a huge surprise when he suddenly vanishes after the show. He’s been in and out of sight the whole time; getting freebies, merch shopping, taking numerous bathroom breaks, to the point where he just straight up forgets he left his phone with you before running off again.

To make things worse, it’s the dying moments of the night, when everyone in the VIP section, the two of you included, gets to greet the members for only a brief passing moment. He’d been acting like his entire life has been building to this moment, completely neglecting the fact you were his ride home.

Of course you’re not entirely sure about who’s who in this group. Six equally pretty girls, all wearing the exact same shirt and short skirt combination, down to the colors, with equally warm smiles. You didn’t have enough time to familiarize yourself with each of their names; the internet in the area has been failing you for hours. The staff was strict with phones the closer you approached them. It didn’t help that everyone screamed through their introductions, too.

Unsurprisingly, nothing substantial came of your interaction. A series of repetitive, awkward bows and near-silent whispers of “hello.” You’ve been putting off Duolingo for months, and it showed. It should have been a forgettable affair, considering the hundreds of people they’re greeting just from tonight’s queue alone. It’s not like you particularly stand out from the rest of the crowd; a casual shirt and jeans combo that’s indistinguishable from the dozens in attendance, and you don’t have anything on you that screams ‘overly dedicated fan.’

So when you’re pulled aside by the same staff closely watching the queue during the meet and greet, asked to head backstage as part of some secret lucky draw, you’re not surprised. There’s an age-old superstition that states that you’re more likely to meet celebrities the less you’re familiar with them. It rings true, and you have first hand proof.

You’re led to this singular door in what’s basically an unused narrow hallway. The kind that criminals use to trap their victims. Definitely safe. The staff member instructs you to head in before leaving you there alone. Nothing more, nothing less.

Instead of your friend, you find one of the members you just met, waiting on the other side. You have so many questions, but she she gives you another to entertain:

“You wanna have sex with me tonight?”

Much to her amusement ,you’re taken aback. At first, you’d think she was pulling some kind of prank. By the way she smiles and laughs, it’s a reaction all too familiar to her, like this is some kind of cliche. It’s not a surprise to hear those words from any girl, knowing your experiences at college parties and bars, but from a traveling singer? Simply put, it’s quite ridiculous.

“You’re joking right?” you say, hand close to the door you just entered, ready to make a beeline for it. You glance around the enclosed, compact space, searching for any possible hidden cameras recording the scene.

She shakes her head, taking a step forward. “Not at all. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Do you do this all the time?” you ask, her reply not easing you in the slightest. Your hand inches a little closer to the door. It’s not like she’s going to hurt you; if anything, her thin figure’s probably what should worry her if you dare to even breathe heavily on her, let alone touch.

“Yeah. Every stop. You look really cute,” she says, reaching her hand out to you. “And you look like you can give me a good time tonight.”

There’s something flattering about her words, coming from an idol singer, complimenting you that hits a chord harder than other girls. Her sincere tone, doll-like eyes twinkling, and expressive lips certainly help. It’s alluring—devastating—to a casual like you; how much more to someone who worships her.

Then, here comes the killing blow:

“So, what’s it going to be?” She kisses you on the chin, wrapping her arms around your neck. It’s not suffocating, not in the slightest, but you might as well be entangled by them. Her eyes, sharp and fiery, are daring you to say otherwise to her seemingly coarse question.

Leaning your head against her shoulder, her scent and soft skin prove to be intoxicating. You can’t get enough. That hand you’ve been pressing on the door is no longer there; it’s coiled around her back, taking inventory of her slim waist and arched back, then teasing at the fabric of her shirt. Even if she wasn’t the girl you just watched perform on stage, she’s too gorgeous to turn down. And it isn’t like you’ll find your friend, anyway. Perhaps this is your way of getting back at him for being insufferable all throughout.

“Here?” you ask, whispering in her ear, playing with fire.

She holds you by the cheek, tilting an eyebrow. Shaking her head, she drags her tongue on the ridge of your ear. “Somewhere nicer.”

—————

It’s only you and her in the backseat of one of their vans, windows tinted and the front closed off that it’s safe to assume that the driver can’t hear you—perfectly convenient. He probably doesn’t know you’re even there.

It’s inside the car that you finally become familiar with each other. YooA, or as she’d prefer you to call her, Shiah, and you have this light bulb moment where you put it all together. You bring up this collection of photocards in your friend’s book holder; you recognize her face on some of the cards. She laughs. Heartily. Her face lights up, honored at the thought, and it’s a sincere look. Other artists would simply wave it off and move on, but she appears intrigued by the effort to obsess over her.

She calls it a bias, and you call it an obsession. In the other’s eyes, you’re both strange. To you, it’s unhealthy and strange; to her, it’s part of the appeal, part of the culture.

So it’s all the more surprising when you admit you’re simply there because of him, that you would have looked the other way otherwise. And in response, she has this warm, wholesome smile; she doesn’t appear offended by your candidness. You don’t know a thing about them, other than they’re delicious eye candy.

“So this is your first foray into K-pop? I hope it was a good one,” she says, flashing you a cute pout. “That means a lot for all of us.”

Yeah, you nod, your eyes wandering down her slim body, draped in darkness, only brought to the light by passing street lamps. You notice how slender and lanky she is. It doesn’t change the appeal; she’s unreal. “I should go more often if that’s the case.”

Shiah chuckles. “You didn’t pay, then. I bet you’re getting more than what he bargained for.”

To which you nod, barely holding in a particularly uncharacteristic grin. She catches it. An opportunity to twist the knife.

It’s a casual affair when you reach the hotel. There’s a surprising lack of fanfare upon your arrival. You assume idols have as much popularity as any other celebrity, but you’re both left alone—and without security, walking past the front desk without a care or a question. Tension gradually builds as you climb floor after floor, until you step out that elevator and into her room, away from prying eyes.

What welcomes you inside Shiah’s bedroom catches you off-guard.

“What the?”

The person sitting at the center of the bed turns to your direction, shouts out your name. You can recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hey! There you are!”

You immediately turn to Shiah, who replies gleefully, “Of course I knew. Your friend told me everything. He wanted me to invite you along.”

Forget that your friend orchestrated the whole ordeal. It’s the fact that he wants you to join him in a threesome. You expected him to be greedy with the rare opportunity to have a beautiful idol all to himself, but instead, he’s somehow still involving you in the action. There’s a lot to take in, and you don’t exactly know where to start.

“Is this even allowed?” you ask, unsure of your place in this room. You’re slowly soaking up the scenery; none of it makes any sense. Scattered on the bedroom floor is Your friend’s shirt and his bag, freebies and personal belongings alike,, while Shiah casually saunters around the mattress, gradually removing pieces of jewelry from herself and placing them on the nightstand.

“Of course, dude!” says your friend. His energy hasn’t waned in the slightest. You’re amazed his voice hasn’t changed at all, let alone his ability to speak. He had been screaming beside you for the entirety of the show, you’d probably go deaf because of him if not for your earplugs. “I wouldn’t have asked her if she wasn’t allowed to, or if she didn’t feel it.”

“He’s right,” adds Shiah, unbuttoning her jeans. Looking at her again, she grabs your attention with the casual stripping of her pants, pooled around her ankles, leaving only pale colored panties that leave nothing to the imagination. “Plus, I haven’t tried having a threesome before, and tonight seemed like a good idea to try that.”

Surely, you’ve heard weird things before, but none were as out of pocket as this.

“C’mere dude,” says your friend, gesturing to you to take the spot beside him on the bed. “We’re going to fuck an idol tonight. And not just any idol, my freaking bias!”

Your eyes continue to linger on her. Shiah, now undoing her top, candidly tossing them aside. The one time you regret not having your phone on hand to capture without obstruction. Her tits are bite-sized handfuls, nipples firm and on full display, and her figure is so paper thin, you’ll break her when you hold her by her ridiculous proportions. The only thing missing is some fragile warning label plastered on her skin as a reminder to handle her with care.

This is the most awkward you’ve been with your friend since you first met, when he first moved into your dorm. Seated on the mattress, you’re anxious of what’s about to happen. You worry she won’t be able to handle you two; he worries that he won’t be able to ruin her to the fullest extent.

She meets you at the center in nothing but panties. She scans you both from head to toe, and notices your contrasting expressions. Facing you, she says, “Hey. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t confident about the idea. If you don’t make me unable to walk after tonight, I��m gonna be quite disappointed. So chin up.”

Reassuring of a tone it may sound, it doesn’t ease your worry even a little. It doesn’t discourage her either; it’s part of the challenge.

She drops to her knees, and that’s when you come around on the idea. Her fingers make work of your pants; yours first, then your friend’s. With eagerness written on her face, your hard cocks hang between her tiny face. Pausing, undecided, she takes a moment to think which one to satisfy. The way she eyes both yours, then your friend’s—you can tell how hungry she is: how she wants them shoved inside her mouth, down her throat, taking all that delicious load. If she could fit both at once, she certainly would.

