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sleepybbie · 8 months

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LET’S EXCHANGE, SHALL WE? | blade x reader

summary: blade helps you finish your mission as a spy with him as your objective by giving you an exchange (he knows) you won’t refuse

assassin!blade x fem!spy!reader

note: f/n - fake name, first time posting smut >.< , porn with plot (it’s a long ride folks), reader calls him ren, (might) ooc blade T^T virginity loss, v*gin*l f*nger*ng, nipple teasing, with proofhead ! cunn*l*ngus, breast groping, hick*ys, hair pulling, it’s reader’s first time ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა blade is down bad for her °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° lots of praise <3 also teasing, he kinda bullies her :((, fluff at the end ;3 (this fic is based on the manga cinderella x assassin >w< i also imagined how hot assassin!blade is frfr ) hope u cuties enjoy!

a/n: this is my first time writing smut because i am mostly on the fluff side of writing ToT but thanks to some uhh advise from other writings, i hope this is written well :,> english isn’t my first language so forgive me if i had any mistakes here TwT

it was all nothing new. you knew that all too well.

here at the association of blue angels, it is necessary that every spy has their own change of paths that comes across their ways in order for them to fulfil their duties and gain secret information from their clients, whether they are deadly, from aristocratic families, from high positions, or popular idols, it is fundamental that their aim for their prime objective is done and filed back at the organization. no matter who their target was, it was an absolute must you return with new info regarding the end of the view.

it was all nothing new, of how your boss would pick you for every male target, quiet with predatory gaze for women that lurk next to their sides. pretty girls like you will easily win their attention, that’s why they see why you’re perfect to work as a spy at the blue angels. your looks are perfect for the eyes of others, the definition of an eye candy. you knew your job all too well. non-stop praises from your boss whenever you’d return with an info dragged along on your palm, your eyes naively scanning down on the office floor as you mutter out an ‘i’ve returned.’

with different personas you became, brand new names you required in your business; that is what it takes to be a spy in disguise. for you, all of that just to be used as a seducing tool. so much for the title you earned…with these priorities set on to you, you would be forced to fuck your targets afterwards. the organization you were apart of depended on you with these said goals, and that’s the problem they see…

because you were too sheepish to eventually have sex with your objectives, even when asked.

yes, you have the looks to charm them like a siren luring their victims. however you were…too unsophisticated. guileless innocence and purity of a shy teenager. the confidence of seduction is what you lack. no wonder some of your co-workers poke fun at you. the naive y/n, they would murmur to you. but, they had no choice as you were the best spy among your group who can catch the eyes of men in a blink of an eye. set aside your ingeniousness…

it wasn’t like you asked for these missions to be set to you, after all, ever since they noticed your lack of temptation for the people they assigned you to, you were given to more easier victims, someone you won’t have a hard time gaining info from, in easier words someone you would not have to sleep with to collect main enlightenment. this, sounded somewhat as an insult for you. yet, for them, they just think this was for your best to avoid pressure.

‘pressure my ass…i do spy work, not sex work..who do they think they are?’ were the thoughts circulating inside of your head once you were outside of your boss’ office. them seeing your body as the sheer instrument of your skills when out as an undercover, you hated it. you wished they’d return your assignments when your targets were tougher victims. now that you are known in the blue angels association as the girly spy whose looks can kill, there was never going back as your reputation swoons the other workers when the aim is a pervert.

not much long after, your boss had called you into his office to hand over a new mission; following your last successful expedition that had been completed. as your eyes gazed down on the paper he slid on his desk, you slowly read the details for your next objective.

an assassin. a dangerous one to be exact.

“they call him blade, his real name is currently unknown. he works for the stella hunters department, an association filled with menacing assassins, and he’s one of the deadliest among them. find all regarding information about this man, including his weaknesses, and don’t hesitate to swoop in all you can. i’ll be handing this commission over to you, y/n,” is what your boss said, lighting a cigarette whilst looking over the paper that you held on your hands. you couldn’t help but be overjoyed once you heard this responsibility was handed to you, who had been longing for a task like this for so long. you’ll show them, you’ll show how you’re not just the kind of spy who sleeps with their intent. with a smile, you wholeheartedly accepted this work.

so, you put up a new persona, new name, and you were all set. this should be easy, with your looks there may be a chance this person will be beneath your thumb.

oh how right they were when they call you naive y/n..

blade was…scary. though, you managed to make him fall for you after months of trying. and there was this tiny gut feeling inside of you that was saying you were slowly falling for him, too. he was good-looking, fucking handsome. he’s got the stealth of a ninja, as if his presence wasn’t even there at the first place. so far, he is able to startle you whenever. the sword that he swings in his hands were swift, fast, and silent—often drools with the copper scent of velvet liquid. you pretended not to notice since he told you he worked as a bodyguard. the fake name you gave to him, he addresses you as f/n. you think it was convincing enough, after all, you ‘dated’ him for over 3 months now, that was a record. you didn’t quite understand why blade fell for you, in honest speaking; all you knew is that he suddenly asked you out when you both were at a fancy cafe shop he dragged you along with. his red eyes lured you, instead, and that made your heart jump.

surprisingly, blade was quite affectionate. despite being cold to your for the past months, he soon began to open up to you more with his loving antics. ‘cause of that, you were slowly getting weak over his words like some damsel. well, 3 months of dating can end up to something like this happening, although that doesn’t matter for now. your boss was pleased when he heard the news from you.

“did you manage to dig through his personal info? real name perhaps?”

“i—uhh…n-no, i still haven’t managed to..”

“…”

“just keep up the work, y/n. do not disappoint me.”

blade is an assassin for god’s sake, scooping information about him will take more than years to do so, even if you were playing as his faux ‘lover.’ you didn’t understand why he refused to answer questions from you in connection of his workspace, he replies all the time that it was ‘too embarrassing’ to say so. he says that then won’t hesitate to come home and drop his sword somewhere in his big house. this was going to take longer than you thought it was. no wonder this assignment was labeled as ‘heavy.’ investigating him was like a trace gone cold no matter how many evidence you found. it was like the said evidence were nothing but dents.

so that was why you decided to take matters into your own hands.

while he was out on his ‘work,’ you walked inside his home naturally, and quietly. blade always told you where his house keys were hidden every time he was out for business. your skills of not leaving traces as perfectly working as always. his small office inside of his house, you easily unlocked the door and went inside. blade had mentioned to you to never enter his house office, yet here you were. you couldn’t help but feel a little bad, however this was your job. you weren’t supposed to love him in the first place, you’re just a spy. playing with someone’s heart can be cruel.

his documents that spread on the inside of his cabinets that were placed on the sides, you opened them, seeing all the details you needed; displayed in front of you. your heart drummed in exhilaration, already imagining all the possibilities your boss might give you for your future works.

oh naive you..

“what might you be doing…y/n?”

a cold metallic feeling that touches your neck as you didn’t have time to react to the stern voice that whispered through your ears. gloved hands crawl through your thigh as the other held the bloodied sword closer to your throat. your breath hitches, and time froze at that moment. your eyes widen once you realized something..

he called you…y/n. not your fake name.

“b-blade..?”

“yes, y/n? what are you doing here?”

this wasn’t a fucking dream, he knows your name.

“why so silent now? are you surprised i know your real name, y/n?” the way he speaks your name was austere, moving closer before he gently lays his head on your shoulder. even his gorgeous face was splattered with blood, almost his entire clothing was. you were done for, your cover was blown.

“h-how..?”

“hm? how’d i know?” he chuckles. “simple…you’re a spy, aren’t you?”

you froze

“i thought your organization is a lot more smarter than that, sending a cute girl here to grab my attention. well…not like i’m complaining..you guys do know it’s not easy to fool me, right? and now you’re here in my office when i forbid you to go, that won’t do, y/n..” he spoke, softly caressing your thigh in a manner that slowly turned rough. you let out a soft grunt as blade grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, his red hues staring back at yours as he smiles like a manic. you couldn’t move your eyes away…those chilling eyes, like a predator looking at its prey.

“so? tell me.”

there was nowhere else to run. he’s got you on a chokehold, your body pressed against his as his strong grip held you down. you didn’t even register your thoughts completely to know you were sitting on top of him, you were too focused on his deadly gaze. your entire life as a spy, all fell down quickly like building blocks…all because of blade. your eyes felt like tearing up, finding the words to say, heartbeat screaming in your chest to just tell the truth…you…

“i have betrayed you, blade..”

blade’s attention was fully on you now, glancing at your body on top of his as you spoke in a whisper, almost in regret.

“i was going to find your name…and report it to the association…” you should’ve just declined the job. maybe the easier works were made for you after all.

“i’m sorry…if you must kill me then…i’ll accept that outcome.” you wanted to apologize to your boss, as well. for failing as a spy, for ruining his expectations on this ongoing mission. blade looks at you with no reaction, he still held you tight before grabbing his sword. this was it. this is the end for you.

“i see..” was all he responded before raising up his weapon, blood dropping down from the tip. blade hugs you tight, the sword adjusting over your neck.

as you closed your eyes, you watched as every decision you made throughout your life flashed before your mind. you began to wonder if maybe you were born as a normal girl—not a spy or anything, would you have found happiness? true love? would you have finished school and achieve a dream you’ve always wanted? probably. however, here you are, spending your last moments in life as it was ended by an assassin. there was no point in asking those questions now, this was the final.

just then, the sound of the sword dropping on the floor came on your ears, your eyes were back wide open when two pairs of arms are now wrapped around your shoulders, almost like a mother hugging her child close. blade laid his head down on your shoulder once more, smudging small drips of blood onto your clothing as you felt his breath on your neck.

“ren..” he mutters to you through the hug. “just call me ren…” then he pats your head like an animal.

you had a whole bag of questions right after that moment. pulling away, you looked at him with the most bewildered face ever, your face contorted whether you were angry or just plain confused.

“what?”

“hm? what? oh, ren as in—

“that’s not what i’m confused about..!”

blade was amused by how you reacted to his sudden gesture. most assassins by now would’ve sliced your neck open upon seeing you were an undercover spy sneaking info out of him, however from here…he instead proposed a deal. a deal that made you get stuck to this job.

“if you agree to marry me and become my wife, then i’ll allow you to keep spying on me.”

you think it’s dumb at first, marrying someone for the sake of knowing every little detail about him for some stupid mission. but again, his proposal was reasonable enough. for him, his side was that he gets to marry you. and for you, you can inform your boss you lured him into an engagement. easy as that. you can already see the look on your boss’ face once you tell him that exact information. blood rushes through your cheeks as you were thrilled with the thought. it’s a big win-win for both of you, and a marriage contract will do the trick. eventually, you agreed.

and thus, the two of you got married. in contract.

this was for the commission, was what you kept telling yourself. a married life with blade was…something that might take a while to get used to. he spoiled you rotten, when you guys got married he bought an expensive wedding gown on that same day, all because you thought the dress was pretty. he was loaded for an assassin. the stella hunters group payed them fairly. too fairly. they are a group of assassins after all. blade loved teasing you, seeing your face blush was his favorite sight. and his teasing wasn’t even intentional. hell—he probably turned a deaf ear when he was making fun of you.

no long after, you moved into his huge apartment. living together wasn’t much of a hassle. there were separate rooms, so whenever you wanted to not sleep with him, you would sleep in the other room (just in case). he’d gift you small gifts, something to entertain you with. sometimes, he’ll buy unnecessary lingerie to deride you with, piss you off with probably, too. you weren’t going to lie, some of the lingerie he bought were pretty (yet that doesn’t mean you like them !) it’s unbelievable to know how much blade says ‘i love you’s’ to you a whole lot. his demeanour as an assassin changed when you’re around.

on second thought, this man was out of his head. and weird.

you slightly began to think of him as a pervert, blade likes to scan down a lot to look at your melons. though, this doesn’t happen frequently, he only does it when you notice just to pull on your strings. you hated how instead of you who kept blade under your thumb, it was him who was influencing you. he had a strong morale, blade knows about the stares you give him every time he comes out of the shower. pretending like he doesn’t notice then would proceed to walk towards you with a towel over his leaking head. men like him on assignments are (kind of) no different, with good looks at first it should be alright, then suddenly they were perverts. it was an ongoing cycle you run throughout your life as a female spy, never escaping the chain of male clients.

and as for you who was an eye candy of every male gaze in your work, there was no difference of how easily they fawn over your figure like a barbie doll. nothing new to you; but to blade, he’s fully aware. he knew the treatment you got from your workplace, how you complained to him during on dates of how you were mostly assigned to older guys or either degenerates. as long as they were guys, you were quickly rolled in. you were pretty, and cute. he can understand why your boss gave you roles for victims who were men. it’s often hard grabbing the attention of a man after all, unless you were beautiful. yet he tells you how you actually did a nice job making him fall for you.

a blush erupts on your face when he mentioned that. blade only said that to make you feel better, is what your brain told you.

with the deal ongoing, you and blade made a lot of exchanges, some of them were cardinal for your mission as a spy. he gave you a lot of opportunities to know every little thing about him. in return, all he asked for were hugs, kisses, or dates. he was like a lovesick puppy. the loving looks he gave you, taking your palm out of nowhere then kisses them so soothingly. it was not worth questioning of how he makes you down on your knees. though you refused to let him know about that side of you of course.

you can’t let yourself down for a handsome assassin.

you and blade came home one day from a banquet incident.

it was supposed to be part of his assignment. to assassinate a director chief who was part of that party. all you have to do was merely watch him and be his party date. he came along with a colleague, her name was kafka. she introduced herself to you then congratulated your marriage with blade. she was beautiful, eyes hypnotizing and her presence as dangerous as blade’s. throughout the party, she started to grow a liking towards you, asking you to dance with her then glancing behind your back with your hand on hers. she was probably trying to make blade jealous.

how right she was when she said it worked.

kafka was rather flirty, although she was wearing a suit to the banquet, she still looks exquisite. for the entire night, you spent half of your time with her. well—she made you spend your time with her to be exact. dancing and sharing chats while drinking underneath the moonlight. you weren’t sure how blade reacted to his female companion being a little too close with his wife. in the meantime, she asked a lot of questions to you, too, asking how you and blade met, what made you love him, the usual questions like a mother asking about her son. she smiles mischievously at every answer you gave.

there was a side of you that’s telling not to trust this woman much. she had a mystique side to her. just by the look of her eyes, you knew kafka was someone not be trusted. she is an assassin, just like your husband. spies and assassins were no different much for their missions. unlike spies, they don’t kill in order to obtain said info. they hide themselves in order to do so, like skulking shadows. while assassins like them, chooses violence. how did the world come up so terrible that they created people like your profession to exist?

that same night, however, a small explosion occured, catching you immediate attention. the floor shakes with ease, leaving small visible cracks. screams of the people in that party made a ruckus, running out of the building from below your view as you only watched in a panic. what in the world just happened?

“hmm, just as the boss planned..” you hear kafka say, bringing her gun out of the pockets of her suit. she seems entertained; and she came prepared as predicated. you were right when you thought of how full her coat’s pocket looked. you send her a gaze, perplexed of what she meant.

“i-is ren going to be alright in there??”

“relax~ he’s a professional. do you really think bladie won’t survive in something so small like that~?” something so small, was his agency used to this type of disaster? assassins are frightening indeed. as kafka opened the door from the balcony you two stood in, a large dark smoke erupted out from the party room. you covered your nose, letting out a loud cough while kafka stood there, unbothered. a figure stands in front of her.

“i told you to send a signal, didn’t i?” kafka spoke, her eyes dark as a smile aligned on her face.

blade stands tall, his appearance sanguinary with the drip of crimson coming down on his sword. he looks nonchalant as he stared back at kafka, he huffs, “the bomb went off earlier than i thought. i’ve already slaughtered the remaining security,” blade says, wiping the small blood the slides down his chin. even with something like blood falling down on his image, your husband still looks ethereal. not a single scratch was on him, not even an injury from the bomb. he wasn’t bathing in his own blood, yet he bathed in others. the two assassins looked so astounding together. with their threatening aura and glances they shared, they were really one of the most best assassins in the team. your boss really was mindful to warn you about them.

“is that so? very good then. the lesser the better for our target to be shot in the head…also, you worried your adorable wife, y’know? she was scared you’d die in the bomb,” kafka tells the male, a soft chuckle following by. blade gazes back to meet your figure. you look magnificent in that dress he made you wear. coming to the banquet as his date was truly one of the best ideas he made. blade excused himself for a moment, walking past kafka and straight to you before pressing a small kiss on your temple, not minding the blood that smeared onto your forehead. his gloved hands pulled your head closer to him. you noticed blade had taken off his black coat that matched his suit, probably because it was too hot? either way it’s not worth pointing out, since he looks handsome looking like that.

“apologies, did that scare you..?”

“not at all j-just…shocked..”

“is that so?”

“save the loving hours for later, bladie. we got more business to take care of~” kafka cuts the small conversation between the both of you as she cunningly walks back inside the room boiled with grey smoke, her dark suit dissolving along with her enigmatic figure before disappearing in the space of the area. after she had left, blade turns his head to look back at you, his dark eyes never leaving yours, “you should head to a more safer spot. follow me, i’ll lead you there.”

the route you followed as you trailed behind blade made you quiver in fear when the glimpse of countless lifeless bodies of securities scattered all over the place like fallen dominos. it was if as a blood war happened here. the eerie silence pierced your cowardice even more that blade had to pull your closer to his side. talk about overprotective…your husband dragged you away to an overcast corner, where there were no one else surrounding near that spot. he told you to stay there for awhile, and wait for his return. credulously, you obliged and await for his arrival. the place creaked, helpless pleas fall onto your ears before hearing the sounds of either gunshots or the swift movement of a sword finish the loud cries they let out. this scared you, having to cover your ears and ignore the shouts they let out as the assassins out ended their lives, including the targeted director chief.

spies aren’t special in these types of occupations where blood spilled like paint. as said, your team is more in specialising in gathering top secret data from other groups that your association acquired to know about. meddling with other people’s business (inclusive of your husband and his colleague’s job) was on your description, but not into the extent of this. you weren’t used to hearing bullets firing, guts being spilled and cries of help ring in your ears like a nightmare. however, this was the nature for cold-blooded criminal assassins like them. the sound of footsteps echoed through your hearing, along with the sight of blade returning. his hair was a little messy (in a manner that turned him even more hotter), sword placed tightly in his palm, leaking with scarlet. blade sighed, “i’m back..”

