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#bunni writes a thing
divinebunni · 1 year
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writing my first boooooook !
OPEN CALL - PLS DM IF:
~ your comfy sharing your experiences with sexuality
~ you’re comfy sharing your experiences growing up (confused, already knowing etc)
~ how insecurity has changed the way you view sexuality and being comfortable
~ how society , family, and friends have affected your choices in regards to sexuality (ie. coming out young and being supported, coming out young and being ridiculed/abandoned, coming out older, still not out etc etc)
~ what sexuality means to you, changing your mind on your sexuality, being curious
~ what love means to you
I am looking for all viewpoints! So pls this is open for everyone, straight, gay, lesbian, bi, pan, nonbinary, trans etc please message me ! I want every little bit c:
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insidilust · 2 months
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something so precious about puppy boys reaching a level of desperation that makes them try to get off on you during inopportune times.
sitting in a desk working while that clothed tdick ruts against your leg, grinding and seeping wetness through his underwear and onto your pants like hes in heat. little poor thing sandwiching your limb between his thighs and making the sweetest sounds, desperate for some attention and release.
its bad manners, really, but the best part is having a reason to punish him later for it.
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libraryofgage · 10 months
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I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:
Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.
He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.
He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.
He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.
Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.
After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.
Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.
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Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.
Of course, that's provided they actually play continuously instead of starting the same song over and over only for Eddie to stop them halfway through. When it happens for the sixth time, Eddie growls in frustration, tugging harshly at a lock of hair. "It still sounds wrong!" he cries, dropping into a crouch while cradling his guitar close.
"Stopping us halfway through isn't helping," Gareth points out, idly twirling a drumstick as he watches Eddie's lament.
"Do you know what's wrong yet?" Asher asks.
Steve can longer focus on Lord of the Rings. Instead, he places the book on his chest and looks at the band to watch how this plays out. Eddie scowls and looks up at Asher. "Unfortunately, Ashy Baby, no."
Jeff, meanwhile, has locked eyes with Steve. And because Jeff knows the perfect way to get Eddie off their asses is to get him on Steve's instead, he says, "Why don't you ask Harrington what he thinks?"
Eddie whips around to look at Steve, eyes wide and hopeful. He doesn't even bother standing from his crouch, instead waddling his way over to Steve and testing his ability to hold back laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. "Stevie, baby, sweetheart, lover boy, please tell me that wonderful brain of yours has an idea so your favorite boyfriend can finish this rocking song."
"You're my only boyfriend."
"Which automatically makes me your favorite," Eddie points out, grinning as he leans closer. With Steve still laying down, Eddie's the perfect height in his crouch to kiss him. He lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, and Steve knows his own smile matches the dopiness of Eddie's.
"Have you considered adding a piano?" Steve asks.
"None of us know how to play," Asher says, and Steve would look at him if Eddie's face and hair and shoulders and everything weren't filling his entire line of sight.
Without thinking, Steve hums and says, "I do."
"Do what?" Eddie asks.
"Know how to play piano."
There's a silence that follows his sentence, one that makes Steve's stomach lurch as he wonders if he's maybe fucked up the shaky peace and friendship he's finally managed to build with the other members of Corroded Coffin. He doesn't know how his words might have done it, but he's scrambling to somehow take them back when Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, the bands of his rings pressing against Steve's lips.
"Gareth, you still got that keyboard?" he asks, keeping his eyes locked on Steve. There's a light dancing in them like he's just discovered magic is real, like Steve has amazed him beyond imagination.
With a grunt, Gareth gets up from his drums and steps into his house. The rest of them stay in silence while waiting, Eddie refusing to remove his hand no matter how much Steve licks his palm. When he finally gives up and just glares at Eddie, his boyfriend grins brightly back.
"It's a little dusty, but it'll work fine," Gareth says when he comes back, and Eddie finally moves his hand and body, allowing Steve to see Gareth setting up a keyboard a few feet away from his drums.
"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, taking the book from Steve and carefully setting it aside before pulling him off the couch, "you've heard the song enough. Play what's missing."
Steve hesitates before walking over to the keyboard. Eddie sticks to him like a shadow, sliding his arms around Steve from behind once he's standing in front of the white and black keys. An odd nervousness churns in Steve, tugging at his spine and making his palms clammy, but he knows it would be much worse without Eddie there. If he had to play in front of the band without feeling like anyone was on his side, he'd probably just throw up instead.
"It, uh, it's been a while," he says quietly, easily falling into the muscle memory of tracing the keys and finding Middle C and dancing his fingers through warm-ups despite his words.
Eddie squeezes him tighter as Jeff asks, "Since you've played? Why?"
Memories of his grand piano rise in Steve unbidden, overwhelming him in a rush of longing for the instrument itself and the relaxation of playing. "My parents paid for lessons and had me play at company parties. They, uh, sent it off to be tuned, but it got damaged, and they didn't get another one."
"That sucks, Stevie," Eddie murmurs, soft and reassuring and Steve suddenly feels far more confident.
He looks up at Jeff. "Can you start playing again?" he asks, flashing a grateful smile when Jeff nods and starts strumming the song's opening notes.
Steve listens closely, breathing in the tune he's heard so many times and letting it take hold. He doesn't allow himself to actually think, letting Jeff's guitar and Eddie's arms and hair and scent drown out everything else. Before he knows it, he's playing a hesitant tune that grows with confidence as he follows the song laid out before him. He's always a measure behind, chasing the guitar's echoing notes as they fade.
He and Jeff make it through the whole song without Eddie telling them to stop. When the final notes of guitar and piano echo together, the latter still chasing the former even at the end, Steve is shaking with excitement and anxiety and grief and joy.
He lets out a slow breath, feeling tension he didn't even realize had lingered for so long finally draining from his shoulders and dissipating. Steve can also feel Eddie's face pressed against his neck, a smile searing into his skin as Eddie squeezes him even tighter.
