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#and right now i can’t even fathom that he’s going to betray me as i will him
yandere-kokeshi · 1 month
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How would TF141+Konig,Nikolai react if their reader drunk and told them about how reader family used to sold reader at brotherel.
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Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about prostitution, mention of trauma, and foreshadowing on murdering. 
A/N: Definitely took my time writing this, so I hope you enjoy it!
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Captain “Price” John:
Whiplashes at you, nearly breaking his neck as he places his cold-glass down on the table. 
“Sorry, what?” 
He’s pissed. He cannot fathom why anyone could possibly do something so awful to his sweet darling, but he’s heartbroken, too. His heart shatters when you explain it, going into detail of what happened. And soon, John’s hands find themselves on yours within a heartbeat, thumbs grazing over your knuckles, and squeezes them occasionally. 
If you blow it off, saying it’s no biggie, John gets angrier. It’s not fine, and his tone is firm, and large hands that’s on top of yours aren’t letting go. And soon, he softens — bringing you into his lap, kissing the crown of your head. Hands running up and down your back, whispering to you of how special you are. 
And soon enough, later that night when you’re sleeping, his mind is wide-awake and angered. Wondering if your family is worthwhile to get a visit, teach ‘em a lesson or two.
From now on, John is so gentle with you; checking in with you first and won’t push you for anything. He even suggests therapy, or perhaps couple-therapy, to help you in some way. He wants you to know he’s here for you, as that’s all you have. 
Your parents are nowhere to be seen. The news has reported them missing, and it���s weird that John had come home after an hour when their bodies had been found, right? 
Simon “Ghost” Riley:
Whiplashes so hard, his neck popped as he looked at you. The cheap beer that you and him were drinking is set down, the loud clanking making the silence even louder, and his brown-doe eyes are staring at you. 
“You bein’ serious?”
Simon is fuming, absolutely seething with rage at how they used and hurt you. And he’s extremely tempted to find all of them and break every single bone in their miserable body. How on the earth could they hurt and betray you, you, the literal light in his life like that? 
“Love, you can’t jus’ drop a bomb like that and expect me to be all natural with it,” His tone seethed. He tries to soften it, he really does, but his rage with what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through the built-in cracks. And it’s clearly showing his not-so pretty side. 
But as soon as he sees your face, his heart re-breaks all over again. And within seconds, he pulls you into his arms, whispering sweet words of love and promises of safety; kissing every part he can reach until you tell him to stop.
If you haven’t already cut ties with your family, Simon immediately does it for you — anger shown and his tone sharp. He removes them from any way possible of how they could connect to you, even going as far to put a restraining order against them. But, if they decide to be snide, and try to take you back? Simon is more than happy to use his physical strength to scare them away. 
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:
He laughs uncomfortably, before he really thinks and chews on the words a little more. His eyebrows crease against each other, fingers tightening around the beer bottle, as he looks at you very concerned. 
“Wait– what was that?” 
Kyle watches you go on, rambling about it as if it’s not a big deal, and he’s in pure shock. He’s not sure if you’re putting a brave face on, or if it’s the alcohol, but either way, it’s making him mad. His hands are shaking, his heart thundering in his chest, mind going a mile a minute, trying to understand the concept, but he can’t seem to get past the anger part. 
“Baby… when did this happen?” he generally questions, uncomfortably shifting in his seat as he looks for something in you. He’s worrying. Wonder what it’s done to you, someone he loves so deeply, and he can’t fathom the idea that something so horrific happened to you. 
Within seconds, he apologizes. Brown eyes looking at yours, barely forming tears. He’s pulling you into a tight hug, holding you deeply, and finding a way to blame himself. If he’d known you sooner, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. He could’ve protected you. 
But, that doesn’t help the situation — so he focuses on you, helping you through things and ensuring you’ll be safe. Because you’ll always be with him. 
Kyle tries to help you in every shape and form, making sure your boundaries are set and that he follows them knee-deep. And that, of course, your family doesn’t come near you. If they try to push through the cracks, he’s immediately acting viciously. And it’s not pretty.
 —
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:
He chokes on his drink, coughing up a storm. Hitting him like a ton of bricks, and somehow, you look at him like he’s the one who said some type of sex joke at the wrong time. 
“I– beg your pardon?” 
He’s right in the same area with Ghost, furious in many aspects. His face shows it. His body language, and thick voice. When you’re describing the multiple incidents, it just makes him want to track down your family and rip them in two. 
Comfort is immediately given, Johnny’s arms find yours within seconds, and you’re brought into a cuddle session — one where he kisses every part, and promises that you’ll never have to face them again. He looks at you, blue eyes just admiring you before kissing your cheek, “Nobody will hurt ya’ again, swear on my and ma’s life, sweets.”
And he goes with it. Days pass, and he’s still thinking about it. He sees you so strongly, and how you’re able to go about your day and act as if it’s normal; his heart beats faster at your sewn thoughts of even crying. 
Without saying, Johnny despises your family. A bitter emotion that can be easily shown if you bring them up into a conversation. His hands crunch in remembrance of their scared face, and you won’t be seeing them anymore. You can’t. 
König:
He just looks at you, seemingly going deeper into your soul. Which, of course, creeps you out. König watches you explain, with a flushed look, and he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek. 
“Hase, what’d you say?” 
He just keeps staring at you. And he doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, because he’s not — never in a million years, but it’s devastating to him. How could someone, a family that you’re supposed to trust, do that to you? 
“König?” your voice brings him out of his deep thoughts, bloody thoughts, and he just looks at you before bringing you into his chest; a man, so large and beefy, has a voice so little and fragile, that you could barely hear it. He sighs, “Why did you hide it? I’d much rather you talk to me, okay?” 
He’s obviously affected, but not as much as you are. He’s in a state of disbelief, and the fact you just blurted it out, whilst in a vulnerable state, makes him sick.
He’s unbelievably more clingy the next few days, ensuring you know your own worth and how strong you are. Everywhere you go, he’s touching you — smoothing the wrinkles in your clothes as his hands crawl underneath the fabric. Kissing you and nearly suffocating you with his weight. 
As for your family, he ignores and diverts the questions of them into a different conversation. He doesn’t want to scare you, but with the things he’s done, König is certain you’d be smart to connect the dots. 
Nikolai: 
Not a single laugh, or fun look comes from Nikolai. He’s immediately concerned, the shot glass being put down as he really looks at you, biting his lip. 
“Think that’s enough alcohol, Lyubimyy. Why don’t we head to bed, hm?”
He doesn’t necessarily react — but more so tries to make you sidetrack so you two can focus on something else. Until, the next morning, is where he re-brings it up and asks. He’s concerned, dark eyes showing sadness that’s covered by anger. But your feelings matter. They will always come first. And when he sees your reaction, Nikolai quickly understands, “We can talk whenever you’re ready, mkay lovey?” 
Nikolai comforts you with the best of his abilities, ensuring that you’re not a burden. You’re the complete opposite, and you’re so strong. His hugs become deeper, kisses become longer and more intimate. 
And the gifts he brings home, even to the grocery store, are enormous. His sly smile as he carries them in definitely takes your head off some things, no? 
Your parents are immediately cut out of your life. Nikolai has secrets of his own, and once in a while, he has to take out the dirty trash, right? Before he leaves for the day, a mission needed for Laswell, he promises to be back before 5 PM; and he does, arriving all giddy and flirty. But his hands seem a bit too warm, a bit odd. 
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maislovebot · 6 months
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Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Francis Scott-Key
Welcome to the chapter of my 4th fav Fitzy:3
Contains: afab reader, no pronouns, fuck me till I forget trope, overstim, they’re married and have a kid, silly, reader is 30-35, some au where reader takes Zelda’s place and their daughter isn’t dead but he’s somehow still attacking the ADA??, idk just imagine he goes against them for a different but still noble reason, domestic, vaginal fingering, praise kink, come eating, overstim, p in v at the end, service top Francis
Everything seemed to be going wrong lately. Your beloved daughter was struggling with her school work, even though Francis had hired the best tutors available. You didn’t mind helping her with her homework, in fact you enjoyed the bonding time, but it was like talking to a wall a majority of the time.
Let’s not even get started on work. While the Guild wasn’t technically your group, you were practically the co-leader, as to be expected of Francis’ wife. Some members were beginning to show some hostility towards Francis, especially one specific farm boy, and it was getting tiring. You knew he wouldn’t ever actually harm Francis, as he was the man in charge of his payroll, but it was still exhausting.
Technically speaking, Francis is powerful enough to just punch John's lights out if he ever became too much of a threat, but you knew Francis couldn’t do that. As vain as he may seem, he is fiercely loyal to any and all members of the Guild, even Lucy who got kicked out some time ago. She was no longer a member, but she was still receiving many of the benefits, along with a new payroll from some coffee shop near the Armed Detective Agency’s office. And if worse comes to worse, she would still be allowed back with open arms if anything were to get too difficult for her, or if she was dealing with an ongoing threat.
Pretty much, she was still a member, but she wasn’t doing any of the dirty work anymore. Francis claimed he simply couldn’t bear to let her go out there all alone, which you understood. Lucy was a delight after all. She was polite, and honestly quite fun to be around. If you were younger, you could see yourself being genuine friends with her. You agreed to continue giving Lucy a payroll, under the condition that if she ever betrayed the Guild, all those remaining assets would be cut off.
To sum it up, things weren’t going very smoothly at the moment. You knew this would all pass once everything with the Armed Detective Agency passed, but as of right now..
You were stressed. Very stressed.
You haven't confided in Francis with your feelings, as you could tell he already had a lot on his plate. If you were stressed, you can’t even fathom how nervous he must be right now. The succession of this mission will result in either prosperity, or the end of the Guild as a whole if he doesn’t play his cards right.
Even among all this stress, Francis still managed to make time for you and your daughter to eat dinner every night at the luxurious dinner table.
“Francis, I’m sorry I didn’t make dinner tonight, I’m incredibly tired. At least the chef is available.” You apologized, as you normally make dinner, even if you don’t need to. He has over thirty-five chefs working under him, it’s a nice hobby though, so you make dinner. Francis says that even if it’s not professional grade, it has a home-esque feeling no other chef has been able to replicate.