“a-are you ok?? you’re dripping in blood..!”

“it’s their blood, not mine. are you worried about me, y/n?”

“o-of course i am! for goodness sake!” he laughs, a hoarse breath nudging in the middle of his throat before he pulls you closer, forehead pressed against yours as he stared deep into your eyes. “you stayed as i asked…how obedient, y/n. perhaps shall i reward you..?”

“h-huh?? what are you—

suddenly a loud bang shoots through the tranquil air, blade immediately pulled your close to him, before a bullet flies through below his hip, hitting him.

your eyes went wide, seeing small pricks of blood drool down from his abdomen. blade grunts, his head looked across from the room and meets with the annoying smirk of the (surprisingly) alive security had over their face. “b-blade..!” you couldn’t help but shout. there was an ignite of irritation in his eyes. blade ignores you, pulling a pistol out from his pocket and shooting a headshot at the man, before the security finally died. blade held the spot where he was shot; feeling his body weaken as you called for kafka who had just arrived, also bathed in blood; with documents in her hands.

a limousine came to pick you guys up to bring blade to immediate aid. for the entire time you stayed right next to his side until he was bandaged by one of the nurses in the limo, stopping the slight blood that leaked down. thank goodness, he was wearing a bullet proof vest. however with the amount of shots he received from earlier battles, it seems like the final shot you witnessed to him harmed him directly to a more effective part of the bullet proof, causing a bleed. everyone in the limo, they all wore dark attire, collected expressions as the whole drive towards blade’s apartment was as soundless as the dead. blade rested his head over your shoulder, sneaking small subtle touches on your inner thigh while you tried your best to keep your mouth shut. wrecking the droning atmosphere was not something you’d want to do, not to mention the people who were with you in the limo were part of the stella hunters association.

kafka asked if you needed any assistance in dragging blade up on your shared penthouse apartment, though blade cuts in; saying he didn’t need help and that he was practically fine now. it’s as if the bullet shot at his hip didn’t effect him at all. him saying that he was used to being hurt…this made you even more worried about him. as he was one of the strongest in his section along with kafka, it was obvious the missions they give him were extremely perilous.

after the limo had dropped the both of you in your place, kafka bids you a (quite terrifying) farewell through the car glass, velvet gloves waving you a goodbye before the window rolls back up, and the limo leaves with nothing else. blade stood firmly still, despite being shot earlier at the banquet. the bandaged area hid within his bloodied suit shirt, navy dark hair hiding his other eye before he waited for you to stand next to him. “shall we?” he spoke to you in a gentle manner, his hand outreached to yours before you held it and led him home to your shared place.

upon opening the door— you warmly made him rest down on the couch, running to the kitchen to fetch him some water and prepare a bath. blade watches as you run around the house like a panicking maid and an airy chuckle escapes from his lip, “y/n..”

“y-yes…?” you murmured, stopping yourself from pacing back and forth. blade tilts his head a bit, a small smile appearing over his lips, “you know you don’t have to keep doing that. you look so concerned right now, y’know? this… i’m used to it..” he speaks. you didn’t like how he normally says that like bleeding and harming for him was casual despite being an assassin. even if he was strong, blade was still a person. pouting, you threw the towel away from the side and made him look at you, obvious look over your expression you were angry of what he said. was he a dumbass? “don’t say things like that, blade.”

he grins, “why not? it’s true.”

“blade, please, you’re making me worry about your health more. if it weren’t for the bullet proof vest you would’ve died..!”

the male stood up impatiently from the couch, walking next to your side as he suddenly moves his head a little closer to yours, a hum erupting out of him. you moved away, feeling the heat on your cheeks. close…he was so close. what’s with him all of a sudden? “you’re worried, y/n? how very kind..” he whispers, breath fanning over your neck. you shivered. bashfully, you turned your head away; avoiding eye contact as you replied, “i-is there something wrong? if you don’t like that then i can stop worrying if you keep teasing me..”

“how very strange..earlier at the banquet you said you were worried about me. taking back your words now?” there was venom in his tone, an icy gaze that lacks of emotion except for lechery was filled in his appearance. instead of dangerous for his term as an assassin maybe dangerously handsome is a more fitting description. you remained silent, not being able to talk back like he exposed you fully. another chuckle. “not answering, huh? in that case..”

instantly, your figures moved back to the soft cushions of the couch; arms held tight by his fingers along with the feeling of your legs spread across his body—face looking directly over his dark features. you were on top of him while blade laid down on the couch, holding you by your arms.

“you still have work to do, y/n,” he began, voice enchanting with toxin, bloodshot eyes digging holes into yours like a madman. your breath shakes, paralyzed in place when his fingers moved up to play with the small fats of your hips. “you could threaten me with a weapon, dig your hands into my wounds, and i would have to answer all of your questions…” his tone now latched with sweetness like honey. seeming convincing enough for you to be enlightened. you stared back at him, puzzled. “what are you talking—

blade pulls your arm closer to his face, emotionless eyes peeking through your glimmering irises that reads confusion and clarity. he smiles, “right now, i’m so weak…i couldn’t resist anything you do to me..” he quietly sneaks your hand on his injured area, feeling the familiar touch texture of the bandage touch your skin. the lingering sensation made you wince, blade looks indeed weak; pale skin as he breathes heavily. “i’m sure your association has so many things they’d love to know about me..” he mutters to you, lovingly. your breath hitches, taken back.

“well? now is your chance.”

you tightly clutched your fists from his sentence. an opportunity to know everything your boss had been dying to know about this man. anything you’ll ask, he says he’ll answer due to his enfeebled form. there’s a chance; you can’t just turn your head from this. every achievement you can earn by getting the statistics they desperately wanted. everything you wanted will be given if you just do your job right now—

no.

“i’m sorry..” blade blinks his eyes twice, dazed from your response. “it must’ve hurt really bad, didn’t it? i don’t think…i can do anything to you right now..” as you slowly moved your head away from his chest, few strands of your hair fell down across your face causing you to brush them away, you looked at blade with eyes that reads nothing but worry. the male glances back at you with a questionable look. “…to the association, i’m merely just another pawn. just like all the others like me, if we stop being useful we’re replaced right away..” looking down on his stomach, you sighed, “we’re only ever concerned about our own safety, and the idea that someone would protect me with their body…was novel to me. maybe that’s why, i had to protect you as well..”

steadily, your returned your head down on his chest, feeling him breathe heavily through the strokes you drew on his chest. you snuggled into that same warmth, inhaling in his scent. he smelled like enigma and copper, mixed with the floating fragrance of dark virtue . “be careful next time, okay? you’re still my objective after all..” you wanted to see what your husband looks like right now. after all, it took you some time to tell him those words that’s been latched from the back of your throat. maybe he’s looking at you funny, wasn’t expecting them from someone like you. yeah.

the sound of water falling down the tub caught your attention as you promptly excused yourself before jumping off of blade’s chest. walking towards the bathroom, you turned off the faucet that spilled out with warm water, and went back outside to call for blade, telling him that his bath was ready. the bath needed a little more foam, perhaps adding bubbles and some soap to the water will help ease his mind once he’s in the bathtub. before you could head back inside the bathroom to fill the water with soap, a hand stopped you from doing so, as a figure hugged you from behind, head on your shoulder. you flinched, stammering on your words to see blade.

“i love you..”

your eyes go wide.

he kisses the back of your neck, breathing in your scent. “you don’t even understand how much those words make me love you more. you’re so mean, y/n..” blade brushes his lip against your cheek, feeling yourself shudder in his touch. he laughs when you try to push him away. “t-the bath is ready! get yourself washed up so you’ll cleanse your wound as well!”

“has that moody boss of yours never once stood for you?” he dodges your topic.

“…what?” and you definitely have a lot of questions just by the mention of your boss flew out of his mouth. although you couldn’t help but wonder: why was your boss indeed so interested in him? assassins are supposed to be mysterious, it’s crystal clear there a lot of essential inquiry they posses as shadows—but him specifically? there has to be a valuable reason. your boss never hid anything much from you. “how do you know my boss? all i was told was to investigate your background and weaknesses but…w-wait! is there some type of personal conflict between the both of you?? why is the association so interested in you?? hey, tell me—

blade’s lips shut you off, ceasing your words before they could even wind up your query. his weight caused you to lose a bit of your balance, your hands pinned on the entrance of the bathroom as you muffled in his mouth. the kiss tasted like impatience and longing. he freed one of your hands, slipping his gloved palm over your coverless shoulders with a smooth rub to it. you flinched, before blade pulls away from the kiss. it took you awhile to catch your breath and registered what just happened.

“h-hey, what—

“let’s make an exchange. a deal.”

blade finally lets go of your hand, his arm just right above your head as he leans closer, covering your path. he looks solemn, yet there was a hint over his eyes that construes as an engulfing flame of impulse to kiss you again. his other hand slowly slid down to the wall next to you, touching your shoulders till it reaches your hip, pulling you in. “i know i might be playing foul, but if that’s the only card i have then i don’t mind..” the male playfully plays with the fabric of your dress, pulling them up until your feel your inner thigh feeling the cold wind. “i knew you were a spy, yet i bound you by this marriage contract. that’s just how much i yearn for you..”

what is he talking about? a deal? just what crazy ideas is this guy coming up again?

you didn’t realise your were zoning out until blade pushes your chin up with his forefinger, making you look up at him in a better view. “y/n, my dearest..here’s the deal, i’ll tell you my secrets, but in return…” your heart pounds heavily with electricity—feeling your breath quicken when he pressed his forehead softly against yours.

“…let me do anything i want with you tonight.”

that marriage contract he mentioned, although it was fake for the sake of your mission, the predicament you found yourself in was real. though, you needed a little more thought to think about what he wants to do with you, including when blade looked so…steamy?

‘it’s a great chance to gather information, but…what does ‘anything he wants’ entail—huh?’

the atmosphere quickly changed, the male didn’t give you a chance to utter out a word when he instantly went back to claim your lips. this time the kiss grew more heated than before, linking between the emotions craving and thirst—his cold hands exploring your body from out and within your dress, feeling your curves and the heat between them. you were slowly losing your balance, legs weakening from his strength like he was forcing his mouth in yours. actually, he was even more forceful than usual. this is wrong but…you couldn’t resist. it was hot, so hot. it feels like you were sweating as you two exchanged smothering kisses. you never knew blade was talented with his tongue until he used it to deepen the kiss, casting around your mouth until a small drop of saliva escapes out of your lip.

“you would like that, yeah?” the male in front of you muttered between kisses, a grin stretched over his face. “knowing my secrets, sharing it to your associates so your mission would be complete. you’re desperate to know too, correct?” he just knew the buttons to press to make you jolt in his touch. an exchange where instead of hurting him and force him to answer your questions regarding of the info you needed to report to your boss, maybe doing this was better. you’re a virgin after all. a small muffled whimper escapes out of your throat, trying to push him away but blade had already pinned both of your arms above your head—his grip on them strong. he chuckles in the kiss when he notices you struggling for air with your eyes tight shut. he pulls away, along with a small string of saliva connecting between your lips. you could finally breathe again as you pant hard. blade thinks the sight in front of him was fucking delicious, you acting so helpless and weak.

you see your husband licking his lip, right before leaning close again. “good girl, y/n. let’s kiss more, can we…?”

“i…”

“what’s that, dearest?”

you bit your bottom lip, fists tightening on his chest. flashbacks of your co-workers calling you pure, naive, artless…it was time for you to try something new, something you’ve never done before that everyone has already been through as young adults, or even teenagers. him giving you this opportunity to know such crucial data, if in exchange for your body. it was a better deal than earlier.

besides, you wanted to thank him.

it was a terrible decision to rub your thighs together; thinking blade wouldn’t notice (but he did). because of this, his pupils darken, something similar to the look of his eye whenever he was on assassin mode. “i wouldn’t do that if i were you, dearest..” blade spoke, already beginning to feel drunk on that desire that rushes through his veins. “you’re making this harder for me.”

“i’m…”

blade hums in reply to your short words, finger under your chin before you finished your sentence. you just needed the right string to pull off the trigger. maybe this is for the best for your new world. as a spy. you’ll get that stupid title you had for the whole 7 years of working there off of your name. staring right back at blade, looking through his red eyes, you took a deep breath.

“i’m all yours, blade.”

that was all he needed to hear.

he launched towards your lips, kissing you again with fiery passion. you kissed him back as you wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes as you two indulge yourselves in a heated make-out session for the second time. blade was rough with his kisses, as if he was going to shift his name to your mouth, claiming every air that was entering through your lips and help you breathe properly. saying those words to him were a mistake, too, blade wasn’t letting you struggle. the lipgloss you applied that evening before heading to the banquet with him smudged on his lips, tasting you and its flavor. slowly did you feel your feet levitating from the floor, before a surprised yelp comes out of your voice.

blade was carrying you now, your arms still linked around his shoulders. he went forward to your neck after, licking your collarbone up until it reaches your throat, before slowly nipping his sharp teeth at the skin. your breath shakes, abjectly looking away at the vision of blade peppering wet kisses at your sensitive neck alongside leaving visible marks to them. oh how he loves the taste of your skin, like if he was licking the sweetest treat for the first time. his hands caressed your cheek like they were made of ivory, pulling away to look at your panting face, blushing madly. he likes the look of that. “you’re still as soft..and still as sweet..” he mumbles, “i’m getting tired, so why don’t we head up now, hm?”

answering back at him won’t help since the guy was already rushing up to his bedroom with you in his arms, pushing the door open with impatience of a madman—he pulled you in yet another kiss, and a satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you both settled down on his comfy bed. the room smelled like roses, lingering with air conditioned fragrance. you could fall asleep to the relaxing atmosphere, yet blade was helping you keep awake. your neck was probably covered in marks by now, since the assassin wasn’t intending on stopping. the cold air hits your bare thighs, making you shiver twice by the temperature, and by how blade’s fingers began to slide down on your legs to the core of your heat. you gasped hard once his forefinger reaches the main fabric of your panties.

“you’re panting hard though all we did was just kissing. imagine how hard you’ll be panting once i get to shove myself in you.” he was looking down on you and your pathetic figure. how your tummy goes up and down, how your legs squished his hand that touches your panties, how your doe eyes laced with innocence looked at him when he teased you. his patience was running thin with you. god, you’re going to be the death of him. biting hard down on your thumb, you held blade’s arm, tugging on the sleeve. “i-i’ve never done this before..” you murmured, glossy eyes hypnotizing him under your spell. blade curses under his breath, pushing his hair back. you’re so damn cute, he wanted to just fuck your face but he can’t just do that. as much as he’d like to ruin you, rapture himself with your presence—he needed to be gentle with his cute virgin wife.

“yeah? well, i’ll be pleased to teach you then.” he replies, shortly before ripping your panties down to your legs. you winced once the cold air entered to your heating core, seeing small drops of impure liquid drip from your entrance to the soft fabric of your underwear. blade chuckles at your reaction. “first, i’ll teach you how to prep yourself before we get to the main part. but damn, wet already? all we did was share kisses, dearest.”

a pout forms over your face with the sudden teasing, making you meekly cross your legs in order to hide. blade however, didn’t like this attitude you give him. “don’t, i’m observing..” was all he says, his eyes scanned down to your leaking cavern like a hunter tracking down its next meal. you felt frail under his ravening gaze, hands curling into fists while you whined of the way his other hand rubbed over your thighs, earnestly—under all the touch of his black gloves. “i-its embarrassing, don’t look at it like tha—ah!”

his hand worked like magic, gloved fingers propped over your aching entrance as he gave it a rub. that alone was already enough to make your jolt from the comfy sheets of the bed, a loud gasp erupting out of your mouth. blade began to starve from eagerness, pulling his glove out of his hands using his teeth, before his now naked hands continued to toy with your puffy clit; glistening like a gem on his hands. the new feeling sends all kinds of electrical waves throughout your body—pleasure from heaven that shoots just where you liked it. holy shit, this felt good. no wonder some of your co-workers told how you were ‘missing out’ on some of your opportunities to sleep with some of your targets.

the way his hands rubbed circles around your entrance was sending shockwaves and new emotions that coil up inside of your stomach. this was such a nice feeling, you didn’t want him to stop. you hear blade chuckle, “relax, honey..” he whispers, dark and smooth like velvet. his eyes were glued to yours, watching your every reaction and every breath that comes out of your mouth. he didn’t want to miss a single one of it. “you’re so pretty..i can’t wait another minute..” he had a tight grip over your thighs, fingers soaked from kneading your hole in circles. though, he was curious; and also wanted to give you a new experience..

you were disappointed when the feeling of his stroking his fingers on your clit stopped, looking at him with a hopeless look on your face. blade smiles, right before as he shoves you down more on the bed, his fingers entering your narrow entrance. you let out a satisfied cry, back arched up. now that was even more better. hell, that was already enough to sends a current down on your body, you looked so pretty when you whine. “why do you look like that? have you never fucked yourself with your fingers before?” he questions, and you shook your head. he whistles, “heh. you really were missing out. fuck, what a tight one. and this is just with my fingers,” blade slightly flicks his tongue over your mouth, pinning your arm above your head while his fingers began to pump in and out of your cute pussy, squelching noises echoing inside of the room. sweet melodies came out of your throat, sounding like music to your husband’s ears. oh how he wished he could record you right now.