"I love you so fucking much, Stevie, that's exactly what was missing," Eddie says, his words the only warning he gives before pulling Steve away from the keyboard and off his feet and spinning him around. His surprised yelp quickly morphs into laughter that still lingers even after Eddie has set him down again.
Gareth and Jeff and Asher have already started discussing how the other parts of the song might change with the addition of a keyboard, but Steve is too busy turning in Eddie's arms and kissing his smile away to pay them any mind. He can worry about inevitably being roped into the band's practices later, after he and Eddie are breathless and flushed and smiling bright.
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q1ngqve · 3 months
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Your Fox!Aventurine gave me brainrot…. Might I ask for more head canons for Fox!Aventurine and Bunny!Reader? Thanks!
i am always ready to serve! 🤭
CW; fem! bunny! hybrid reader, fox! hybrid aventurine, pet name (bunny), yandere, pervert?, breeding (mentioned briefly), overstimulation, oral (receiving)
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fox! aventurine is even more of a tease than his human form, he just loves your reactions whenever he says / does something flirty
absolutely adores the way your eyes dart away from his each time he calls you “little bunny”! he just wants to lock you up and keep you to himself, he’s definitely a yandere if i do say so myself
fox! aventurine is such a pervert :( stalks and follows you everywhere, making sure to leave something behind to let you know that he’s watching <3 you’d often find your clothes / undergarments missing from your hamper, thinking you probably misplaced them
he is obsessed with you! like this man is seriously down bad for you, tell him to do anything and he’ll listen with the biggest smile on his face 🤭 but don’t be fooled his kind demeanor, he is a fox after all, and you’re a just his prey
fox! aventurine loves loves LOVES to tug at your sensitive ears! especially when he fucks you from behind, where he can see your ass, your fluffy tail, and the way your ears twitch every time he thrusts into you
he goes so hard that your legs give out on you, your body collapsing weakly onto the mattress with your hips still in the air, supported by his hands. you’re not going anywhere, not until he’s satisfied and you’re pumped full of his cum :(
fox! aventurine just couldn’t control his instinct to breed you full, his sex drive is so high he can go on for hours on end, fucking into you again and again, doesn’t care if you’re sobbing and trembling beneath him, pawing at the mattress as you beg him to stop. it’s just too much! you’re so so sensitive, and it’s all because of him
he’s not done though, overstimulating you with his dick is just round 1! round 2 begins when he decides he needs to taste you because you just smell so sweet 😵‍💫 your cunt is just so warm and inviting, he just has to make you come undone on his tongue :(
“i know it hurts, bunny, i know. just one more for me, okay?”
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stevieschrodinger · 3 months
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I really want to write this as like a fully fledged, 100k word fic, but I just do not have the time. I need to get the idea down so here it is.
So modern AU. Steve is an Alpha, always known he wanted to help people, little boy who wants to be a police officer or a firefighter, that sort of thing. Mother humors him, Dad is disinterested, both parents are hands off to the point of being borderline neglectful without actually crossing the line - the second Steve can legally get out, he goes to college. Ends up taking an interest in Omega studies, of all things - which leads neatly into the career choice that Steve didn't even know he needed.
By the time Steve is 23 he's leading his own little team under the watchful eye of his superior - Jim Hopper. They're a special branch of the FBI, geared specifically to finding and breaking up illegal Omega abduction and trade rings. Steve's good at what he does - really good - top of his class for firearms, has an affinity for the Omega he comes into contact with, and his control over his Alpha is pretty second to none. Steve can radiate comfort in the middle of a firefight if he has to - if it means keeping these people safe.
Steve sees some pretty horrible shit - he's miraculously well adjusted, goes to his mandated therapy sessions like a good boy, and gets on with Hopper surprisingly well for how surly the guy can be.
Steve's worst attribute is that he's a workaholic - he has a history of failed relationships, so he gives up entirely and has no social life to speak of.
And then Steve's out with his team - it's taken months to track this down. Steve's been supervising undercover agents, starting with a tip off about illegal drug trades that pinged Steve's radar as Omega hormones. So rather than heading in and arresting at base level, Steve, with Hopper's nod, pulls the thread.
They assumed the hormones were heat inducing - they were wrong, and what they find is horrifying. The drugs have been used on un-presented kids. Stolen kids, as young as 11, to try and force them into presenting as Omega. These kids have been abducted from everywhere, no sense to it that anyone can see - except that these kids all come from poor families. Marginalized by society - in a lot of cases, kids that haven't even been reported as missing.
To top it off - the kids are being abused. Neglected, starved, left in filthy conditions and being regularly sexually assaulted. It is by far the worst thing Steve, or even Hopper, in his long carer, has ever seen.
They go in, break up the ring, the perpetrators are either killed in the ensuing firefight or captured and brought in.
Steve sustaining only minor injuries in the altercation, continues on with his job to clear out the kids and get them to safety- in his haste to get to where the final group of kids are being held, sets off a booby trap of some sort.
Steve is badly injured- his lower left leg taking the vast majority of the damage- for the first time in his career, Steve panics. But then he has a kid with him, big brown eyes and a mop of curly hair, skin too pale and drawn, dirty fingers and bare feet. And this kid is trying to comfort Steve, obviously understanding that this is a rescue. By the time the rest of his team get to him, Steve is finding comfort in the scent of un-presented pup - the little guy curled up right against Steve.
The pup is, evidently, also finding comfort in Steve, both of them locked together, faces buried in each others scent glands.
They wont let go of each other, even in the ambulance, and it's decided pretty quickly that if they're keeping each other calm, to let them stay that way. On arrival to the hospital, they're both sedated for their own good - Steve wakes up to find he's missing his left leg from the knee down, and Hopper asleep slouched in the chair next to him.
The first thing he does is ask about the pup - Hopper tells him what he can, the kid is called Eddie, was small because he was starved and actually was thirteen years old - and he's safe and well, already reunited with his uncle.
Steve can relax. But not really. Because once his leg heals, he's in physio, and then learning to regain his mobility with a prosthetic, also dealing with the deafness the explosion left him with in his left ear, and the scarring that stretches all the way up to his left hip.