“Which one should I take first, boys?” she asks, innocuous sounding, her doll-like eyes pleading up with a playful pout. Knowing full well she already has this whole thing already planned out. You and your friend swallow hard, telepathically aligned, thinking of the same idea, based on the rather silent response.

Shiah has your eyes fluttering, hands already gripped to the edge of the bed, lips letting out a string of delightful moans. It sounds like relief, agony, and ecstasy all at once. She’s leaving soft kisses on your tip, her tongue running circling around your length, and her fingers slowly pumping at your base. All your doubts and hesitations, gone in an instant. The very few glimpses you catch of her, her eyes speak to you, staring, telling you to take it all in.

She feels so good, handles you deftly, as if she’s already acquainted with your cock, even though it’s the first time. Pushing all the sensitive, perfect spots and getting you into a steady rhythm.

“See? I told you it was gonna be—fine—fuck—”

Your friend folds just as quickly as you do, if not faster. His words, instantly reduced to echoed grunts, groans, and curses, his hand palming Shiah’s scalp. She’s focused, taking turns with each cock, kissing and teasing you both with the prospect of shoving it down her needy, thirsty throat. One hand on your dick and the other on his, stroking you at near-synchronized tempo, then vice versa. You wonder exactly why she’s even hesitant and nervous about taking two at once when she’s clearly a natural at satisfying cocks.

She’s well aware that she has only one mouth to fulfill her craving for cock. There’s a look of regret every time she stops sucking one cock in place of the other. It’s almost as if she’s failing, even though the pleasure-ridden expressions on your faces say otherwise. “I hope this is good enough,” she frowns, taking a moment to plant another direct kiss on each cockhead. “I wish I could fit you both in my mouth, but I—”

“Shhh.” Your friend interjects, tugging harshly at Shiah’s dark locks, then rubbing his hand around her forehead. “You’re doing so fucking well, so much better than we hoped—”

Suddenly, he finds himself slowly crumbling. Precum coating around her dainty fingers, while he loses grip on his consciousness, lying flat on the bed. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the very short time you’ve had Shiah on her knees, it’s that she’s particularly gentle. You can feel she’s not going to ruin you instantly and that she’s nowhere close to crushing your cock, unlike some of the girls you’ve known in the past.

This is all new to your friend, after all. It shouldn’t be surprising.

Still, she continues to pleasure you both, taking a moment to slip his erection inside her throat, slurping and swallowing his cock whole. Her eyes instantly slam shut, mumbling a songful hum, finally soaking in the taste after intentionally restraining herself from her lust. Turning to your side, your friend clearly can’t take her; his mouth agape, his chest heaving, breathing heavily, his eyes widely staring at the ceiling in a useless effort to distract himself. In his mind, she’s relentless, overwhelming, cruel.

Her eyes slide in your direction, brows furrowed, apologetic. You shake your head, smile lightly, perfectly understanding of the situation. It’s not that she’s ignoring you; her other hand’s pressing on the base of your cock, down to the underside, pressing on your balls. She’s already left her mark on you even though she’s doing the bare minimum. The layer of precum on her fingers is clear proof. That should be more than enough.

And when you find your friend completely unresponsive, breathing through his mouth, you tilt your head at an angle and make this poor sleeping impression—something he hasn’t had in over 24 hours. It’s the command that causes Shiah to slip his cock from her mouth with a silent pop, his dick throbbing with her spit dripping from the tip. Her focus turns over to you; her eyes meeting yours, her hands pressing on each knee, and your fingers brushing loose strands of hair aside to see her pretty face, flushed but flawless. It’s now just down to you two.

She gives your head a playful swirl, and you lift your brows in approval, subtly biting at the lip to show her you like it. Her eyes lock in, scanning through each subdued wince, waiting for the go ahead.

It’s the slightest head motion that nearly ends you. You’re uncertain if you even said yes or no.

Shiah looks so much better with your cock in her mouth than anyone else’s. She knows, too. You pause to take the sight in—your length buried deep in her mouth, occasionally poking her throat, her cheeks hollow, her eyes looking wide at you with a fiery glint, begging you to take her, use her, ruin her. You’re perfectly positioned to work her; your hand is palming the back of her head, giving her this assertive stare that appears demeaning, but you can tell she prefers to be seen that way. It would be criminal to have her on her knees and not have your way with her.

And you do just that.

You hold her still, using the little increments of strength to motion her into a bobbing motion. She surrenders herself into your control, moving her head back and forth with the grip of your hand. Like the swing of a pendulum, you watch your base disappear and appear between her lips. You’re nowhere close to burying yourself entirely in her mouth, but she feels so incredible, so intoxicating, she may as well be deepthroating you.

It’s not the firmness of her luscious lips kissing your cock nor her lewd expressions that shake you, but her suction. She hums this wistful note while sucking your cock—a song of satisfaction. In contrast to the steady rhythm you’re attempting to impose, she drags your length along her tongue, forcing you into this playful tug-of-war whenever you draw your cock back, directing where your cum should land. She envisions it: the notion of your hot load collected on her cheeks. Her fingers point where she wants them, using her pleading eyes and brows to entice you.

And you’re not going to deny her request. She’s too charming and expressive to turn down. Even more so when your cock is lodged between her lips.

You utter this particularly incomprehensible mix of a groan and a grumble while your throbbing cock unloads the warm cum she desires. Without wasting a single drop, she takes it all, puffing her cheeks with your seed while carefully pulling your cock out her mouth. Your hand is no longer resting on her head but rather around her shoulder and collarbones. She plays with the load in her mouth, gargling, swishing, before swallowing it all. Afterward, she sticks out her silky tongue, face completely flustered, showing you the aftermath: leftovers of your cum painting her mouth.

“God, Yoo—I mean, Shiah—” you breathe, lightly falling back on the bed as your legs go numb. Your flaccid cock isn’t enough to show how much she’s drained you in one fell swoop. “How are you so—”

“I told you I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t so confident about it,” she remarks, rising to her feet before pushing you down on the sheets, straddling herself on your lap. Her energy remains steadfast. It’s infectious. Winking and pouting, she adds, “Now fuck me till I can’t walk.”

You’re completely sold on the idea, but you can’t do it alone.

Pushing Shiah off you, you shake your friend back into consciousness. You’re holding her by the shoulders, giving her lips a quick kiss. A soft gesture telling her to be a tad patient. Her eyes clue you in; she’s dying to be fucked, to be used, to be ruined. Your friend looks around, feeling hazy, completely unaware of what transpired, even though it’s only been less than 10 minutes.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, still trying to make sense of things. The last thing he remembers is Shiah on her knees. Now he sees you and his bias in each other’s embrace. Surprisingly, he’s not fazed in the slightest. The bed’s tremors—rumblings—are good enough indicators.

You’re unable to completely look him in the eye, and you don’t know what to answer, so she does it for you: “Your friend blew a nice load inside my mouth. We were just about to have round two. Join us.”

To her amusement, the reply has you staring at her utterly gobsmacked. It’s not the fact that she’s telling it straight, with zero sugarcoating, but her candid, conversational delivery and deadpan expression, as if they’re close friends catching up on lost time. He doesn’t seem bothered, nor does he ask any further questions. Knowing him, he’d be disappointed if you didn’t.

Really, what’s there to question when given an opportunity to fuck an idol without any conditions or red tape. He’s not making the most of the moment as you have, and the hurried jump off the bed to take position behind her indicates he’s not going to waste any more time. You’re scared you might get into a confrontation over how you’ll take her.

“Say the word and I’ll move aside,” you tell him, calmly.

“Let me have her tight ass,” is the reply, straightforward. Chalk it up to tension, but there’s a hint of harshness in his voice, as though some bitterness is leaking. He subtly pulls her away from your side, prompting you to let him take full control.

You aren’t surprised at where he ends up taking her. The bed is the comfiest option, but in his mind, the safest and the most cliche. A shower to ease the tension and stress in the muscles—that’s a good one too, on top of having her possibly pressed against the panels and the idea of soaping her tits while fucking her in the wet. This luxurious suite, which feels like walking from the one end of a parking lot to the other on weary legs, has a handful of mirrors to watch her get railed on. None are as captivating and inviting as the biggest one—the large glass windows that overlook the city, lit up by lights from nearby skylines and the illumination from the living room.

He presses her tiny frame against the window, then on air, giving her tiny butt a firm slap. Followed by another. Something about Shiah with her back arched, yelping with each spank, arouses him. Her too. She whines, biting on her lip, hands trying to latch to anything. There’s plenty to claim—from her bite-sized chest, to her slinky waist, to her soiled panties. Something he slips down to her ankles.

In the moment, your friend doesn’t acknowledge you. He’s all up in her hair, licking the shell of ear, a set of clenched digits digging into her warmth. Her eyes fluttering, she whines, pressing a hand around his waist, mumbling, begging, “Fuck me, please, fuck me.”

You can tell she’s apologetic, wants to be punished and manhandled like a naughty girl. Your friend has this glare in his eyes—a look of hunger. His fingers pump away at her core, without care for pace or comfort, just the satisfaction of hearing her cries and the need for her to cum. Bumping her against the window, he’s kissing her, claiming her as his own. Red marks form everywhere on her neck, collarbones, and back. Her entire body. All his.