“you look gorgeous crying my name like that, dearest.”

you bit your bottom lip, closing your eyes as you try to just focus on the pleasure he was giving you. his fingers dig deeper to a spot you wanted him the most—prodding closer to your release. you moaned out his name, your white knuckled hands gripped the sheet, the tension in your muscles growing as you held yourself to remain still. “b-blade…!”

“what’s wrong? afraid you like it?” the corners of blade’s mouth twitched upward still in a mischievous grin. slowly did your hips begin to bounce over his drenched digits, silencing your pleasured sighs by biting down hard on your finger as the continuous resonance of your moist cunt being played by his fingers filled the room’s walls. it was as a clear as day you’re inexperienced, so that’s why he thinks this was a perfect time. blade notices how your euphoric essence followed through his rhythm, seeming amused he let you be to pleasure yourself on him, trying his best to ignore his aching cock underneath the fabric of his pants—the sight of you acting like a bitch in heat is forbidding him from doing so however. your moans went louder when you felt his fingers curl inside your clit like it was an instrument, hearing his manic chuckle as he watches you squirm and tremble.

it was lewd. small gasps escapes your lips, trying to cut the knot that’s tied inside of your belly. a wave of intensity runs through your skin as you closed your eyes shut; feeling that closeness almost approaching from your core. good, it felt so good you could almost float on how his fingers did its job. blade kisses you, a groan floating out of his tongue before the coil inside of you was finally cut, and you feel your high dripping down on your legs. you cried loudly into the kiss, before pulling away, panting deeply. the space that lives inside of your head was filled with smoke, mindless into the gaze of the eyes with shades of red. it hasn't even been closer to 5 minutes when your husband began to finger your pure pussy, yet your first orgasm rushed through you like a huge tide. and shit, it felt great. a drool slipped past your lips while catching your breath; meanwhile the smirking assassin on the other hand was chucking as he collected a small amount of your impurity on his long digits, before taking a taste. you blushed madly upon seeing how his red hues widen at the flavor of your arousal.

as he parted his tongue off from his fingers, a small string of saliva followed by. that was fucking hot. "dearest...you taste fucking divine, y'know that?" he tells you like a beast after his thirst was quenched. "what an honor to be your first person to teach you all about this. now that you know how fucking on fingers feel like, next..." the male instantly moves away from your side, roughly gripping hard on both of your thighs before kneeling on the floor right in front of the mattress—predatory gaze meeting your slick pussy. his hot breath fans over core, before planting a quick kiss over at the sensitive area. you squirmed. "for this next one, let me teach you what fucking on my tongue feels like..." you weren't even finished resting from your previous orgasm and he was already prepping you for round 2. this man is going to slaughter you...

at a leisurely pace did he flailed his tongue out of his lips, before he licks a long stripe at your aching cunt. your back arched, a mewl spilled off from your throat, eyes shut tight as your legs moved on its own. sheepishly wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to your core, your hands tugging on his hair. it felt like a whole new feeling, his warm wet tongue navigating to your area—creating new sinful noises to come out of your lips. your breath became quicker, being filled with greediness and filth.

your body quivers as blade began to eat you out, much more faster than before. your liquids hovering on his tongue as animalistic growls erupts from his throat, hand gripping more harsh on your thighs, leaving finger marks in the process as his mouth sucks on your bud like it was his last meal. your thoughts began to melt in pleasure, cries of satisfaction being the only sound along with the continuous laps of blade's mouth feasting over your core, gripping down onto your thigh fat like a madman begging to be choked between your legs.

there was another knot building up over your stomach in no time when blade's mouth reached a certain spot in you, causing you to arch your back upwards, covering the sudden yelp you let out in surprise. his mouth began to lick on that inexorable spot that he had discovered, smirking before sucking every fiber out of you. how vulgar the noises his tongue made while he fucks you with his mouth. you began to see stars, heaven sent euphoria from above that this type of lust that boils within you made you feel like a whole new different person. it was sending new flares within the contact of touches he did, your body grinding on his handsome face—the cushions of the bed below being soaked by your spilling arousal from earlier. that same flare began to engulf more into a more intense heat, feeling your second wave of orgasm incoming while fucking yourself on his warm tongue.

blade had a now tyrannical grip on your thighs, pinning you in place while drowning in your overflowing fluids that started to spill little by little from your satiated cunt. the ongoing sensations of seraphic emotions crawling to the tips of his toes, poorly grinding himself at nothing. the sheets were steadily threading apart from the nails of your fingers, brain fixating at the man beneath you. his groans had been more vocal now, tongue leisurely sliding over your wet folds, while you were here fighting for your life to not cum on his face out of nowhere. how cute you are, weeping with pure tears running down your cheeks. it felt that good? poor girl, there there now...this will finish soon. he just needs to hear you.

"y/n...let me hear you, dearest." his feast over your folds stopped when he spoke, wiping the liquid that fell down his chin with his thumb. you whined, legs prying to make him continue by pulling him closer, feeling vulnerable. he likes the look of that. "p-please...blade.."

"that's not the name we agreed on when we signed that marriage contract now, did we?" blade was definitely teasing you, pressing small pecks on your thigh to taunt you more. it was adorable of how you didn't realize how your eyes were molded in the lustful shapes of hearts, panting heavy as you tried to grind your face back on his hot mouth. with this new reaction of yours, he’ll make sure to take not on how to tease you. he backs away a little with a grin, softly caressing your legs wrapped around his shoulders. "if you want me to keep going, then say my name, dearest. my real name." the heat between your legs was too hard to ignore now, igniting up like blade was your fuel to the fire. it was painful to resist, including when you were already feeling so needy. you took a sharp breath, shifting your position as you locked eyes with the male, looking right at you. "r-ren...please..p-please keep going.."

"so obedient..." he finally muses, before fully shoving his tongue inside your folds. you folded back, hands roughly tugging on his hair as your legs kicked the air from behind, pitiful screams pushed past your lips as you feel the release almost coming of you. you hopelessly grinded on his face, pleas of his name spilling out of you like a mantra as he slowly devoured your clit. he holds you down, laughing between each suck he did on your cunt, right before pushing you over to the edge. whimpers of his name reached his ears like a symphony along with his soft groans, drinking your juices as you came down on your second orgasm. your body heaved, breathless, sweat dripping down your forehead in each breath you took. your thighs were covered with your wetness, with blade licking off your arousal from your folds before pulling away. if you could only take a good look at yourself now, you wouldn't wonder why blade was wearing a proud grin over his face.

the sight of you looking a mess, ruined, and spilled with your fluids. your hair was messy, strands up over your face as for your dress was a wreck. his cock hurt...you were ready now, so why need to hold back? your husband hovered against your figure for a moment, then leaning in to your lips and kissing you affectionately, giving a free taste of yourself that spread on his mouth. the both of you moaned in the kiss, blade sneaking his tongue in your mouth in order to hear more of you, audible growls mixed with your winsome whines. that was when you felt something hard poke beneath your leg, his hips rocking against your naked thigh as the both of you exchanged wet kisses. pulling away, blade lays his forehead against yours, "don't taste too bad, yeah? i think i'm gonna grow addicted to eating you out now."

your slapped his arm, and he chuckles darkly, moving away. it seems you were quite quick to take a breath even after going through two orgasms already, and both of which still hasn’t done with his dick. his eyes looked different than before—as if they were now injected with ecstasy. "now, onto the final one.."

your eyes darted towards blade as he slowly took his black coat off of his attire, his arms pushing back to remove the dressing alongside his black loose tie that hung messily around his neck, all while gazing at you with an intoxicating look. you gulped a small lump that was stuck between your throat, cheeks flaring as you watched him take upper clothing off, revealing the bandage patched to where he was (kind of) shot. "you're looking at me so intensely..like what you see?" he coos, and you looked away, feeling bashful when he called you out. this wasn't the first time that you had seen him shirtless, the both of you often almost ended up having sex if it weren't for you acting so endearing underneath him, the feeling of wanting to ruin your innocence leaving his body whenever he'd see you on that state.

yet now, the male felt like he had the strength to ravage your perfect body. hands sliding up to grope on your plush breasts in awe. he leans down, nipping the soft nape of your lovebite-covered neck; his fingers teases your nipples, dragging his tongue up till it reaches the shell of your ear, whispering words drugged with filth and vileness. your mind was hazy, from the previous bursts you let out from pleasure you couldn't really think straight. when the perception of your eyesight changed when you saw that same tent moving in his pants. it weighed down, catching your attention. naively did you reached for the bump in his pants, and softly rubbed on it, feeling how hard he is. blade groans when your fingers prodded on his clothed erected dick, slowly stopping from fondling your breasts as he gave in the pleasure you’re sending him. you can feel him shudder from above you. "fuck...you just—o-oh fuck..yeah, just like that. keep doing that, dearest.." he whimpered, hiding his face against your neck.

you moved your head to turn to blade, your fingers went forward to touching him while you timidly question if what you were doing was alright, you’ve never done this before after all. blade’s face was burning with carnal passion, sweat falling off his face. you stammered, “l-like this..?”

“yeah..n-ngh…p-put your thumb…rub your thumb over—hold on…”

you examined how blade impatiently takes his pants off, along with his dark-toned undergarments before his long shaft sprang to life, bumping into his toned tummy as it faced directly at you. heart pumping loudly in your chest, e/c pupils wide open as you realize his size…he was big, drops of pre-cum already leaking from his red angry tip while you lay there, astounded. you weren’t sure if he was going to fit. no seconds passed when blade took a hold of your hand, taking your fingers to wrap around his dick with your thumb kneading over the tip. “rub your thumb over here…and pump your hands up and down..” he teaches you, and you did just that. your breath stutters, looking at the navy haired male on top of you and how he started to groan in infatuation when you began pumping his cock. a surprised look latched on your face when you see him thrusting his hips up a bit in your hands, his palms still on your tits right until he brings his mouth to latch on one of your nipples.

the two of you let out your voices laced with lechery, voices producing tainted sounds as blade continued to fuck your hand while he sends you sweet bliss by sucking on your cute breasts, swirling his tongue over your areola as the other twirls his fingers around your nipple. tiny tears of his fluid started to flow down over your palm while you jerked him off, signalling how he’s close. the bed’s head bumped against the wall, loud creaking noises from its legs echoed in the bedroom. his semen covered your hand, little by little did his release came close right before blade pulls your hand away from his shaft, while also pushing himself away from your breasts. you innocently tilted your head, bewildered. he looks a little disappointed.

“don’t wanna cum just yet, pretty…wanna…do that now..” he says, despite already almost on the verge of cumming from your hand. pressing a small kiss on your cheek, the male tugs your dress down, taking a good view of your upper chest.

he thinks you’re pretty. he knows you’re pretty, blade always knows that, even after seeing you for the first time to whatever bullshit mission your organization got you into. but, he thinks you’re even more prettier without clothes.

how your body sculpted perfectly against his touch, lingering fragrance of your perfume and the scent of your hair had always been driving him mad alone. your body was a figure sculpted by angels and goddesses, your dress was completely ruined as it slides down your shoulders (so much for buying an expensive party clothing for a banquet that’s planned to be destroyed) all of you, just for him—a blessing. you were displayed like a gift. blade has always fantasized having you sprawled on the mattress of his bedroom like this, looking so helpless and begging to be fucked by him. oh, how god was on his side this day when his fantasies were finally happening, like a dream coming true.

blade was stunned once you brought your hand up to his cheek, caressing his face like a real wife would do to her husband. bounded to this contract for a mission, like a forced arrangement. however, there were no forces, and he just..really loves you. he blames himself for not meeting you any sooner, but that didn’t matter now; you’re here, underneath his figure, acting like you didn’t just scream his name while you came two times. fondly, as he gazed with devotion, blade held your hand that nuzzled on his warmth, tilting his head to the side. his hair falls down his gorgeous face.

“are you ready?” a question comes up, pushing your thighs apart, making the cold air hit your bare pussy that was shown to him. blade reached out for a packet of protection over the lamp next to the bed, ripping it open with his teeth and sliding it in with ease over his length. was that condom there in the first place? you didn’t know. he stroked himself a few times, gliding the tip against your swollen cunt. he wasn’t even in, yet your were trembling as you nodded.

“then, take a deep breath.”

you didn’t take note that what he said was actually warning.

no words were left to escape past your lips, replacing with a high pitched gasp as he gently inches into your cavern. fuck, he was big, it stings bad. he was absolutely right when he said to take a deep breath, the thickness of his shaft was killing you. your back arched up, already ripping off the sheets from his bed as blade’s head rested on your shoulder, surprised by your tightness. it was sucking in, getting to know each one’s heat as the two of you laid there for a while to adjust to his size.

“ fuck, just as i expected..”

“ ‘s so much…so full..”

you were basically almost sobbing at his length throbbing inside of you, making you wiggle your hips and push more down. shit, shit, shit, this felt good…you were seeing fucking stars, you were clawing down on the sheets, panting with that sinful voice of yours. blade notices this eagerness from you, and to him that was a sign for him to start moving.

with a slow pace, he looks down over at your figure, toying around with your tits as he begins to snap his hips to yours. the bed too began to creak, small squeaking sounds of his bed as blade slowly fell into the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him. this seraphic occurrence you both were in, lost in each other’s touch and desire were like the world was nothing. tainted sounds of moaning and soft grunts and groans filled the room like an opera. your vision was clouded with passion, his face grinning down over your body like you were a goddess.

slowly and slowly, he starts to move his hips a little more faster, forcing you to follow through his rhythm, making sure your cunny can take in as much as it can. this was the moment, blade found your g-spot like a fucking bloodhound. the male smirks, now snapping his hips forward faster. that same sensitive area brought you to tears, going louder as both of your hands clawed down on his back, leaving visible marks as a reminder how he was hitting the good spots. the bed was hitting the wall behind you so hard, you thought it was about to break.

“ah! r-ren..!”

“don’t worry, i—fuck…i got you…”

it was filthy, the way he pushes his tongue down your lips to muffle your cute moans as he pounds his hips into you. he was in so deep…the tip was practically hitting on your cervix repeatedly like a cycle. it was like this man wasn’t almost injured at all. you couldn’t think of anything else..nothing else but the shape he’s leaving in your insides with just his dick was going to corrupt your head. you forgot what you came here for, fuck the mission.

“you’re so beautiful, dearest..crying my name like that..does it feel good?”

you nodded your head, tugging on his hair as he chuckles darkly. another knot in your stomach began to build up in no time, legs kicking the air as blade continued to ruthlessly ram himself in your tight pussy with a satisfied grin. you’re sure by the end of the day your legs would be sore, and you have to rest. so much for a first time, blade wasn’t giving you any vanilla in the house. you couldn’t believe you were doing this in exchange for information. he better keep his fucking promise.

he’s fucking into you like beast, lips kissing your breast before he hisses down over your bottom lip, “i’m not gonna fucking last…you’re driving me insane, woman..”

“r-ren please…feels so good…i’m..”

“yeah? me too, don’t worry…wanna see you covered…” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he was cut off with a groan, feeling his rod throbbing hard it was aching for a release. blade laughs. “all covered like a mess…is that ok, dearest? would you let your husband do that?” he questions so innocently like he wasn’t fucking you hard you’re seeing white. not thinking straight, you nodded like a helpless maiden, hands wrapped around his neck as you moaned, small drool spilling past your lips. “y-yes..please…”

“oh fuck..”

blade feels your release spill in the condom, hearing you mewl so loud in ecstasy it covers his own moans and grunts. oh god, your voice..it was so naughty, he couldn’t help it. he wasn’t showing any mercy to your pussy after that as blade now abused your poor cunt by going even more faster, not giving you time to recover from your precious orgasm. he groans next to your ear, saying your name before he bit on your earlobe. you squealed, the bed almost moving in a different direction. it took a while before the male pulls out, removes the rubber and spilled all over your stomach, some of the fluid landing on your face. it was a little upsetting how he didn’t get to cum inside of you, yet he’ll save that for future sessions..

the two of you lied there, panting heavily like you both just the ran a marathon. his head rested down on your shoulder, giving small kisses over your collarbone as you catch your breath. it feels icky, the cum on your stomach that he made…he came quite a lot.

“how’s that for a first time…?”

you opened your eyes to see blade gazing so lovingly at you like a prince. pouting, you pinched his arm, making him flinch. “you spilled all over me…”

“i asked if i can, you said i could.”

“i-i wasn’t listening properly..!”

“were you that into it?”

your face turns crimson, turning your head away. for a few moments, blade moves closer before giving you a short kiss on the lips, before he pulls away and removes the saliva off your chin with his thumb. you’re adorable, he knows you’re adorable..

“now then, what is it you’d like to know about me?”

oh..right. the exchange he made.

“huh? oh..! u-uhm..”

“did i fucked your brains out so hard you can’t remember?”

you had to hide your face with your palms because of how vulgar he said those words with a devilish grin. now you know why your boss wanted to know about this man.

he was indeed very mysterious. and charming perhaps.

#blade x reader #hsr blade #hsr blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #lily’s.blog🌸#lily’s.fic🩷

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kaleldobrev · 8 months

Text

Mutual Pining

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean and you are in love with each other, and it's obvious to everyone but the two of you

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cursing (10x), Mutual Pining, Fluff

Authors Note: Switches between reader and Deans “POV” but still written in the third person | This came out a lot longer than I thought, but I loved the way it turned out! I hope you guys do too! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

For as long as you’ve known Dean, he has always been incredibly nice to you, which initially surprised you given his gruff exterior. Growing up, you were always told to never judge a book by its cover, and things aren’t always what they seem to be; and you had felt that this truly applied to Dean. Despite his appearance (although a very attractive one you had to admit) and his very I don’t give a fuck attitude he sometimes gave off, he was genuinely one of the nicest, funniest, charismatic, loving, and selfless people that you have ever met in your entire life. He was just someone that wanted more than anything to love someone (to be loved by someone) – and craved touch.