“Don’t apologize, dear. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”
Francis brought his hand to your knee, and rubbed circles along it. His hand trailed up a little, just enough to tease, but he quickly pulled away as your daughter bursted through the door, presumably finished with her tutoring.
“Hey, sweetie. Have you finished your homework?”
She nodded boldly.
“Alright..tell me three things you learned. You’re studying ecosystems, correct?”
“Mhm!” She nodded again.
You gave her a look she knew all too well.
“Alright, well then, tell me three things you learned.”
Francis looked at you knowingly, knowing all too well she was having problems processing the information given to her.
“Uhhh..I learned about..precipitation?”
“Wasn’t that last unit?” You chuckled.
She looked to the floor, defeated.
Well, that’s a dead topic.
“Alright. I’ll quiz you again tomorrow, but you better remember something in that big head of yours!” You knocked her head gently and she frowned.
“Alright, I’ll try, I promise!”
As much of a face as you were putting on, you were beyond stressed. You were worried about her test scores. Even if she was only in fifth grade, she is going to a private school. Grades work differently there. Anything below a B- and you legally have to retake the class. What’s even the point of all the other grades, then? you wonder. Private school nonsense, is the answer you come to.
Just as you were about to let out an accidental sigh, you were cut off by the chef walking in with a large tray with dinner on it, along with a dessert (mainly for you and your daughter, as Francis preferred simplicities like tea). Francis, however, noticed your cut off sigh, and raised an eyebrow at you, unbeknownst to you. He decided to put it aside for now, and he looked at the plate of food in front of him, along with the cup of tea that was brought to him while he wasn’t looking.
“This looks good!” Francis looked at your daughter and pet her almost like a dog before grabbing her cheek gently, making her frown.
“Right, doll?” Francis questioned your daughter, obviously teasing her.
“Dad!” She yelled out, “I’m not a little kid anymore! I’m ten!”
He raised his hands in the air.
“Alright, alright. It does look good though right?”
She nodded furiously, before grabbing her fork and digging in enthusiastically. You and Francis chuckled, and when you made eye contact, he made a knowing look to you, before you two were cut off.
Your daughter swallowed her bite of food, holding her pointer finger in the air.
“Yum! Alright, so my friends want to sleepover at their house tonight, if that’s okay with you two.”
You looked at her quizzically.
“Which friends?”
“The two sisters.”
Ah, they were good kids. It was only five pm, and she did have her homework done, even if she didn’t remember any of it. It was also a weekend.
And of course, there was Francis. Considering the looks he was giving you, you could tell he wanted something out of you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to find out what. You were even rubbing your thighs together once he had teased you earlier.
“Alright. You can. But you have to promise you’ll study at their house.”
Once you agreed, Francis smiled and placed his hand on your knee again, although it was rather innocent this time.
“Yes! I’ll call and let them know!” She ran off to her bedroom, before remembering one vital detail.
“Mom.. can I use your phone to call them?”
And now you and Francis were home alone, the only other company being the housekeepers packing up to return home for the day, and they’d be gone any minute.
You and Francis were going steady, with you straddling atop of him and kissing him deeply, ruffling his well kept hair with your hands. Although it was fairly innocent right now, you couldn’t ignore the strain you could feel against your crotch as you straddled him. Just as he couldn’t ignore how you were grinding up against his erection with each passing moment.
“Please, Francis.” You pulled away from his lips.
“Please what?” He teased.
“Please give me more.”
Francis nodded, and began to fondle your chest, rubbing circles along your nipples, pushing you over so you were now on your back with him above you. He trailed his hand down till he was prodding at your underwear, pulling it aside. You were only in your bra and panties now, and he was only in his button up shirt and boxers. So it wasn’t exactly difficult.
He pushed his middle finger inside your cunt, and he quickly moved his finger up to curl against your g-spot. When he dragged his fingers you trembled slightly and whined, making Francis chuckle.
“Looks like you needed this.”
Francis added another finger and thrusted inside faster, feeling you tighten around him. He smiled at your reactions, and kissed your forehead.
“You look stunning like this.”
He added another finger, and curled his fingers up to your g-spot harsher, and as he fucked you on the majority of his hand. Your eyes rolled back from all the intense feelings and you gripped the bedsheets. You gripped his wrist to keep him in place, aware of how much of a tease he could be at times. Francis chuckled, his voice riveting and vibrating against your skin. You couldn’t hold on anymore, and you let go of his wrist.
“Ah, close—I’m close..”
Francis sped up his movement, using his thumb to press your clit and rub circles against it. You arched your back up into his body and you finally came. The loud cry you let out went right to Francis’ ego and he got even harder than before, continuing to rub along your clit, slowing down his movements with his fingers. Allowing you to calm down from your high. Once your body relaxed and your orgasm died down, he pulled his fingers out of you and he licked his fingers clean before leaning down to kiss you again, making you taste yourself on his tongue.
“God, I can’t get enough of you.” Francis said once he pulled away, looking at your breathless face. Francis began to pull down your underwear, smiling at the small gasp you let out from your sensitivity.
Once he pulled your underwear down he continued feeling up your clit, relishing in the way you whined into his mouth as he kissed you. He needed this so bad. He was so tired, and you were proving to be a perfect stress reliever, even if he wasn’t getting all that much stimulation. He reached behind your back with his free hand and undid your bra, pulling it off your shoulders. You turned your head away from him, feeling a little shy. Which Francis wasn’t having at all. He gripped your chin with his dominant hand and looked into your eyes and kissing you yet again.
You were great at comforting him, but he was growing desperate for something that would help the ache on his hard on, so he straddled your thigh and started grinding against it like some teenager. He in turn whined into your mouth and groped you with his free hand. So much was going on at once, all you could do was grip his waist, wrapping your arms around him tenderly.
He was rubbing soft circles into your clit while leaning over you, helping you reach your absolutely ecstatic orgasm, your entire body practically giving out, with the only function left for your body to offer being to arch your back into him. The arching of your back brought your chest closer to him, and he almost instantly began licking at your chest at the opportunity.
It felt amazing, but it sent a wave of shock down your body and you jolted your back down into the bed, forcing his lips to detach from your chest.
“Are you okay?” He asked, looking up at your face with worry and regret covering his eyes completely, although he still had that iconic smile on his face
“No—no, it feels great, I’m just sensitive there as is, you going at it right after I come is..” You weakly got out, hoping that despite your underwhelming, tired tone you would get your point across.
That reassurance went straight to his ego, resulting in an aroused jolt (as if he wasn’t already painfully hard) on his end this time.
“Damn—I love you, s-so much—I want to—”
He didn’t even manage to finish his sentence before he was moving himself down between your thighs like a man starved. He tentatively licked at your clit and hole. It hurt a little because it was immediately after your orgasm, but it also felt phenomenal. It felt so good in fact that you rode yourself onto his face briefly before he took a hold on your hips.
“There’s no need to fuck my face, I’ll give you everything you want.”
And oh God did he keep his promise. He noticed how you were desperate for more tension, and pressed his tongue inside your hole as much as he was physically capable, stretching it out as far as he could reach. His thrusts with his tongue were emphasized by the way he tightened his grip on your hips, as he pulled your pussy onto his face as much as possible. Your legs were spread pretty far, considering how his head was separating your thighs, but it soon didn’t matter as you simply wrapped your thighs around his head.
You bucked your hips into his face, allowing his tongue to reach even deeper, and you cried out at your own movements. Francis’ thrusts of his tongue were driving you crazy, and you were starting to really forget about all the problems going on.
You didn’t have to worry about dinner right now, or tucking your daughter into bed, work was out of your mind, and all that you had to focus on was the miraculous way Francis worked with his tongue. No more stress today, Francis was going to make sure of that.
Francis was doing wonders with his tongue, kissing your clit whenever you whined particularly loud. He held your hips down with force, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. He kissed and licked at your clit, taking breaks every so often to kiss and nibble your thighs, it was sweet but you were going crazy with the way he’d switch from eating you out like his life depended on it to tenderly kissing your thighs, and in order to lock his head in place you gripped his hair, messing it up more than it already was from his rather stressful day. He throbbed at your actions and began licking and sucking your clit with even more determination. He moved his right hand up and put two fingers inside of you, curling them towards your g-spot, making you let out a loud whine and finally come all over his face.
You breathed heavily and slowly loosened the grip on his hair before letting go entirely, resting your arms on the bed.
Francis was known for being a man with a lot of self control, but he was absolutely desperate at this point and saved no time in kissing you quickly before pulling his pants down and lining himself up with your currently recovering heat.
“Wait.. Francis, I gotta recover.”
“Please, Dear. You can handle just a little more, just for me right?”
You nodded, unable to resist him. He treated you so well, he should get what he wants as soon as possible, right? You pulled him down by the shoulders and unbuttoned his dress shirt, his tie already long gone. By the time you were done taking off his shirt, he was already halfway inside of you, making you whine and tremble, and the buttons more difficult to undo.
Francis asked if you could handle a ‘little more’, but by the time he was done you were practically passed out. He went at it for such a longtime, you distinctly remember seeing white everytime you came. It was a strangely comforting feeling to fall asleep to. It almost felt airy, despite the aching pain in your hips from him gripping them so hard as he thrust himself into you. It felt like you were going to some second heaven, and it made you fall asleep with a clear head.
You fell asleep in Francis’ arms, holding him tight as he rested his head on yours, not having a care in the world.
You fell asleep with a smile on your face.
Wc - 2.6k
Omg we’re in top three territory now!! Ango will be next:)
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thespoonisvictory · 1 year
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going crazy like tom positions himself below shiv on the stairs and says remember how it used to be. remember when everything was bad and I was good and you were able to let that in. bc the dynamic in that memory isn’t a tomshiv of even season 1, where shiv saying something as vulnerable or romantic as “I like it all” would feel out of place. He says I was your good guy, and I was obedient, and we lived in our own little bubble where I wasn’t fathoms beneath you either. It’s a plea to before his betrayal, before he really got in the company and shiv clammed up and before he was a threat. it’s “we’re both doing bad right now. we’re both not looking good. let me be kind to you, because it’s certainly better than both of us making more enemies.”
and in that way it is both love and business! tom wants his place more secure, but it also benefits shiv to have another person in her corner. someone who is sitting beneath her and promising to be a good boy for both his love of her and his prospects. and of course shiv can’t accept that, because the only way that dynamic appealed to her in the first place was her belief that he would never do anything to betray her, and that illusion is shattered. if she lets him roll over and show his belly again, she’d be doing so with the knowledge that this is a choice he’s making, that he is being kind to her and making things easier, rather than her manufacturing the relationship as she desires. 
because if they did this again, it would have to be through a different lens to work. shiv would have to be vulnerable because she chooses tom to be that with out of love and trust, not a belief that there was nothing she could do to lose his loyalty. tom would have to acknowledge that so much of shiv’s actions are not about him! that she was abused and that he cannot will her into loving him with subservience anymore. ahhH!
