moved @sstewyhosseini

For starters, for someone to say that they never accused anyone of plagiarism yet what do these tags mean? They’re clearly quoting tags I left on a post made by my friend. So what is it, girl? Is this some symbolic metaphor that’s just going over my head? Because it seems pretty fucking cut and dry what you’re implying.

Which, besides it being rich that one of the people involved is making a dating sim from copyrighted material and asking for donations for it. Both of you had no problem DMing me this weekend to see how I was after my biphobic anon (which I am now starting to wonder if it was one of you after all). You had the means and the opportunity to tell me what I “stole” from you. I’m not an asshole, I wouldn’t have lashed out. I would have taken it down. But you didn’t have the decency to give me that chance. Instead, you made a vague post with baseless and hurtful accusations. And blocked me on every platform, including fucking Pinterest.

And before you weaponize your trauma at me, I am also a survivor of DV and SA and have been vocal recently about how painful recent events have been since they’ve dredged up memories for me that I was hoping to forget. But that is no excuse for your actions. You can be a victim in one situation and someone hurting others in another and this is clearly a scenario where you are no victim.

Anyway, believe me, don’t believe me, I don’t care. I have a lovely group of friends who have become more than mutuals and their support has been everything lately. To my other mutuals, I’m sure you’ll receive DMs about how I’m spreading a “myriad of lies”, but I am putting myself out here honestly. I have a new Tumblr and you’re free to DM me on Discord if you would like. But after this I will no longer be using this tumblr.

Wesker smirks arrogantly as Hunter’s attention returns to the present. “Are you trying, Hunter? I would have expected this level of sloppiness from a human, not someone with our abilities,” He drawls with that infuriatingly snooty tone. Hunter knows that Wesker is trying to provoke them, to throw them off-kilter. Wesker likes to do that during their little sparring sessions; Hunter thinks he must get off on annoying them.

“I’m trying,” They respond nonchalantly, pretending that Wesker isn’t getting under their skin. This little sparring exercise was Wesker’s idea, not that Hunter exactly minded. It beat just sitting around the safe house while the pair waited for the heat to die down.

Wesker raises an eyebrow, his eyes glowing red for a brief second. “Stop trying and do it, Hunter. You know how I feel about people wasting my time.”

Hunter launches themself at Wesker, finally snapping under Wesker’s taunts. Wesker steps out of the way, a dark blur as Hunter races towards him. Expecting that, Hunter pivots sharply, launching a left hook at his face. His stupid, expensive sunglasses fly off his face, Wesker stumbling backward a step as Hunter catches him on the edge of his jaw. The black sunglasses land on the floor, a crack spider webbing through the left lens. Seeing their opportunity, Hunter strikes at him with their right fist, overly optimistic about getting a second hit in. Wesker catches their fist, his grip painful and vice-like. Another shitty part of sparring practice with Wesker; he rarely was a forgiving man. He pulls Hunter towards him, almost so close that their noses are touching. Wesker follows that up with a strike to their chest, sending Hunter flying backward.

They land on the black mats, with an ‘oof’ as the wind is knocked out of them. Their hood is knocked off; wavy, black hair fanning around their head like a dark halo. Trying to catch their breath, Hunter barely moves before Wesker is on top of them. He pins their wrists, his arms on either side of their head. His right leg is wedged between their legs as Hunter swallows nervously. A few strands fall free from Wesker’s normally neat, slicked-back blonde hair. He stares at them, a victorious look on his face.“Truly disappointing, Hunter.” Wesker drawls teasingly, his reddish-gold eyes burning brighter.

A warm, pleasant feeling rises in Hunter, their cheeks starting to burn. Shit, this is not good. Wesker smugly smirks, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Fuck, Wesker’s ego doesn’t need to be fed by the fact that Hunter finds him attractive, it’s already galaxy-sized. “Get off me, Wesker.” Hunter tries to muster their usual level of venom, yet their words lack the bite they normally do.