He was a catch in all senses of the word: he was smart, sexy, cute, he could sing (well not good, but at least he liked doing karaoke!), he could cook and bake (you were teaching him a lot about baking lately, even though he did already know a thing or two), he was handy (both when it came to cars and household maintenance), and he was a nerd (Star Wars, horror movies, Star Trek, cartoons, you name it). For as long as you had known him, it amazed you that someone hadn’t snatched him up yet. Well, you knew about some of these instances (Cassie or Lisa for example), but Dean seemed to be under the impression that the reason it never seemed to work out with these women is because of the job, or he would blame himself. “I just don’t think you found the right woman yet.” You had told him. This had earned you a weird look from Dean, and since then, you hadn’t given your two cents into his love life, despite being one of his closest confidants.

For as long as Dean has known you, you’ve always been incredibly nice to him; even when he knew he didn’t deserve it. When he had met you years ago, it took him by surprise to find out that you were a hunter given your exterior and extremely bubbling personality and positive energy that you radiated (he would later come to start calling you Sunshine as he considered you the light of his life in his ever so present and consistent cloudy days he called his life). “Just because you’re a hunter, doesn’t mean you have to be depressed all the time.” You had said to him. “But we’ve all witnessed and endured horrible things. Don’t know how you can still be so happy.” He had said back to you. You had simply shrugged stating, “You have your way of coping, and I have mine.” What Dean had initially thought that he hated about you (you being that Ray of Sunshine) had actually grown into something that he would love and appreciate about you.

Something that he always tended to carry in the back of his mind is quote that you had frequently said: Never judge a book by its cover, and things aren’t always what they seem to be; and he felt that your quote really did apply to you. Despite the type of energy that you give off, and despite your colorful array of clothing, you were genuinely one of the best hunters that he has ever met or worked with in his life.

You were a catch in all senses of the word. You were smart, cunning, funny, cute, sexy (even when you weren’t even remotely trying to be). You knew how to cook and bake (he was particularly fond of your peach and apple pies that you had made), you could sing (despite you saying how awful you were, your voice had sounded like honey to him), and you knew how to shoot a gun almost as good as him (in reality, you were probably a much better shot, but he would never admit that). It amazed him that you hadn’t settled down yet, even though he knew that was something that you had wanted to do at some point in your life. “I guess I just haven’t found the right yet guy. Just like how you haven’t found the right woman yet.” You had told him. “He’s sitting right in front of you Sunshine,” he had desperately wanted to say to you.

It was a lazy Sunday at the Bunker, and since there was no cases you had decided that you were going to do some baking today. You had promised Dean that you would him your famous peach and apple pie sometime this week, and since that was something you promised him last Tuesday, you were getting near close to almost falling through with your promise – something that you didn’t want to do, especially when it came to Dean.

Dean didn’t ask for much. So when he asked ever so politely if you could make this for him adding “no rush of course” at the end of his request, you were more than happy to oblige. This man has saved your ass more times than you could possibly count, and never asked for anything in return. So, the least you could do for the man was bake him a pie right?

Walking into the kitchen you were wearing your comfy clothes which consisted of a very faded AC/DC shirt that Dean had lent you they you had never given back (to be fair, he never asked for it back), a plain hot pink sweatshirt, black sweatpants and hot pink fuzzy socks.

Rolling up your sleeves, you walked over to the cabinet to grab everything they you would need in order to make the pie for Dean. Technically speaking, you were making the pie for everyone to enjoy, but you knew the second Dean for a whiff of the peachy and appley goodness, he would most likely hoard this (not that you had a problem with that, you were happy that he enjoyed your cooking and baking that much).

Placing your phone on the counter, you decided to play some music, picking the playlist you had rightfully named “Baking/Cooking Jams” (pun intended), so the quietness didn’t seem so eerie to you. You didn’t like the quiet at times, but you had such fond memories of singing along and dancing along to the music when you were a little girl in the kitchen with your mom or grandma.

One of the things that you appreciated, was the fact that none of the boys made fun of you while you did this (not that it would have bothered you if they did), but you half expected one of them to say something. The closest any of them had gotten to “making fun” of or commenting on your dance moves or singing had come from Dean, and his comments which very complimentary. You were so thrown off, that at first you thought he was fucking with you.

It’s been almost a week since Dean had requested you make your famous peach and apple pie, and there was a part of him that was starting to get just a tad disappointed when you hadn’t made it yet. But one of the things that was holding him together, was the fact that you always kept your promises and followed through with them (it was one of the things that he loved about you. He had asked for the pie on Tuesday, and it was now Sunday. He had wanted to re-ask you, but decided against it because he didn’t want to seem pushy and he didn’t want to bother you with what he seemed to be a silly request. “You could never bother her Dean. Trust me.” Sam had told him numerous times.

As Dean walked down the hallway of the Bunker, he could hear the quiet sounds of your music coming from the kitchen. The only reason he knew that it was your music is because he recognized the current song that was playing as a part of “Baking/Cooking Jams” playlist (pun intended). He smiled, hoping that since you were listening to this playlist it meant that you were baking something - specifically, baking the pie that you had promised him.

Dean peaked his head into the kitchen and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him. You were bopping your head, quietly singing along, and shaking your shoulders to the music as you were lining a tin with your homemade pie crust. You were wearing your hot pink sweatshirt (something that he loved always seeing you wear) and your fuzzy socks (another thing that he secretly loved). Wonder what’s underneath. Hope it’s one of my shirts…or nothing at all…He thought to himself. No Dean, don’t think that way.

Almost as if you could read his mind (which he knew you couldn’t do and was extremely thankful that you couldn’t) you stopped your dancing and looked at him, giving him the biggest smile you could muster up. “Hey you!” Your voice sounded so cheerful, so inviting, it practically made him melt.

“Hey Sunshine.” He said, walking into the kitchen and making his way to the island. “Whatcha making?” He asked, as if he couldn’t tell from the fresh cut apples and peaches on the counter in front of him.

“Your favorite.” You smiled, alternating between placing the peaches and apples into the pie tin. “Sorry it took so long Dean.”

Your apology surprised him. “Why are you saying sorry?” He questioned; you literally had no reason to be apologizing to him right now.

“Well, I know you asked for this Tuesday and it’s Sunday now.” Your voice that was once full of joy, was now sounding almost slightly sad and embarrassed, almost as if you were disappointed in yourself. “I swear I didn’t forget. Got a bit sidetracked with research this week.” You looked down just then, finishing up with the filling.

“Hey.” He began to say and you looked up at him. “Please don’t apologize for something like that okay?” You nodded. “Need any help?”

You shook your head. “I’m good Dean. But thanks for the offer.” You said, placing the pie into the oven.

“It’ll be ready soonish.” You gave him a smile. He could sense that you were trying to go back to your joyful voice, but you seemed still slightly upset, despite you having no reason to be.

Although you said you didn’t need the help, Dean started to gather all of the dirty dishes that you had made while you were baking. “Dean, you don’t have to do that.” You said as you watched him bring all of the dishes into the sink.

He turned the faucet on and looked at you. “It’s the least I can do Y/N.”

“I would have done it.” You walked over to the sink, picking up a dish rag and started drying the dishes he was finished washing. He looked at you briefly before letting out a small chuckle. “What?”

“Sweetheart, no you wouldn’t have. You would have left the dishes in the sink and I would have come to clean them up anyway. I know you love baking and cooking, but you hate the clean up.” You had started to open your mouth to comment, but you knew what he had said to you was the truth. Yes, you didn’t mind doing dishes, but you hated doing a large amount of dishes.

“I see Y/N finally made you your pie.” Sam said, gesturing to the giant slice of pie that Dean came walking into the War Room with.

Dean walked over with the biggest smile on his face. “It’s her best one yet.” Dean said, mouth full of pie. He sat down across from Sam who was on his laptop. “I really do think the singing and dancing helps.”

“I don’t know why you just don’t tell her.” Sam said.

“She knows I like her singing and dancing.” Dean took a mouthful of pie and Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his brother.

“I mean how you feel about her.” Sam’s comment had made Dean stop chewing his pie mid bite before he gulped it down.

Dean went to open his mouth, to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything clever or snarky to say. “I’ll pass.” He decided to say.

“You’ll…pass? What does that even mean?” For as long as Sam had been around you and Dean, it seemed completely obvious to everyone that you two had feelings for each other, but for some reason, it seemed like neither of you understood that you two had feelings for each other.

“I said, I’ll pass.” Dean repeated. “What about that can’t you wrap your head around?”

“Dean, you’ve been in love with Y/N since you’ve met her. Which, honestly, is quite a record.” Sam had never seen his brother be so in love with someone before, let alone being in love with someone for as long as he had been in love with you.

“Look Sam, she doesn’t like me in the way okay? I’ve made my peace with that. Why would I tell her that I love her if she doesn’t feel the same way? Sounds very silly to me.” Dean got up from his chair and walked out of the room with this now empty plate.

You were lying down on your bed with your laptop in front of you researching. You weren’t really researching anything in particular, just random things that had peaked your interest. As you were typing away, a small knock came from the other side of your door. “Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s Sam.”

“Come in!” You called back, the door opening and quickly shutting just as fast. You questioned the abruptness of the door. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy.” Sam replied. He pointed to the edge of your bed. “Can I sit?” You nodded.

“Did you get to try any of the pie yet? Or did Dean finish it already?” You joked, closing your laptop.

“No, not yet. He uh, he didn’t finish it yet shockingly.” Sam’s expression looked at you more serious now. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You smiled.

“Have you ever thought about telling Dean how you feel?” His question seemed to be coming out of nowhere.

“I…No.” You had wanted to tell Dean more than anything how you felt about him, but you knew that he didn’t feel the same way about you. “Why would I tell Dean that I love him when I know for a fact that he doesn’t feel the same way? It’s a little silly don’t you think?” Sam couldn’t help but almost let out a laugh. You two really are meant for each other. Sam thought to himself.

“But what if, there actually is a chance that he loves you too?” Sam asked.

You laughed. “Don’t you think he would have told me by now?”

“What if he’s afraid of the same thing you are?”

“Meaning…?” You weren’t completely sure of the point that Sam was trying to make to you.

“Meaning, what if he loves you too but thinks that you don’t love him back?” You furrowed your brow at Sam’s question.

“Dean afraid of telling me how he feels?” You laughed. “He doesn’t love me Sammy, trust me. I know what he looks like when he’s in love, and that ain’t the same way he looks at me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sam challenged.

Dean and you both were laying awake at night, thinking about the comments that Sam had said to the both of you. The both of you had similar thoughts in your minds: Does Dean really love me? Does Y/N really love me? Have I been reading the signals all wrong?

“Sam wouldn’t just bring that up if he didn’t say something right?” You said quietly aloud to yourself.

“Did Y/N say something to him?” Dean said quietly aloud to himself.

“I could easily ask him.” You said.

“No, no. I can’t just ask her.” Dean said.

“Sam’s fucking with me.” You and Dean said in unison.

“No…Sam wouldn’t do that.” You rationalized with yourself.

“No, Sam wouldn’t fuck with me like that.” Dean rationalized with himself.

“He’s literally right down the fucking hall. I could just…be hypothetical?” You questioned.

“It’s three in the morning. She’s probably sleeping.” He said.

“Fuck it.” You two said in unison, both practically jumping out of your beds.

You opened your door and started making your way down the hall. As you were walking, you were trying to keep your composure despite how nervous you were in that moment. “Don’t chicken out now Y/N.” You mumbled.

“Alright. You got this. You got this.” Dean mumbled. “Don’t be a pussy now.”

Your head was down, but just up enough to catch yourself if someone else was in the hallway. As you were walking you noticed Dean coming down the hallway, he seemed nervous and you wondered why.

“Fuck I can’t do this.” You whispered and started turning around back toward your room.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice had made you stop in your tracks, making you turn back toward him.

“Hey.” You tried to make your breath even. “What are…What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He replied.

“I asked you first.” You said.

“I…Wanted to talk to you.” He sounded so nervous.

“At three in the morning?” You questioned.

“Yeah I uh…You know what, this can wait till later.” He said, starting to turn back into the direction of his room.

For some reason you had found yourself running after him, like you were in some cheesy romcom that you both secretly loved. “Wait.” You grabbed his arm, and he almost spun back in your direction.

Dean looked at you before looking at your hand. It amazed him each and every time how soft they had felt whenever you touched him. God, what I’d do to feel your hands all over. He thought to himself. “What’s up?”

“Dean…” He watched you take a deep breath. You were nervous and he could tell. He had known you long enough to know what you were feeling by just your body language.

You removed your hand from his arm, and he already missed the contact. “Y/N?” He asked.

“I uh…Can we talk in your room?” You asked, and he found himself automatically nodding.

“Of course.” He gave you a smile, hoping that would comfort you in some way.

You didn’t realize how nervous you truly were until you had made your way into Dean’s room. You had been in his room numerous of times (even spending the night in here) and it always strangely gave you comfort, but not in this moment. It was one of the rare occurrences in which even the calmness his room usually gave you, ceased to help you.

Dean shut the door behind you, something that made you even more nervous. You weren’t afraid that the door was shut, a majority of the time you and him had been in your room or his room, the door was usually shut. “I can, I can leave it open if you want?” He almost questioned, gesturing toward the door.

“No. No. It’s fine.” You said. “Can I…Mind if I sit on your bed?” You asked. It felt strange asking to sit on his bed. In normal circumstances, you would have just walked into his room and just sat down, never asking if you could first. Something that you were now realizing, was that you were the only person that never had to ask if you could sit down on his bed - everyone else had to ask him.

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Dean sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to him, in which you hesitantly sat down.

Dean looked into your eyes as you sat down next to him, placing your hands on your thighs. You rubbed them up and down. It kills me to see how nervous you are. He thought to himself, so badly wanting to say it out loud to you. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m nervous.” You let out a small, nervous chuckle. It made his heart ache.

“I’m nervous too.” He said, hoping that it would make you somehow less nervous.

“Why are you nervous?” You asked. Crap. How do I answer that? He thought to himself.

“Probably for the same reason you are.” He looked at your face, looking for some kind of hint of what you possibly could be thinking.

“I highly doubt that.” You looked away, and folded your hands as if you were back in school, patiently waiting for the teacher to give you instructions.

It started to seem very evident to Dean now, that you were either nervous because Sam was right - you did in fact love him, or you were nervous because you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him that you didn’t feel the same way that he did about you. Either way, it scared him.

“I…I thought this would be easier somehow.” You admitted, after what seemed like a forever amount of silence between the two of you.

“I feel like I friggin teenager.” Dean joked, you knew he was trying his best to lighten the mood.

“Same here.” You gave him a nervous smile. “Um…Dean…” You took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to tell him, while at the same time, talking yourself out of telling him. “You know you’re my best friend right?”

“You know you’re my best friend right?” There is was, the sentence that he didn’t want to hear.

“Yeah.” He said, feeling his heart quickly sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“And you know I appreciate you more than anything.” You couldn’t even look at him; he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse somehow.

He reached out for your arm, gently grabbing it. “I appreciate you too Sweetheart. And I know I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Don’t be silly. You show me plenty.” Your statement was true, he may not have realized it, but there were plenty of times when he had found himself doing things to show you how much he truly cared and appreciated you, even when he didn’t outright tell you - you were the same way. You sighed. “Dean –”

“Before you say anything, I just want to tell you that whatever you say to me, our friendship is never gonna change. I won’t hate you. I could never hate you, okay?” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure you, or reassure himself in that moment.

“Here it goes then.” You took yet another deep breath.

“Fuck it.” You heard Dean mumble. Not even getting a second to react, his lips were suddenly on yours. His lips were just as soft as you had thought that they would be. Despite wanting to kiss him for as long as you had known him, you never thought that this is how your first kiss with him was going to go.

The kiss was quick, and not nearly as long as you had wanted it to be. He released his lips from yours and he stared at you blankly, almost embarrassed. “Sorry.” Dean said. “I uh…” He was actually speechless. “Shit.” He let go of your arms.

“Sammy was right.” He hears you mumble.

“What did my brother tell you?” He needed to know how badly the damage control was going to be, and how much he was going to kill his brother.

“He…He asked me if I um…If I ever thought about telling you how I feel.” So Sammy got to you too huh, Dean thought. “I told him that it would be silly of me to tell you how I felt because I knew you didn’t feel the same way.” You chuckled, nervously. “I guess…I guess I was wrong.”

“I told Sammy the same thing earlier.” He admitted. “As much as I wanted to tell you…” He trailed off, unsure of what he had wanted to say next, because there was so much he had wanted to say to you.

“You didn’t want to ruin our friendship in case I didn’t feel the same way.” You said, practically finishing his sentence for him. “I felt the same way. I mean, you know just as well as I do how hard it is to find people you can trust and rely on. I love both of you, and I didn’t want to say or do anything that would of fucked my relationship up with you guys.”

“So, what do we do now?” You asked, unsure of what was going to happen next. Just because the two of you had admitted your feelings for each other, doesn’t mean that you would actually do anything about it. As much as you had wanted to try out a relationship with Dean, you knew that he wasn’t much of the relationship type – then again, maybe it was because he hadn’t found the right person?

Dean looked over at the clock, noticing that it was almost 4:30 in the morning. He looked back over to you, almost looking too tired. “You spend the night in here with me. Or, morning in here with me.”

“And do what Dean?” You asked, curious as there could be a million things on his mind.

“Just lay here together…” He began to say, slightly pulling you in close. “Maybe cuddle…” He continued, leaning in slightly, inches away from your lips.

“Do some more kissing maybe…?” You whispered, slightly questioning. “Or are you too tired?”