Hopper is determined not to loose Steve off his team - he basically invents a roll for him, if he wants it - Steve is too good to be wasted, so he goes back to work for Hopper in an investigative roll. He'll never work in the field again, but he becomes the brains behind a lot of successful operations.
But still, he's listless, missing the hands on aspects on his roll. He treads water for nearly two years, before he happens to have a conversation in the office break room, with one Robin Buckley.
Steve's known Robin for years, she's an Omega behaviorist, and works a lot with traumatized Omega, rehabilitating, therapy, that kind of thing. She's always been there, on the periphery of Steve's team, taking the Omega off their hands. After Steve's rescues, it's with Robin that the real work often begins. From the conversations they've had previously - Steve handing over information about conditions he'd found Omega in, likely what they've been put through, and anything else that will help Robin do her job, he's always found her sympathetic but no nonsense. He's always respected Robin.
And maybe that's why their conversation easily slips into Steve confessing his listlessness - and what prompts Robin to suggest he retrain. She's heard herself how bombproof Steve's Alpha is in the field - would he be interested in a day or two a week with her team? Positive Alpha exposure is often a vital step in the reintegration process.
Steve thinks about it. He talks about it with Hopper. Between them both, Steve figures he has nothing to loose, and Hopper agrees to release Steve a day a week to Buckley's department on a trial. Steve takes on extra training - bolstering up his Omega Studies qualifications from College. Steve loves it. it's fulfilling. It gives him the hands on aspect of his job he'd been missing.
And then Hopper lands a file on his desk - it's come to them via unorthodox means, through a local doctor, then a hospital specialist, then flagged by Buckley's team as it's an old rescue case. A closed case. And Steve opens the file to find a picture of himself, grainy, black and white, but unmistakably Steve. He's sitting on a gurney, someone desperately doing something to the mess of his leg, but in his lap, the curly haired pup he hadn't let go of that day.
The pup who, apparently had presented an Omega. Steve reads, doing the math, reading the hospital records from that day. The kid had presented basically the second he'd woken up. He'd presented, most likely, while Steve was in surgery still.
That stirs something in Steve. Something a little unfamiliar; the feeling that he hadn't been there and he should have been.
There's another picture, Edward Munson, the kids put on weight, he's grown some. Still has big brown eyes looking out of a very pretty face; and that stirs something in Steve too.
Munson basically hasn't been okay since the rescue. At first they put it down to the usual stuff, the kid had survived being abducted, drugged, sexually assaulted, physical harm, that kind of trauma can take years to work though, decades, a lifetime. But everyone is maintaining there's something a little off with this kid, something else wrong, something hindering his recovery that really shouldn't be; it's like he's mate sick.
But he doesn't have a mate.
The one time they tried to expose this kid to an Alpha, it ended so badly he became aggressive. And then someone dug deep enough to find this photo, to read this file.
Steve's standing up before Hopper gets to the end of the question, yes, he wants to see the Omega, yes, he's going to work with the Omega.
There's a frustratingly long song and dance around it - Buckley wants to follow protocol to the letter, so their first meeting is in one of the Omega work rooms, just Eddie and Steve, very calm, very controlled, with Robin and Hopper observing from the other side of a one way glass mirror.
Eddie backs away at first, is dubious of Steve, but Steve has a worn shirt with him and leaves it on a chair within reach, and once Eddie, finally scents it, he bursts into tears, "is it really you?" he sobs, and Steve confirms that it is, and Eddie is climbing into Steve's lap, still sobbing, "I thought I'd never see you again."
And they stay like that, until Robin finally breaks them up, but Eddie will not let go of Steve, not completely, and Steve doesn't want to let go of Eddie either, but he has to.
He has to make his case. He has to explain that that sixteen year old Omega, a decade Steve's junior, is without doubt Steve's mate. There's a lot of back and forth, they need the uncles blessing, which after a thirty second conversation with Eddie, Wayne doesn't hesitate.
Steve takes Eddie home, with instructions from Hopper to take all the time he needs.
This is where the real work starts, Eddie is traumatized, has been mate sick since the day he presented, and needs a hell of a lot of work. Their bond is solid, but formed in trauma, so the attachment issues become almost immediately apparent.
They put in the work - Eddie has a therapist who is not Steve, and Steve still goes to his own therapy sessions like a good boy. They deal with a lot of things, Eddie's night terrors, his awful relationship with food, his inability to settle, the panic attacks. Eddie's first heat, where nothing happens because Eddie is still terrified of sex. They work through Eddie's confused feelings; Steve falls utterly and completely in love.
Eddie slowly picks up his reading - the education he's missed - starts gently with a distance learning course. Steve goes back to work, a gentle three half days a week to start with.
They get through it all, and make a life together.
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bunnyreaper · 6 months
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ghost praising you for being an attention whore
(18+, suggestive, yes dino this is for you)
ever since that night at the club, ghost had been your shadow, even more than he usually was.
it was everything you wanted, at first, everything you'd been craving when you'd danced on that stranger and never took your eyes off the masked man. but now he was everywhere, and you could always feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of you.
the mess hall, the gym, mission briefings. and now, as you enter the shower block, you know he's behind you still--silently creeping into the stalls, abandoned apart from the two of you.
you're almost frozen, your mind running through the possibilities of what to come. you'd hoped that night would've been when he made his move, snapping at the sight of you grinding on random men. you'd been prepared then, you weren't now.
time slows, every breath you take feeling laborious under ghost's watchful gaze. you set your belongings down, not bothering to hide as you begin to undress. the compression shirt comes over your head, and as you start to slide down your trousers, you finally look over your shoulders--straight into your voyeurs eye.
he's leaning against the wall, arms crossed and head tilted casually as if he isn't watching you bare yourself to him entirely.
you hate that you don't know his game, can't think straight enough to unpick his thoughts as you shiver just from him looking at you. all you can do is continue to strip, shaking fingers pulling off your underwear until you're completely bare. still, ghost doesn't move.
you head to the shower stalls and get the water steaming hot before stepping under the spray. if he wanted a show, he'd best believe you're going to fucking give it to him. you rub shower gel all over your glistening skin, taking each touch slowly as you caress yourself.