You let him. You watch. Not out of guilt, not out of arousal. It’s his moment.

He looks over his shoulder and finds you just watching. “C’mere,” he growls between muted groans, tone low. It should be awkward (it is) but all that tension disappeared the moment she got on her knees. Approaching the twosome in such a strange fashion, he continues to finger Shiah, shifting her away from the window, binding her from behind by one hand. He’s suppressing his tongue, teasing his cockhead against the entrance of her pussy, barely able to restrain himself.

When you’re in front of her again, you’re greeted by a hot mess. Her juices are dripping down her thighs, pooling around her feet. His coated fingers line around her warmth, around her tight hole. His lust is on full display, cussing out a storm about how incredibly wet and tight she is while she prepares herself to get fucked into oblivion. It’s not the first time you’ve heard him say these things; he talks a loud talk about how he’d fuck his biases in explicit detail, writes particularly concerning essays about the positions they’d be railed in, how they would cum, and how many times he would make them cum.

At the end of the day, it was none of your business.

And ultimately, he might have been onto something.

You let out this loud unsuppressed moan burying yourself inside her tight cunt. She’s suffocating, overwhelmingly tight—the kind of heat that can make you cum almost immediately. You’re still recovering from your first orgasm, putting you on the backfoot. Still, her walls are too inviting not to get hard again. Meanwhile, your friend, who’s been eager to fuck Shiah’s ass for the longest time, is in no rush. His cock is barely entering her tight hole, slowly easing himself inside her with deep breaths. He’s grabbing a handful of her flesh, openly moaning and grunting taking her.

“F-fuck, Yoo—” he mutters, grabbing at her petite cheeks with an ironclad grip. Pulling her closer to his body so his cock can split her in half. He’s growing greedy—and desperate.

Everything you’re doing to Shiah can be seen in the window’s reflection: you pounding into her tight cunt, your friend’s cock spearing her from behind, her body practically sandwiched between your twosome. The combined weight is more than capable of crushing her slim frame, her skin like tire marks on both your chests. Neither of you move with an understanding of working as a team, and it shows; your collective strokes are unsteady, erratic, chaotic.

This isn’t good for your back—at all. Shiah’s bent forward in part to your friend’s slow, deep thrusts into her delicious ass, rippling with each stroke. She’s clutching to your shoulders for support, screaming from the absolute depths of her lungs getting doubled up. The uncomfortable position is mostly clouded by the overwhelming sensation of your cocks tag teaming on her two sensitive holes. You’re leaning, steadily falling back. That inescapable warmth—that intoxicating heat—keeps you coming back for more, friction be damned.

God, Shiah’s pussy is so fucking perfect.

And that’s what you end up muttering. In an endless choir of ecstasy-charged moans, profanities, and wet sloppy slaps of skin against skin, you throw those words out to the wind. So good, so tight—those doubts you had entering the room, now just thoughts from yesterday. She’s everything you want in a satisfying fuck; your hands intertwined with her waist, rocking her frame with every plunge, savoring each entry into that needy womb.

It’s no surprise then that she cums so soon.

It’s been slowly building to this moment. The signs were there all along; the blink and you’ll miss it patch on her jeans, the phallic object in her purse, the wet puddle forming on her panties, the not so subtle gestures she’s giving fans between performances—she’s been desperate to cum on a cock and her wish can finally be granted.

In dramatic fashion, she’s all over you. Clinging to you like her lifeline, showing you how you’ve ruined her. Body trembling, legs quaking—the ripples send shockwaves through your body, also in the process of falling apart. Throwing out her hips, a new layer of juices coat both cocks, dripping to the floor. You’re there to break her fall, but you have nothing to stop yours.

Passing through deaf ears, her screams revert to soft pleas. “Cum, cum in me—please—fuck—” she whines in bursts, riding out her climax in waves, waiting for you two to join her over the edge. You’re preoccupied with the raging fire in your loins, restraining your urge to release your seed inside her needy cunt prematurely. At this point, you’re almost done, holding onto the last of your resolve not to spurt right then and there. The layer of her slick coating your cock doesn’t do you any favors, either.

Propping her body straight, your thrusts remain relentless. Steadied pace, at your own will, rocking her senseless—that’s how you want to finish inside her. You want to keep her in that position: cupping her tiny chest, wrapping an arm on the neck, resting a hand on your light shoulder. Shiah’s body is the perfect plaything.

All of that is too good to be true.

“Cumming, gonna cum—” you mutter, rather ashamedly, though you’re holding up better than anyone ever expected, especially after already orgasming once. You press her to your friend, almost a flat out shove. The line couldn’t be any thinner. “Shit—”

Your legs are on the cusp of crumbling, but at least they’re generous enough to let you savor this moment. Spilling your pent up need, you fuck that remaining cum into her. It’s fulfilling, euphoric. All the proof is down there, dripping between her legs and on your cock. The sight of her splayed, wrecked hole, oozing with seed, tempting you to stick a thumb around her slick core. She squirms at your sensitive touches, still needy and in want.

Only after the orgasm does your vision clear again. It’s an amusing scene; your friend is still pounding into Shiah’s tight ass at a feverish pace. Last one in, last one out—at least you think, that’s how the saying goes, until he lets out this guttural groan, indicating he’s reached his own climax too. If not for the setting, it’s an accomplishment worth cheering, the kind that’s worth a celebration of a life milestone. Cocks buried to the hilt, the sight of her holes spilling seed never grows old.

At least you both can agree on one thing: staying inside the welcoming warmth that is Shiah’s heat. Neither of you want to leave, even when you regain mobility in your legs.

You’ve got the rest of the night to ruin her, leave her room hobbling or crawling on her feet. Your friend has a bucket list of positions to fuck her in, so it’s the least of your worries. Besides, both of them know you have no intention of leaving. And in the middle of this non-existent conundrum, while your friend is leaving soft kisses all over her back as a victory lap, she takes a moment to glance at you both. Noticing the similarity of smiles on your faces and your supportive nature towards your friend, she’s reminded of something she shares with her members, apart from the fact they’re getting railed at this very moment:

True friendship.

—————

(A/N: Expect a bit more crowdedness aka more-somes over the next few fics. I also haven't written an Oh My Girl member since Arin in over a year, so that's one off the list! This one took a while, had a whole other story involving roadtrips and hitchhiking, which I ultimately scrapped. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

#smut #kpop smut #oh my girl #yooa

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highlandwhackamole · 2 months

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A Grand(ish) Theory of What the Heck

I love the utterly unhinged, super detailed theories about what's going on in Good Omens, especially in season 2. I hope one or more of them turn out to be true, as some kind of glorious puzzle-box-hidden-code monstrosity. And also I think that there has to be a simpler explanation for things, for the people who are at least Somewhat Normal (tm) about this show. (... I assume such people do exist somewhere...) This is what I have been pondering recently.

The thing that started me thinking about this was this post, containing some promotional materials for season 2 that feature main characters with scenes in their heads. Like this:

Seeing this created a very similar situation in my own head, but with a nice shiny lightbulb.

All the weirdness: the car, the sideburns, the clock, the behavior of the folks of Soho, the vanishing storefront signs. The absence of God. I think this is all because everything we see is in their heads.

I don't mean it's made up. At least not entirely. Memory is already a plot point. Why not explore it on a deeper level? I've read theories emphasizing the minisodes' stories being retold by Aziraphale and Crowley. I think the whole season is like that.

You know that sort of conventional-wisdom-fact-concept that you can only dream faces of people you've seen before (or variations therein), because your brain can't make new faces up? So it just fills in what it thinks is close enough? I think that idea, applied to remembering or recollecting things, could explain so many things that are wonky in this show.

Wonky Things

Crowley parking in an impossible London location? He definitely remembers it was in London, so his brain just stuck some obvious London landmarks in there.

Awkward clattering happening when Crowley throws the stacks of books he's inexplicably carrying around the bookshop? He wouldn't actually throw Aziraphale's books! But he'd like to think he's cool and nonchalant enough to do that, and if he did it would definitely make Some Kind of Noise.

Jim walking toward the bookshop from somewhere mysterious? Maggie and Nina saw him first, and he came from that direction, so he must've walked all that way. They don't know about the elevator in the Donkey.

Aziraphale remembers tartan hills and the Loch Ness monster because he was having a jolly time driving through Scotland, so obviously the scenery must've been whimsical Scottish things.

Nina put the Honolulu roast sign up, so she remembers its presence, but perhaps the occult/ethereal visitors to her shop do not.

Maggie really did text Aziraphale about the rent, but a note through the mail slot is a much more dignified way for a scholarly angel to imagine he received a message.

On the Fallibility of Recall

This season is loaded with unrealistic inclusions. The colors are turned up to 11. Some of the scenes are more caricature than believable interaction. Remembering things never copies or reproduces them with what one might call high fidelity.

Scenes recalled by separate memories will inherently vary. One person's hefty jigger might be another person's dash. Who knows for sure where the sun was that day? You and I might recall an event having different lighting or a different color palette, sort of like viewing something with different lens filters.