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gojoath · 14 days
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hear me out cella..fwb hakari who couldn’t give a toss about you for MONTHS on end, and you realised it was slowly destroying you inside. everywhere you went, you though of him and him only, what it’s like to be held by him, what if you could be on the receiving end of his love, what would it all be like? those thoughts shattered ur heart the next day when you saw him with two gorgeous girls hanging off his strong shoulders at a party, and you ran out, deciding that you’ve had enough and couldn’t be treated like this any longer.
so you force yourself to move on. it kills you. it takes a great deal of effort to get up and go to your classes, pick up some new hobbies that keep your hands and mind busy, and you go out with your friends more. a month or two goes by and no word from hakari, which definitely helps the moving on process. but then one day he sees you and comes up to you to say hi, as if he didn’t basically rip your heart to shreds a few months ago.
you can’t fathom how he could have the nerve to do such a thing, and you don’t even answer him as you shoot him a wary look and just walk away. it’s like a slap in the face for hakari. he knew he was unreliable, a player, and an overall ass but he didn’t think that it would cause you of all people to loathe him. you, who’s positive disposition and sunshine demeanour made everyone feel at home.
he tried desperately to get your attention after that. he slapped himself a couple times, thinking to himself that he’s stupid and he’s never done this for anyone before, why are you so different? and why does it feel like a stab in the chest when you don’t look his way anymore? he begins to become more and more adamant, but still no sign of any reciprocation on your end.
so, hakari decided to gamble and made the stupid !!! decision to get your name tattooed on his left hip, right next to the birthmark that you once traced with your delicate fingers. he thought it was stupid, but he also didn’t regret it one bit. all his grovelling and reflection had just reminded him how much of a light you were next to him, always shining and so so so deserving of love. he wants to try and give that to you now.
so when, a week later, you get sent a picture from hakari (no message, nothing else, just a picture) of a tattoo which spells your name in delicate cursive penmanship, your mouth drops and your heart betrays you by fluttering and beating faster.
what has hakari just done?
PHEWWWWW I NEED TO START WRITING OMG?? i was only meant to add a few lines onto the anon’s ask who talked about todo/hakari getting your name tattooed and i was suddenly inspired by your comment saying it would take a lot for him to get your name tattooed 😭 i didn’t think it would be this much !!! — 💫
omggggg the way he gets the tattoo so you’ll speak to him again HES EVIL T^T because how are we supposed to ignore the man with our literally name tattooed on his body !! this better be a sign that he’s ready to commit or else, i want all of those other women turned off when they see our names on his hip because it’s like a brand (o´∀`o) this is all we wanted from him from the start grrrrr !!! thank you for feeding the fwb hakari agenda 💫 my loooove, you are a total genius + yes hello you should totally start writing, this was a whole post (positive) ᰔ !!!
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queen-haq · 2 years
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Sneak peak of AWR - 21
One of my lovely anons requested it, so here’s a small sneak preview
Billy’s phone rang again. He cast a quick glance at the screen; it was you calling. He hit ignore. How could you? How could you fucking do this to him?  You were the one person he trusted in this world, the only one. He spent most of his life wearing a mask, hiding himself so that no one would know how far he’d go to get what he wanted. What was owed to him. The only person who saw through that charm was you, and not only did you accept it but you loved him for it. He bared his soul to you.
 And you fucking betrayed him.
 Furious anger rushed through him, making his blood boil with rage.
 Was it so easy for you? Plotting to dismantle his life? Devastate him in the most hurtful way? He shook his head, recognizing that he knew the answer already. His lips pursed into a thin line. Of course it was. He knew you to your core, knew that you never did anything rash. When someone got in your way, you took them down calmly, resolutely, coming up with a plan and executing it perfectly. That was one of the things he loved most about you. That you were as bloodthirsty as he was – except, this time, you made him the enemy. Something he never thought possible, something he never expected of you.
 The image of you in any kind of pain broke him completely; he couldn’t even fathom deliberately causing you any damage because the thought alone made him want to fucking puke his guts out. Yet you fucking planned to destroy him without any qualms. He still remembered the blank expression on your face. There was no regret, no turmoil. He looked and looked and hoped there was some kind of mistake, that maybe you were lying to him – but no, there was only you, standing there coolly, explaining how you had wrecked his fucking life.
 The phone rang again, except this time it wasn’t you. He picked it up. “You got something?”
 “Yeah, I think so,” Arthur replied. Arthur was a college friend of yours, who knew how to do everything you did – except he’d chosen to pursue freelance work that skirted the criminal line instead of going the corporate route. You had recommended him years ago, knowing sometimes Billy needed off-the-books work done. 
“Three possible motels this Karen could be staying at. All the motels are on the same block, I can’t get anything more specific at this point.”
 “Okay, text me the info.”
 Billy hung up. The open vault in front of him contained cash and several different IDs. He scanned through them, flipping through the expiry dates. Thanks to the fucking accident, he hadn’t replenished his stock of fake IDs which meant there weren’t as many choices. Scanning through them, he picked one that he could use to fly to Florida. He needed to get there ASAP before Karen found the documents. Best case scenario, he would remove whatever you had planted before she could get to it. Bile rose in his throat when he considered the worst case. He liked Karen, she was fine, and he knew how much Frankie loved her – but he wasn’t going to let her fuck his life up.
 His phone rang again this time, a number he didn’t recognize. Assuming it was Arthur, he picked up.
 “Hello, William.”
 He recognized the haughty stuck-up voice right away. Immediately he tensed, his disdain for Krista palpable. “What the fuck do you want?” 
So that’s it for now. I’m still working on the chapter and have quite a bit to finish. If you’re looking to read something, take a look at my masterlist. I recently started posting an original fic called Alive, an enemies-to-lovers story if that’s your jam.
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hinataxsunshine · 8 months
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— ignoring me ranting. Look. I love Hinteru. So much. And I’ll probably talk about their relationship another point but I wanna just ramble about Agunata atm. And I apologize about definite mis-characterization about the cannon characters..
They have such a deep meaning to me, and I love their relationship so much. It starts out with Aguni not being too sure they should let this “kid” ( this 20 year old boy. Aguni is about 30 I think here and Takeru 36 ) hang around them. He likes it just being just him and Takeru. Hinata on the other hand is thrilled. He isn’t used to friends, he grew up having to play perfect son and have the kids at school ostracize him. So even if Aguni isn’t too fond of him, he’s still happy he’s letting him around
And of course, as time goes on— the two grow closer. And Aguni grows to care for Hinata. I have him realizing he has feelings for Hinata or developing feelings about a year before the events of the Borderlands
In the borderlands, s1 Agunata won’t have much development until probably Hatter dies. They aren’t able to develop because Aguni has his job as the Militant General. He has to be cold and cruel and mean and he cannot show that he truly does care for Takeru and Hinata. Hinata doesn’t fully understand it. He understand to an extent. Understands that in order to keep everyone in place, they must pretend. But Hinata hates pretending. His friends mean so much to him. They were the first people besides his sister to care about him. So Hinata will do whatever he can, even if it will cost him his life to help them get back.
He knows Aguni likes Takeru. And he knows Takeru likes Aguni. But of course he’s obvious to the fact that those two could like him as well. So in his mind, as long as he gets them back, they’ll be happy— right?
I keep jumping around but I can never think about one thing at a time
Anyways, once Hatter dies— that’s when they finally start to connect more. There’s a moment that will always be dear to me from my own writing.
When Hinata sees Hatter on the table, he is shattered. He can’t even really fathom in. Takeru seemed unbeatable. Sure he was losing his mind, going crazy in a place like this. But he was still his Takeru.. and Aguni.. he seemed like he didn’t care. Was it a mask? Hinata was too emotional to think clearly. Once the meeting was over, Hinata left first. Fuck that. He despised Niragi, threatening him with a gun. He liked Aguni as the leader.. right?
Hinata is terrified. Takeru was gone, would Aguni still be his friend? He knew that when they first met, Aguni wasn’t fond of him. But now.. now that the person who tied them together is gone.. would he drop him? Was he only around because he tolerated him for the man he loved?
Anyways, he finds himself in Aguni’s room and once Aguni arrives— because he knows Hinata wants answers. Answers he can’t give but.. he knows his friend. Knows about his friend that he loves. Hinata breaks down, screaming and crying and asking why he didn’t warn him. Hitting his friends chest. And Aguni calms him down the only way he knows, wrapping a arm around his chest and pulling Hinata close. Using his strength to keep him close to his chest and putting a hand on the back of his head.
Anyways. Once the Ten of hearts happen, Hinata is better but still he’s.. hes fucked. And now not to mention that he’s blind in one eye. When he finds out that Aguni was the one who killed Takeru. He feels betrayed.
Hinata is emotional and of course Hinata tends to think with his heart. Aguni of course, is still so so guilty. He killed Takeru, and now he’s causing Hinata so much pain. The two are broken, both of them so torn over their friend, their love. They can’t truly comfort eachother, and definitely not in the mess of the ten of hearts. Hinata watches from afar, as he was to watch Aguni sacrifice himself to kill Niragi.
And now it’s 1:30 am and my thumbs hurt. I don’t know if ANYONE read that but.. if you guys want. I’ll talk about season 2 of their relationship, which is their season.