"are you just gonna stand there and watch?" you call out, smirk evident in your voice.
its all wiped away when you feel his hard, bare body pressed against your back, and you find yourself frozen still.
"what? don't tell me you're going shy on me now, sweetheart?" he all but growls as a hand traces around your jaw, keeping your eyes straight forward. "thought you liked putting on a show."
he grinds his hardness into your back, showing you exactly how affected he is by your little show.
"perfect little attention whore, just for me? ain't that right doll? got my attention now, so be good for me, yeah?"
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bonebrokebuddy · 2 years
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“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant on asking me this, Hal. I just mentioned to Barry that I talked with the head Easter Bunny once and now everyone keeps asking me if I think the Easter Bunny is real! Why do people keep asking me? I’ve met them. I don’t understand why I have to ‘believe’ in the Easter Bunny for them to be real! They exist!”
Hal put his hands up and stepped back, clearly not expecting the frustrated and somewhat hostile response of Billy who slumped back into his seat, which was slightly less satisfying in his bulkier body, and began running his hands through his hair.
The repetition of being interrogated over a simple comment was not only bewildering but had gotten increasingly more annoying to answer as somehow the members of The Justice League, the literal most powerful group of people on earth, didn’t seem to understand a piece of basic knowledge.
Billy was not only very tired of being asked the same thing but even more-so he wanted the laughing at his ordinary response to stop.
He paused and looked Hal dead in the eyes then began to speak in the most dead tone Hal had ever heard from the usually cheerful man.
“Hal, I know the Easter Bunnies are real because I had to spend two, very long weeks personally overseeing the creation of their union that made sure they no longer routinely experience unsafe working conditions and helped establish 8 hour working days so they no longer get overworked or are required to do 80 hour weeks prepping for Easter and get punished for doing less or don’t get paid”,
Billy’s previously slow, blank tone grew more rushed and frustrated as he went on,
“I mean, I didn’t even do much other than sit there and look intimidating by throwing around lightning sometimes and make sure the Easter chicks didn’t do any funny business or tamper with the legal process!
It was in all the papers in Fawcett! I had my picture taken with them and everything. But Hal. I can guarantee you that the Easter Bunny exists. Please. Please stop fucking asking me.” Finally done, Billy slumped onto the table with a loud clunk.
Hal stood there shocked for a moment. “Marvel, did you just imply there’s multiple easter bunnies and they established a form of government?!”
Billy, with seemingly tremendous emotional effort, lifted his head from the table by a few inches and looked Hal in the eyes with a pleading tone, “If I just say no, will you please stop asking me?”
“Absolutely not, now I have even more questions”
Billy let his head fall back onto the table with an even louder clunk and groaned.
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dreaminginpencil · 1 year
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Found this in my drafts and had forgotten to post it soooo...
This art is based on a twitter thread drabble I wrote about Steve and his soft toy Bunny and growing up in difficult situations and loving people that are sick the best that you can.
It's also posted in full on AO3 if you wanna support me there ❤️
(CW: depression and neglect of a child) Steve’s mom suffered with poor mental health and Steve didn’t understand. Eddie does too, and maybe Steve understands better now.
When Steve was small, his parents’ door was open a crack most of the time, the sweet grown-up scents of perfume and cologne drifting out. Their bedroom was a treasure trove of wonders, their expansive closet full of clothes that swished and slipped over his little fingers, his mom’s dressing table cluttered with ornate glass bottles of perfume, sweet-smelling waxy lipstick, and delicate compacts of powders, her silver-backed beautiful hairbrush. Sometimes his mom even brushed his hair like hers, til it gleamed, shiny and soft.
When the bedroom door was closed, Steve knew to knock first, knew he should probably wait and ask for their time later.
Sometimes though, sometimes his mother would shut the bedroom door and she would not leave the room for days. His father would sleep on the couch, or make excuses and go away on “business”.
There would be no sweet smells of perfume, only dark and silence. His father told him that his mom was sick, to let her rest. Steve didn’t understand why she didn’t want to see him. When he was sick, he wanted cuddles and toast and hot drinks with honey and his Bunny with one ear loved almost all the way off.
Steve would sit outside her door with his Bunny and wait. He would wait and wait and eventually when he was lonely and tired he would knock quietly and creep into her room.
With the heavy damask curtains drawn, it drowned the room in blue shadows, the looming frame of the four poster and it’s mounds of blankets piled up. Steve felt like he was climbing a mountain to find his mom amongst them all.
“Are you sick? Do you want toast?”
He would offer her his Bunny, cuddle close. She did not smell like perfume, just something stale and forgotten.
“Mommy’s tired Stevie.”
Sometimes she wouldn’t speak at all, just touch his hair. Sometimes she would tell him to leave her.
“Go and play Stevie.”
Steve didn’t know how to explain with her there was nobody to play with and that his father had gone away somewhere and he was hoping she would make him macaroni.
Steve learnt to get to the high up pantry shelves for snacks until his father got home, or til his mom stopped feeling tired.
She seemed more than tired, but what did he know?
The older Steve got, the more often his mom was tired. He learnt not to ask anymore, just to lie down with her, to be patient, to be sweet.
He learnt to bring her food, even if she would not eat it, to make her tea and open the curtains up. He learnt to coax her from bed and to her vanity, so he could brush the dark tangle of her hair until it gleamed and fell like silk down her back. He ran her hot baths and always gave her his Bunny.
When his parents started to go away and not come home, Steve wondered who took care of her. If his father still left her alone.
She would sound far far away when he called her. “I’m tired Stevie, we’ll speak soon.” The dial tone felt heavy.
Steve gets tired too, but there is nobody who will come to check on him, so he cannot sleep through it.