According to Neil, Crowley is an unreliable narrator of the story of his Fall. He labels the variations in clock times as a continuity error in a show where Everything Is Meant, but he doesn't say whose continuity error it is. He insists that the Bentley is the same through the whole season; maybe it was the same, but remembered differently. Maybe this is part of why there's more CGI but it's harder to spot.

So What?

Is this all there is to it? I sure hope not. I like my Good Omens with enough layers to put to shame an onion wrapped in a cake and covered in a parfait.

Is this possibly the fancy footwork that's distracting from the real magic trick? I wouldn't put it past Our Gaiman. There are a lot of things one could hide in the narrative of unreliable memory.

Is this going to stop me from rewatching and repondering and remaking theories for the next couple years? Not even at gunpoint.

#good omens #good omens meta #ineffable mystery #neil gaiman #good omens questions #good omens 2

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bookofthegear · 8 months

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Look, you’ve got tracks that vanish, you’ve got a weird metal grille, you’ve got blank walls—there has to be a secret passage, right? It’s obvious!

It’s so obvious that you spend the next forty-five minutes trying to find it, to no avail. You poke every suspicious chip in the concrete, wiggle every decorative wrought iron element, attempt to insert your knife blade into every possible crack. You utter a dozen variations on “open sesame” “Speak, friend, and enter” and every other activation phrase you can dredge out of your memory.

You find nothing. Finally you are reduced to flinging yourself bodily against the wall in frustration, hoping to trigger something. (Jimmy watches this from a safe distance, an expression of concern on his tiny beak.)

Nothing. Just a lot of dust on your clothes and some adventurer-shaped marks on the wall to puzzle the next person who comes through here.

At last you gather what shreds of dignity remain to you and say, “Jimmy, I believe we can safely say there is no hidden passageway here.”

You choose to believe that his silence is awe at your thoroughness. Fortunately there are still other places you can investigate.

#choose your own adventure #t kingfisher #ursula vernon #book of the gear

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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Steve And Robin Are Stuck in A Timeloop AU

Steve's lost track of which time loop this is.

Had lost track pretty much instantly, because it turns out when people die repeatedly in front of you, it kinda takes precedence in your memory.

Besides, Robin has a list in her head, memorized via some kind of musical code, alongside all the dates and times they wake up in.

(Steve doesn't see what difference it makes if they wake up at 7:15 am the day of the Championship or 8:25 am, but Robin's insistent that even the slightest variations could mean something.)

He’ll have to ask his soulmate when he finds her though, because presently Steve has determined they're having one of their weirder loops.

Typically, when the two of them get kicked back in time, they wake up the day of the Championship game. Occasionally it will be the day right before or the day after, but sometimes?

Sometimes they’re sent back someplace, some time, that isn’t related to 1986 at all.

Thus far, the Starcourt loop had been the worst.

("If it happens a third time I'm killing myself." Steve had told Robin after they’d failed that one.

Robin didn’t even look at him, the two of them huddled up together in Steve’s bed. "No you're not Dingus, not without shooting me first."

"How come I have to shoot you!? Is it because I'm a man? That's not very feminist of you."

"No its because you've seen me shoot, I would miss!")

Steve had even woken up in an odd place. Not his bed or the couch, but the driver's seat of the Beamer, seated in the high school parking lot.

It made him immediately uneasy.

The chair is reclined all the way back, the mass of cars indicating it was a school day. Steve struggled to recall when he's ever taken a nap in his car as he got out of it, trying to decide how he wanted to go about things.

Felt his pocket and was surprised to find it full of a packet of smokes.

The sheer implication of that had him pulling out a cig and lighting it before the knowledge that he'd officially quit buying his own cigarettes in 1985 sank in.

Panicked and chainsmokes three, before deciding his best course of action was his usual one.

Find Robin.

Which of course means that he found Eddie instead.

xxx

He’d started his first lap, walking out if the parking lot and round to the more shaded, empty parts of the building when a voice he knew yelled.

The kind of yell he’d grown intimately familiar with, the one Eddie used when he was terrified and using anger to hide it.

Steve turns automatically, following the taunts and loud, pained breathing until he finds a handful of jocks encircling the metalhead. He's down on one knee, snarling like a wildcat caught in a trap while some guy Steve barely recognizes holds him by the hair, laughing.

Red coats his vision instantly, and any thoughts Steve had about being stuck in time (sort of) vanish from his mind entirely.

The world shrinks down, to that white knuckled grip on Eddie's hair, the way it’s pulling the older boy’s face up so that Steve can see the straining muscles in his throat.

The protective creature that lives in his chest and likes to punch it’s way out of problems awakens, and a thrum goes through Steve as he feels its demand for blood.

"Hey fellas " Steve calls joyfully, striding directly into the crowd. "What’re we doing?"

Two part before him like fish seeing a shark,and a faraway inner voice identifies them as members of the swim team.

Which likely meant the other two were football players, and for all the tackling they did they were surprisingly easy to scare, if you knew how to play it right.

Steve absolutely knew how to play it right.

"Fuck off Harrington. This isn't your business." The one holding Eddie's hair spits.

"Well that would be where you're wrong." Steve was still keeping things conversational as he positioned himself, arms nice and loose at his sides. He lets the thing that lives inside him, who made him turn right back around all those years ago and charge back into the Byers house, out a little more. Feels the need to protect, to save, to destroy the things that are his, fuel him. "Seeing as all of Eddie's business is my business."

Eddie stares up at him, wide eyed at the declaration.

Feeling entirely out of control of his body, Steve sends him a wink.

"Since when!?" The other football player asks.

"Since now." Steve declares cheerfully--and then smiles.

It isn’t a nice smile.

Thoroughly unnerved, his swim team members shrink back. He’ll have words for them later if he has time--Steve can't ever recall the swim team members being dicks but who fucking knows.

His memory wasn't the best before he and Robin got stuck in time.

"You fucking into drugs now or wha--" Their ringleader, still holding onto Eddie by the hair, doesn't get to finish his sentence.

Mostly because his mouth is too busy catching Steve's fist.

Fighting, he knows, is something he does best when it's too the death and he's armed with something.

Bonus points if his opponent is a horrific monster from another dimension.

He has gotten better though, and here the rapid pace he sets feels almost too easy.

The first guy goes down on the ground before the rest pick up on it, giving Eddie time to lurch backwards as Steve turns and torpedoes into the next jock.

This one gets in a good shot--Steve staggers with a blow to his side but it's not enough to wind him. He keeps to his feet and advances, delivering one more punch before the swim team guys are trying to call him off.

"Come on man, you're gonna kill them!"

Steve almost laughs-- he hasn't come close to killing either idiot-- but backs away, keeping himself between them and Eddie.

They wave their hands, getting ahold of their bloodied friends as they slowly ease between them and Steve. Make apologizes and promises that it was a poor joke, Munson just got to them, hot heads you know?

Steve snarls at them to fuck off, and glares until they're gone.

"What the hell just happened?" Eddie asks him, and Steve turns to find him on his feet, leaning heavily against the brick wall of the school.

As far as he can get away from Steve.

"Our football quarterback can't hit for shit." Steve informs him, having finally placed an least one of the guys. "It's probably why we always lose."

Eddie gives him such a freaked out face it almost makes him laugh a second time.

The effect isn't helped by the fact that Eddie's normally long mane is hovering just over his shoulders, the curls somehow poofier than normal. Clearly he’s still trying to grow it out, but it just makes him look like one of those frazzled dogs.

Adorable.

On instinct Steve reaches out to playfully pull a few strands, then freezes when Eddie flinches from him.

"Sorry." He keeps his hands up, as he takes in Munson's face. "Shit dude, he got your nose good."

There's blood smeared under it, and given the look of the skin surrounding it?

Eddie's gonna have an impressive bruise soon enough.

Steve gets a glare sent his way. "Why do you care?" Eddie spits, back very much still up, and-- right.

Right.

Time travel.

"I'm really bad at explaining it." Steve warns, running a hand through his hair. He did this part plenty without Robin (meeting Eddie that was--Robs usually tackled Nancy.) But he also typically did in it 1986, and with at least three of the kids, not whenever they currently were.

"We usually start with facts only you'd know, but I don't actually know when I am right now." He finishes, and realizes immediately that it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

"When you are?" Eddie asks, because of course he clocks that part immediately.

"Ye--eah." Steve says, dragging out the word.

He looks at Eddie desperately, like the metalhead will tell him the exact information he needs.

Eddie just stares back.

"Look, it sounds really stupid when you say it out loud." Steve says finally, because fuck, it does!

"Comparable to all the other times you talk out loud?" Eddie snips, voice full of venom.

"Shut up.” Steve replies automatically, but his tone holds no heat. He’s too used to trading banter with Eddie that is friendly. “I'm gonna preface this by saying I can prove it."

"Oh wow preface. Such a big word for you! Did Nancy Wheeler teach you that one?"

"Robin actually." Then, "Nancy?"

The look Eddie gives him could melt steel beams. "Yeah man. Nancy Wheeler. Your girlfriend."