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overgrownmoon · 9 months
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ventpost below i need to yell into the void some more
ok i had dinner and i feel better but man there’s a lot on my mind right now and if i don’t yell about it somewhere i might explode. the problem is i don’t really know who irl might be able to genuinely help me with this issue. let me get into it, while trying to not give out too many personal details.
my baby brother is 17 years younger than me. yea, big gap. he’s actually my half brother, my stepdad and mom got married a few years ago. look, i love my stepdad. i love my bro. but… man, do i have complicated feelings.
i’m terrified we’ll never be close due to the age gap. we might never relate to each other or find common ground. i mean, im gonna move out and he’ll spend most of his childhood knowing me as someone who doesn’t live with him. will he see me as a sibling? will i just be another annoying family member mom makes him say hi to?
how can i even say that part of me is angry he exists? how can i say that and feel good about myself? listen, i dont like feeling that way, but there is a part of me that is so upset that he was born.
my younger brother and I were sat down and told the news when mom was a month pregnant. i spent the moments leading up to that reveal praying that this wouldn’t be a pregnancy announcement. then I had to pretend i wasnt thinking that. i told mama i was happy and felt so guilty, like i was lying. i’m not sure if i wasn’t.
we were never consulted. at no point did mama or my stepdad ask us how we would feel about a new sibling. never were we included in that conversation. i’m sorry, don’t i live here? isn’t this my family? don’t i have a voice in this? it felt unfair, like i wasn’t even considered as someone who would have feelings about this. it’s a huge life change, i would’ve liked to at least be asked! i still feel betrayed. and i feel selfish that i do.
no, i didn’t want a new baby in the house. i was happy with my younger bro and my new stepsister from stepdad’s side, who lives in a different state than me. i thought our family was enough. when the baby was announced, i suddenly felt that maybe i wasn’t enough. maybe me and my brother weren’t enough.
are we not enough? why did mama want another? did we not love her enough? did my stepdad not love us enough? why would they have felt that they needed a new baby between them, a new child born from their marriage, when we kids were already there? what sort of need did they feel to “validate” or “deepen their bond?” y’all are married, we had the ceremony and everything, was it not enough? i don’t understand.
it’s hard for me to understand. i have tokophobia, the fear of pregnancy. i describe it as a phobia since the very mention of it makes me feel sick and upset. i get uncomfortable just seeing a visibly pregnant person in public. the idea of a being growing inside me and using my energy frightens me, and the whole ordeal that is birth sounds like a torture scene from a horror movie. i can’t fathom why someone would want to go through that a third time! i can’t even imagine wanting to do it once!
i know it’s not my baby bros fault. he didn’t choose to be born. he’s here, and we can’t undo that. i’ll do my best to love him and raise him in this home. i’m so, so scared of the future, though.
i’m scared because i see so much of my own childhood fears coming through. as a kid i felt like a burden. that i was a leech on my parents money and time. i felt guilty for having the problems and issues every kid has because i felt that i was being an undue burden, some kind of obstacle against my parent’s happiness. i thought they would be happier if i didn’t exist, and if they were free to go travel and vacation without a needy child to take care of. in many ways i’m still shaking off those old thoughts about myself; i still find it hard to ask for help without feeling like i’m just making more problems for everyone.
will the baby feel like that? will he watch me and my brother move out, get jobs, while he has to live at home for another decade? will he watch other folks my parents age, whose children are out of the house and are free to go and do whatever they want, and feel that he is the reason his own parents can’t? will he feel that he is the burden of the family, like i did?
i hate that feeling. i don’t want him to feel that way. no kid should feel that way. i especially hate that sometimes i feel myself thinking that way about him; being annoyed that i have to watch him instead of going somewhere, that we have to be back in time for his nap instead of staying out, that we can’t go out at all because we don’t have a sitter for him. i hate it. it’s not his fault. i know that. but after going a few years where we as a family could be spontaneous, could go and do and be out for however long we wanted, and then be put back in a restrictive schedule - it sucks. i liked that freedom and i want it back. that’s not fair to him.
i don’t feel like a very good big sibling, or a very good person saying all of this. i don’t feel good at all. i struggle talking about this to anyone because that’s mum family i’m talking about, a little boy, and how dare i speak so evilly about my little baby brother? i feel like a monster. i’m could never say anything about this to mama; she’d be so hurt, because that’s her baby i’m talking about. it sucks because i can talk to mama about anything else but this. we have always been so close and i feel like this is driving. a wedge in that, because i don’t think we will ever be able to see eye to eye and understand each others views. mama had always wanted children; i will be happy with none. i dont think we’d ever be able to find a solution.
i don’t know what to do. of course i’ll never take it out on the baby, but i’m so scared of this turning into resentment that i can’t help but show around him. i can’t do that to him, make him think i hate him for something he had no control over. yet, how does one ever figure out these complicated thoughts? i don’t think i ever will. that’s terrifying to think about.
uh, thanks for reading, i guess. irl moots please know i’m fine, currently. just really in the weeds at the moment. im tired.
shit, man, family. i thought mine was already complicated enough.
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nowis-scales · 11 months
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We're on our way to finding out what the Colour of Sunrise is...
Can tell you I'm having trouble titling these well? Lol
(Emblems:
❋ = It is entirely neutral
✾ = It’s a bit negative, but it’s told in a joking way
✿ = It is negative and critical)
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❃ The burning of Fhirdiad just makes me think of that one African proverb: “The child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.” 
That’s how I interpret what’s happening with Rhea here. This kind of behaviour does not show up until now, you’ll notice, when she’s backed into a corner. The fact that EdeIgard uses this as another point to point fingers is manipulative as fuck, knowing that she’s driven someone else to their limit, but I kind of like that about her. When they dare to use it, her ruthlessness is kind of awesome. ❃
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❋ Oh believe me, Bernadetta, I know. 
Actually, now that I think about it, no I don’t. I recruited you for my GD playthrough so I never watched you burn. But I have no plans to do so for AM, so um… sorry. We will someday acknowledge your flammability. Today is not that day. ❋
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❋ I don’t know Cyril that well bc I plan to connect more with him in my SS playthrough, but I think he deserves better from this fanbase. He’s often just reduced to prove the badness of Rhea (incredibly debatable imo) and the badness of Hilda (haven’t seen the support but I don’t think it’s debatable — Hilda has some serious self-reflection to do).  ❋
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❃ I really do wish there was something more that could be done to help Rhea. Like there is just so much of this shit that she did not ask for, and all of the “solutions” people have pitched have some pitfall or caveat for her. She was never going to be able to win. ❃
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✾ Girl she’s having a breakdown, stop trying to make this about you, it's not your moment ✾
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✿ I think I will always believe that the message of this story is not about “humanity sticking together”, but the way that power and greed corrupts us to abuse each other and those who seek to help us. Cause I don’t feel like we stuck together in this route. The three countries have a tattered relationship, with one being completely in control. Commoners have been trampled to serve the desires of the nobility, but have been trampled in their own name. There has been an incredible failure to try and understand those who are different from one another, and instead a demonization. EdeIgard doesn’t even seem to trust anyone but Byleth. Hubert and Dorothea are some of her two closest friends, and they don’t even seem to matter. 
I cannot buy this route as “humanity reaching out to each other” because we’re not. We’re not making the effort to understand each other. We’re saying “this is our way, become a part of it or die”. I can’t blame Rhea for being upset with us. EdeIgard is angry that Rhea has no regard for human life, but how much time does she spend actually, genuinely regarding others? She won’t connect to her friends, her fellow governmental officials, her classmates, anyone. When I look at EdeIgard and Rhea, I do see two very broken people, but to me, EdeIgard seems more broken. Because she can’t fathom that there is any other way to do things than she is doing them right now. She’s that in need of control that everything she’s doing has to be right, and that speaks to what she’s been through for sure, but also speaks to the kind of damage she is capable of doing. ✿
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❋ But you did.
You’re Wilhelm’s descendant, Edie. Someone that Rhea cared about deeply. She trusted him and his bloodline to carry on, to protect the interests of everyone in Fódlan, including the remaining Nabateans. Your family has information that no one else had. She admitted you into her school with confidence that you would bring about a future of further peace. 
And instead, you turned around and told her that she and her dragon family had to go, just like the humans before you did. 
You may not even have meant to betray her, but you destroyed a trust and respect she placed in you long before you even met. And sure, maybe that is her mistake, but you should understand that better than anyone, right?❋
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kob131 · 1 year
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https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/y1k434/rwby_its_fandom_and_the_unduly_idolization_of/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
So, I dunno what Dextixer was thinking when he decided to argue about authority to a primarily American fanbase but guess we’re doing this.
A. We know “What”, the question is “Why”.
So the first part is all about defining authority, detailing examples of it and such. With a little bit about rebelling against ‘unjust authority’.
And right there, Dex crashes into a wall.
The issue he presents is not about a misunderstanding of what authority is- it’s about what constitutes ‘unjust authority’. People call James supporters ‘bootlickers’ not because they don’t know what authority is but because they see them as supporting a vastly UNJUST authority.
And Dex doesn’t fine what it means to be ‘just’ and ‘unjust’, which is gonna bite him in the ass.
To save us some confusion, I’ll do his job for him. 
To quickly define ‘unjust authority’ without going into a long tangent about the philosophical/practical responsibilities of an authority- it’s when an authority does not act in the interests of their people. Emphasis on ‘their’ because we’d also consider sending foreign aid during a time of crisis in the home country.
This is pretty god damn important given that Dex is fighting an uphill battle here. RWBY is an American show with a majority American fanbase. Americans, by our nature as Americans, do not respect authority and glorify rebellion. That’s what happens when your country is founded by one of the few successful rebellions in history with very heavy libertarian principles. I myself have a rather intense disdain for any authority trying to rule over me without my trust for example. He should know this by now or done his research.
Dex kneecapped himself before he even truly began.
B. If Robyn is bad, James is worse.
The first argument boils down to “We never see Robyn doing any good and she’s actively hindering Amity so she’s bad!”
Problem is- Robyn has theoretical bad actions. James has OBSERVABLE bad actions.
Whereas Robyn’s actions are negative in the case of Amity going up in the future, James’ actions directly affect the people in the present. Robyn didn’t make the people of Mantle distrust James, James and his actions did. Robyn didn’t fail to update the security in Mantle which let Watts manipulate events, James did. Robyn didn’t abuse her power which led to her fellows distrusting her in a plan that REQUIRES their trust, James did. Robyn didn’t preach about the virtues of fighting the impossible and self-sacrifice to her people then betray those same principles that united them in order to leave her people to die, James did.
By just about any metric you could give for judging an authority to be just or not, James would 
C. James abandoned his duty
Now, if you were to elect someone to the position of ‘General’ to a standing army meant to protect the people of your kingdom- Would you consider them a good General if they decided to ditch said people?