Eddie is like his mother was, sometimes.
After the Upside Down, after Vecna, Eddie is dogged by the shadow of consequence. They won, yes, they won, but Eddie is scarred and scared and sometimes he is very tired.
Steve knows how to take care of Eddie when he’s tired.
He can come to Eddie in his quietness, in his tangled unwashed sheets and his dark bedroom and he can offer, piece by piece, the things he knows.
He can kiss Eddie’s clammy forehead, his tangled hair, curl up with him and pay no heed to the mortification of dirty sheets for a while. He can crack the blinds and bring him his painkillers and water and coffee. He can coax Eddie to a shower, washing the sleep and the sadness from his skin. He can change his sheets, trade them for clean soft cotton and comfort.
When Eddie is clean and so tired again, Steve can brush his long hair until it’s free from tangles and falls long and dark down his back.
Sometimes Eddie needs time to be tired, but Steve can care for him still, with quiet affection and patience.
Eddie may need time, sometimes, but he never entirely closes the door to shut Steve out.
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gardenofnoah · 10 months
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hi bea 💕 saw your note from a few days about gently pushing a writing prompt in your inbox 💌 if you're still taking them, here's a thought i've let run wild in my brain. hope it helps with your writing rut! bakugou and kirishima coming home to a non-pro hero!reader after a grueling 2 month stint overseas. it's the first long mission they've gone on since starting this fairly new relationship. it's a little awkward, but everyone underneath is brimming with longing. no one's not sure how to break the ice and settle back into a rhythm. maybe some insecurities come out as dinner is awkwardly made. how do the three of us get back to a safe and vulnerable place? a lil sweet? a lil angsty? all up in our feels? 👀 is it a soft kiss that breaks the tension? a lingering touch? a massive dam that breaks with clothes haphazardly ripped off down the hall?
i am kissing your brain directly for this one omfg
it doesn't feel like you thought it would.
to have your beloved heroes back home should have filled you with the familiar contentment that only they bring you. the knowledge that katsuki and eijiro are here and safe, back to you like you made them promise, should be a welcome thing.
but the hours that scratched at your loneliness until it bled are between you now. a great divide—one that widens with every touch the two exchange in front of you. you stand on the other side of it alone—an unfortunate voyeur to the very thing you've yearned for but could not have. how odd it is that the very people you have loved bring up a completely different sentiment now.
how strange it is that some part of you wishes they were still gone.
the apartment that felt too big now suffocates you. the mahogany under your fingers seems a far better sight than the alternative. they chat idly about situations you aren't privy to, missions you haven't gone on—you keep your eyes trained on the wood grain to ignore what's looking you straight in the face: you are othered—you are outside of this. you trace a chip in the tabletop and think with some detachment that you could get up unnoticed.
"you tired, babe?" eijiro's head turns to you as you stand. it feels foreign to have his eyes on you. you gather your bowl and utensils in your hands and fight the urge to tell him to look away.
"yeah, no, i just—i'm not hungry."
"oh! do you want to pick a movie to watch?"
you shake your head, looking anywhere but him. your feet take you past him, headed straight for the kitchen or anywhere else but here. "no, that's okay. don't worry about it."
"oi," katsuki's rasp commands a pause in your steps despite intending the opposite, "what's that s'pposed to mean?"
you don't move an inch—it's enough effort to contort your face into something resembling a smile. something to appease. you can't look at either of them—you keep your eyes on the floor and will it to open up and swallow you whole.
you jump when you feel katsuki's warmth in front of you—far too close. he takes the dishes from you, setting them on the table.
"don't worry about what?" he murmurs, reaching up to tip your chin up. forcing you to meet his gaze.
it doesn't take much else to make you crumble.
you whimper as your eyes burn, blinking furiously to fight the way his face blurs in your vision. he keeps you there and it's torture—fighting the wave that won't stop coming when no one has taught you how to swim. full of fear that it might be the thing that washes away everything.
"baby—" eijiro gets to his feet, startled at your outburst.
"sit down, red," katsuki mutters, holding a hand to the side to stop him. it's absentminded at best yet still effective—and the only thing you can notice is the unspoken between them. there is a trust there that existed long before you and has only been strengthened in the months without you. eijiro settles back in his seat. the canyon deepens—you get farther away.
you know that fighting katsuki's grip on you is futile and you try anyway. he lets you get as far as arm's length away before his fingers close around your wrist and drag you back to him. distantly, you can appreciate the metaphor.
the palm that cradles the back of your head and traps you against his chest is a cruel one. heart to heart, something inside yours breaks.
"it hurts," you gasp. god, does it hurt—the wound sears as hands that feel familiar and wrong hold you tighter.
"take a breath,” he says it so gently that you’re not convinced he’s not someone else in this moment, “tell me what’s goin’ on.”
you do as he says—shuddering and staggered, all torn up in his arms. you feel put on display here in front of both of them—an actor who’s been the butt of the joke the whole time, unbeknownst to them until the final act.
"you left and i—" you squeeze your eyes shut, bearing down on the sob that would love nothing more than to punch its way out of you, "y-you had each other and i was alone."
neither one speaks—the silence stretches and waits patiently for you to fill it.
"you left and i was the one to miss you. i—i feel like i missed everything—i don't feel like i have a place in this anymore—"
the grief knocks the wind out of you when you get to the root of it. it was silly of you to believe you could ever have a place in this, really. two heroes at the peak of their careers, and you—a chain around both of their ankles. how could you have ever held on to those that are held just as tightly by a whole nation? would it have ever mattered, with the hold they already have on each other? there could never be enough room.
"do you think we didn't miss you?"
the blatant hurt in eijiro's voice brings you back to the present moment. katsuki moves back just far enough for you to see it etched on to the red head's face in a way you haven't ever. something about it makes you want to step back into katsuki's warmth, as if it could shield you from it. you can't answer him—and the silence is more shameful truth than you're willing to part with.