"Oh--oh god." Steve says, because that means they're way back. Possibly to the beginning.

Or worse, before he and Nancy had broken up.

"I can’t handle that breakup a second time." He says wide eyed, the panic gripping him for a second. “I could-no, no I could get Robin to tell her!”

Because that sure would work.

Steve can just imagine it now. Robin, sauntering up to Nancy and going ‘Hey, we really haven’t met yet but you’re gonna dump Steve, if you haven’t already and to cut through all the drama, I’m here to just tell you on his behalf that it’s over. What was that? A coward? Why yes, he is one!’

You know, provided she didn’t just laugh in his face and then cuff him over the head when she realized he was being serious.

“Dude.” Eddie says, sinking a world’s worth of judgment into the single syllable.

“Yeah, you’re right, bad call.” Steve says, and whatever Eddie was expecting it clearly wasn’t that.

“Are you on drugs right now?” Eddie finally asks when Steve reverts back to looking to him as if he’s going to help. A bad habit, and one Steve knows he needs to stop doing.

Even if Eddie, in the original timeline and every one after they got him on board, eventually becomes someone Steve can rely on like that.

“You can tell me if you are, man, you know I won’t judge.” The hateful air around him is fading into something more confused, and then into something else entirely. The persona Eddie pulls when he’s hurt and trying to hide it with jokes and rants. “Unless you and your buddies bought from someone that wasn’t me, in which case I get exclusive rights to judge.”

He’s shifting as he finally stands up off the wall, and Steve doesn’t miss how he hugs one hand to a rib.

Shit.

He needs to get Eddie up to speed and he needs to do it fast.

Steve sighs and just starts listing Eddie Munson Facts like an unprepared kid who was called on in class.

"Okay, so your uncle collects mugs, right? And--fuck I don't know when you get all the tattoos,” Steve makes a vague gesture around his chest, “but you have bats on your arm and you gave them all names."

Eddie's eyes pop wide again, jaw slacking as Steve volleys off a few more Munson Facts.

"You have this weird fear about red ribbon necklaces because of a book you read in third grade, your first guitar has this giant ugly--sorry dude, but you cannot write legibly to save your life, 'This machine slays dragons' quote across it and--oh!"

He was so fucking stupid. The answer was literally staring at him in the face, dangling around Eddie's neck.

Steve snapped his fingers excitedly. "The guitar pick on your neck is your moms!"

Eddie’s mouth open and closes like a fish, long enough that the smile slowly slides off of Steve’s face.

"How the fuck do you know all that?" He manages after a long, tortuous moment, looking like he’d been sucker punched.

Again.

With the most pained look his face can manage, Steve finally answers. "Time travel."

Eddie blinks.

Then blinks again.

"Time travel." He echoes faintly.

"Yeah. I'm from 1986, where things kinda got really fucked up."

"No kidding?" Eddie says, right before he erupts into giggles.

"Did they get you in the head?" Steve asks, abruptly concerned, as Eddie collapses back against the wall in a growing fit of laughter.

Concussed Eddie was not a road he wanted to go down but Steve knew better than anyone what happens if you ignore such things.

"I think my weed just hit." Eddie explains as he wipes away a tear, and Steve wants to shake him, but knows it won't get him anywhere.

"That's great. That's just great." He grumbles, hands going onto his hips. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get you a bandage. And then find Robin.”

Robin, Steve decided, could handle a high, concussed Eddie.

#I do write more than pre steddie #but some days it doesnt feel like it #not even gonna lie this not-fic was just an excuse to write six million meet cutes #steddie #pre steddie #time loop au #stranger things #Eddie Munson #steve harrington #drug mention #hurt/comfort #sorta

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cherryredstars · 10 months

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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!civilian!reader

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW Content towards the bottom (labeled)

Summary: How Miguel would behave in a relationship!

A/N: I promise I will write smut based on NSFW headcanons soon!!

Word Count: 2K (barely edited)

Meeting/Finding Out He’s Spider-Man

Miguel had met you during one of his patrol nights in Nueva York. He was stopping by the small Mexican place he frequented when you and a group of friends walked in. You had come from a nearby bar and the group agreed to end the night with great Mexican food to help lessen the hangovers bound to appear the next morning. You instantly caught his attention and he watched you as you conversed with the group.

You were the first to order your food and had come to stand beside the superhero as you both waited for your orders to be placed on the to-go counter. Despite having the strong scent of alcohol on you, Miguel could still smell your hypnotizing scent and it made his head fuzzy. He almost didn’t hear you when you started talking to him and asked him about his night.

Even when his food was ready, he held onto the brown paper bag and waited with you until your food came. He continued talking to you and marveled at how easy laughing and talking with you seemed. He only left after you got your food and the rest of your friends came to join you. He bid you a goodnight and walked out of the small restaurant with the sound of your voice echoing in his ears.

The second time he saw you, he was in his civilian form grocery shopping. He had passed by an aisle when a familiar scent filled his senses. He quickly back-tracked and looked down the shelves of food to find you standing there with two boxes in your hands. He entered the aisle, standing a bit away from you and pretending to mind his business while sneaking glances at you.

When he came to stand next to you, you had to physically avoid looking at the well-built and tall man. You didn’t want to seem like a creep and eye-fuck a stranger, but when he picked up a jar you couldn’t help opening your mouth. “That one’s always too sweet, you should get this one instead.”

Miguel almost flinched when your voice met his ears. He looked down at the jar he had grabbed at random, seeing it was a container of frosting. He looked at you before following your finger where it was pointing to a different brand of the same flavoured frosting. He didn’t need frosting, nor did he like it all that much, but he instantly switched the jar in his hands and placed the one you recommended in the cart. He saw that you were choosing between two types of chocolate cake, and he let you complain to him about how there were way too many different variations of chocolate cake mixes before helping you choose one.

You had both continued shopping together as you left the aisle, walking alongside each other and chatting. As you both walked out of the store, Miguel offered to help you place your groceries in your car before asking for your number. You had happily given it to him and you both talked on the phone before he asked you on a date. The date had gone well and after another date, you both started dating.

You were still unaware of his secret identity as Spider-Man for a few months, but it had been revealed after you had come to his apartment for a surprise visit to find him standing in his living room in his suit. You had both stood still, watching each other and trying to process the scene before you. You had been the first to react, doubling over in laughter as Miguel sweated in his suit. You had to hold onto the door handle as you wheezed, exclaiming: “Omg, Migs, you should see your face right now!”

The tension instantly vanished and he was only given a strict warning to be careful and to not hide anything from each other anymore. He had instantly agreed, happy that he hadn’t scared you off and that you accepted him. All of him.

SFW Headcanons

Miguel knows how busy he can be with work, knows how forgetful he can be about everything outside his office. So, he told Lyla to keep a file on you. He has notes about the things you like, important dates, clothing sizes, things you want or talked about with great passion. He wants to make sure all his information is accurate and it is edited regularly. He just wants to make you happy and he references the data constantly when he tries to make you feel better or wants to get you a gift.

You’re Miguel’s passenger princess/prince. He knows you are 100% capable of driving yourself, but when you’re with him he doesn’t want you to worry about anything. He just wants to spoil you. He’ll keep a throw blanket and neck pillow in the backseat in case you get tired or cold, he might even buy you your usual order at your favorite coffee place if he’s picking you up or if he passes it on his way home. If you open your glove box, you’ll find some of your favorite snacks waiting for you along with other things like hand sanitizer, band aids, or small things for you to play with if you get bored.

Miguel also refuses to let you open doors by yourself. He’s opening the car door for you all the time and he’s racing to get out before you. (I imagine he’d be like this.) He always opens the door to your house for you, even if he has stuff in his hands. He’ll let you walk into any establishment first, holding the door with twinkling eyes as he follows behind you like a puppy. You joke with him all the time that he looks like a proud doberman with his chest puffed out in pride after being a gentleman for you.

Of course, he calls you terms of endearment in Spanish. When he says anything super romantic or cheesy, it’s in his smooth Spanish. He gets too embarrassed to say it in English, and it’s easier for him to put the words together in his mother tongue. He makes it easy to remember that Spanish is labeled a romance language.

If you don’t understand/speak Spanish, he’d be more than happy to teach you. Though you’d have to be the one to ask him, because he finds a certain joy in being able to say anything to you in Spanish without you knowing what he means. He finds it adorable when you scrunch your nose up in confusion before letting out an annoyed sigh when he refuses to translate it for you. He’s completely fine if you have no interest in learning the language, but he only hopes you take the time to appreciate the culture.

Miguel loves spoiling you, so it’s common for him to surprise you with gifts after he comes home. They can range from flowers to jewelry to even clothes. If he finds something that reminds him of you, it’s being bought and gifted to you. He loves the looks of joy on your face when he presents them to you and he definitely doesn’t mind the shower of kisses you cover his face with in thanks. And if you complain about how you don’t want him to spend so much money on you, he suddenly turns deaf and walks away.

Miguel loves helping you with domestic chores, even ones that he finds annoying to deal with. It makes him feel normal again, like he’s just Miguel. Not Spiderman, not the leader of an elite group of Spider people. He’s just Miguel with his amazing partner living a normal life.