“Do you really want that, Hunter,’ He leans in closer, deliberately teasing them with that smooth purr of their name, ‘It seems to me that would be the last thing you want.” His eyes roam their body, taking in the sight of Hunter. They shiver, resisting the urge to snarl for Wesker to stop fucking with Hunter and kiss them. This is a bad fucking idea. Wesker is a megalomaniac, who has a reputation for stabbing people in the back. Plus, if this were to become something more and end badly, Hunter would be shit out of luck for intel on Dr. Griffin and his team. Yet, a part of Hunter doesn’t care. A part of Hunter wants him to touch them, to devour them. It’s a thought that has haunted Hunter late at night, one they’ve tried to keep buried down deep. Wesker’s eyes linger at their lips longer than anywhere else, gazing at them with pure, unrestrained desire. His gaze returns to their faded green eyes, Hunter swallowing nervously again. “We probably shouldn’t do this….,” Wesker muses, yet his tone says the opposite. He very much wants Hunter, something they’re not used to, especially after their death.

As he leans toward them to close the gap, Hunter makes a sudden move, flipping the pair over so that they’re on top of Wesker. He releases their wrists, eyes widening in pleasant surprise. They slam their hands sharply on the mats on either side of his head, trying to frighten him off. Wesker shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want Hunter. “We definitely shouldn’t do this,” Hunter states, an edge of need in their voice. They sit up, back on their knees as they watch Wesker.

“Do you really mean that?” Wesker asks as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. His right-hand reaches out for the collar of their hoodie, gently grabbing at the fabric. He pulls Hunter slowly toward him, drawing out the teasing. “Tell me you want me to stop,’ Wesker teases, his voice thick with want, ‘but, we both know you won’t tell me to stop. After all, you want this just as much as I do, don’t you, Hunter?”

Fuck it. Hunter gives in, eagerly kissing him. They wrap their arms around his neck, tangling their fingers into his stupid, fucking perfect hair. Hunter pulls roughly as Wesker lets out a low moan of pleasure into the kiss. He releases the collar of their hoodie, grabbing Hunter harshly by the hips as he pulls them closer. They’ll be lucky if they come out of this encounter with just bruises. “Hunter, you should know,’ Wesker nips their bottom lip, ‘I won’t be gentle.”

21. Are they interested in having children? Why or why not?

Basically the same as marriage. That was never a topic at first, but now… Zoiya especially would love to have one or two more kids. And Marcus would technically not be opposed to that. Scratch that, he'd also like to have at least one more child.

22. Do you have other ships that resemble your OTP?

Answered here!

23. Is there top/dom and bottom/sub energy?

In their early relationship (hate sex) Zoiya is definitely the bottom/sub. Marcus being top/dom respectively. However, later on, she's a lot more confident and even more cheeky that sometimes she's the top/dom.

24. Are there any kinks or fetishes they share or don’t?

Zoiya has a severe praise kink. Girl is starving for validation. She's also a masochist on top of that. Good for Marcus, because he loves praising or punishing her. (Lowkey Daddy kink I guess??) Otherwise, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism and Breeding kink are some others they share…

25. Are they sentimental about gifts they’ve received from each other?

Definitely! No matter what kind of gifts, they will cherish them. Usually, it's Marcus who's giving her all kinds of gifts and Zoiya appreciates every single one of them. She really wishes she could give him more gifts, but she never knows what. Zoiya feels like there's not a lot she could give him.

26. What holidays do they like?

Not sure what kind of holidays exist in the Arcane universe, but if there is some kind of family holiday, that'd be their favourite. Spending some family time together!

27. How do they feel about Valentine’s day?

So, I've already mentioned before; Marcus is really devoted and traditional when it comes to relationships. He goes all in for Valentine's day; flowers, gifts, dates, etc. Zoiya on the other hand has never been in an actual relationship before. She'd try to make the best of it even though she doesn't exactly know how it works. A lot of nervousness on her side.

28. Are they jealous/possessive of each other?

Zoiya doesn't like to admit it, but she gets very jealous very easily. Might have something to do with her need for validation. She trusts him, but she can't stand it if someone gets too touchy-feely with him. Marcus isn't as jealous. He only doesn't like it if others are attempting to flirt with her. A little bit of jealousy.

29. Do they like public display of affection?

No PDA for these two, for obvious reasons. Though, they still like to tease each other in public when no one's looking.