"baby," eijiro breathes, strained and thick, "i—we—thought about you every single second we were gone. every single second, i thought about how you'd be spending your day, and i was so excited to get to call you to hear about it. at night we would talk about how you were probably burrowed in blankets and our clothes on the couch, and about how badly we wanted to be there with you."
"you are a part of me," he goes on, goring you any way but softly, "you are a part of us. this doesn't work without you. i know you're hurting and i'm so sorry we had to leave—but sweetheart, you are what we come back to."
your knuckles are white as katuski brushes his thumb over them. he brings them to his lips—brushing over each one softly. you shake in his grasp and he doesn't falter.
"i'm tired," you whisper to no one in particular. it's a half truth—the why hangs in the air between you—but the fatigue is bone deep. it hurts.
"alright," katsuki's voice is raw in a way that feels like a knife in your side—stoicism given away to something far too vulnerable for him, "shower first. then we're goin' to bed."
the ritual you had in place before distorts under the weight of the night. the act takes on new meaning as you let him peel the clothes off of you and corral you into the shower. you're only under the spray a short second before he's gathering you in his arms again--warm and damp in the steam as he dips down to press his face into your neck.
"don't you run off on me," katsuki’s lips brush your throat and it only feels melancholic. he whispers his fear against your skin and all at once you realize that it mirrors your own. you feel eijiro's chest at your back, and when he reaches over your head to wrap a palm around the back of katsuki's neck, the pain fizzles out into something like remorse. how blind you'd been to the knowledge that they held the whole time—that you were the thing they'd wrapped themselves around and sworn to protect.
there's nothing left to say, and yet you speak your apology anyway, hoarse over the patter of water against tile. much louder is what you don't say: i love you. i need you and i'm afraid.
katsuki dries you off slowly, like he's trying to commit you to memory, and it makes you ache. you let him preen you in some animal attempt at strengthening the tear in the bond.
but it's only a tear. blood dries and wounds repair themselves just as the connection between you will. when you settle into bed, it gives under the familiar weight of the two halves of your heart. it's almost comical, the way they both wrap themselves around you—nearly swallowing you whole.
it might be to keep you there—but your heart settles under their tangle of limbs and love and for the first time in the months they'd been gone, you sleep through the night.
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devourable · 3 months
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i want some love for the girls. can we pls get nsfw or kink hcs for valentina, i need her to step on me pls - 🍭 anon
we’re gonna act like i didn’t go awol for no reason again 🫶 valenteeny kink post bc abes was fun to do
cw sadism and intoxication (with a lil bit of dubcon as a treat)
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• dacryphilia
tina loves it when you cry. whether it be from fear, pain, or sheer overstimulation, she thinks its hot when she gets you so worked up that you start crying for her. sometimes she likes to mess with you by seeing how quickly she can make you tear up without even touching you — usually by overstimulating you so much and so fast that it damn near hurts. she’ll always wipe your cheeks and kiss the tears away after, of course, but she relishes in every second of it
• impact play
valentina doesn't like hurting you for the most part. but sometimes the idea of you being covered in bruises and welts left by her really gets her going and she can't help herself. it turns her on endlessly watching you try to hold it together after she hits you — and when you have to go out the next day with a particularly nasty mark that you can’t cover up, it gives her a sense of ownership over you. watching you try to explain it away to others without embarrassing yourself is fun too
• voyeurism
you definitely have to get used to the feeling of eyes on you whenever you change or shower. it’s like valentina has a secret sense that lets her know whenever you’re in a state of undress somewhere, because chances are whenever you turn to the door to leave after, you’ll find her shamelessly staring at you like you’re on display for her. something about you being unaware of her prying eyes (or being well aware of her presence and not stopping her) gets her off
• exhibitionism(?)/humiliation
another favorite activity of valentina’s is stuffing you with whatever toy she has on hand and making you go out with her. if she’s feeling especially mean, she’ll force you to do most of the talking — making you order for the both of you, having you talk to any friends you meet while out, or just walking you around in public like a trophy while you squirm and hope to god that no one knows what’s going on. god bless you if she chooses something that vibrates, too, because she’ll turn the power to the highest setting at the worst moment just to see if you’ll crack
• intox play?
technically not a kink, it’s less sexual and more of a power thing — but tina likes it when you get drunk or high around her, especially if you’re a lightweight. it means she gets to hold you down and watch you writhe under her, too out of it to object or try to push her off. it’s just so cute! she generally won’t make a move on you when you’re in this state, but if you make a move on her, then she’s more than happy to give you exactly what you want. it’s always so fun to tease you about it the next day, when you can’t remember a thing.
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libraryofgage · 9 months
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The whole thing was meant as a means for Eddie to walk straight into enemy territory without anyone else blinking an eye. And they were only doing that so Steve wouldn't have to walk into enemy territory alone. Unfortunately, a bard of Eddie's...reputation wouldn't exactly be welcome in a Duke's manor, but the esteemed, mysterious knight of the Crown Prince Steve Harrington currently touring the land prior to his coronation? Well, nobody is going to bat an eye in suspicion; though quite a few maids did bat their eyes in attempted seduction.
Unfortunately for them, Eddie couldn't tear his eyes away from Steve long enough to notice.
Crown Prince Steve.
His Royal Highness Steve.
His Stevie.
Not once in their six months traveling together had Steve ever let on that he was nobility, much less the blasted Crown Prince. Then again, they had both assumed their acquaintance wouldn't be lasting long, even when they grew closer and started actively looking for excuses to stick together. When some exhausted messenger had finally managed to find Steve with Eddie (three pints of mead in) at a run-down bar in the countryside, Eddie had discovered the perfect excuse and a rather big secret.
He'd also seen how nervous Steve looked, how absolutely desperate he'd seemed to apologize and pray Eddie wouldn't feel betrayed. Steve had been biting his lip, his fists clenched, his shoulders tensed, and Eddie...Eddie has never been a strong man. He's been resourceful, sure. And he's definitely been mischievous and cunning and joking and anything else.