“Hmmm, don’t think I’d ever be tired enough to not kiss you Sunshine.” He smiled tiredly, leaning in and kissing you again.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you would like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #reader insert #female reader #mutual pining the fanfic #dean x you #dean x reader

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litiyerses · 4 months

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calypso having an emotion-centered character and being viewed & getting treated as the ‘evil woman’ is actually a reflection of how every woman's emotions are villainized when they’re shown vividly and are a main part of their character in popular media.

in general media and riordanverse specifically, women with emotions are always looked down upon because showing emotions is regarded as a dramatic act so when a female character shows and acts on their emotiotions they get degraded and instantly despised because of it. this is done with every single female character while male characters who show emotion are treated like saints and found worthy of self redemption. this happened with annabeth when she didn’t want to believe luke was the bad guy and wanted to try bring him back because she was manipulated by him her entire life, meanwhile luke, who did batshit crimes like causing hundreds of innocent deaths, manipulating little girls by flirting with them, admitting his crush to a 16 year-old at his ripe age of 23, is remembered as a hero and considered ‘redeemed himself’ after sacrificing himself while annabeth was called insufferable when she didn’t believe he was evil in the first place. let’s not forget piper, who’s a lesbian that was forced into a relationship with a man by a goddess and thought she was in the wrong for not feeling right with jason. during the entire relationship she was experiencing a very hard comphet and couldn’t figure herself out because of the fake memories, everybody was bashing her when she was acting confused, when she was, in fact confused. i have a longer post about this specific topic, so if you guys wanna check it out it’s right here.

coming back to calypso, first we need to clear out the misconceptions about her curse on percy that affected annabeth. she wasn't blind nor was personally attacking annabeth, her curse was to make someone feel like how she was feeling all time and that’s why percy and annabeth couldn’t reach out to one another while being right next to each other. annabeth’s blindness came from the titan she defeated in the sea of monsters and is actually the first curse to be put by the arai on them, so it has nothing to do with calypso. the curse was affecting annabeth because she happened to be the person percy loved and was right next to him. if percy was there alone either percy would feel alone and abandoned or the curse wouldn’t affect him at all, since there’s no person he can go back to save. and the curse itself wasn’t even a death wish type of curse she just wanted to be heard, be acknowledged and wanted free off her island. not to forget the curse wasn't harming or killing any of them yet it’s still demonized more than by literally every other thing that happened in the books. nothing luke has ever done is seen as evil as her curse just because it was by her and i’m pretty positive if something like this was shown in pjo by luke it would be glossed over and romanticized in the fandom. further proof of how a male character's actions get brushed off and forgiven easily but soon a female character does something even slightly questionable they get villainized on the spot.

she is also despised because she doesn't let everyone's favorite man get away with his misogynistic stuff. calypso doesn't treat leo any worse than he treats her. whenever she starts arguing it is a response to something leo has said or done, which in the most case she's in the right but leo gets so much slack from his past and being fandom favorite to be held accountable for the way he treats people. he's always been written as a misogynist, he never treated any women with any respect. he always had some sort of disrespect for every female character he seems have some sort of closure with like piper, hazel, calypso, the list goes on, but yet calypso is always expected to be more 'tolerable and understanding' bc of his trauma, as if every single character in the series isn't written upon a single trauma they had and have their character built on it. and he always had a problem dealing with others and their emotions and instead of expecting him to be working to change that, calypso is expected to adjust his manners.

oddly enough, she's also expected to show some gratitude towards leo for saving her, when she never asked him to do so and not for a second believed that he was actually going to come back when he said he would. is she grateful that he came back and freed her? yes. should she feel any obligations to make him feel greater because of it? NO. everything leo did for calypso was his and only his choice and nobody else's. calypso is happy that he did so, but expecting her to tolarate every single thing he does solely because of that is wrong.

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yandere-romanticaa · 8 months

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William frustrates me beyond belief but I'm still so incredibly, madly in love with him. Also, reader is kinda yandere for William here as well. Reader is female.

The pale moon in the night sky starkly contrasted the glow of a freshly lit candle, its warm flames just barely reaching the parchment of paper. Her hands shook violently as (y/n) analyzed it, word for word, heart racing in her chest as she positively beamed with joy, her (e/c) blown open wide with excitement.

William had written back to her. Finally.

The two had developed a friendship a little bit over a year ago but what William remained oblivious to was that (y/n) had been helplessly in love with him for years now. The Moriarty family was well known and regarded within polite society and their status as free bachelors boosted their popularity even more so, especially amongst the women. No matter which Moriarty brother entered the room, they would turn heads and people would talk. Be it in awe or jealousy, the entire family was something worth gawking at. Truth be told, their staff was also the hot talk of the town. They were easy to talk to and friendly, Moran and Bonde in particular. That was exactly how the girl managed to step into the threshold of the house and finally have a proper word with the handsome mathematician.

Their talks started off innocent enough with William indulging her with his company every now and then. She managed to slide through the tough cracks of the mysterious man, bit by bit. She would watch him grade papers sometimes, his gaze cascaded downwards as (y/n) played the role of the dutiful young lady who was minding her own business over some hot tea.

(y/n) was many, many things and eager was one of them. This, whatever this was - it was not enough for her. More, she needs more. Having afternoon tea with William was the highlight of her day but by God, it felt as though she was going to implode!! William, ever the gentleman, never once made a move on her, no inappropriate glance, no comment, nothing. Be it day or night William was constantly keeping her at the edge of her seat, wondering whether or not he would actually do something. Sometimes, if she was lucky, she could feel the touch of his slender fingers against her own as they both reach for the sugar. Their eyes would meet and William would give her a sweet smile, never actually recoiling in shame or embarrassment. Did this mean he was fond of her? Was she overanalyzing it? She couldn't know, William was such a hard person to get a good read on. (y/n) knew that no one was perfect in this world but in her eyes, William was more brilliant than the stars that hung high in the night sky.

Letting out a sigh, (y/n) hugs his letter close to her chest as she looks out the open window, the crisp air giving her a sense of relief as it blew into the room and onto her hot skin. It was so late in the evening, no one was awake now. What even was the point of all this?

Unbeknownst to her, William was wide awake in his office as he looked out his own window, his cheek resting on the palm of his hand as a wicked little smirk made its way onto his face. Several papers were sprawled out in front of him, all of which were your letters. William took great pleasure in reading them all from time to time and analyzing everything you said. You tried so hard to act like a perfect little noblewoman, always having a polite smile on your face and carefully choosing each word you dared to utter. He felt a little bad, toying with you like this, keeping you dancing on the very edge until you finally crack.

William was desperate to see the real you, the oh so jealous (y/n) who did her best to hide her seething rage in front of the other ladies who gushed about William right in front of you. He never failed to spot the way you bite the inside of your cheek, the rage in your eyes was so evident but oh so precious. He was selfish, keeping you on his tight leash like this but it was all worth it in the end. He was driving you mad with desire and before long, he was sure that you are close to your breaking point.

He can't wait to have you, all of you.

There was nothing in the world that could stop him.

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plutopitou · 1 year

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◇ Haven’t I given enough?

keigo takami | hawks x female reader

genre: nsfw smut, angst

Keigo struggles to find a way to cope from being forced to be a trained soldier by the hero commission. Luckily you have a few screws lose and are more than willing to be that beacon of hope, no matter the cost. | 18+ MDNI

word count: 4.3k

warnings: he's mean (◞‸◟) but hot to me, toxic relationship,? VERY rough sex, smut, dub/con, keigo has issues- so does reader and they are obsessed with eachother -oop degradation (not for the lighthearted), dumbification, overstim

this is my first post on here and i haven't written in a long time so bare with me :) i think it came out nice tho <3

Keigo has always had the commission on his back. Being raised inside of a facility that is cut throat and grabs you by the hair and force feeds you, not because they have to- but because they can. To express their own dominance like a cat baring their claws or a bird flexing their wings to show off how big they are. Poor little Keigo didn’t have a choice in the matter either, being so young he already knew if you disobey authority you have your work cut out for you.

He was always a people pleaser from day one. Daily motivation sourcing from the look of admiration by the adults, impressed by his quirk and drive for success. But the look was not admiration, but instead it was insulting. They never seemed to be pleased by his hard work and it pricked Keigo in his head constantly.

“You’re not working hard enough,” and “you can do better” they said.

Day after day his big doe eyes became heavier and heavier until they were keen enough to cut. There wasn’t a way to say “no” that didn’t end up in some type of penalty, ultimately equating the word “no” as something negative and taking a life as something positive, because who was there to tell him what was going on was bad and not right?

A baby bird only eats whatever its mother feeds them, whether thats food or garbage.

After Keigo’s first kill as a pre-teen, he hunched over and threw up at the mental anguish of being groomed to be a killing machine. It was one person after the other being a perfect sacrifice to perfect his skill, not at will but from demand. Keigo began to revel in the superiority of finally having the upper hand against someone, finally feeling powerful and knowing his own skill set by developing his quirk to be the best in the game.

Overtime he liked seeing the redness of blood camouflage with the tips of his red feathers and the string of apologies flowing from someone’s mouth, begging to spare their life. He got off on the picture of him standing big and tall on top of their weakened body.

But it was only fulfilling in the beginning.

He has bright vermilion wings with sharp eyes to match and it was not something you could easily look away from. It is a type of stare he developed over time that was molded to make you crack under pressure and confess anything. A type of stare that is enough to make you cry and plead a sorry even if you didn’t know what you were sorry for. A look that is masked underneath his laid back exterior he shows to the public.

There is a reason why he’s number two.

To the public it’s just Hawks, the number two hero, a man that helps elderly women cross the street and gladly holds onto your groceries with one of his delicate but strong feathers so you don’t feel inconvenienced. So you can experience a better day. He will gladly take a couple scratches and lose a couple quills for humanity so they can go home to their family and enjoy their night. But whispers travel and the villains know exactly what he is that he conceals, which makes his patrols smooth sailing. He is type of person the worst people warn to never cross paths with.

He is the glorified punching bag of society that is painted in expensive jewelry with a special title made just for him: a Hero.

But who gets to make the number two hero’s day better?

It’s not the little kids sprinting to him, looking up from his knees with bright eyes begging for an autograph. It was him pinching your nose, feeling your body trying to gasp for air while he rapidly fucks your throat, taking it all for himself.

It was never the men and women with tears in their eyes giving their thanks for saving their life. It was always the tears springing from the swift slap to your face trying to squeeze out one more apology from your stupid mouth for not listening to him.

And it is definitely not the plentiful of stupid fucking awards given to him at hero galas by the committee he is forced to accept to keep his image pure. Because is there anything actually fully pure about hero work?

Keigo felt himself slowly starting to lose his stability in the center of chaos. The feeling of murder is so short lived- he needed more than that. He didn’t like how long he had to wait until the commission had him go on another undercover expedition. That was always the rule by them: he can never kill unless authorized.

Society already has their special person to tear down and build back up as they pleased, who was going to be Keigo’s?

You, of course.

You were so willing to give up everything you had ever owned, have and thought of for the slight chance of his attention. Such a little stalker for Keigo, trying to figure out his patrol schedule just so you can see him work with a charming smile on his face. Reading fanfiction about him on websites dedicated to his heroics, touching yourself at night thinking about his sweet whispers telling you how beautiful and good you are for him.

You just knew he was such a kind and humble man in person like he executed himself on TV. You had seen over the years of heroes’ facade falling down, exposing themselves for being the corrupt and selfish person everyone had hoped they weren’t. But no, not Keigo, being the number two hero and being so young yet not much older than you, you saw him from a different light.

That is why when you willingly let yourself fall backwards down a 20 story building, you did not do it out of fear and intention of taking your own life. You did it out of joy and the safety of knowing he would be right there to catch you- because he is a hero.

For the seconds it lasted, it felt nice to flow through the sky and feel weightless. As the gravity of the earth clutches onto your body and forcefully pulls you down to your demise, it somehow did it softer than cutting a knife through butter. You let go of the breath you had been holding when you are swept up mid-air into a pair of strong arms grasping your body into his warmth. He smelled like fresh air and linen with a puff of mint coming from his lips. You peel open your eyes to see him in his glory, doing what he does best- saving people. The sun setting right behind him giving his body a glow of authority like a god. Your god.

Hawks gets you back to the ground and helps you stand still with a small comforting smile. “Take this as a sign, sweetness. Go home.” He says like its another day and pats your hair in place before turning ready to take his leave. His touch leaving a tingle from your head down to your back, you wished to have his hands on you forever.

“Wait!” You yell for him. Pulling out the letter you had handwritten for him days earlier, a confession letter. You shyly run up to hand it to him and take in his look of confusion before pushes up his visor and reads the front, ‘To Hawks ♡’.

Inside the letter was years worth of admiration and pent up love you have for what other people consider a stranger. But Hawks was no stranger to you. It only took a couple days to plan your meeting with him because you had full confidence he will be there when you fell, as it was meant to be. It was a love letter confessing you will leave everything behind for him, no matter what it took you wanted to be there to catch him if he fell too, even if you didn’t think you had the strength to keep him up. You would do anything he asked without question because he’s such a great person and deserves it the most.

‘I will lie for you, die for you, and kill for you, even if you don’t love me back. A hero needs a hero, too.’

Keigo thought it was almost too perfect.

His first thought, “this has to be some type of trick?” maybe the commission trying some sort of test on him as an evaluation? But when he looks into your dazed eyes, he knew. They were practically swirling with a heart in the middle. He thought there was no way someone has a screw loose enough to launch themselves to death in the smallest chance in being caught to give a little letter to their rescuer with a smile.

He has seen crazies before, not to this extent but close. Being in the work force for years now, his fanbase has exponentially grown as he climbed up the rankings. His female fanbase having the most growth, it was never surprising to come back to his agency with his interns bringing in a couple large boxes a week worth of love letters filled with undergarments, perfume, gifts or even money. Keigo of course has had his fair share of women in the past, none ever lasting as long because they couldn’t handle what he had to give. And what he had to give left these women bruised, crying and begging for more even if they didn’t have any more space left to take.

Your eyes, no matter the shape, still hold a roundness of naivety and innocence. A type of innocence that is special, one you dont see in a lot of people. But you have that factor. You have it all, and he wanted to be the one to take it away and give it back, force it to you.

Keigo almost wanted to laugh right in your face.

You watch as he pulls his visor back down with a small side grin, his shiny leather gloves putting the letter in his jacket pocket to keep it safe. “I’ll see you, alright, Birdy?” Pushing his wild, blonde hair back, Hawks gives you one last glance with golden eyes before taking off, the flap from his big wings pushing your hair back, leaving you alone as the sun finally sets.

But how could you have ever known?

Hawks didnt waste any time finding you again and getting ready to break you in. He loves the idea of it; a cute girl like you, so needy and desperate for him to go as far as jump off a building in the risk of him catching you. Because to you he was the perfect man on paper, on TV, and in person. You read everything there was to know about him online, you read every article, watched every single interview from the beginning to present of his career, there weren’t any warning signs that would have prepared you for who he was.

You wondered if his smile while being a hero was fake, if it was practiced beforehand to make sure there weren’t any marks for people to suspect. Since you’ve known him, the only time you’ve seen him smile with authenticity is when he’s crouched over your completely fucked out body, you still lowly whining how you can take more when you can’t even lift a finger.

How could a hero ever begin to act like this?

“You couldn’t have known” he murmurs against the back of your ear. His cruel and sadistic nature was intense, his words were pitched at you so fast, you couldn’t fully comprehend what he was saying.

Not through how much you couldn’t breathe with him fucking your throat with his index and pointer finger. His favorite part of your body was your throat, anatomically it’s the most vulnerable but so soft to the touch, so easy to control your life source and take it away if he wanted to.

Keigo knew what you were the moment you locked eyes with him and gave him that silly little envelope with confidence.

Naive.

A pretty, stupid little fan that didn’t know any better, a girl who trusted strangers and was so willing to throw away her life away for a man before it even started. The first time he fucked you he felt himself getting hard just beginning to think of all the things he can do to you, looking at you like you were a new play set and didn’t know where to start first.

“Aw, look at you.. my precious baby can’t breathe?” he coos, “Yeah you can, c’mon try harder..” Keigo fucks your throat with more swiftly, his fingers squelching from the pile up of saliva in your mouth. You’re desperately pawing onto his forearm trying to stabilize yourself against his front. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach is overwhelming and every push into your mouth you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You felt so small against him, so vulnerable, thrashing your hips against his cock trying to get away from the faint massage against your bladder and pussy from his other hand, trying to push you over the edge.

Keigo loves you like this, he loves being the one to restrict you. He knows exactly how you like it, he knows you like to pretend you don’t, feigning innocence like you always do when in reality you’re just a little bitch desperately trying to get more and more from him like every body else.

You begin to choke on his fingers, gagging as they dig themselves in your throat trying to fuck with you, and you can hear Keigo’s smug attitude, “Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right..” he groans out.

He finally pulls his fingers out your throat when he thinks you’re about to throw up and you hunch over gasping for any air you can catch, coughing with spittle dripping down your chin. Keigo holds you by your mid section keeping you close and pulling your head back to his chest. You want to act out, you want to fight back and hit him, slap him in any way you can because you love the fight, you live for riling him up until he finally snaps and yells at you, insulting your morality and fucking you in the process.

You can’t get any words out, your mind feels like a foggy and cloudy afternoon, still trying to catch your breath and Keigo playfully taps your cheek with his hand still covered in your own spit. “On your back.”

However you want to stay and prolong this moment as much as you can. Your body already feels weak like jelly and you want it to feel weaker. You barely have the strength to turn around and sit face to face with him, completely disobeying his words.

“Kei.. I want to stay up here.” You sigh into his collarbone, wrapping your arms around his sides, teasingly grinding your pussy onto this bare cock. You just wanted to stay by him, so close to his handsome face so you can kiss him- feeling his light stubble graze your cheek whenever you wanted. But he knows that glint in your eye. You look up to see that gaze. That special one perfected to make you crack under pressure and profusely apologize. It was enough to make your stomach tie knots.

Since Keigo was a little boy, he suffered with imposter syndrome and never felt a sense of fulfillment or accomplishment until he took a look at everyone else and saw how much better he was.