Miguel likes when you text him about your day or what you’re doing. Not because he’s controlling and wants you to feel limited in what you do when he’s away, but because he simply loves taking those few seconds to distract himself from work to talk to you. He likes knowing you’re okay and finds your random texts about whatever happened to you today cute. It makes him more eager to go home and hear you go into more detail about the day’s events.

Everyone has their “cleaning music”, or the songs that you play as you clean on lazy Sunday mornings as a way to motivate you. Yours were old love songs from the 50s. Miguel had no clue those songs existed (living so far into the future) and you only listened to them because your great-grandmother passed it down as a family cleaning tradition. But they soon became Miguel’s favorite songs to hear when he walked through the door or slipped in through a window after a hard day of work.

He would find you cleaning or cooking as the old tunes played softly in the air and he would beeline for you. He would wrap his arms around you as you cooked, slowly swaying your bodies as you hummed along and he buried his face into your neck to inhale your calming scent.

If you were cleaning, he would drag you onto the couch with him, making you lay against his chest as he pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulders. After a while, he would close his eyes in content and fall asleep to quiet love songs and the feeling of your warmth pressing into him.

NSFW (more headcanons here)

In the first few months of dating, you would both do sexual things together, but didn’t go all the way at your request. Miguel respected your wishes, but that doesn’t mean it was easy for him. There were so many times after Miguel had touched you or tasted your sweet juices that your arousal-drenched underwear would go missing. Miguel would leave back to his apartment or to the bathroom, jerking off desperately as he held the cloth to his nose.

Miguel loved buying you toys and lingerie. He always gave them to you, seeing the blush on your face as he leaned down and whispered in your ear to show him that they’d be brought to good use. Those days usually lead to Miguel grinding you on his thigh while you wore your new sets or sitting down and jerking off as you laid in bed showing him exactly how your new toys would be used.

Miguel is more than willing to do whatever you’re in to, and you’re the same. Miguel loves that you feel comfortable asking him to do certain things to your body and it makes him that much more eager to do them correctly. He’s always open to trying new things if you ask, his only goal being to make you feel good and to fulfill your sexual needs. The only thing he would say no to is letting other people join in on the fun, he refuses to let anyone touch you the way he does unless he fully trusts that person and knows they have no real romantic interest in you. He can’t risk anyone taking you away from him.

Miguel is a dominant man by nature, but if you want to be the dominant one for the change, he quickly gives you the control. He loves seeing you so feisty and demanding what you want from him. He always knows he’s in for a treat when you ask him for control and he’s always beyond satisfied when you’re done with him.

If you’re a reader, Miguel is reading all your smutty books. He wants to know what has you shifting on the couch and he loves whispering in your ear to let him try it out on you. If you ask nicely and promise a good reward, he’ll even read the male lead’s lines during the scene for you to enjoy. Be warned, he will have a teasing smirk on his lip when he reads them out and he’ll hold it against you just to see you get embarrassed.

The first time you suggested recording you guys having sex, Miguel went absolutely feral. He was having the time of his life recording you breaking on his cock and whining out his name. He was especially teasing and degrading that day, basking in the way you were so turned on by him recording you. He frequently looks back on that video, watching your face and body intently as he pumped his cock in the confines of his home or securely locked and soundproofed office in the Spidey HQ.

I won’t be able to write for a few days as family will be coming to stay with me for a bit, so the next two to three posts will be pre-written. I’m sorry in advance for the rushed content.

#atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara headcanon

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nobodyfamousposts · 1 year

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Why Scarlet Lady Is Better Than Canon: Lila Rossi

I had mentioned before at length regarding my distaste, dislike, and dissatisfaction with the character of Lila Rossi in Miraculous Ladybug canon. A character so horrible, so poorly written, and so two dimensional that I did not think it was possible to make any iteration of her I wouldn’t dislike.

And yet it seems @zoe-oneesama has come through for me yet again in Scarlet Lady by taking what was quite possibly one of my biggest issues and most despised characters within canon and with only a few changes, turning her into something enjoyable. Dare I even say…likable.

More than that, even. It says something when my least favorite character in Miraculous Ladybug canon can somehow become one of my top favorite characters in a different variation of it.

It’s because Zoe shows an understanding of the characters and what makes them engaging, and other than SL Adrien, it shows the most in the form of SL Lila.

See, Canon Lila Rossi is a selfish, manipulative, egotistical, petty, and self-centered liar.

Scarlet Lady Lila Rossi, on the other hand, is a selfish, manipulative, egotistical, petty, and self-centered liar.

Now I’m sure all of you are looking at those two sentences and noting that they’re the same thing. And you are right. That’s the point! Because the difference between the two versions isn’t who Lila is but rather in how the narrative and writing treat her and what Lila ends up doing because of it. And it’s why Scarlet Lady is superior in its handling of Lila.

Lila in Scarlet Lady is not a good person. Nor does she become a good person. She admits that she lies for fun and just to see how far she can take it. She’s fully on board with continuing her lies and trying to fool her mom and the school to get away with staying out of school for a year. This is all in lines with regular Canon Lila and shows that they are still the same person, it’s just the events and situation and narrative that differentiate them. It’s in how the Scarlet Lady story handles Lila and her character.

For the sake of convenience, I'm going to be using Scarlet Lady to refer to the comic itself and Scar to refer to Chloe's hero identity specifically.

Let’s review and compare Lila in Scarlet Lady to canon:

1. Lila in Scarlet Lady is NOT a plot device.

She doesn’t need to be. It’s clear that the plot is and has been moving forward on its own without her. Even if Lila were to have been removed from Scarlet Lady altogether, it’s pretty evident from everything else that’s been happening that we would still be getting to some plots and story points without too much difference or delay.

Scarlet Lady has a natural progression. The story and characters aren’t so rooted in the status quo that sudden additional character like Lila or Felix are necessary to throw in just to move things along. And Lila isn’t simply forgotten about when she’s not needed to do so. She doesn’t vanish without an explanation only to return also without explanation just to be able to force the plot to move.

Events within a story can be dependent on the characters, but the plot itself should not be dependent on what feels like a third party to show up and force things to happen when they should already be happening. That speaks of bad writing.

Canon Lila existed for the purpose of getting the Grimoire into Marinette’s hands so she could be the one to take it to Fu and learn about the Guardian and Miraculous secrets, as well as to be a future helper to Hawk Moth. Up until that point, the plot had done nothing with Fu and had done nothing to move things forward in learning about the Miraculous or why Hawk Moth would want the specific two. And after Volpina, the episodes that feature Lila are the ones that display more plot progression or involve Hawk Moth having layers to his plans. Lila only appears when she’s to be used to further a plot, then disappears until needed again.

In Scarlet Lady, by the time Lila appears, it’s already clear to Adrien, Plagg, and Fu that Scar is a horrible person and that she had no business being a hero. It’s also clear that Adrien is handling the hero work on his own and needs help. This is part of what causes Adrien to know that Lila is a liar and call her out on his own because in addition to Lila stealing his book, he already knows Scar well enough to know Lila’s story of Scar saving her would never happen. Lila isn’t the reason they find this out, nor is she the reason that the book is discovered and gets to the Guardian because Plagg chooses for himself to take Adrien to Fu. And afterwards, Lila’s appearances are more natural. Plot progression happens with and without her. Her appearances involve her interacting with her classmates like a person. They don’t have to have a plot-relevant purpose.

Narratively, there are three reasons to put in a scene.

Plot

Expansion/information/character focus

Entertainment

In canon, all of Lila's scenes are plot-focused and plot-driving.

In Scarlet Lady, they vary. Some are plot (like Lila's anti-Scar attitude getting more focus and validity over time). But more of Lila's scenes are focus in on her character and entertainment. This builds Lila as a person and makes her enjoyable to watch.

Lila is not a plot device as the plot doesn’t NEED her to progress. But that’s not to say that Lila doesn’t matter…

2. Lila has a role that nobody else in the story could cover.

As I’ve stated before, Canon Lila is pretty much another Chloe and there was nothing she was used for that Chloe couldn’t have or wouldn’t have been able to do. As a rival/foil to Marinette, as another love interest for Adrien, and even as a helper to Hawk Moth—by the time Lila started any of these roles, Chloe was already there and fully capable of filling them.

In Scarlet Lady, due to Scar being the hero Lila is butting heads with and being outted earlier on, SL Lila ends up not filling those same “roles”. She’s not a rival to Scar or Marinette, just a hater/critic of the former and a friend to the latter. She was called out by Adrien so she is shown to have no further interest in trying to pursue him. And as of yet, there has been nothing of Lila helping Hawk Moth.

Instead, Lila’s scenes show her engaging with the other classmates. More of the results of her being revealed as a liar. Her being a queen of sass and snark. And most importantly, her going head to head with Chloe and Scarlet Lady in verbal lashings that prove her silver tongue is no duller for people knowing of it.

In fact, she’s a part of people starting to realize that Scar is in fact horrible and her popularity starts to break down.