No, you would court marshall his ass at the speed of light. To make him an example so the people could continue to trust the government which is ESSENTIAL in its function.
That is what James was trying to do: ditch his people and leave them to die. Which is not only going to destroy any trust the Atlas people had in their government, thus undermining James’ attempts at saving them- it also completely went against what HE preached to Team RWBY and co. You know, the whole speech about-
Ironwood: You fought for your school and your friends at Beacon. You fought for the world and the innocent at Haven Academy and beyond. You faced down terrors people can't even fathom. That's not the behavior of students. It's the behavior… of Huntsmen and Huntresses.
All Team RWBY did was follow the standards James set beforehand.
Once again, James proved himself an unjust authority. And ironically, even if I were to accept your standards that seem twisted to absolve James of responsibility- You said that Robyn was bad for undermining the Amity project. James outright ditched it AND tried removing Atlas from the rest of Remnant, thus weakening everyone’s chances at surviving. So even by your standards, James is an unjust authority.
D. Parroting Cordovon.
It’s the fucking airship thing again. And yet again-
“But Weiss could go-”
To Jacques?
Cordovin: (sighs) If Miss Schnee has truly come to her senses and wishes to return to her family, then, of course, the Atlas military will escort her home. But the kingdom will not be responsible for her "friends" of... questionable character. (glances at Blake specifically upon saying her last statement)
Who is AGAINST James even by the end of Volume 4, thus she would have no means of meeting with him?
Glad we could shoot this shit dead and not beg the question for the thousandth time.
E. Hypocrisy...just not the way you think.
... This needs to be read.
And what needs the most discussion is the hypocricy that can be perceived in the fandom over this opposition to authority. Previously i have stated that some people seem to only dislike authority when it challenges the protagonists, and i believe that to be the case due to how many other anti-authority figures are treated in the show itself.
The best example of this being the White Fang. During the entirety of Volumes 1-3 the White Fang have been the main enemies of out protagonists. We know that Faunus in the lore of the show have been long abused by humans and White Fang was the result. And what do our heroes do?
They beat down people resisting human opression. And do the protagonists challenge the authority of the kingdoms? Never, no.
The only time that our protagonists challenge the authority of the kingdoms is Atlas, when that authority impedes them and their actions. But not before.
Many people in the fandom have been even outright demonized for daring to point this point out and how badly the White Fang and the Faunus racism arc was writen. Even more if one points out that our protagonists are the ones writen to be in the center of it, establishing and keeping the status quo.
I would say that it is not only the fanbase but also the writers that have dropped the ball on this one, even unintentionally. There seems to be a large ammount of bias to be held in regards to the protagonits.
This makes it even harder for the critics to accept when the protagonists seemingly rail and reject authority. They never did before, until it personally affected them.
They even slowly are taking on the qualities of the authority figures that they previously railed against, most often shown with them learning to lie just like Ozpin did. But that is not really acknowledged, now is it? Strange how such a quality that lead to Ozpin to be demonized by the fandom in V6 is kept quiet about or justified when the protagonists did it, for the same reasons as Ozpin did.
Yeah so-
A. The WF actually shows a consistency with the show- in that it disdains when MURDER is involved. Because the reason why the heroes oppose the WF and James is the same- they’re trying to kill people. And that KIND OF goes against their morals.
B. You’re a fucking self-described progressive Dex. This just looks like you throwing a fit over the show not sucking your cock.
C. What bias? Given that the SHOW ITSELF and the commentary tracks indicate that Team RWBY were meant to be wrong in Volume 7- the only bias here is you crying about James being treated the same way.
D. You know, that smarmy accusation of hypocrisy kind of falls apart when you engage in it yourself.
Closing Thoughts
Dextixer never once explains what makes James’ authority justified. He tries to argue that ‘Amity good therefore James good!’ but that doesn’t cover his blatant abuses of power, something Dex himself has admitted to, which would make James an unjust authority. Especially given that by his metrics or his opponent’s. James has failed in the narrative. 
Yeah I know he says it’s his opinion...but he’s also acting like this is at all consistent. Which it isn’t.
All you’ve done is make a case that calling you a ‘bootlicker’ is giving you too much credit.
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egeiros · 1 year
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Introspection at the End of the Universe
Just a little drabble of my WoL N’yaro thinking about everything in the silence after Alisaie and Alphinaud sacrificed themselves in Ultima Thule. Finally got around to writing out everything out even though we’re halfway through patch content now lol
I've been called many things.
Adventurer. Scion. Hero.
Defender of Eorzea. Nidhogg Slayer. Liberator.
The Warrior of Light. The Warrior of Darkness.
I never really asked for any of these titles, you know. They handed them out to me after doing what I felt was right. The accolades were great at first, and I basked in the praise and drank in the glory and fame like honey and wine. I met with all the leaders, broke bread with them, counseled them with my honest opinions.
The people of Eorzea loved me. I would go out of my way to help the smallfolk, to make this star a better place, one favor at a time. This was all back when I knew nothing of who or what I was, and how thinly I would wear myself down trying to save everyone and losing sight of what made me start my adventure in the first place.
How naïve it seems now.
The appeal started to fade not long after the first drops of blood began to stain my hands and I could no longer wash it all off. It didn't bother me in the beginning because I did as I was told. Surely these people in places of authority knew better than I, a lowly adventurer seeking coin in an unfamiliar land. 
But then I continued to act in their stead, to do the deeds no others could. I maimed, I killed, I hunted so many down to end their lives, for what? The greater good? What is the "greater good" when "good" is subjective, defined by the perspective of the victorious and the dominant?
Ga Bu and the kobolds taught me that much. Zenos opened my eyes to what I had become. Tesleen showed me just how cruel and uncaring Fate could be.
How then can I call myself a hero when the path I walk is made of the broken bodies of those I'd slain and those whose lives were cut short because they were simply by my side? How many have fallen unjustly for being associated with me? How many have died in my name?
It shames me that I know not the names of those who perished in the massacre at the Waking Sands, save for dear sweet Noraxia whose death I felt most keenly. And what of the Crystal Braves who were betrayed by their fellows? Wilred was the boy’s name, the misguided youth who tried to take matters into his own hands at Little Ala Mhigo, who then later joined the Crystal Braves to make use of himself. And in the end, he was but another body upon the pile of corpses, another life taken too soon.
I am the sun, and those who fly too close burn and fall, one by one, until there is naught but a sea of ash.
And yet in spite of it all, I can't bring myself to hate any of them. 
Moenbryda, Haurchefant, Ysayle, Papalymo, Minfilia.
I failed to protect them and blamed myself for not being strong enough, and yet…they still came to my aid without a second thought in the aetherial sea. For that, I am ever grateful. They didn’t have to. They could have watched me stumble and fall, mock me for the monster I was. For the monster I almost became, on another star, where my very soul cracked and shattered under the weight of responsibility. To have the fate of world hanging on the precipice as the only one uniquely qualified to hold back the corrupting Light…it was too much for one person to bear.
So I wonder now, as I stand here alone at the end of everything, was it all worth it? Was the journey good?
As a "friend" once told me, the sword weighs as it should. I am a weapon. I am the sword, and I now understand the burdens I bear. My feet feel heavy, my heart even more so. The task of taking one more step forward is monumental and impossible to fathom. The weight is as it should be.
Yet I will walk on and forge ahead, for those we have lost and for those we can yet save.
Even as I nearly succumbed to the Light, I had my friends. I had Ardbert, whose fate intertwined with my own. Against all odds, I fought back the darkness and released a man from his long and arduous duty. I gave a world on the brink of extinction another chance as a beacon of hope.
As I threw myself at solving the mystery of the Blasphemies and watched as those around me succumb to despair, I, too, wondered what would have become of me had I given up as well? After Ahewann’s death, I couldn’t bear to face reality. How could a man who had only ever been so kind and generous just fall like that? I felt helpless as I watched him sacrifice himself to save his people, just as I had been helpless seeing Tesleen transform into a sineater. Imagine if the Scions and the Alliance and all my other friends weren’t there to support me in my hour of need…
They're all counting on me, are they not? Everyone still back home, waiting anxiously for our triumphant return. Poor Tataru, I can only imagine the look on her face, wrought with worry and uncertainty.
I never did answer your question, Venat. Not back in Elpis, and not in the aetherial sea. But you already knew, didn't you? You've always known. You waited years beyond counting for me to born, and you took care of me so I could begin my journey to become the hero you met so long ago.
I hope you're watching wherever you may be.
I have a promise to keep.
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Immortal Samsara - Ep 45
TZ: The first time that you watched the stars, I wasn’t able to be the one by your side, and it ended up being a painful memory for you. So now I hope to give you a happy sky of stars. 
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TZ: Have you ever liked me? 
YD: I can’t. 
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TZ: How much I wish that the person you first met and fell in love with was me. Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a next life? If there was a next life...
He says this while being completely ignorant to the fact that he is currently living his next life. He’s already been given a second chance to love Yan Dan. And this is it. He doesn’t know that his “next” life is to return to his previous life as Ying Yuan, where his situation is much worse. This is as good as it’s gonna get, and yet his still yearns for a next life with her where be hopes they can have a happy ending. How utterly tragic. 
Honestly, this was a great episode. Tang Zhou has nothing to lose now and is laying is heart bare to Yan Dan. He doesn’t want to die with any regrets. The man is flirting for his life. He is unknowingly trying to right all of Ying Yuan’s wrongs. Cheng Yi entirely owned this episode. And not to mention that Xuan Ye finally makes an appearance. Apparently Cheng Yi used his own voice for Xuan Ye? It’s so raspy and husky. 
I read on bilibili how Tang Zhou is like Ying Yuan’s love letter to Yan Dan, and he truly is. Tang Zhou is basically everything Yan Dan dreamed of with Ying Yuan. 
And then there was his line in episode 44 where he says pleadingly after Yan Dan had left: “That person who hurt you wasn’t me.” Oh yes, sir, it was most definitely you. 