How he was only 18 at the time he started his career and a person that was a hero for decades could never compare to his mental resilience and physical expertise. He always felt inferior until it dolled on him that Japanese society was counting on him to feel safe. Keigo wanted to take back his sense of inferiority he developed as a kid and inflict it back wherever he could. Fortunately, there just so happened to be a pretty girl who was oh, so willing to let him.

No, she didn’t understand everything he had to go through to get where he was now, she would never get it. She doesn’t have to kill people to survive, she doesn’t have to live with the knowledge that millions of people count on her to live a normal life so they stripped her of her own.

She can live her life making mistakes without care, but if Keigo ever did, it’s blood on his hands. He is blamed for it all. She won’t ever have to deal with that.

But at least he can make her feel it.

“You wanna fuck with me, huh?”

You see his jaw tick in anger and his closed grin does nothing to cover it up but make it worse. He snaps.

You can almost feel his anger wash over you and it feeds you the energy you need to take what he’s gonna give you whether you like it or not, and you always like it. You pull back to try and console him. “Kei..”

Keigo quickly grips your jaw with force, smile gone and pulls you close. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He shakes you. “Huh? You like this shit don’t you?” He locks eyes with you searching for an answer, mocking how pathetic you look. “Hmm? Does it make you feel good, baby? Letting me manhandle you, knowing I’m gonna use your body however I want to?” You puff out a little whine in response to his accusation.

He quickly lets go and pushes your head back onto the bed, forcibly turning your body around. Pulling on the roots of your hair he pulls you up holding onto the softness of your neck after pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Remember this, birdy, this is for me. This is all so I feel good..” he pants against your neck teasing your folds feeing your legs twitch at every graze of his fingers. “Such a pathetic little bitch letting me treat you like this, throwing away your life for me just to get fucked like you don’t matter..”

That is what you did, isn’t it? You always had a choice after you stupidly jumped off a 20 story building. He showed you exactly who he was and still, you ended up at his mercy, crying for more of his callous treatment because you can’t get enough.

You sniffle and whine at the intense pleasure caused by his rudeness. You pant as his calloused fingers ravage their way down to your opening, your pussy anticipating Keigo just fully shoving it inside you. “Kei.. I’m sorry. Please, please, make me feel good. I’ll be good I swe-“

He swiftly swats the side of your face, breath hitching at the surprise, your cheek tingling from the sensation leaving you lovingly lightheaded. You shut up and take whatever he has to give you with nothing less a smile on your face. You wish he’d just shove his cock anywhere he pleases just so he can forgive you, just so you can hear that sweet rumble of praise from how good you are for him. Because Keigo’s approval of you is just as good as his degradation, both are enough to make you cry out of joy.

More tears follow the last, not because it hurt but the desperation for any part of him to be inside of you kills you inside, you’d die for it, and he knows that.

He stiffles a cruel laugh. “Aw, you cryin’? Don’t start crying now, you’ll turn me on too much..” After so much anguish he pushes his fingers inside of you, mercilessly going in and out, not giving you time to prepare. You yelp and cry inadvertently trying to crawl away from how overstimulating it feels, yet you just fall chest down ass up onto the plush bed, holding onto his freehand by your head like a clutch.

The only sound in the room coming from your drooling pussy squelching over and over, each jab drenching and pulling his fingers inside even more. Keigo curses at how warm you are, he can feel it. He knows exactly how your masochistic body likes to operate. Purposely taunting and arousing him until he’s forced to jackrabbit the fuck out your pussy until you pass out and still continue- fucking your passed out body till he sees creamy white spill out, moaning while forcing every drop of cum he has left right in your pretty womb with a nice low groan of pleasure. You both know you don’t have to say it to want it.

The feeling is so intense you’re just a babbling mess- no pure or smart thoughts, just mumbling out of pleasure to mumble. Your eyes are limp and dazed looking at the dimmed sky from the window, gripping onto Keigo’s wrist next to your head as if the bed will swallow you whole if you let go. You sense that potent feeling of an orgasm about to let loose, your babbles become load moans. The sound of your sloppiness getting louder with your voice. Keigo grazes his sight down your sheen body and curses as he finally pulls his hand out your sloppy pussy, leaving strings of your arousal. He can feel how agonizingly hard his cock is just from touching you, tip leaking white and ready to give to his sweet, bumbling girl.

He drips down spit to your pussy for good measure and looks back at your head to see you giving him the most loving look he’s ever seen in his life.

Keigo would never admit it, but it’s the first time he’s ever received and reciprocated such an intimate gaze. He puffs a nice low groan, looking down biting his lip as he finally pushes himself into your warmth, watching you slowly swallow him with white all the way up to the base of his big cock.

“That’s right sweet girl, I know you want it, I know your whore pussy wants it so bad- let me give it to you..” he leans down and grips your neck with a threatening squeeze, “This is all you’re good for,” he lowly hums, hissing as he gives another rigorous thrust. “You don’t wanna let me go n’ I won’t give us up, birdy, as long as you cum for me, alright? Let me use you- take care of you..” The feeling was almost too much for Keigo, he had never imagined someone that was good enough for him, that there was someone that could be a pillar in his completely fucked and screwed up life others curated for him.

After every thrust your pussy leaves a white ring and squelches as an invite to shove himself right back in even harder than the last, to make your response louder than the before.

Inbetween the moment you still find the energy to confess your love to him but can barely get halfway before he quickly covers your mouth and gives his last powerful thrusts into you. Huffing and groaning not being able to hold back how good you feel while you fuck him back in desperation like he knew you would, like you always do.

Practically drooling with whimpering sobs and tears behind his strong calloused hand, at last your selfish pussy grasps onto his cock as you orgasm feeling liquid slosh everywhere, your yelp into Keigo’s hand not able to contain yourself. Your hips desperately trying to get away as Keigo continues to fuck your overstimmed pussy in an effort to breed you like you deserve- moaning at you completely drenching yourself with him.

He feels himself coming to an end, holding back his hiccuped gasps- using his free hand to hold and massage your pelvis directly to his. “Oh fuck, baby, that’s right- take it, take it..” he gives you everything he has in exchange for all of you- cumming with a choked grunt in your neck, filling you with his seed like he promised he would, not letting a single drop escape.

Your whole body feels tingly with the last sprinkle of dopamine in your body, shuddering as you both collapse.

It didn’t take rocket science for you to know there was just something deeply unhinged about Keigo, as he’d probably say the same about you. You can tell intimacy was something very new to his life as he tried to shut you up before you can finish your sentence. However, you didn’t really mind much.

Keigo being your first in everything, you swore to yourself and him in that letter you will hold him up even if you didn’t think you had the strength to. You want to know more about his uprising, the stories he doesn’t tell in “exclusive” interviews- you are much more than a stupid fan and did not care if he thought of you as naive.

A slight wind chill comes through the crack in the window cooling off both your bodies. Keigo grips your jaw with need, pulling your head back to share his first kiss together filled with passion and little butterflies all over your body that leaves you wanting more. He lifts up an arm and gently pets back your hair and rubbing your head in the process letting you rest right next to him.

Even with how callous Keigo can get to leave you completely speechless and subdue you, you will take every slap, kiss, and word because the sick part of you wants it more than air itself. As for Keigo, he needed to find something he can tear and build back up, having no way to cope with the consistent pressure of the world and wanting a way out for a moment.

He loves to tear you down, but wants to keep you extra close and pay attention to every detail as he builds you back up,

to make you just as perfect as you were before.

Oh my gosh that’s it! My first story in over two years since my senior writing class haha. I hope you all enjoyed, feel free to let me know your thoughts or writing critiques- i always want to get better.

Please reblog and like, thank you ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

#mha angst #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha smut #keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x y/n #hawks x y/n #tw.degradation #tw.breeding #tw.overstimulation #tw.smut #tw.dumbification #tw.dubcon #pitou.writes #pitou.fics

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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months

Text

Hot take but Percy Jackson actually isn't anything like Harry Potter and the reason they're popularly compared is due to the mass mischaracterization and misenterpretation that leads to sanatization of Percy to turn him into a more standard protagonist despite the whole point his character being that he's NOT normal while Harry's is that he IS and that made him into a very bland and lowkey passive aggressive bigot that's an awful example for kids while Percy is the perfect role model.Like let's look them over.Percy:

Was born poor and never becomes rich

Is a child abuse victim with consistent trauma responses and unhealthy coping mechanisms all the way starting at The Lightning Thief

Beat up bullies as a kid,was targeted by them to begin with because he's neurodivergent and his teachers picked on him too

Has nothing but love and respect for his fellow minorities,women especially thanks to being a mama's boy with no positive older male figures in his life except Beckendorf

Is pessimistic,sardonic,anger issued,bad at socializing and gets embarrased to be overly open with his emotions but none of this turns him into a bad person but instead makes him realistic and relatable

And he's also kind,gentle,nurturing to the point of basically adopting younger demigods as his found siblings and pseudo-kids if they don't have positive adult figures in their lives already,encouraging,loyal to a literal fatal fault and has a distinctive and iconic sense of humor that never dosen't land

Didn't like Annabeth or Rachel for shallow reasons and instead for their personalities and only wasn't into Reyna because he was taken at the time and treats all three of them very nicely

Is an instigator who's driving point as our hero is taking down corrupted figures but also does activism for the lesser treated people in his world by helping out every time he gets a chance to,has one of his core trait's being that he's COMPLETELY devoid in power hunger and pretty arguably counts as an anarchist because of this

Relating to the sense of humor thing again,his whole PERSONALITY is distinctive-He's not just some fantasy protagonist,he's PERCY JACKSON.The name alone gives everybody who's read the books flashbacks to all his crazy ass shit(affectionate)and that's how you know you've got a well-written protagonist

And Percy is legitimately transfem-coded,because i've met so many trans women in the Pjo fandom and every single one of them without exception have said that she's a femme trans woman egg.This also applies to black/afrolatino folks and autistics in the fandom like me to a less near universal extent

While Harry:

Grew up middle class and then got riches out the ass when the series started

Is a very poor attempt at positive abuse survivor rep because he uses his mental health as an excuse to a huge dick with no consequences given to him afterward

Had no tormenters other than the Dursleys

A 'dosen't know better and refuses to learn' typa bigot with tons of passive aggressive remarks about girls and ableism and fatphobia thrown in too,not to mention racist moments like hating Dean for dating Ginny

Is the quintessential young male fantasy protagonist and this is exactly his problem because it makes him boring asf and we're dealing with so much fucking damage in the kids fantasy genre thanks to his musty ass

All his crushes were shallow(Only liked Cho for a pretty girljock and only noticed Ginny when she became one too and prioritizes looks and society's idea of 'coolness' on the other girls his age too like damn i wonder why he only ever saw Hermione as a sister,surely it can't be connected /s)

Never does actual justice fighting unless he's required to and don't tell me he shouldn't have needed to because this wasn't real life,it was a magics series so he should've fought evil on purpose like Percy did and so did Katniss Everdeen and the Pevensie Siblings and all the other actual good kids books protags.This genre is supposed to be a power fantasy for kids that they can be heroes too and Harry failed big time at his job just like he did at everything else

Again,he is VERY mediocre as a character but mediocrity sells and now we have a million clones of him instead of real mcs

Is part of exactly zero minorities,neither intentionally or accidentally,and that made him grow up to be a cop.Douchebag ass white straight boy Harry vs Autistic afrolatina transfemme slay Percy.No competition,Percy's punk so she'd kill Harry to earn her blue laces

And before Maraturds and Luke/gods stans get bold,you're literally him irl but worse besties♡

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padfootdaredmetoo · 2 years

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Thomas or Arthur Shelby with a reader who has a very high libido? Yes, it would be interesting.

Dear Anon,

This is pretty steamy or at least I think so. It's a bit on the shorter side and written in point form but I added gifs - which idk I couldn't help myself NSFW!!! But they were too pretty to leave out.

Hope you like it!

Warnings - sex, lots of it, insecurity about body after having a baby, pregnancy sex

18+

Minors please do not proceed. This content is not suitable, please keep yourself safe and stay away. Thank you 💕

Thomas didn't understand how you could always be ready to go. At first, he worried you were forcing yourself to put on a show, trying to keep his attention so he didn't stray elsewhere. It was a reputation he came to hate once meeting you.

Then he tried to ignore you a little bit, just enough to give you some breathing room. That went over like a lead balloon, and he wondered why women didn't come with individual sets of instructions. You got so upset, furious with him that he wouldn't give you the real reason he was pulling away. Thoughts of other women and dangerous business deals filled your head. Eventually, he gave up promising and attempting to explain why he was giving you space and just fucked you on the desk. How he managed to push the thoughts from your mind? He didn't know. He just knew it was in his best interest to keep you happy and satisfied.

He still had no idea what turned you on.

You’d often slide across the bench seat and take his hand off the wheel to slide between your legs. This made him late, the temptation to pull over and embrace her properly was too overwhelming.

People said it wouldn't last long. That you would settle down. But a year had passed and you were just as demanding as the day you'd first hooked up. you didn't seem happy unless his hand was around your throat, him whispering horrid things in your ear.

Initially he didn't understand why on earth you would want him to do such things to / he wasn't sure he could manage it as you were just so soft and sweet looking. He managed and never questioned why ever again. You always had lots of fantasies and would just jump into one when it suited you. Fucking him on the benches of Parliament.

She had no shame. Getting on her knees at the office, taking what belonged to her, and placing it in her mouth. Completely at ease with the space, and unbothered by ruing his schedule or making him suffer during phone calls.

He’d bent you over countless bathroom sinks. Watching your face in the mirror as he silently ripped into you.

Mornings where you’d follow him into the shower.

“No. No - you kept me up half the night. I have a meeting. We talked about this.” He’d scold you, finger raised. “No fucking.” but he could already feel gravity pulling him to your body. Wordlessly you didn't have to do anything but fall to your knees. Water falling into your face. You took him down in one go and it took everything in him not to cum down your throat. Grabbing you by the hair he held you there for a moment. Pulling you away he watched the thrill light in your eyes as you got your way - as always. He pulled you up fucking you against the cold tiles. Loving the way you were desperate for him. Biting your wet skin, the absolute mess you made when you finally let go. How you only laughed when the hot water ran out.

The unavoidable happened - you were swelling up with his child. Thinking he’d put a baby in you meant your body would be satisfied for the 9 months it was working hard was just another wrong assumption. All it meant was strange positions and multiple orgasms. Fucking you until you said he could finally cum and be done with it. Long nights. Even in the moments of labor when it was just the two of them you’d drag his hand between your legs to try and push away the pain.

The babe was a challenge to work around, and suddenly you drifted away. Not ever wanting out of your clothes. Bathing with the door locked. He started to realize how your needs balanced him out, he missed your wild adventures.

Eventually, he caught you late at night before bed - hand between your own legs, sweat across your forehead. He’d entered the room desperate to touch you. Your hands pushed him away. He felt his heart start to break as tears streamed down your face. He begged but you wouldn’t budge. “You don’t want to see me like this” The words finally choked out. He saw it as a challenge. He kept an eye on you to see if you’d really push him off, he got you out of your clothes as he took his time coming back to your body. Worried that perhaps you were still in pain from giving birth. It wasn't something he figured women would just bounce back from, he was in the room as you had requested, and he wasn't sure if he’d recovered from it. Once you were down to your slip, he watched you reach up to turn the lamp off. Leaving him in darkness as his hands slowly peeled it off. He reached over and turned it back on. You let out a sharp noise trying to cover yourself. He finally pieced it together. You didn't want him to see your body, because it was different.

“Love, come off it. It’s just me” You burst - he didn't realize that women even talked about these things, let alone pressured each other. Pol and Esme told her to ignore them, but a few other friends worked a fear into her head that once seeing her like this he’d be turned off of her forever.

He spent hours working over every part of her. Massaging, kissing, and praising her. Trying to get his wife back. Trying to get her to understand that there wasn't anything that would take him from her. It took all night but he got his wife back one orgasm at a time.

You got comfortable again, tamed by responsibility and lack of sleep, but just as needy and persuasive as always.

No matter how tired or beat up he was, there was nothing that would take away his pain or suffering like your embrace.

Hope this was alright! Let me know if gifs work for these types of asks.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut

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em-dash-press · 1 year

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How to Write a Character’s Death Effectively

It’s a strange thing to think about—writing a death effectively. You could come up with endless ways for a character to die and they’d all accomplish the same goal of removing them from the story.

However, deaths always have meaning in fiction. The ones that make it to print are the deaths that are written well.

Here are a few things to avoid and a few others to strive for when writing a death scene.

Things You Consider When a Character Dies

1. Who Is Essential to Your Story?

Think about which characters are essential to completing your plot/theme. If someone isn’t essential, their death won’t be as meaningful to the reader or as purposeful to your plot.

This isn’t to say you can only kill protagonists and your most important secondary characters. But if you only have one death in your book or short story and it has little to no effect on the plot, that character might better serve the purpose of your story by living.

You should also consider who is integral to a character’s future development if you’re writing an ongoing series. The protagonist may have a best friend in Book 1, but by the end of the book, they go their own ways. Books 2 and 3 don’t feature the best friend, so if they die in Book 1 and your projected plot developments don’t change, their death isn’t essential

2. What Is the Reason for the Death?

Real life deaths don’t always have a reason, but the vast majority of fictional deaths do. Unless you’re writing about a theme specifically involving a purposeless death (maybe to write about grief or another way a character handles what happens afterward), each death should have a meaning.

Reasons for Deaths in Fiction

Bitter irony (example: a character who fears driving dying in a car crash)

Bringing the character’s story back to close foreshadowing threads (example: a character gets introduced into the plot by defending someone getting robbed, then they die in a robbery gone wrong)

Betrayal (example: a character’s best friend betraying them in a way that leads to their direct/indirect death)

Growth (example: a selfish or evil character learning to be selfless/good, then giving up their life to save someone else)

Other character’s growth (example: a book about forging your identity while grieving would likely start off with a death that’s meaningful to the protagonist in the beginning of the story) (Warning—be careful about this one turning into bad death tropes! Read the next section for examples.)