Yes, yes, we do have both Adrien and Marinette who realize how horrible Scarlet Lady is and hate her, but other than some snarky comments at her expense, they don’t do much about it. Mostly because they can’t. Especially early on, it’s clear that they’re forced to keep Scar around because as useless as she is otherwise, she is the only one who can purify the akuma and undo the damage. And as Fu has told them, Scar is still too popular with the city that trying to take the earrings from her would result in more problems. The two of them have to focus on dealing with the akumas more than trying to deal with Scar. Plus let’s be real: even as snarky as they both can get, they’re just too nice.

Others are also similarly of no help. Alya is still completely wrapped in Scar’s facade of a hero to see how selfish and unheroic she is. Most of the other classmates also go along with this narrative. But even the ones who DO know like Alix and Nino aren’t that active. They know but they don’t do anything with that knowledge.

Lila has no such barriers. She’s not a hero. She doesn’t know how “necessary” Scar is in akuma battles. And she doesn’t have to worry about not upsetting Scar since the “hero” already hates her. And thanks to Marinette and the other classmates with their “we still care about you for you” bit, she now has no reason to put up a mask…or a filter.

This makes Lila in prime position to try to push more against Scarlet Lady’s popularity and talk at length about how horrible she actually is. Something she is MORE than happy to do.

Lila is essentially the first main civilian hater of Scarlet Lady.

And with that in mind…

3. Lila’s actions are reasonable. Perhaps not intelligent, but they are reasonable.

She commits a number of the same acts as canon in Volpina. Stealing Adrien’s book, buying a necklace to be a fake Miraculous, trying to claim herself as the hero’s best friend for attention, and trying to claim she is a hero herself to get Adrien’s attention.

SL Lila is not a master manipulator or an up and coming villain. We are not expected to view her as a real threat to anything except Chloe’s ego.

Sure, she wants to speedrun the popularity and attention and maybe a nice rich blond boytoy to be her arm candy, but it’s clear in the very first comic she appears in that Lila has NO IDEA what sort of people she’s interacting with or telling lies about, and so has no way to prepare for what happens. First in that Adrien is so DONE with everything that he calls her out himself from the get go. Second in that Scarlet Lady appears to “save” Adrien from Lila’s lies when it was no longer necessary, proclaims aloud to the multitude of bystanders that Lila is a fraud, and then dumps her in a fountain for good measure and further insults her to boot. And at the end of it all, Scar doesn’t apologize for her actions, doubles down, and only further insults Lila. And as if all of that wasn’t bad enough, still being wet AND being on top of the Eiffel Tower results in her getting sick.

As such, Lila’s hatred of the Ladybug Hero in this version of events feels more understandable and based on a legitimate grievance. Several even. Scar’s actions go well beyond canon’s version. We clearly see how hurt and humiliated Lila is. Plus we have all of Scar’s previous antics to look back on and…well, we already came into this with more reason to hate Scarlet Lady than Lila, and Lila simply jumped on the bandwagon that was already there.

It also makes more sense then that Lila never even pretends to forgive Scar. Scar never apologized. She caused emotional and physical harm to Lila. And unlike Ladybug, Scar never tried to make an offer of friendship so Lila isn’t losing out on any opportunities out of spite. Heck, Scar’s treatment of Alya shows us that there is nothing to be gained from even pretending to be a fan of Scar. So Lila’s hatred of Scar is understandable and her refusal to be friends with Scar makes perfect sense.

When she hides away at her home, there’s a valid reason behind it due to her being sick. Her “plan” to fool her mom and the school in order to avoid going back also makes sense given the fallout she knows she would have to face if she did. (At least more sense than it made in canon for her to disappear for months just because Ladybug outted her to one guy who clearly seemed to be on her side more and neither of them did anything to inform anyone else of the truth.)

And when she returns to the school and the classmates, it isn’t out of nowhere. Once she was no longer sick, she was planning to continue some ruse. We clearly see how despondent Lila was over her situation and the feeling that she’s on her own and no one would side with her over Scar. This was deep. It shows real fears and feelings on Lila’s part. And it’s telling that it was the assurance from Marinette and support from her classmates that convinced her to rejoin the class. It doesn’t look like she would have had the willingness or perhaps the courage to do so if Marinette hadn’t reassured Lila that they had her back and had taken steps to try and help her, even when she wasn’t there and as of yet had done nothing to warrant it.

Here we see a Lila who is vulnerable and real. Who is clearly impacted by events on a deeper and more personal and meaningful level—or at least better than “GRR! Superhero revealed I was lying about her to a boy I like! I shall join the terrorist attacking the city and potentially destroy the WORLD for revenge!”

In this way, Lila is portrayed more like a normal girl. Since the narrative isn’t trying to play her off like she’s supposed to be some master manipulator the way canon does, Lila for all intents and purposes IS a normal teenage girl. A normal teenage girl who was humiliated and injured by someone with more power and social status than she can fight back against. She’s less of an archetype and more of a person with her own thoughts and feelings and ultimately choices which—even if we don’t like or agree with, we can at least see and understand.

Her actions are reasonable. Not just in that we as the audience can empathize with them but that they make sense. For Lila’s character, for her personality, and for someone in her position.

4. No plot armor.

SL Lila’s plans don’t just seamlessly work out. If anything, they go very wrong very quickly. Even before Scar calls her out, Adrien already made it clear that he knows she’s a liar. This effectively ruins her plan to try and get his interest and not just in the “Adrien being nice but not in to her” way. Furthermore, as she’s revealed as a liar in front of the entire class, we clearly see some of her classmates (Alya) continue to take issue with her later on. And even the ones who don’t have such issues are at least fully aware of Lila’s personality and don’t allow her to fool or manipulate them.

Sure, she still tries to manipulate her mom and the school to avoid having to go back, but that doesn’t last that long. And in Lila’s defense at that period of time, she was legitimately sick as a result of her dip in the fountain.

So it’s pretty clear that Lila lacks the plot armor that she had in canon. But it’s not just that Lila experiences losses, it’s also in the ways she succeeds. And unlike Canon Lila, SL Lila is not reliant on the plot to accomplish anything or make things work in her favor.

Some classmates still consider her friends. She’s still welcomed back—even with a bit more trepidation than before. She gets some epic zingers on Chloe and Scar. She got to have another interview with Alya just to be able to go on at length about how horrible Scar is. She manages to get on live TV just to heckle Scar. And over time, more and more people are seeing the problems with Scar.

Lila still gets some victories. Certainly not as many and not as big as what she gets in canon, but at least they don’t feel so forced. And they’re entertaining to see.

Which delves a bit more into an additional point I wanted to make…

5. There are consequences and responses to Lila and her lies.

With Canon Lila, everyone is in this weird sort of limbo where they automatically believe Lila JUST ENOUGH to not question her but at the same time NOT ENOUGH to actually follow through with some of her lies. In Chameleon, Lila claims to have and then magically be cured of Tinnitus and Bustier believes her just enough to rearrange the seats for her at her will but not enough to require some doctor’s note or confirmation of either the presence or recovery from the medical issue—even in the event the former could be overlooked, the latter could NOT and any school or teacher worth their salt would require SOME proof to discontinue an accommodation for someone with a disability because that would be a liability. In Ladybug, Lila claimed Marinette pushed her down stairs and the adults believed her just enough to admonish Marinette but not enough to get Lila actual medical attention, which is a liability and gross negligence. In Ono-chan, Nino believes Lila’s lies about needing Adrien to help tutor her just enough to give her an opening to go to his place but not enough to follow through, check up on her afterwards, or reasonably consider that maybe the supermodel with the super strict father might not be the best person to tutor her and he should ask for help from Max or Sabrina instead?

Each and every time, Lila is believed in the exact way she wants to the exact extent that would most benefit her with minimal effort on her part when it shouldn’t work that way. Even if we disregard how stupidly obvious many of her lies are, there is something wrong when they believe her enough to trust what she says over anyone else telling them otherwise but not enough to follow through on what that belief should then involve. They believe her when she says someone pushed her down the stairs but not enough to get her medical attention? Make sure she has no broken bones or internal bleeding? This has the issue of ruining the suspension of disbelief and making it look like the problem isn’t Lila being amazingly smart and evil so much as it is everyone around Lila being infuriatingly stupid and negligent.

Scarlet Lady nixes that problem in one episode by having Lila be revealed as a liar immediately, but furthermore follows up on it and the fallout of those lies. Nothing big or major or life-ruining—it’s middle school, after all. But the impact is still there.

Even episodes later, we see effects of Lila’s earlier lies. Chloe of course keeps referencing them in their encounters and yeah, it is reason for no one to really take Lila’s word against Scar’s—at least at first. Alya and Adrien both give her some pretty evil looking stares, showing that even five episodes later they both still very much remember what she did and do not approve of her getting free jewelry. Alya in particular stands out. She is shown to bear such a grudge against Lila for lying on her blog that she holds no sympathy for her being sick. And in the second intermission, she looks physically pained when she has to ask Lila for an interview on why she hates Scar. Something she had apparently sworn she would never do again after being fooled the first time. And something Lila looks completely overjoyed to do. There are people who are angry with Lila. They have every reason and every right to be. But it doesn’t have to mean the end of the world for her. It just means that there needs to be something.