Ugh, I’m going to miss Tang Zhou. Such a carefree version of Ying Yuan who can love without inhibition. And Tang Zhou is trying so desperately to dissociate himself from Ying Yuan. He cannot fathom that he would ever hurt, leave, or betray her, because he’s currently so willing to give everything up for her in a heartbeat. The Three Realms aren’t his responsibility. He doesn’t want that responsibility. He’s not righteous. He’s selfish. Why does everyone keep complimenting him on his righteousness? Sorry to that man, but Tang Zhou does not recognize him. 
And then seeing the brief scene with Xuan Ye makes you wonder what his father would have wanted for Ying Yuan. This passionate demon lord whose son has been forced to lock away his emotions for thousands of years and can only get some temporary emotional fulfillment by reincarnating as a mortal, and even then, he still suffers from being forced to suppress his feelings. I know nothing of Xuan Ye atm, but I’d like to think he’d raise hell at the idea of his son suffering. 
But I’ve just been really disappointed at how Yan Dan has been reacting (or rather, lack of reacting) to things since regaining her memories. I’m not sure if it’s the way that Yang Zi is portraying her, or if her maturation has just been poorly written and developed. But I’d like to think it’s the latter, considering how much Yu Mo’s character has been butchered and reduced as well. 
Yan Dan is just really hard to read now. Does she still love Ying Yuan/Tang Zhou or not? I get that she’s trying to hold back her feelings, but it just feels like there’s something missing. The spark is no longer there. 
Edit: Considering that Xuan Ye seems power hungry and possibly out to get his own son, maybe my idealistic fantasy of him loving his son is a stretch (I haven’t watched any of the trailers, so I have no idea what’s coming, but based on the scene, I’m guessing he’s still alive and wants revenge?), but in any case, Yang Ying/Tang Zhou is still such a tragic hero. 
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This started as a poem on my tumblr board, but as I got typing I couldn’t stop. Now it’s a letter to you. Whether you ever read it or not, I’m not sure. I am sure that I need to get it off my chest, so I can move on and be a better mom than you will ever be.
You may have given us life, but that doesn’t give you the right to manipulate us. We did not ask to be here, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure we get the life we do deserve.
We grew up under your manipulation, and for years and years we believed in you and stood by you no matter what. It didn’t matter whatever you had done, or whatever we went through, because you were our mom and we loved you. After everything that’s happened in my adolescent years, I honestly thought our bond and relationship was growing and strengthening these past few years. I hate to feel as though I have been completely betrayed but you, yet again. Though this time is different. This time you betrayed my babies, and it will be the last time.
You don’t seem to see mine, or Donovan’s, point of view in the events that have taken place in our lives, individually and/or as a family?
I went through so much trauma, my entire brain chemistry is completely off-balance. I have a mental disorder that is literally because of all the trauma. Yet you still have the audacity to sit there and tell me my childhood wasn’t shit.
When we go to try to talk to you, or tell you anything you literally turn it all around. “Yup I’m a fuck up mom” “Sorry I fucked up” “I went through x,y,z” “you telling me we didn’t do fun things” or my all time favorite “that didn’t happen”.
You sat on the phone wanting us to sit there and relive everything we went through so you could understand? You sat there on the phone basically telling me that “if I had spoken up sooner” about Fred, “it’d be a different story”. How insensitive can you be to someone else’s TRAUMA. Doesn’t matter how big or small you NEVER blame the victim, and you NEVER try pushing to talk about it.
The part I can’t fathom is: We have lived our entire adolescent life with you, and we have to “remind you” of “what was so horrible in our life”, but I guess that’s what happens when your mothers a manipulative narcissist that only cares about herself.
High school was our breaking point, and you blame me for all of the bullshit and fighting. It was all my fault. I couldn’t just “listen” or “behave”. I couldn’t just be a “good kid”. I was “out of control”, “disrespectful”, and “dramatic”.
Except that is all a lie. I was a damn good kid, who was growing her back bone, and down putting up with her manipulative narcissistic mother. I went to school, I was in clubs, I played sports, I played instruments, I volunteered inside and outside of school, and I graduated with a 3.8 GPA.
But you still fought with me every day, and I’m not talking about me trying to sleep at my boyfriend's house because that’s always your go to. Because you blame that ONE fight on why I ran away that night. Even though I had already “ran away” before that, and the only reason I came back was because of Tyler, and over the years I’ve realized he is just as much of a manipulative narcissist as you are.
Everything in my adolescent years led me up to my suicide attempt. Though you just blame that on Sherainah, and me being a dramatic teenager. You never actually stopped to think about why I did what I did that night. You didn’t want to blame yourself or the events in my life, so you found the first and easiest thing you could try to manipulate to put the blame on. Except I knew the truth of why I did what I did, you just didn’t want to listen and we never talked about it. Avoidance was, and still is, our go to coping mechanism. It’s how you handled everything, just avoided it until it either went away or exploded.
I remember being suicidal in sixth grade. Yeah, you read that right SIXTH GRADE. So many of the kids in my class knew, and some even tried to be there for me as much as they could, but none of us knew how to handle it. No one could understand or process what I was telling them about the life I had/was encountering. I mean how could they, at that age you just kinda assume everyone’s homelife is the same, and their life wasn’t my life. I was 11 years old and already felt dead and alone.
Why, though? What could possibly have caused an 11 year old to feel that way? Honestly, I can’t tell you. I can’t pinpoint where, when, or what caused me to feel the way I did. Was it one certain event? Was it the accumulation of all the events? I can’t tell you. I can only tell you how I felt.
My suicide attempt was hopefully going to relieve me of my pain, hurt, and suffering. The only thing that stopped me from trying again was the look on Donovan’s face. He needed me more than I needed to escape my pain. He needed me to continue to protect him.
All my life I remember doing whatever I could for Donovan. I never wanted Donovan to grow up how I did. I never wanted Donovan to feel the way I did. I wanted the best for him, because he deserved it. I didn’t care about myself. I don’t ever remember a time that I did.
Even after my attempt you didn’t care. I was just a “problem child” at this point. Avoidance was your answer, and within FOUR months I moved into Aunt Connie's. Mind you at some point in those four months I spent like a month or longer at Rebecca’s.
I’m not going to sit here and relive everything I went through for you to “hopefully” understand, because you never will. You will never see it from our point of view. You will never actually and sincerely apologize for the way you have treated us, and it doesn’t matter anymore.
I don’t care about what has happened to me in the past. I can repair the damage to myself. You want to hurt me, go ahead. It doesn’t affect me anymore. However, I will not allow you to affect my child’s lives!
There are consequences for your actions that you have taken. I'm done hearing “when do I get to be happy” “when do I get to do what I want” because you have your entire life. You never once put us kids before yourself.
As a mother, I don’t care if my kid is a newborn or 78 years old. I’m always going to put them before me, because that’s what you do as a mother!
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Expedient
“Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send Him unto you.” John 16:7KJV
The story belongs to Jesus, but He factors in us. He told His disciples something irrational— leaving them.
‘Expedient,’ Merriam-Webster’s on-line dictionary defines this as “suitable for achieving a particular end in a given circumstance.” His particular end— no limitations. Jesus was one man: limited to how far His feet could only walk in one day. Only once did Jesus take transportation, when He entered Jerusalem on a donkey. Time limited how many people He could speak to at one time, or touch in one day.
Leaving earth was “expedient” for another reason. Mankind was rotting, from the inside out. Man’s pride and desire to control had taken the world into a total mess.
In ‘God’s Generals,’ Roberts Liardon tells about Lester Sumrall’s vision. Sumrall saw the masses of humanity on the highway of life. From every race, from every nation, each dressed in the attire of their cultures. People all traveling to one place, the end of life. Holy Spirit gave him a bird’s eye view of the scene. Everyone was plunging over the brink of death into a roaring inferno. They clawed and flayed, screaming, as they tried to prevent sin’s impending punishment.
The expediency of Christ’s suffering, crucifixion, death and resurrection was to cure man of his incurable disease, sin and death. Jesus was opening a way through mercy, grace, and the forgiveness of sin for man to pass from human life spans to life-everlasting. John 5:24KJV “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth My word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.”
Unimaginable price. We’ll never fathom the cost. The sinless Savior Jesus willingly laid down His life. Matthew 26:53KJV “Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to My Father, and He shall presently give Me more than twelve legions of angels? …Jesus saith unto them, I AM He. And Judas also, which betrayed Him, stood with them. As soon then as He had said unto them, I AM He, they went backward, and fell to the ground.” John 18:5-8KJV. He openly declared to those arresting Him, I AM, the all-encompassing name of Yahweh, Almighty God.
Jesus willingly took the beating for our sicknesses, our healings. They ripped the skin off His back, exposing bone! That nasty crown of thorns pierced His skull, for the healing of our minds. Hanging on the cross until all of His joints were pulled out of place, breath could no longer fill His lungs, water filled them instead was all done for payment for our sins, individually and corporately.
“It was expedient” for Him to go. Why? For us to have Him with us one and all one the same time. For every human born to have sins, sickness and poverty paid for simultaneously. For every believer to become children of God (John 1:12) the moment we believe. For the Holy Spirit to be able to always be with us, empowering us to do the works of Jesus. These are gifts to us, people who have no right even being on the pages of His story.
What will we do with His “expedient” gifts? Accept them? Praise Him? Curse Him? Hide them? It’s your choice. You choose.
PRAYER: Father pride makes it difficult for us to accept all Jesus went through for us. Forgive us. Our selfishness can’t fathom the unimaginable pain You suffered in allowing this. Help us to appreciate and praise You, adding daily to the number of new believers, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.
by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2022 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.
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waking up every day with more and more emotions(no memories just the emotions attached to them and the reactions one would get from having experienced them) tied to my dr is turning me into a littlefinger stan
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May I Taste Your Sin
(Michael Langdon x Female Reader)
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Pairings : Michael Langdon x Female Reader
Warnings : Language, smut, blood, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, blood play, & period sex.
A/N : This fic has been a loooong time coming! I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, but now that I have inspo I wanted get this out for y’all! The warnings are obviously self-explanatory, so skip this if you don’t like the contents it’s gonna contain! Michael Langdon eats human hearts, and he’s a demon, before anyone starts to fuss over this, lol. I’m sure menstrual cycles with his partner would be a dessert to him!
Enjoy! This one is pretty intense, so I’m nervous about it! I also have more installments with different characters coming in the next few days! :)
Check out where I first posted the teaser for this fic, and check out these period sex headcanons I wrote for Michael!