Good and Bad Deaths: Examples

Good: Beth March in Little Women

Beth’s character is supposed to exemplify a person who is 100% good and pure of heart. She dies remaining steadfast in her positive demeanor and giving nature. Her death causes the other members of her family to spin into different directions for their character developments. Most notably, Jo March decides to be kinder and more giving to those around her, which leads to the events in the rest of the book.

Reasons this trope works: Beth is the trope of an angelic, faultless young person dying without ever having done anything wrong. However, it’s not necessarily bad because it doesn’t erase an otherwise unrepresented group of people and doesn’t serve the purpose of a male character’s growth.

Bad: Fred Weasley in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

In the book, Fred dies after the floor explodes while he, Harry, and others regroup during the battle of Hogwarts. Harry (and the reader) are shocked when the dust settles and Percy can’t get Fred to respond to anything.

This death has been described as “realistic” by the author who has lost all of my respect for being a transphobic bigot, so she won’t be named, because she said that it was unrealistic that every Weasley family member survived the battle.

Reasons this death doesn’t work: This death is supposed to be a shock. That’s it. It adds to the surviving characters’ collective grief, but does it change any of their personal developments? Does it alter the world around them? Does it affect their futures? I would argue no. If a Weasley death was supposed to be significant to the plot/purposeful, it would have been a more well-known and loved Weasley like Ron, Ginny, or Molly.

3. Are You Unknowingly Writing Death Tropes?

Here are the most common death tropes to avoid in your writing. They ultimately are hurtful cliches that serve no purpose. Your writing will be much stronger and more meaningful to readers if it doesn’t include these types of deaths:

“Stuffing Women in Refrigerators”: a female character dies so a male character can grow (Think: every superhero who has a dead mom) (Read more about the trope here.)

“Black Dude Dies First”: a person of color dies for seemingly no reason (especially when there are little to no POC left in the story). This trope comes from a history of racism and devaluing characters of color, so be aware that none of your characters’ deaths reflect this trope by filling your stories with representation/deaths of more than just POC. Also, any deaths of POC should not serve solely as the vehicle for a white protagonist’s development. (Read more about the trope here.)

“Bury Your Gays”: an LGBTQ+ character dies for seemingly no reason. They might also die to advance the straight protagonist’s narrative/when there are no other LGBTQ+ characters. It comes from a history of bigotry and prejudice

The Resurrection Trope: a character’s death doesn’t mean anything because it’s reversed/repeated in cycles. They never stay dead and neither do any other characters. If death has no consequences, it’s meaningless. (With the exception of very specific story lines, like Groundhog Day or Russian Doll.)

If you want to really do a deep dive into death tropes, this website has an excellent list of tropes that work for both fiction and movies/TV shows.

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Writing and workshopping a death to make it as meaningful and plot-essential as possible might take some time. You might even discover that the death shouldn’t happen at all.

Either way, learning about death tropes and effective techniques is a great way to improve your writing skills and your future stories.

#writing death #death tropes #writing advice #writing tips #writeblr #tropes #writing tropes #writers of tumblr #writing

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femsolid · 2 years

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“During the same twenty-five year period that feminist theory and practice have been ongoing, a trend in theory called postmodernism has been working on undoing it. Its main target is, precisely, reality.

Part of the problem in coming to grips with postmodernism is that, pretending to be profound while being merely obscure (many are fooled), slathering subjects with words, its selfproclaimed practitioners fairly often don’t say much of anything. A splendid illustration is the parody of postmodern writing that was in fact gibberish that was accepted and published in a leading postmodern journal (see Alan D. Sokal's Transgressing the Boundaries: Toward a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity.)

Postmodernism as practiced often comes across as style— petulant, joyriding, more posture than position. But it has a method, making metaphysics far from dead. Its approach and its position, its posture toward the world and its view of what is real, is that it’s all mental. Postmodernism imagines that society happens in your head.

What [feminists] said was credible because it was real. Few people claimed that women were not violated in the ways we had found or did not occupy a second class status in society. Not many openly disputed that what we had uncovered did, in fact, exist. What was said instead was that, in society, nothing really exists.

Even questioning in the name of “differences” whether “women” exist and can be spoken of.

Antiessentialism is one facet of this objection: the view that there is no such thing as “women” because there are always other aspects to women’s identities and bases other than sex for their oppressions. The defense of multiculturalism is another facet of it: there is no such thing as women in the singular, there are only women in the plural, many different particularized, localized, socially constructed, culturally modified women, hence no “women” in what postmodernists imagine is the feminist sense.

The postmodern critique of feminism seems to assume that the “women” of feminist theory are all the same, homogeneous, a uniform unit. I do not know where they got this idea either. Not from me. They don’t say. This notion that everyone must be the same to have access to the label “women” is not an idea that operates in feminist theory to my knowledge. Women, in feminist theory, are concrete; they are not abstract. In fact, feminism in one sense started the critique of universality as currently practiced by showing how women are left out of the human episteme.

Domination, postmodernists know exists, but they don’t tell us how or where or why. It is something that no one does. What we used to call “what happened to her,” has become, at its most credible, “narrative”. But real harm has ceased to exist. So whole chapters of books with “pornography” in their titles can be written without ever once talking about what the pornography industry concretely does, who they are, or what is done to whom in and with the materials.

Abuse has become “agency”—or rather challenges to sexual abuse have been replaced by invocations of “agency,” women’s violation become the sneering wound of a “victim” pinned in arch quotation marks. Instead of facing what was done to women when we were violated, we are told how much freedom we had at the time. Postmodernists ought to have to confront the human pain of the ideas they think are so much fun.

Postmodern feminists seldom build on or refer to the real lives of real women directly; mostly, they build on the work of French men, if selectively and often not very well. Feminist postmodernism is far, far away from the realities of the subordination of women. All women should be so fortunate. Postmodernists have to portray women actually having power that men largely have in order to confuse people about power. (That they want to avoid being called sexist in the process, we have accomplished.)

What postmodernists want, I have come to think, apart from to live in their heads instead of in the world (that old dodge), is to vault themselves out of power methodologically. They want to beat dominance at its own game, which is usually called dominating. They want to win every argument in advance.

The reason that it doesn’t appear to men (especially men of the theory class) that the world exists independently of their minds is because they largely do have the power to do whatever happens in their minds.

Women are in a position to know this to the extent that reality does not respond to us. What we know is that the power to make reality be real is a product of social power to act, not just to imagine. We know that reality is about power because we can imagine change all day long and nothing is any different. The reality of people who don’t have power exists independently of what they think. The social constructs that control their lives very often are not their constructs. Any woman who doesn’t know this, in my opinion, has not pushed very hard on the walls around her and other women, or has been, so far, very privileged and very lucky.

This is a criticism; it is not an inevitability. We can collectively intervene in social life, but not if we deny that it is there or what makes it be there.

What does this suggest about their ability to promote change? What is postmodernism’s project? How linear, how teleological, how serious. To whom and what is it accountable? I say it is accountable to academic hierarchy. Who else can afford this theory? Postmodernism appropriates its methodological pretensions and gestures from feminism, but it doesn’t practice them.

So it’s forward to the past: to yet another set of abstractions with no accountability to subordinated peoples’ reality and an implicit but total accountability to power, with familiar if fancier reasons for doing nothing—radicalsounding, but with the same origins, a dislocated elite, and the same consequences, a disengaged theory, that corrodes material resistance to power.

Postmodernism’s analysis of the social construction of reality is stolen from feminism and the left but gutted of substantive content— producing Marxism without the working class, feminism without women. It’s an abstract critique of abstract subjects. The hall of mirrors (that’s plural) that much of postmodernism substitutes for any attempt to grasp a real social world is an ultimate collapse into liberalism’s relativism regresses.

Once postmodernism’s various acts of theft and sell-out are exposed, what is left is a pose, an empty gesture of theatrical anarchism (to which Marx’s critique applies), a Hegelian negation of the status quo (and just as determined by it), liberalism’s terrible child (many liberals look plenty grounded and engaged by comparison), a precious politics of abdication and passivism.

I do know this: we cannot have this postmodernism and still have a meaningful practice of women’s human rights, far less a women’s movement.

Postmodernism, empty as much of it is, is taking up a lot of feminist theoretical energy in this one world that we all go to sleep in and wake up in. Postmodernism is an academic theory, originating in academia with an academic elite, not in the world of women and men, where feminist theory is rooted. In the early 1970s, I (for one) had imagined that feminists doing theory would retheorize life in the concrete rather than spend the next three decades on metatheory, talking about theory, rehashing over and over in this disconnected way how theory should be done, leaving women’s lives twisting in the wind.

My feeling is, if the postmodernists took responsibility for changing even one real thing, they would learn more about theory than everything they have written to date put together. Instead, as practiced by postmodernists, the job of theory, as the blood sport of the academic cutting edge, is to observe and pass on and play with these big questions, out of touch with and unaccountable to the lives of the unequal. Their critically-minded students are taught that nothing is real, that disengagement is smart (not to mention careerpromoting), that politics is pantomime and ventriloquism, that reality is a text (reading is safer than acting any day), that creative misreading is resistance (you feel so radical and comfortably marginal), that nothing can be changed (you can only amuse yourself). With power left standing, the feminism of this theory cannot be proven by any living woman. It is time to ask these people: what are you doing?”

Points On Postmodernism by Catharine MacKinnon

#libfem #postmodernism #queer #Catharine Alice MacKinnon #quote #mp

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odiesdayoff · 2 months

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The Winner Is...

pair: Robert Fischer x fem!reader

summary: Robert Fischer's stuck judging this year's Miss America Pageant. That doesn't mean he can't use his position to his advantage.

warnings: extremely dubious consent!! (heed the warnings!); mean/condescending Robert Fischer; anal; blowjobs; deepthroating; unprotected sex; a bit of misogyny; power imbalance

made reader from Georgia because I've been watching a lot of Kim of Queens. I've never written a lot of this before so I hope you can enjoy <3 this is also on Ao3 so yea... feedback always appreciated!

but also your consumption is your fault so if you don't like the content well then you should not have skipped/ignored the warnings

ALSO happy valentine's day from me :)

“In your opinion, what is a way that young women can lead successful lives in traditionally male-dominated professions?” Miss America from 2003 spoke clearly into the microphone. She wore her winning sash across her chest and a sparkling dress.

On her left, a former professional basketball player crossed her arms and sat back. She won the finals for her team two years in a row and now she was stuck judging brainless, but beautiful women being asked sexist questions in the veil of feminism and the uplifting of women. It didn’t matter, though. She was getting paid.

On the right of Miss America 2003, Robert Fischer leaned on the judge’s table with his hands folded. Ever since he fumbled the business deal with Eclipse Solutions, Maurice thought that the best form of punishment was to take his spot as a judge in this competition. Initially, Robert thought that it wasn’t much of a punishment, but after a long week of nonstop noise and hearing these women yap about how they were going to change the world, he understood why his father made him.

The hard-on he was sporting towards the beginning of the competition was long gone. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them anymore. Even during the swimsuit portion, for God’s sake.

Your smile never fell. The swimsuit you chose emphasized your breasts and slimmed your waist. Saying that you chose it was an exaggeration, your coach said that if you could catch the eyes of Fischer and Johnson, who your coach was convinced was a lesbian, you would have it in the bag. You still weren’t too sure about it. Knowing that your body was getting exposed to millions of people over the television was enough to raise your anxiety.

Attempting to not look like a total fool, you took a deep breath and nodded in response to her question. “Well, as someone who is in the career path of accounting, I have faced a lot of adversarial coworkers and peers. I believe that the best way that young women can gain success is to keep their self-confidence and never stop allowing themselves to learn and grow both professionally and personally. The best way to prove your doubters wrong is to excel in the path that you choose.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were saying, but you had hoped that it came across as something really intelligent to the judges. This was a question you had practiced for so long with your coach, but your mind drew a blank.

Robert held back a laugh or at least a scoff. There’s no way he would hire you. With a face like that and the way you spoke, there’s no way that you knew how to do anything within the range of taxes or money. Probably a case of affirmative action, he was sure. Either that or you sucked the right man’s dick to get to where you were now.

Miss America 2003 grinned. “Thank you, Miss Georgia. What a lovely way of thinking. I wish you the best of luck! Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?”

Robert’s bright blue eyes pierced into yours, despite the fair amount of distance from each other. He leaned into his mic. “Do you believe that you get respected more or less because of your appearance?”

The question felt like a double-edged sword. The last thing the general public wanted to hear was that you thought you were beautiful. It weirded people out to acknowledge your beauty, according to your coach.

“While I do think that appearance does affect the way that strangers treat others, it’s in your personality and how you treat others that matters. For me, it doesn’t matter what someone looks like for me to respect them. People that base how they treat others based on looks aren’t worth your time.” You had only hoped that the foundation you had on was holding back the sweat threatening to fall down your forehead. Robert Fischer had been asking the most condescending and borderline rude questions to everyone. It was bound to happen to you, too.

“Mm. Thank you.” He didn’t look amused.

Music began to play and the audience cheered. You smiled again at the judges' table before leaving the stage in the T walk. Once you were off stage and out of sight of both the judges and the audience, you let out a sigh and released the way that you were sucking in your stomach. You had been doing pageants like this ever since you were a little girl and now, your dream of being in this competition was real. Why did it feel so humiliating?

There was only one final day. It was the evening gown portion and the announcement of Miss America for the year. After that, you could finally relax. That is, unless you won and would immediately have to start your training for Miss Universe. Maybe you didn’t want to relax, after all.

By the time the sun fell, most of the contestants were either spending their last night together in their hotel rooms and doing spa nights while the rest decided to go out to the clubs. You were advised not to befriend any of them by your coach to avoid feeling guilty when you eventually won and they lost. Now, you were alone at a nearby bar nursing a beer and listening to the band playing. It was a cover band of The Killers. Mr. Brightside was the current song getting butchered by the young singer.

It was freeing to be out of dresses and swimsuits and finally not showing off your body. You wore loose jeans and a top with a jacket over it. If they didn’t know you, nobody would even know that you were who you were.

You felt someone sit next to you. In a bar of several open seats, of course, they chose the one basically on top of you. They waved the bartender down and ordered a whiskey. The voice was familiar, one that was ringing in your head all day. You faced him to confirm your suspicions. Robert fucking Fischer.

The drink in your hand was what you tried to focus on. “Not very talkative off stage, huh?” It would be rude to ignore him, you knew that.

You shrugged. “My social battery is drained.” While it was partially the truth, he was the last person you wanted to be speaking to.

“You know,” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “it’s between you and Miss California.” He took a generous sip of his drink as he let the information sink in.

Excitement and guilt mixed in your stomach. “You shouldn’t say that. We shouldn’t even be speaking, Mr. Fischer.” You finished your drink and stood from the barstool. His hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from taking a step away.

“You wanna win, don’t you?” You sat back down, mostly involuntarily, and met his eyes with your own again. They were almost hypnotizing. “I can make that happen.”

“What do you mean?” Questions ran through your head. Was he asking for a bribe? Maybe he had some sort of bet running on you winning.

He smirked at the sight of your intrigue. “This whole competition’s about who’s the best woman, right? They’re still forgetting about the most important thing that makes a woman.” He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath against your skin. “How well they can fuck.”

You waited a moment to make sure that he was being serious, hoping that he wasn’t. The lustful look in his eyes didn’t tell you that he was joking at all. “You’re disgusting.”

“Even if I am, I’m the deciding factor on whether you go down in history as a winner or as nobody at all.” He finished his drink and stood up, fixing his tie. “Johnson likes you. Miss 2003 wants California. It’s all up to me.”

If he was lying, rejecting him wouldn’t mean much in the long run. If he wasn’t, you probably would’ve spent the rest of your life regretting taking him to bed. “Someone will see us going to the hotel together.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you one of his room keys. “Room 704. Wait ten minutes and then come up.” Without saying another word, he dropped some cash on the bar for his drink and left.

The room key felt heavy in your hand. Was winning worth anything if it wasn’t honest? He better have a decent-sized dick if you were really going to do this.

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. “Y/n L/n? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan! I’ve been watching the whole pageant with my daughter, she loves you!” A woman shook your hand, feeling a bit too formal. The guilt grew in your stomach. How could you be a role model for little girls like this? “Can I have a picture?”

Despite your appearance, you nodded. The room key burned a hole in your pocket as you fixed your hair and took a picture with the woman. Hopefully, the dim light of the bar made you look better than you felt.

It had already been fifteen minutes since Robert had left. You finally paid for your drink and headed for the hotel. With each step, your anxiety grew. The elevator rose to the seventh floor and you stopped in front of 704. Instead of knocking, you pulled the room key out and inserted it into the door. The light flashed green and you pushed it open.

Robert was sitting at the edge of the bed without his clothes, stroking himself and staring at the door until you finally walked in. “You’re late.” You kept your eyes around his, trying to prevent yourself from looking any lower.

“I got caught up with something.” You took your jacket off and laid it on the office chair. Given his state of undress, you weren’t entirely sure whether or not you should strip now or wait for his instruction. He seemed like the type who was obsessed with control, especially in the bedroom. The last thing you needed was for him to get angry with you over something so trivial and ruin your chances.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you don’t really want this, don’t you? To win?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “I want it.”

He pointed to the floor right in front of him and spread his knees further apart. You didn’t respond, knowing it was most likely for nothing, and knelt in front of him. For the way that he acted, you would assume it was because he was overcompensating. God, you were wrong.

His free hand grabbed hold of your hair and pushed your head closer to his aching cock. He leaned back. “You’re not gonna win just by looking at it.” You held back from commenting on his attitude and kissed the blushing red tip, the same color as his lips.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his head, allowing his precum and your saliva to mix. After hearing the slightest moan of pleasure from him, which was an exhale at best, you took a few inches of him into your mouth. His hand in your hair guided you back and forth along his length.