But strong in willpower? No. Never. Especially not when faced with Steve's pretty...well, his pretty everything.
So he didn't get mad. In fact, he genuinely wasn't. Everyone has their secrets, and after knowing Steve, Eddie understands why he doesn't want anyone to know about the royalty thing. As much as Steve is good at acting and pretending, he's too easily weighed down by the work.
That much is evident when he collapses after they finally finish greeting Duchess Carol and enter their rooms.
"Is she always like that?" Eddie asks once the door is closed, thinking of the Duchess's insults that Eddie would have missed entirely if not for the subtle twitch in Steve's jaw. She'd made implications about Steve’s legitimacy and insulted a Marquise and quite bluntly asked whether Steve was finally tired of "living among uncouth common people" in the five minutes needed to accompany them to their rooms.
Steve has flopped face down on the large bed, his agreeing hum muffled by the softest sheets Eddie has ever fucking seen. His eyes light up, and he carefully sets the sword on his waist (Steve's, the one he painstakingly cares for and polishes and lent to Eddie to really sell the whole knight act; thank the First Realm that he didn't have to wear armor, too) onto the couch. He then walks over to the bed, smiling gleefully as he leaps into the space next to Steve.
His elbow jabs Steve in the ribs, their heads nearly knock together, and Eddie hears Steve laugh for the first time in days. It sends his heart racing with relief and joy and anxiety, and he wants Steve to keep laughing just like that. "You okay there, Stevie?" he asks.
After a few seconds, Steve turns his head to face Eddie, close enough that their noses are brushing and Eddie could count his eyelashes. "Probably not," he admits, "I hate all this stuff."
"All of it? I always thought living in a castle must be pretty nice."
Steve scoffs and turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling while Eddie can't bring himself to look away. "It's so...artificial. Nobody says what they mean, nobody means what they say, and if you don't keep up appearances, you're shunned."
"Who in the Five Realms is shunning the Crown Prince?"
Steve gets a slight smile but doesn't answer his question. "I'd rather be taking on another request with you than suffering through political navigation," he whispers, turning his head back to look at Eddie.
Every fiber of Eddie's being is begging him to take Steve's hand and just fucking run away. The Duke and Duchess and request from Steve's royal parents be damned, the pay-off be damned, and the incredibly soft sheets on the bed be damned. Nothing is worth the exhaustion already evident in his Stevie's eyes.
But he can't, so he just leans closer until their foreheads are pressing together, closer than they've been since hiding from gorgons in a narrow cave three weeks ago where they were chest-to-chest and waist-to-waist. Close enough that he can feel Steve's exhales brush against his lips and wonders not for the first time what Steve would taste like. Eddie's mouth suddenly feels dry, but he ignores it.
"I don't mind being here," he says softly, losing himself in Steve's eyes, drowning in the brown flecked with gold. "I'd walk into Hell if you were the one leading me by the hand, sweetheart."
It's maybe the closest Eddie has ever come to admitting...well, anything about his feelings. And it's fucking terrifying. His heart is racing, his back feels soaked in a cold sweat, his lungs can't quite fill with enough air, and he's frozen by Steve's widening eyes. But cowardice be damned along with everything else, he needs Steve to know he won't be alone, that someone is going to stay by his side no matter the place or the act he has to put on.
Before he can wonder if there's anything else he can say to make Steve feel better, he feels a soft, brief pressure against his lips. A few seconds pass after it's gone before he realizes two things. One: the Crown Prince, Steve, his Stevie kissed him. Two: it wasn't nearly long enough for Eddie to find out how he tastes, and that's unacceptable.
"Shit," Steve mutters, pushing himself up and preventing Eddie from actually conducting his official first foray into plundering his lips. "I'm sorry, Eds. I shouldn't have done that. I don't...you don't need to deal with...with all of this like that. I'm sorry."
Eddie frowns and pushes himself up as well. He then thinks for about two seconds before launching himself into Steve's lap, straddling his thighs, and holding Steve's face between his hands. Eddie forces him to look up, meeting those worried brown eyes and their anxious flecks of gold with a reassuring smile.
"Don't apologize, sweetheart. I'm only upset about one thing," he croons, leaning in closer until he can count the freckles peeking out from behind Steve's blush.
Steve swallows, and Eddie feels the way his jaw shifts with the action. "What, uh, what's that?" he asks, his voice strained and nearly cracking at the end.
And Eddie thinks it's a good thing he's not a knight after all. He'd suck at holding Steve so high above him that he's untouchable. Because Eddie is incapable of devotion to such a degree. His devotion takes the exact opposite form. He has to touch, has to feel, has to enjoy and cherish through sweet words and lingering kisses and warm cuddles during sleepy mornings.
"Well," Eddie says, moving to tuck a few strands of carefully styled hair behind Steve's ear, "it's actually more than one thing. You didn't kiss me long enough. You also didn't let me kiss you back before pulling away. And, worst of all, Stevie, you didn't even use your tongue!"
Steve blinks, and then he can't help laughing, trying to hold it back only to fail in a way Eddie absolutely adores. He dips down, kissing Steve before he can catch his breath, inhaling the last of his laughter and letting the taste of it, of Steve, of the joy of them together linger on his tongue and behind his teeth.