~*~
He keeps staring at you. You try to move about, do your tasks, even attempt conversation with people you’d tried so hard to avoid these past several years. Your abilities to function like the human being that you are, seemingly vanish whenever the tall honey blond is within your exhausted proximities. You aren’t sure if you’d like to let out the loudest echoing scream and see where it ends up in this place, or let your wildest carnal urges guide your hormones into a literal sticky situation. Or, at the very least, let yourself fantasize about seducing him in your own self-created version of reality.
You’ll have to settle on the latter, unfortunately. Pocketing the cream colored dish rag, you place the last row of finely printed novels on the book shelve. Your fingertips linger, attempting to find a portal through their leather cover tops. Your tongue slicks your parched lips, neck stretching to crack out the tension. You aren’t trying to do anything but stealing some relaxation, when a largely hot hand is pressing a knot-out in a knead on your shoulder - clasping, settling a risky purchase.
You don’t have to make an educated guess to know whose hand that belongs to. He practically spews out his control and ownership of this place every chance that he gets. Biting down a venomous sigh, you coerce yourself into a turn around - gathering an eyeful of Langdon’s fancy black vest. That’s not good enough for the King, apparently, as he fits his pointer finger underneath your chin in a tuck, thumb pressing against your jaw to tilt your gaze to his own.
“Did you forget your manners, Miss Y/L/N?”
The way his shining eyes are sizing your attention, captivating your unwillingness to comply to how Langdon makes you feel - it can’t be humanly possible, can it? There’s that possessive ache that begs you to launch ownership over him and his entire body. Why is everything so widely dramatic whenever he’s around? Is he just full of himself or is it something way more than you’re aware? A crackling parch winds its pathway around your throat, sealing your breath in.
Nothing comes from between your lips. You’re frozen solid, legs a weightless press. Each touch this... man brings upon your body is like a bass thump - pumping you towards his secretive rhythm. All you can do is sway with the beat. Langdon smirks coyly, his other hand resting behind his back in an idle grace.
Neither of you dare utter a word. However, Langdon is seemingly content in making you squirm and you try to focus on everything but his perfectly crafted jawline, and how eagerly you’d suck on it if asked. You swear you can hear your heartbeat galloping off, so strong that it can tear your heart right out of your chest along with it. His colorful eyes glance over you in a brief stamping sweep, lingering at your sore breasts and your waistline.
What is he even doing...?
“Excuse me, but Ms. Venable did not authorize any private conferences with the help.” A cold and steel - grasped voice chills your bones down, dusting your cheeks with a reddening humiliation.
You haven’t even so much as spoken to Langdon, yet it feels like you two have been clawing and scratching at each other all over this fucking outpost, riding one another until you can’t fathom walking upright. You still can’t speak, but Langdon takes care of that for you.
“Interesting, and did Ms. Venable give you permission to waltz in here when you weren’t requested or required, just to give a meaningless order?” Langdon is mildly amused in his question, his hand still paused on your chin, thumb now swiping in a tickling drop with his fingertip - along your jaw.
Ms. Mead looks comical in her brief attempt at forming a snappy comeback, only to go silent in defeat. You take this tension as your escape line - quickly edging from the sacred confines Langdon has built for you two, and you all but run out the door. You’re clutching your shirt collar, punching a two pounce path up the staircase and to the help’s quarters.
Chores now, panic later.
~*~
Five minutes. Five fucking minutes in this place that you’ve served without question, complaint, for nearly two years - is all you want. But as the heavy handed rasps of Mead’s knuckle bones beat on your bathroom door, you know that is a simple pipe dream. Her low voice is harsh with you, making your headache unfold into a full blown migraine. You shift uncomfortably, knees knocking together, thighs sore against the cool porcelain seat below you.
Langdon must’ve massively pissed her off... Good.
Your palms collect purchase to your cradle your face, your eyes glistening with tears, throat burning with frustration. It hurts too much to stand upright this time. Normally women would lose this in stressful situations. Add the apocalypse and barely eating, you’d peg it normal to receive nothing. However, your predicament is much worse, fucking you over once more.
Your body welcomes Mother Nature each month. Unpredictable, yet there. Heavy, excruciating. You could list on and on reasons that don’t amount to much. You’re stuck with a part of you that won’t ever come to fruition.
Not in your former life, especially not in this one. Another reminder that carries an award winning irony. Sighing, you peer down at the red dish rag you were given. Literally on the rag, what a joyous harmony. The elites of course, are given the tampons and pads.
You have to use scraps of fabric you’re forced to wash in the bathtub if you move too fast or sneeze. And on your heavy days when you haven’t the time to stop your duties to wash and air out the towels, things are much harder. At least before the apocalypse you had chocolate, feminine products, a warm shower to take your time in, movies to curl up with, and a place of your own to cry where no one could hear you. You sniffle, hormones locking down your heart.
Most recently the outpost had welcomed the cooperative leader Langdon. He had interviewed everyone but you, uninterested, only flustering you a few times. Him being here just makes your period a more unwelcome storm. This morning as you were passing him on the landing of the staircase, delivering the bath towels to elite rooms, he stared at you. Right into you, nostrils flaring, tongue rolling out to slick his plump lips, blue eyes darkening.
Then there was this afternoon. How could I forget...?
The encounters were over quicker than they took place. Still, his acknowledgment of you didn’t bring your interview, nor did it promise your application for the sanctuary he preaches about. Forcing your tears to bank, you stand with your dress skirt and apron held up, staring at the stained rag in your panties. You turn and flush the toilet, eating back around to the shock of your fucking life. There, just feet in the from the doorway, is Langdon in all his glory.
It makes you swallow harshly, stomach drawing off the butterflies that have grown claws. You feel winded. His ring covered fingers bring an object to your sights. A thinly wrapped stick. You don’t answer, you don’t move, you don’t protest him approaching until he’s directly in front of you.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You try, a mere whisper betraying your bravery.
“Helping you,” He answers simply, a heated slide crossing his mouth. You can practically taste him, damn near swaying forward.
You start to snap back into your senses, ready to cover your remembered modesty back up. He grasps your wrist, a hungry look soft in his features. “Will you let me?”
You’re shaking, body on fire at him touching you, you try to keep your legs from clenching, that want. You know what will occur if you let yourself. He is gentle with you, admiration clear. Why? You don’t understand this.
“You’re bleeding, I know.”
Jaw unhinged, you stand upright, his fingers still ghosting your skin. An unlucky movement on your part, the warmth spills from you and you look down between your thighs in horror at the red lines running down your legs, pattering against the floor. Langdon is breathing heavily, practically panting, stunning you once more. His other hand grips your cheek, thumb swiping your lip, eyes not breaking contact from yours.
“Do you know how good your cunt smells? Every pathetic person in this outpost is starving and you have the best meal between your fucking legs.”
When your silence stretches on, Michael nudges forward, careful with you. “May I feast?”
It’s all too much to handle. Having him talk to you, you speaking to him. And now this? How? You begin to grow dizzy, hands trembling as you try to pull your clothing back up. Langdon’s hands grip your wrists.
“Please don’t do that.”
You want to stun him incredulously, backhand him. None of that is happening, not even the urge. Instead, your want for him is magnifying beyond any feigned ignorance. Your tongue slides out across your lips, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a brisk chew. Langdon hooks his middle finger between your teeth, releasing your lip and combing the blood across in a coppery gloss.
Your chest is startled, rising and falling in quivering quakes, ears hearing a static rush. Everything inside of you is alive and crying out in need to be sated. Langdon grips you around the waist, lowering his forehead to rest atop your own, his middle finger - still doused in your blood - slithers past his own lips, which close in a sticky suckle. A vibrating moan pummels his throat, causing a constricting swallow that showcases his Adam’s apple.
If I could only just lick that...
Langdon is sly and devilishly cunning to a fault - fast in his next movements. He presses a designer boot down over your skirts, successfully preventing them from being made up. “Leave them here for someone else.”
“I... I can’t. This is too much, Langdon —“ He chuckles at the formality.
“Since I can see your womanhood running from between your legs, I suppose it’s only fair that we skip some formalities, don’t you agree, Y/N?” Your eyes are probably wider than necessary - a cartoon like sight. He’s used your full name in an authoritative command, leaving no room for question. “And you may call me Michael.”
It’s all a little more frantic from this point. He gives the slightest of information, and you see your skirts and panties gliding across the floor in a winded push. Michael brings that wrapped item back into your eye-line. “We won’t be needing this for a while.”
“I didn’t say yes.” You try, swallowing a weak, whimpering stifle.
“But you didn’t say no, did you?” That shit eating grin. He has you and he is all too aware - elated to the brimming brimstone of hellfire you’re about to bestow upon yourself.
Your insides melt into the trenches of red hot, raw ravishment. Michael drops his left arm down, hand palming his hardening cock through black slacks, eyes encouraging you in a chained bind. “Let’s go and make a mess in my room.”
Now or never. No more of this, back to reality, maybe some place better. You’re spinning in a foiling encasement, precipice wide and open - hungry to pull you under. And you dive in, you let it all go. Michael looks satisfied, sharing something with himself that you don’t know... yet.
Taking Michael Langdon’s hand, you’re led into the unknown.
~*~
Langdon leads you down his own separate corridor, your free hand scolded for trying to hold yourself over your uniform.
“I want you to make a mess.” Michael says.
You hope that you’re not the one who will be paying the cost for your own said mess, or cleaning it up. If it’s up to Venable - you’ll be licking it, all the way to her high heeled boots.
Once inside the confines of Michael Langdon’s bedroom, you take the time to look around, enjoying the perks this situation is bringing. The room isn’t any different than what the purple elites get here, it is bordering on a more... lived in feel, which is ironic when you consider that Langdon hasn’t been here like everyone else has for the past three years.
Guess he’s just more comfortable? He does look like an English vampire half the time..
On that note, a particularly harsh cramp antagonizes your uterus, causing you to clench your abdomen, choking out a acidic slice. “Fucking demonic cramps.”
Michael - now clad in his all black ensemble, minus the overcoat - chortles, knotting his fingers together behind his back and strolls forward, wetting his lips as the firelight crackles a sparking soundtrack. “It’s ironic how you refer to it as “demonic”, when Satan really has nothing to do with this. I mean, it’s not on him that humanity failed their pitiful guidelines for sobering temptation. Wasn’t it your lord and savior that bestowed this curse upon you?” He finishes, giving a head tilt to your unhinged stun.