“That’s all you’re gonna take? I think you could do much better than that.” He taunted, not pushing you down and wanting you to do it voluntarily. “Or, I could just call down Miss California. She’d love to deepthroat me.”

You tried to relax your throat and took him deeper. He was big, much bigger than what you were used to, but you could take him. You inched deeper until your nose pressed against his lower stomach and your breathing was constricted. “Atta girl.” He smelled like the generic body soap the hotel offered with a mix of his cologne. If you could focus on breathing through your nose and sucking him off the best you could, this would be over quickly.

Hearing his heavy breathing and attempts to hide his whimpers sent shockwaves down your spine. You felt the warmth growing in between your legs the more you pleasured him. “I’m about to cum. You’ll swallow, right?”

While you couldn’t answer, you made a sound of agreement that vibrated down your throat. You’d need to do some vocal treatment and tea tonight so you still could speak tomorrow. “Fuck.” He gripped your hair tighter as he came, ropes of cum shooting down your throat.

He finally pulled out once he had fully finished. You wiped a trail of cum and spit from your lips and looked up to him. “Not bad. Though, I’ve had much better. I guess I overestimated you. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

“What does that mean?” You cocked a brow. It felt even more humiliating considering your position in front of him and the way that you could still taste the remnants of his semen coating your throat.

“Oh, come on. You get a high-paying job straight out of college at a Big 4? You’re either a genius, which I doubt considering half of the answers you’ve given so far, or you’ve slept your way into the job. Now, strip for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was like he’d already convinced himself of his theories, even though they were far from the truth. Couldn’t imagine that a woman like you could make her way up the corporate ladder without the help of rich and successful parents.

There was no use in arguing, you told yourself and took your clothes off until you were standing naked in front of him. “How exactly is the winner chosen? Aren’t there scoresheets? You’re making it sound like it’s entirely based on personal preference.”

He laughed, this time, a genuine one. “Scoresheets are arbitrary. We make those up to align with who we like the best.” He gestured to the bed behind him with his head as he stood. You followed his order and sat on the edge where he had previously been. His tongue flicked around his lips as he got a good look at you, sitting there so obediently for him. “Didn’t even touch you yet and you’re already dripping.”

You gave him your best version of doe eyes that you could, following the instruction of your coach. She always said that facial expressions were the most important aspect of impressing someone. If you could read the person and make yourself into their ideal partner, they’d be putty in your hands. Robert seems to like to be in charge and superior, but there was an underlying hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the desire to be nurtured?

“Can’t imagine you’ll feel that good. Not as tight as you used to be, hm?” He took hold of your knees and separated them enough for his hips to fit. He was slowly getting harder again and you felt his tip nudge your clit before gathering your arousal on himself. “How do you think we can remedy that?”

He jerked himself off using your slick, then moved the tip to settle against your ass. You immediately stiffened against him and put your hands against his chest. “No. I don’t do that.”

He groaned and took a step away from you. “Little Miss Georgia Peach is too good to take it up the ass? I’m trying to help you win, but I guess you don’t care.” He picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them to you.

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the hotel phone and began to dial a number. He checked his watch. The person he was dialing answered. “Yeah, hi. Annie? I need you to do something for me. If you could-” You almost leaped towards the phone and pressed the button, ending the call. Annie was Miss California, he didn’t even need to continue the call for you to understand what he was doing.

“I’ll let you!” You were nearly out of breath, your voice hoarse.

He had to hide his smile from his plan working. “No, sweetheart. You have to ask me for it. Specifically.”

“I want you to fuck my ass, Robert.” You gulped. If this wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t be begging him like this.

“Turn around.” Once you turned, his hands were on your waist and his tip rested against your ass. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, gathering arousal, and then re-lubed his cock. You’d done this before, but it wasn’t something you necessarily enjoyed. The pain outweighed the pleasure. You just needed to breathe through it.

Your hands gripped the sheets below once his head was inside your tight hole. He slowly pushed further inside until he bottomed out. The white, hot pain was rippling through your body. You focused on inhaling and exhaling and continuing to hold tightly to the bedsheets.

He offered you some mercy, moving only after about ten seconds of being inside. After that, he fucked you as he pleased, entirely ignoring how you might’ve been feeling. You were gonna be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, this is how Miss America should feel.”

He pushed your face into the bed so that he could get a better angle and began to fuck into you roughly, rutting into you like he’d die if he didn’t cum within the next few minutes.

Confusion surrounded you when he pulled out and you felt a sudden emptiness. Not that you were complaining. He flipped you to your back and you could barely process what he was doing before his hot cum was spurting onto your breasts and stomach.

He pushed his hair back and caught his breath, taking a step away from you. “Get dressed and leave. I’ve got some calls to make.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at his confirmation of your win. Maybe it was the orgasm that had never reached climax. Either way, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

Pins pricked against your soft skin as they held parts of your evening gown together. Lights glare on you and your competitors on the stage. It took a lot of your might to not show the extreme soreness that you felt between your legs. You knew that if you were to touch your breasts or tighten the dress a bit more, you’d only be pushing further against the bruises Robert had given you.

The man in question sat in his chair with the other two judges, arms crossed as usual. He barely gave you a passing glance, instead, he focused on discussing things with the judges or looking at the other contestants. Maybe it was just a ploy to not make it seem like he already knew who was going to win. Certainly, that was it.

The announcer walked on the stage from the judge’s panel with an envelope in his hand. That envelope had your name on it, you knew. He was an irrelevant game show host that you remembered watching when you were home sick from school as a child. Whatever paid the bills.

You kept your award-winning smile on while the announcer took his microphone and began to speak about how the competition was the opposite of what most people thought when it came to beauty pageants. Mostly pandering and filibustering so that the program would be able to run another round of advertisements when they played it on cable.

“Well, I have in my hand the name of Miss America of this year. Without further ado, why don’t I open it and save these women some anxiety?” He laughed at his own joke while the audience cheered.

Miss California stood next to you on your left and Miss Connecticut on your right. As per tradition, you held hands with them while the announcer opened the envelope of the winner. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they were going to lose.

The envelope was open. The announcer leaned into the microphone. “And the new Miss America is…Miss California!”

It was as if you were seeing things in black and white. Confetti fell from the ceiling and Miss California dropped your hand to receive her flowers and sash. You knew that crying would make you look bad, like a sore loser, but that’s the only thing that you felt like doing. You forced a smile and clapped for her.

Robert clapped for the winner, though his cold stare was on you. What you’d never forget was the smile plastered on his face.

He had won.

#inception #robert fischer x reader #cillian murphy x reader #robert fischer #odiesdayoff #cillian murphy

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attonposting · 1 year

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Okay, so Carth keeps coming up lately, both by people who love him and people who don't, and I thought I'd throw my two cents into the ring.

People complain that Carth is sexist, a lot. And I get where that's coming from, I've got the same issues with his romance as anyone else. I love the bones of Carth's character and remember him very fondly – he's tied for my favorite character from KotOR I, even! But the writing is... flawed, to say the least, and in a way that goes past just 'poorly aged.' I don't think his lines themselves ever go worse than awkward, but there's some more fundamentally unhealthy stuff written into his relationship that I suspect wasn't intentional.

What I find interesting, and what a meme just very succinctly pointed out, is that many of the same people who have beef with Carth are cool with Atton. Who is definitely the more sexist of the two, both incidentally and deliberately. And it's a really interesting differentiation between the two pilots/f!PC love interests/earlygame buddies, because I think their palatability comes entirely down to how the games portray that sexism. So this is my attempt to figure out why one thing works and the other kinda doesn't.

Carth Onasi is introduced as a stand-up guy. He stays behind as long as he possibly can to save other survivors on the Endar Spire; he believes in the Republic wholeheartedly, he serves to protect and approves when you do the same, and other characters sing his accolades. He's supposed to be wholesome, but with PTSD-related trust issues that cause friction between him and you.

Atton Rand is the opposite of that. You find him in a jail cell, he's untrustworthy and a cad, at any given moment he's either abrasive or lying through his teeth, he complains when you help people, and when you get to the bottom of his trust issues, you find out he's a worse guy than you ever could have imagined.

It's much too oversimplified to say that Carth is supposed to be a good person and Atton is not, that's not where the problem comes from, but it will become relevant later.

When Carth starts flirting with you... okay. The biggest, most obvious problem is that the game wants you to be into it. Carth flirts and continues to flirt after you can tell him to stop. Sure, whatever; that's not egregious. You can respond to Carth's flirting positively or negatively, and that's great... but when you do respond negatively, the game loves to pull you into these playful insult exchanges where your PC shouts and pouts while Carth taunts you. There's where the issues start. Even when the player is trying to shut him down, they get dragged along for the ride anyway, and the narrative decides that this is also romantic. Thus KotOR I only has a shallow understanding that it's presenting a situation a woman may want nothing to do with. It's kind of impressive that you can actually call Carth sexist in-game, and yet it doesn't feel like the game actually understands that he is in fact being sexist.

Actually, no. Maybe I'm reading too deep into this, maybe this is why I'm so forgiving to Carth as a character, but I don't think the problem is Carth, I think the problem is that the game is being sexist in this particular spot. I was more annoyed by my own return dialogue options than anything Carth said to me - especially the ones where I was being mean. It felt like f!Revan was being pigeonholed hard into the writer's idea of 'women', that it was not an especially flattering or nuanced view, and there wasn't anything that I actually wanted to say. Definitely the writer did not understand my perspective as a player – but that's not a problem unique to K1 and it's one even the sequel is super guilty of at times, so I'll move on for now.

When Atton makes skeevy remarks, you always have at least one dialogue option to call him out for it, and you cannot ever react positively to what he says. Either you smack him down or you ignore him. This is extremely important. Yes, you could argue that it's not as accommodating to how different players might react... but what this establishes is that the game is self-aware. It does not think what Atton is doing is in any way attractive, or that it should be interpreted positively. Instead it acknowledges what a lady's probable reaction to his unwanted advances would be and encourages the player to express it, and the way that's written isn't a playful back-and-forth, it's the Exile snapping at him and Atton backtracking. Atton's being a piece of shit, but instead of stirring up chemistry, the narrative goes out of its way to mete out karma – hence everyone else on the ship mocking him, or the comically topical details like him being an unwashed loser who smells terrible and scratches his junk in public. Whether you like Atton or not, the game wants you to know that it thinks he sucks, and you are never left feeling like there is an unsettled score.

On the contrary, this lack of self-awareness is what makes Carth's romance in K1 hard to swallow if you didn't start out receptive to it. When you can react negatively to Carth's comments, it doesn't feel like you can do so in an intelligent way. The tone is very “Ugh, MEN, amirite” rather than “I don't like the turn this conversation has taken and would like to just be your colleague again” or just “Stop.” - which is probably what you wanted to say if you were just platonically enjoying or less-amicably bickering with your dorito-jacket companion when the gorgeouses started coming out of left field.

Worse, when you actually can shut Carth's romance down, it involves being a dick to him and stomping hard on his personal issues. Like I'd understand if a player was angry with him at this point, because again, you've been forced into a romance arc even when you were telling the game no as much as it would let you - but there's a huge difference between wanting to tell a guy to back off and wanting to shit on his dead wife or his Sith kid or his blown-up planet. I dunno, I'm not that vindictive! I think there's only a couple of options at the very end of his romance tree where you can turn him down... not even amicably, it's still rude, just without being a Grade-A asshole, and by that point, you have been through a lot of flirting you presumably didn't want to be involved with. Generally, the game won't let you break things off with him without being a dick, even if you never agreed to board that train in the first place. Now loop back to the way that K1 unfailingly portrays Carth as a great guy, whose flaws have nothing to do with his upstanding sense of morality, and there's where the dissonance comes from. Not only does the game push you into his romance after you said no, it makes you the bad guy for trying to get out of what he initiated.

But there's another issue in the timing of the Carth relationship. He starts his flirting while he's expressing intense distrust and standoffishness with your PC. With Carth's nonstop skepticism about your trustworthiness, and constantly bringing up his issues with you... at least during Taris and Dantooine, it comes off more like his attraction to you is superficial and not as a result of him growing to like you, something that's pushed by how it's always focused on shallow hooks like your appearance or your 'cute' attitude. It's very awkward. I do not think this was the writer's intent. I think Carth's supposed to be captivated by what he's seen you do, and that's just going in recursive loops in his paranoid little brain and making things harder for him. By the end of the romance, it's extremely clear that Carth's into you for you. But it's clumsily handled at the start.

Contrast this with Atton, who starts off aggressively sexist towards a female Exile, fifty times more offensive than anything Carth ever does. Literally the first line he gets is leering at the PC's forced state of undress, mocking her vulnerability, and he continues in that vein for much of Peragus. He creeps on your nudity at least four times off the top of my head, he ogles you, he complains about women, he tries to hit on you, he even contemplates the possibility of Sexy Kreia (which is a level of dickery I can scarcely comprehend.)

But that tapers off and disappears around the time he starts showing actual romantic interest in your PC, like when Kreia threatens him and it's revealed how much your opinion matters to him, or when he asks Bao-Dur for advice. And a female PC never sees it again. This creates the opposite impression – that Atton's attraction is a result of your time together. Sure, he's still a pig, but it follows that he wasn't making serious passes at you on Peragus because his behavior now that he is actually interested in you has changed. And it implies that in an actual relationship, that would not be how he'd view or treat you, which I think is crucial for how willing people are to ship Atton with their Exiles.

Now, this is all a product of how K2 did not actually answer that question and let you romance Atton, because with Carth, it's the opposite and you see exactly how he behaves once he gets into a serious relationship. It involves spanking. Things could be very different if K2 actually had fleshed out romances. It's hard to say, because both the PC and the crew were very thoughtfully written (I will take a bold step here and say that K2's characters were on the whole written much better than K1's), but on the other hand, Atton is still the worst and I'm pretty sure the game would want to remind you of that if you agreed to play tonsil hockey with him. And it may have crashed into the same pitfall that Carth's did; if the game railroaded your interactions with Atton up to some point, it'd leave a bad taste in anyone's mouth who wasn't already signed up for the ship.

With the way things are, Atton not only gets a free pass to be interpreted as generously as his fans want and easily ignored by those who weren't keen on him, he even gets an interest boost from this because people will always want what they can't have.

Anyway. With a male PC, you'll continue to see Atton make sexist remarks towards other female characters and can even have a wingman chat with him that is entirely him projecting his issues all over women. He doesn't make these comments with a female PC, suggesting that he's on his best behavior... but that he'd still totally be a leering asshole if he wasn't trying to impress you. With a male PC and Carth, his sexism is nonexistent, again probably because he was never intended to be sexist and it's a product of clumsy/oblivious writing.

There's an additional layer with Atton and the question of how much anything he does is an act, but that doesn't exonerate him from any of the crap he says. I could write a separate essay on Atton and his relationship with women, but the guy is very much a womanizer who's terrified of the idea of intimacy and has a lot of shitty opinions that stem from his defensive need to believe that nothing emotional is ever real or relevant to him. He might've been casing the Exile on Peragus, but his chauvinism is genuine.

But I digress. The tl,dr; is that Atton acts less sucky the more he crushes on you and Carth acts more. Combo that with how their respective games make Atton pay for being creepy but give the strong impression they want you to go along with Carth's nonsense, and it's a little less mystifying why Carth gets so little benefit of the doubt while the King of Trash enjoys fandom sexyman status. His romance is almost predicated on the fact that he's a scumbag, where Carth's is very confused to whether the awkward parts should exist or not.

There's a bit more that kinda hurts Carth. The flirting... well, from what I remember it just got “wow, okay then” later on, and I found it way more silly than offensive in any way, but him repeatedly bringing up how you remind him of his dead wife doesn't help the relationship much and suggests that Carth may be projecting someone else over you. I can live with that, drama's tasty and it doesn't prevent a real connection from burgeoning. You can make the exact same argument for Atton anyway, and I think his is way worse. My major issue is at the end of the game. Mr. Trust Issues does not react well to the events on the Leviathan, when it turns out he was right to have kept an eye on the PC all along. It's great payoff! And I absolutely adore his discussion after that, when he admits his struggles to reconcile you and Revan, how he tried but he can't hate you, how helping you gave him something real when revenge only left him hollow. Seriously, for all the shade it gets, there's some really great stuff in his romance too - you just have to stick it out long enough to see it. But then, on Rakata Prime, Carth seems to reconcile his crisis of faith and finally, wholeheartedly decide to love you in a way that falls flat on its face. He confirms you're a good person because you're not Revan anymore, like Revan is some purely evil part of you you've now cast off, when... that really seems more like denial than anything else, and not the foundation for anything healthy.

Seriously, I wish they'd handled that with more nuance. It would have counted for so much in my books.

All of that said. I know I just went after the man like a vending machine with a stuck bottle of chocolate milk, but I think the sexist vibes in Carth's romance are worst at the start and that he does not deserve the sheer amount of flack he gets. I've seen far worse offenders in the world of video game romances, and this might drive some controversy in and of itself, but I vastly prefer Carth x f!Revan to Bastila x m!Revan. There's a whole 'nother pile of issues in K1's other official ship (f in chat for Juhani), and I think those are much harder to deal with than the ones here. If anything frustrates me with Carth's romance, it's how unnecessary all of the bullshit is. I really want to get into it! The concept is perfectly fine! I love the character! There's good stuff in there! And when I replay KotOR, it's not that difficult to close my eyes to the bleh parts and enjoy the rest, especially once the first couple of conversations are past. Again, all Carth needed was a more conscientious writer at the wheel.

I'd be really interested in hearing other people's takes, both on how they interacted with either of those romances or where their interpretations differed from mine. I only have my own perspective and that of a few people I've talked to over the years, and I'm given to understand this is something of a fandom hot topic!

#carth onasi #atton rand #kotor #kotor 2 #kotor ii #basically a dissertation on how framing makes all the difference #i'm sorry carth #i love you a lot but your writing is so bad #kotor remake pls fix

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