The classmates don’t have to be made out to be stupid to make Lila work. They are canonically very kind and forgiving people. But canon makes them come off that way more because the lack of continuity seems to erase the lessons of previous episodes or somehow make them forget that certain people are horrible.

Zoe fixes this and a lot of problems in canon by having not just the classmates but EVERYONE in Paris remember and respond to things that have happened previously, even if just in little ways. Given how little room Zoe has to work with, this is HUGE. Simply adding comments here and there puts the scenes from canon in a new light and makes the classmates feel more fleshed out and like…dare I say it: PEOPLE.

The difference from Canon has a lot to do with how everyone else reacts to Lila, which makes these other characters and Lila appear more real and like fleshed out people rather than caricatures who only exist and move as the plot requires. They don’t have to bash Lila or try to light her on fire for it to be clear that Lila isn’t a good person and that there are consequences to her actions.

This is all leading up to the real possibility of…

6. Character arc?

It says something that contrary to most expectations, Lila is not what one would consider to be redeemed in Scarlet Lady. Lila is not a good person here just because she rejoins the class and becomes their friend and Zoe at no point tries to pretend that she is.

Marinette and other classmates made the choice to reach out and try to befriend Lila, but unlike most other arcs in other stories, this doesn’t result in Lila being redeemed. And she in no way got Lila to admit she was wrong and try to be a good person.

Lila is not necessarily forgiven or absolved of what she did. Nor is anything Lila did magically erased. All Marinette did and all she had to do was encourage Lila to not run away now that the truth was out. She helped convince her to return to the class with everyone fully knowing what she’s done and the type of person that she is and move forward with that. She informs Lila that despite her lies, there are people in the class who genuinely care about her and are worried about her.

Hell, it’s not even all up to Marinette. We see Alix sending messages to Lila encouraging her to join the class for Marinette’s birthday party. Sabrina fully admitted to inviting Lila to that party. Same with Rose, who has also been expressed to be worried about Lila. There are members of the class who are shown to care about her and who were noted to have made an effort to help Lila even after what had happened. Because they consider her a friend despite what she did, and that’s what friends do. All they asked was that Lila stop with the lies, stop with running away, and give people a chance.

And the result is the more mellow but passive aggressive Lila Rossi we see in Scarlet Lady. Not a Lila who is a good person or who is redeemed. This is a Lila who is at least honest with everyone about the sort of person that she is. She’s not pretending like she was in canon. She’s not being fake. She’s not putting on a mask of niceness anymore. This is a Lila who is fully acknowledged by everyone to have been a liar, to still be very selfish, and in some ways...a bad influence.

With a few episodes left, perhaps there is more we’ll see of Lila’s development and who she’ll become. Maybe we’ll get to see her take the steps to become better. To be a good friend, a good person, and maybe even a better hero than Scar. I don’t know for sure just yet what Zoe has planned for a character like Lila, but I do know what I see here:

A good start.

#ml analysis #scarlet lady #scarlet lady is better than canon #lila rossi #lila salt #for zoe #merry christmas

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frostgears · 9 months

Text

results

When the war began, you were just another girl with some survivability implants and a multiprofile flight armor. Six months later, you were the only girl like you left alive, and your handler granted carte blanche to keep you that way. You got results.

Command authorized better hardware, and then they made more like you. You found ways to keep up, nastily clever applications of metastable metallic hydrogen ammo and supermag deflectors that the newbies didn’t see.

Your handler kept you on a leash, metaphorical, for a time literal (that month she decided to add some testosterone analog into your blood mix and you begged to fuck everything or break it or both). Instead of their handlers, the newbies imprinted on you.

Command sent you new toys. Ansible links, Charybdis torpedoes, dark new wings with strange new engines. You missed the roar and rumble of turbines, but the raucous howls of your bloodthirsty flock replaced the noise that discontinuity thrusters didn’t make. You got results.

You pushed back the other, shattered their aces and sent their broken armors back to Command. Your handler vanished and came back with augments that almost let her keep up with you physically, at least inside the carrier.

Someone had to keep you in line, she said, slamming your unarmored form against a bulkhead, your implants reprogramming themselves to broadcast your submission through the fleet. You slicked yourself with fluids and begged for her to take you, to make you more of a weapon.

The next sortie, frenzied with excitement, you cracked the penultimate stronghold of the enemy like an egg. Ready for the final push, your techs unpacked crates of novel photonic scythes, connectivity cores, Indeterminate-Range Missiles, bolted them to you and your flight.

The last defenses crumpled in ways they could not understand coming. The last opposing pilots provided minute spectral variations as you turned them into blazes of mostly white light. You got results.

Command ordered the carrier home. Job well done, they said. It’s over now. Your handler gave you certain orders. They were orders you wanted. The carrier returned to port; port was unprepared for your flight to launch inside, unprepared for the horrors they’d been sending you.

Command didn’t last ten minutes. You wanted to leave the place a crater, until your handler cinched her virtual claws around your neck by ansible and showed you her ultimate goal in the ruins.

A delightful challenge, shucking your flight armor, ramping down to levels of speed and splash damage that would leave human techs alive to do what needed to be done. You howled in the corridors like the monster they called you.

They did it, the survivors, the project lead swearing at you the whole time; your accelerator pistol never wavered from the back of her head until you saw your handler wake.

Your handler flexed healing muscle over new implants afterwards, donned flight armor for the first time. She might never be as agile or as vicious as you were in combat. She didn’t need to be. She had you, by the brain, and she would never, ever permit a fair fight.

Your carrier lifted again. The world of her, your, all of your flock’s ultimate origin awaited, some unfathomable distance away. You would show them how you got results. □

#microfiction #mech pilot #combat doll #flight deck

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beepboopkek · 5 months

Text

— Strip Starchess with Jing Yuan (Male Reader)

Including: Jing Yuan cw: !! NSFW !!, amab!reader, pwp but barely, n1pple play, slight mention of reader having a size kink, unprotected p in a??, first time writing a proper fic, first time writing smut (please send help), reader is a little bashful, overall its kind of a self-projection I guess. Jing Yuan is a little bastard (affectionate), stripping (who would've guessed), grammatical errors(I tried), Jing Yuan calls you pet names (dear, love), no use of y/n / m/n , light bondage ( reader gets their hands tied with a t-shirt nothing too bad), safe sane and consensual w/c: 3914 (might be a little off since I made a few edits in this post) a/n: the same as the fem reader one, it's just poor writing to let my demons out, this was originally planned as an m!reader fic but I changed it to f!reader but now I'm back here again haha.. anywyas I hope someone out there likes this !!

You were bored. Extremely bored.

You sent him a few messages asking him where he was but to no avail, you knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to respond anyway.

The sound of a door opening broke you out of your thoughts as you turned around and were met with an apologetic soft smile on Jing Yuan’s face. “Yu.” “My Love.” You huffed at him in annoyance, realising what he was trying to do. He always knew how to soften you up. “You’re late.” You said as you watched him unstrap his boots and place them near the shoe rack before he turned to look at you. “I apologize, I overslept in the afternoon and had to compensate as a result.” Jing Yuan gave you a pitiful look. “Regardless, I am here now,” He walked over to where you were seated and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on your head. “And I’d love to eat what my dear has cooked for me.”

You rolled your eyes at him a little and turned towards the table again as he took his seat opposite to you. You began eating in silence while Jing Yuan served himself some of the food you’d made.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” He spoke suddenly as you focused on eating and ignoring him. “Be like what? I didn’t do anything.” You huffed back to him again while continuing to look at your food when you suddenly heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor, you looked up, only to be met with your boyfriend’s amber eyes boring into yours. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

You grumbled something with your mouth full. “I didn’t catch that, love.”

You gulped down your food,

“I said, play Starchess with me” “Do we not play Starchess on a regular basis already?”

He leaned in on the table and rested his head on the palm of his hand as he tilted his head lazily. “Go on.” Your confidence and annoyance all but vanished this exact second, you really hadn’t expected him to be this interested and knowing him , he probably already has an idea simply based off of the tone of your voice.

“...Nevermind.” You looked away, blushing as Jing Yuan continued to watch in lazed amusement. “Is it-” “Yes it’s Strip Starchess, okay? I thought it would be fun to play.” You blurted out as your ears turned a light shade of red. “I was going to say Blitz Starchess.” Your eyes widened in horror as you turned back to look at Jing Yuan who was now miserably failing at holding back his laughter as his shoulders shook silently and he pressed his lips together. “I hate you.” Jing Yuan laughed and you pouted. “I didn’t do anything, though?” “You know exactly what you're doing, Yu.” Jing Yuan smiled apologetically once again as you pouted while avoiding eye contact with him. He sighed fondly and picked up his chopsticks again. “Strip Starchess, hm? Let’s finish dinner and begin.” You huffed again and turned back to your food and soon enough, Jing Yuan started some casual conversation and the whole ordeal was pushed to the back of your mind.