“Are you religious?” Is all you can come up with.
Michael sneers, looking slightly offended. It fades seconds later. “Depends on your definition of religious, and then there is what one believes in. But I guess you can say that I’m devoted to... a certain cause.”
“Were you this mysterious before the apocalypse, or is that why the cooperative gave you the job?” You try, a discomfort crackling at your inner thighs.
They’re probably smeared... And not just with blood.
“I bet you’re uncomfortable.” Michael teases, snapping his fingers at the fireplace. Did your eyes betray you, or did the flames flicker?
You want to give a snappy comeback, but it feels unwise. You nod like the sap that you are, nails biting your palms. Your heartbeat has begun to accelerate, a visible sight beneath your apron. Langdon guides himself to step in front of you, leather shoes drumming across the floor beneath. Every sound in this forsaken room is flowing through your eardrums - Michael’s scent on the tip of your tongue.
You need him. More than your body has to have the air that filters underneath this mausoleum. You’re so unsteady, eyes brimming with the smoking arousal, blocking common sense. Michael catches you as you collide with his chest, wrapping your fists into his vest. His blue irises are disappearing to a canyon of night sky - lavish black so sinful that it steals the breath from your lungs.
Drizzling off your tongue is a hesitation. “Won’t we get into trouble...? Venable -“ Those rough fingertips hold a softness that hushes your lips, denting.
“Can watch me with my face buried into your cunt. The humiliation will arouse her.” Michael answers in his own finish.
You aren’t sure why, but that grates your mouth into a sneaky grin, shared with Michael’s, sensing that slapping throb at his phrases. He pinches your chin, nuzzling your head to the side, his lips sloping a map across your neck. His towering physique backs you by knocking his knees into your thighs, delivering you to the edge of his bed. You drop like wild weights, looking towards the ceiling, trying to take a deep inhalation. Langdon crouches, pants rustling as they tighten around his temptingly thick thighs.
He tuts in a scold, chiding you furthermore. “You will watch what I’m getting ready to do to you! Is that clear, Y/N?”
You don’t answer fast enough, Michael’s hand wrapping around your throat, eyes burning hellfire through you - dusting your bones to ash. Your throat is wet with the clingy, unshed tears. Fuck, you have to be filled up until you’re hollowed out. Michael is languid in grace, hand toppling into your lap, joining his other.
“Take down your hair, Y/N.”
Like a puppet, you obey your new owner. Unwrapping the pointed bun, you shake your locks free, sighing in an eased tickle.
“What a good and obedient girl that you are. Those who obey, shall reap the riches.”
“Why are you doing this?” An ignorant question on your part.
“Because,” As if it’s the most simple answer in this broken world, Michael let’s his hands start to unbutton his vest, carelessly sending it, his attention not wavering off you in the slightest. “I’m hungry.”
A literal moan comes from you, making Langdon hiss through his through his milky white teeth. He resumes his former position, hovering.
“Spread.” Michael says, a quaint wonder adorning him, his palms sliding up and down your legs to feel you part them. The blood is mixing some fucked out potion with your creamy arousal for him, and he knows it, has it right into your tremble from the exposure.
Your skin is steaming in scrapes, responding so vulgarly to Michael, that he is hooking his wrists under your knees, bouncing the flesh into his awaiting hands, and claiming. He hoists your legs over his shoulders to arch you to his idea of perfection. You should be protesting, in a shambled shyness. That is gone, no place here. Michael let’s his nose rest in the crease of your thigh, crudely sniffing like some beast.
His sopping tongue finds a striking stroke along your ruby red, damp thigh.
Closer... He’s getting closer...
When you can’t feel that warm and snide air he possesses, you lock to load a question. Michael is shedding himself of his remaining clothing in a cocky crawl. His hair curtains his face as he sees you seek out his cock - thick and heavy, weighted and wet with pre-cum.
“Finish taking off your clothing.” You’ve never done something so fast in your years alive.
You have to admit, being so vulnerable like this - naked and bleeding, it has you buzzing.
Michael outstretches a veined forearm, the back of his rings swirling in desiring dances across your breasts. “Do these hurt?”
Your lashes are slicked in perspiring tears, the tired soreness harassing your chest. He has his truth. His trim form bows to you once more, placing your legs back where they belong. He knuckles a pressing push into your abdomen. “Bear down.”
It isn’t an accident this time, it’s not a discreet secrecy. Michael wants you this way. All of you. Finding a confidence, you give yourself a high and sink your fingers into his hair, toes tickling his shoulder blades in a forwarding nudge, doubling down on your muscles. That warmth spills out of you and Langdon takes you, tongue parting your swollen folds. He regulates his tongue in wet paints, licking and sucking everything you give him.
“Please—“ You’re already begging. It’s so fucking intense and intimate that you can’t formulate your own damned name.
“Are you really going to ask, or would you just like to feel good?” Michael vibrates, his mouth visible and shining crimson as he seeks you out between your slippery thighs.
It’s outright feral. His irises are coal black, blue lost in some combing canyon that’s crumbled around sin. His digits prod at your sensitive opening, being accepted moments later. His lips close over your clit, tongue slithering back and forth to assist his beckoning fingers. He gathers more from you - his purpose.
That quenched fold starts to seize you early on, your pattering breaths signaling the orgasm that is about to tear the screams from your fucking diaphragm. Michael’s hand smacks and rolls your swollen breast - permission granted. That’s all it takes and you’re falling back onto the mattress, back arching in a lined drag, pussy flattening against his mouth. He jerks you impossibly closer, your vision whiting out into dark spots. You tangle your fingers further into his luscious strands, holding, pulling.
In the midst of close recovery, Michael is plowing you with a short lived let down, his mouth leaving your pussy. You can’t complain, no time available, as his hips slot in a frazzled fit between your legs. His pelvis is tense, sheathed in sweat. His chest smashes your breasts, his hand reaching down to guide his cock inside you. You can’t speak, but cling tightly to his back. He growls a sound that you’ll never forget, the fire bursting behind him, flames licking the rocked cove that houses them.
His mouth is covered in your essence, your cunt bathing his dick with each violent thrust. It’s pouring in drenches, salty perspiration, pooling blood - both of you losing yourselves in the mess. Michael props himself up, digging into a dipping slam, meeting your mouth in an ending kiss. His hair tickles your shoulders, nose nudges your now blood caked mouth, and he gives the warning.
“Spill your fucking curse all over me!” And you come undone, glued to him in puzzled entrapment.
Your thighs are wrecked, his bedsheets useless, and then there’s Michael, who forces you to look at him and really see him. There’s only black in his eyes. You sputter a disbelief, bracing. His mouth parts, tongue flicks across to gather more, leveling off into his jagged movements. He swells inside your cunt, dousing your walls in his warm cum.
He doesn’t leave you, not even when it’s over. He simply takes you with him. You aren’t sure where you get the courage to speak - body shaking and shivering.
“What... Michael, who are you?”
He cups a hand over your cunt, rolling onto his side, keeping you held to him. He lightly blows away a pesky lock of your hair, then maneuvers another behind your ear.
“I’m the man who’s going to save your wretched existence.”
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anonair · 2 years
Text
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You loved Peter, but didn't think you were deserving of his love.
NOT PROOFREAD
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Tears filled your eyes as you sat at the edge of the bed. You couldn’t believe you had let the best thing that has happened to you walk out like that. Peter was someone you held close to your heart, and you couldn’t fathom life without him, but you knew you had messed up. The puddles of tears overfilled your eyes, spilling out onto your hands that laid atop of your thighs. You heard him walk back in, looking for reassurance one more time.
“Tell me this isn’t true, Y/N.” He said, his voice clearly broken from the abundance of emotions that he was feeling. “Peter, I’m sorry.” That was all you could manage to say without slurring your words. You could feel your heartbeat growing slower as the sadness from inside overcame you. The hurt you felt was unimaginable. You never pictured anything like this happening, but it did.
“Are you seriously even contemplating going back to that piece of shit after I’ve just confessed my love for you?” Peters voice grew louder, the raw emotions making his voice raspy. You couldn’t even look up at him. How could you be so oblivious? This whole time, you just assumed peter was your best friend. You missed every single sign. Well, you were so blinded you chose to turn a head to his emotions. You were doing it again in this very moment. You thought you were doing everything right by protecting his heart from the mess that was and is you, but once again, you failed. As you sit there crying, all you craved was Peter’s arms around you- not your Ex’s. Peter opened your eyes to a world of possibilities when he confessed his love for you; Things you felt before but refused to speak upon. Now that it’s all on the table, you realize how oblivious you were. You settled for someone who treated you shitty rather than someone who was always there to fix your broken pieces.
Nobody had ever pleaded for your love the way peter had. You looked up at peter, his eyes instantly locking with yours. His cheeks were red from the heat brewing in his body and his eyes were puffy from the stream of tears that ran down his face. You could see how betrayed he felt. You wanted the world to just stop for a moment. You felt as though you messed everything up.
“Peter, no. You don’t get it.” You said, the tone in your voice changing from anger at yourself to utter sadness.
Peter walked to the end of the bed, sitting down beside you and sighing. “So, tell me. What is it about me that makes you not want to be with me?” He replied.
“Stop. All I want is to be with you, but you don’t understand. He was all I knew. I don’t want to ruin things with you just because of shitty decisions I’ve made in the past!” You raised your voice, turning your body to look at him. The tears were in an ongoing stream down your face. At this point, both of your voices were raspy from raising them at each other. You promised yourself you wouldn’t get this way with him, but you were so frustrated with yourself. Why couldn’t you allow yourself to have something good?
“Why can’t you allow yourself to have someone good in your life?” Peter asked, his voice lower now. He always said exactly what you were thinking. You shook your head no, not knowing what else to do. “I am not deserving of you, Peter. Look at who you are and look at me.” You cried out. Peter wiped the tears from your cheek, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours so gently. “You’re deserving of all good things in this world.” He said, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips. You could feel yourself caving in, your lips pressing back against his. You could taste the saltiness of both of your lips, but it didn’t matter. Everything felt safe with Peter. You fell deeper for him without even realizing.
Could he be the one? Could you allow yourself to have him?....
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