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puppyeared · 3 months
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valentines day pkmn wip ^_^
#im gonna put them on their own canvases and write a little abt their design insp and ideas#i had a lot of ideas but decided to go with the ones i felt worked strongest. although id love to go back to the ones that#didnt make the cut and see if i can rework them.. its a little hard to remember things that correspond to valentines day...!!!!#i wanted to do wedding dress gardevoir.. pearl necklace onix... romantic candle chandelure... heart balloon drifloon....#cherubird was supposed to be delibird but i found it hard to work around the santa theme without making it hard to recognize#so i decided to make it a new pokemon (fakemon?) entirely ^_^ based on seraphim doves and love letters#klefki is based on the pont de arcs bridge in france known for its lovelocks!! it collects charms like halves of best friend necklaces#lockets and lost wedding rings.. sawsbuck is based on tree carvings with lovers names and sakura branches#roserade is based on flower bouquets. i like how its design came out!! the body is supposed to look like a waistcoat#lopunny based on playboy bunnies. the fur on its wrists is supposed to resemble the cuffs. torso has the one piece suit#and their legs have the thigh high stockings. frogadier is based on romantic bubble baths with flower petals#tangela is based on curly old telephone wires that you twirl between your fingers when calling your lover kicking your feet in the air#decidueye has to be my fav though with the cupid theme. also used barn owls bc of the heart shaped face#i cant wait to finish these!!!! i can see these going on my portfolio for sure#my art#myart#pokemon#pokemon design#valentines day#wip#doodles
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triflesandparsnips · 1 year
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I feel like causing some psychic damage today, so:
1. Rhys and Taika do a lot of improv and bouncing off one another. This is a known thing.
2. Filming usually requires multiple takes. Different emotional weights, different physical actions, different readings of lines. This is also a known thing.
3. Stede Bonnet has a habit of remembering his past -- which the audience gets to see in the form of flashbacks -- and remembering them different depending on his mood or sense of the world.
This may or may not be a known thing. At the moment, it's just season 1 observations that may have been coincidental.
But.
It may be worth considering how, exactly, Stede remembers Ed's kiss. How it may change depending on if he's feeling hopeful, or horny, or romantic. How he may remember himself as more -- or less -- participatory than he had been. How he may remember Ed's mouth, or his hands, or his thighs as he (didn't?) straddle Stede's own.
It may be worth considering that there might be a wealth of filmed takes available from that beach-scene kiss, each one a potential different memory for Stede to run through as he searches for his Ed in season 2.
It may be worth considering how much those memories will differ from our own.
Or, and perhaps more importantly, Ed's.
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novlr · 1 year
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How to create a plot outline in five easy steps
1. Think of a premise
Every story needs to start somewhere, but it doesn't have to be a complicated process. Coming up with a premise is as simple as asking"What if?"
What if four writers spent the night in a haunted house? What if humans evolved wings?
It's that simple! Now you have a story premise.
2. Get to know your characters
Your characters are the backbone of your plot, so knowing who they are, and what they want is a great first step in outlining your story.
Create character profiles. Consider their inner and outer lives. What are their goals, motivations, and conflicts? What are their relationships, and how do they come into conflict with each other and their world?
3. Develop a setting
Your story setting is more than just where the action happens. It's an integral part of your plot, and arguably, as important as your characters!
Determine where your story is told, and ask why it's the ideal place to tell this story. How do your characters relate to their world, and how does it factor into their goals, motivations, and conflicts?
4. Create a timeline
A timeline of events is just one part of creating a compelling plot, but it's the part most people think of when you say the word 'outline.'
Once you have your premise, characters and setting worked out, you need to determine what happens in your story, so a brainstormed timeline of your plot's main events gives you a beginning, a middle, and an end — a strong foundation on which to build a more layered narrative.
5. Brainstorm some scenes
Now that you know your plot's main events, think of some important scenes that might happen within that plot. What needs to happen to get you from point A to point B?
Brainstorming scenes that will move your story along lets you set your narrative's pace. Place those scenes in your timeline to get a clearer picture of where your story might need more developing, or is too packed with content.
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eirenical · 5 months
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OK, I almost never do this anymore, but it's been a roller coaster of a few days and I want to share something fun. So, have a snippet of my "the donghai battle was a hatefuck" fic that I just wrote over 2k words of after writing almost nothing for months and months (years, it's really been years, if I'm honest)? ^_^
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He'd come on like the storm: fast, furious, and unforgiving.  There was fire in his eyes and lightning in his blade, and he spared no one as he advanced his one man army.  Scores of soldiers went overboard that night, preferring to risk the storm-tossed sea than whatever was going to happen on the ship that night.  That's the only reason I lived to share the tale.  I went overboard like the rest rather than face his wrath.  But even from a safe distance, the destruction was massive.  No one could have survived it, but it was a sight to behold.  It's no wonder our Sect Leader has been in seclusion ever since, regaining the cultivation, the strength, that he lost to his enemy that night.  I shudder to think what he must have seen…
*
The sea was wretched that night, not fit for man or beast.  As the sounds of his men's misery reached his ears even inside the cabin, Di Feisheng found himself grateful, yet again, for his strong constitution.  But even he wasn't entirely unaffected by the rolling and dipping of the vast ship beneath him.  He'd retreated to the cabin, unwilling to risk losing the meager dinner he'd eaten in front of his men… or anyone else who might come along.
More than a few of his soldiers had begged leave to return to land, leaving naught more than a skeleton crew manning the decks, but more than that wouldn't be necessary.  This confrontation with Sigumen's Leader was for no one's eyes but their own.  The rest of his soldiers already had their orders to join their brethren on shore as soon as Li Xiangyi arrived.
…which, judging by the clang of swords he could now detect through the walls of the cabin, was imminent.
Moments later, the door was Li Xiangyi's latest victim.  Di Feisheng didn't rise to the bait, merely pushed a second cup of tea across the table and raised an eyebrow.  Over Li Xiangyi's shoulder, Wuyan briefly caught his eye.  Di Feisheng offered him a small nod of acknowledgment, trusting him to get the rest of their men off the ship and leave the two sect leaders to the business at hand.
And the business at hand was even now brandishing his sword far closer to Di Feisheng's throat than he was comfortable with.  He lifted a hand to push against the blade.  "You demanded a meeting, and I am here, Li-menzhu."  He motioned towards the cup he had pushed across the table.  "Tea?"
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bakubunny · 6 months
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i am low key convinced that the vast majority of readers who like reading about their cervix getting rammed into repeatedly have never actually had that happen while getting fucked. imo that’s the fastest way to cry in a bad way, throw up, or pass out in pain. can someone explain why cervix fucking or whatever is a literary device that’s so widely used??
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