30. Do they enjoy dancing?

Foreign lips trail eagerly up Charlie’s throat, but her eyes can only focus on the looming figure in the back of the Spread Eagle. Blue eyes watch as the man’s hands roam freely over her body, a gasp falling from her at his touch; the attention from both men turning her on more than she would like to admit.

The night wasn’t supposed to go like this, and if she’s being honest, she doesn’t know how it got to this point. Technically, she does know how. It was seeing Holly Pepper straddling John in his office that caused her to flee the ranch just two days ago. She hadn’t meant to walk in on it; for the first time she actually had a question for him and not the other way around, but the minute she saw them she ran. Ran all the way to Mary May.

Charlie doesn’t even understand why she let it affect her so much. She has no reason to be so… so jealous. John is an awful, sadistic man and he’s clearly manipulating her sanity in more ways than one.

And now here she is, with Justin? Jeremy? whatever his name, is dry humping her against a stool for all of the bar and John Seed to see.

The Baptist tires of watching the two when her mystery lover decides to paw at her breast. Making his way over in long, quick strides, he “accidentally” bumps into the older man next to them; forcing him to stumble into the pair.

Jackson falls forward, forcing Charlie to tumble to the ground with the stool she had been precariously leaned against.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going” the younger man spits, inches away from John’s face. The only reaction he gets from the brunette is a smile in return. She rolls her eyes at both of them, John’s aggravating nonchalance and the stranger’s drunken state of mind not allowing him to realize who exactly he’s talking to. Or maybe he does realize and doesn’t understand just how dangerous the Seeds are.

Idiot.

Charlie pulls herself up, catching the curious glances Mary May gives the three of them. Stalking over to the pair of men, she grabs John’s wrist a little too roughly. “Come with me” she says as she pulls him towards the door leading out to the alley.

“Charlie!” Mary May calls out to her. She knows her friend is uncomfortable with her being alone with the man given the two’s history. What, with him forcibly carving into her and what not.

“Relax. I’ll be fine.”

Charlie isn’t entirely sure that’s true, but she leads John out the door anyway.

“What the hell was that about? I know lust is a,” she’s cut off as her back is pushed into the wood exterior; lips crashing onto hers. Instinctively she reaches for his collar, but as soon as her hands touch his chest, John pulls away, smirking down at her.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Wasn’t this the whole goal of your little game?”

“My goal was to actually have James there take me home and fuck me, but ya kinda ruined that.”

“Oh, yeah? If your little boyfriend was doing it for you, then why couldn’t you take your eyes off of me?”

Charlie glares at him, at the sheer arrogance of his words, but he isn’t wrong.

“You seemed to be enjoying the show. Or,” she says, standing on her tiptoes so they’re nose to nose, “maybe you were just jealous. Envious, even.”

“That would be a sin, one you’re quite familiar with, Charlie.” His breath is hot on her face now and she’s tired of all the teasing. Pulling him back down to her, she presses her lips to his.

John pushes her back into the wall, hands sliding up her shirt. Charlie whines at the feeling of smooth fingers splaying across her side, the sound causing the man to smile against her lips.

Just like earlier, lips trail down her throat, but this time the kisses are more aggressive; all nips and bites. The button on her shorts is popped open, fingers dipping beneath the hem of her panties. She bites her lip as she feels smooth digits dragging up her slick slit to her clit.

“Does that feel good, princess?” John practically purrs into her ear.

“Ye-yes” Charlie pants out, pushing her hips up into his hand, grinding into it as a desperate attempt to get friction.

Her movement brings a smirk to John’s face. “Patience. After that little stunt? You’re not getting off that easy.”

Rolling her head back onto the wall, she can’t help but let out a pout. “What? Are you going to make me beg?”

“‘Beg’ wasn’t the word I was thinking of.” He begins to tug at her shorts until they tumble to the ground. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘scream’.”

Charlie frees one of her legs from the fabric before pulling John closer by his belt. “Do you want everyone in Falls End to hear?”

“No, but I do plan on making your friend back there know I’m the one who’s fucking you.”

She isn’t sure if he’s referring to Josh back in the bar or Mary May, either way, she’s starting to feel an ache between her legs that isn’t going away. She has two choices: let every patron, including her best friend, hear her, or go home with the proverbial female blue balls.

Like the lady she is, Charlie chooses the quick alleyway fuck with a cult leader. “Then you better make it quick” she says, hands already making quick work of his belt.

“You really don’t understand what the word ‘patience’ means, do you?” John teases. She watches as he strokes himself a bit before wrapping her thigh around his waist. The sounds from the bar’s jukebox cover up the groan that cascades from her lips as he enters her.

“Maybe,” she pants out, “you’ll have to teach me what it means.”

“I intend to.”

The Baptist thumbs her clit, continuing on with his earlier motions, as he begins to fuck into her. Charlie knows this is wrong; some might even say it’s fucked up, but she can’t help what she wants.

“Faster”

“You’ll get what you want when you give me what I want.”

She sighs. It does feel good and she’s been trying to stifle herself since they came out here, but a sudden tilt of the hips causes her to moan louder than she expected to.

You sound like you’re in a low budget porn she thinks to herself, but it doesn’t faze John one bit.

“Louder. I want them to hear you.”

Charlie glances towards the door that’s now slightly ajar. There weren’t that many customers tonight, but the thought of everyone hearing her come is still embarrassing.

“I-I can't,” she mewls. John just hums, the grip on her hips tighten as he starts to pick up a more brutal rhythm.

“Yes, you can.” A hand goes to her throat, the light squeeze forcing her to look up at him. “Say ‘Yes, John’. That’s all you have to do”

Easy for him to say.

“Yes.” She pauses to catch her breath as she feels herself begin to unravel. Bringing her hands down, she grabs his ass, trying to get as much of him inside of her as possible. “Yes-Yes, John” she cries out as she begins to clench around him.

Charlie isn’t sure if anyone inside the Spread Eagle actually heard her cries, but the neighbors across the alley did. A light or two begins to turn on and she’s not sure whether to laugh or cry about giving the townspeople a performance.

The feel of her tightening around him causes John to let out a hiss. “Good girl.” He stops the rocking of his hips to plant a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

She hates herself for how good the compliment makes her feel. She should be letting him down! Not the opposite. But she pulls him back down into a kiss, hoping the movements of their lips will help hide the smile threatening to creep through.

John begins thrusting again, the pace more languid this time. Charlie feels him lift up her shirt, her nipples stiffening against the cool, night breeze.

“You know, you could have just fucked me back at the ranch.”

“Oh, I will.” He groans into her neck. “But this, this was a lesson.”

“And you think I like to play games.”

John just shushes her, his face buried in her neck as a hand cups her bare breast, pinching the already tender nipple.

Charlie can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become harder, forcing her back to hit the wall in a frantic rhythm. She’s surprised no one has come out yet to investigate the noise. If they couldn’t hear them over the soft sounds of classic country playing over the radio, they definitely have to hear the way her body is being pounded into the building. Or feel it, at the very least.

He comes with a bite to her neck and muffled moans of what sound like her name. John stills for a moment as her hands come up to stroke his now tousled hair.

“Good boy” she whispers, reminiscent of his earlier praise. But unlike her, she can feel him smile against her neck before planting a kiss to the bruise he’s surely left behind.

“You’ll have to go in there and pay off my tab. I’m pretty sure Mary May is going to point a shotgun at me the minute I step back inside.” Charlie says before shoving him away so she can pull her shirt down.

“And what about your boyfriend?”

“Fuck ‘em”

John smirks before tossing his keys to her. “Clean yourself up before you get in my car.” He points to the remnants dripping down her thigh now.

“Yes, sir.” She says, rolling her eyes before placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Now, go, be a good sugar daddy, please.”

John allows her to push him back inside the bar before she heads off down the alley. Sneaking off into one of the gardens, she finds a lone hose. Washing herself down she thinks about how disgusted Mary May has to be with her.

Charlie wishes she could be a better friend, or even a better bar hookup to poor Jamie. Instead she goes and sleeps with the enemy right under their noses, almost literally.

But, she’s no longer a Whitetail, her only allegiance is to herself now. And maybe one day she'll go back to being a selfless member of a movement. But as long as John Seed is there, seducing her into the cult, into his life; into his bed, there’s no way she can be anything but selfish.