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viriscribe · 7 months

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ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ - ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ - ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ x ᴀғᴀʙ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - "ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ɪs ᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ."

ᴋɪɴᴋs : ᴅᴏᴍ! ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ, sɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ, ғᴀᴄɪᴀʟs.

(ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ)

The position you found yourself in was downright pornographic.

“Pluh.. please, Johnny..” You could barely register your own words. You were stripped bare, kneeling on the mansion’s cold marble floor. Johnny was sitting across from you, leaning back comfortably in one of his many lavish chairs. He was fully clothed, still in his suit from the award show you’ve arrived home from.

“No way, babe. You made your choice, now it’s my turn to have some fun.” The actor spoke down to you, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “Think you can just play the innocent princess around those showbiz bastards?”

You shook your head, unable to come up with a retort. Mere hours ago, Johnny was accepting an award for his latest movie. His first one fully written and directed by him, it was a huge event for your lover! As he was swept away by adoring fans and paparazzi alike, you wandered to get anywhere but there. The lights, the glamor, it was a lot.. to put it simply. These events weren’t that special to you, but for Johnny you’d sit through them all. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t come up with your own fun, though. As the sea of reporters and cameramen flashed away, you cozied up to Johnny. A normal thing, a cute pose to assert your status as a couple. The position was like this, you’d stand in front of Johnny, your fronts facing each other. You’d look over your shoulder and give the cameras a big smile, the works. This time, however.. you ‘accidentally’ place your leg between his. The perfect angle, not enough to send suspicion your way from any passing guests, but close enough for Johnny to feel your plush thighs right against his crotch. The silk fabric of your slip dress made it oh so easy to slide your leg back and forth, providing that sinful stimulation.

Johnny flashed his Hollywood smile, trying to keep his cool. “Damn..” A breathy plea left his lips. “You vixen, in front of the crowd..?” You could feel him stiffen through his pants. “Fucking wait until we get home.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, quick to pull your body flush with his. You swallowed hard, not sure if the right feeling was to be scared or satisfied with your little stunt.

That brings you back into the present, where your pussy is dangerously close to the chilly floor. Johnny knew what the temperature would do to you, but he also planned for your current brattiness. He made you kneel with your legs slightly spread, a hard position to hold for long. Sooner or later that cunt was going to meet the ground. Seeing you suffer in the meantime was a bonus.

“Please what?” He scoffed, “You didn’t give me a choice before you started rubbing on my dick.” The man pulled out his phone, taking a lewd shot of you. You tried to turn away, but it was no use.

“I just wanted to have some fun..” Your breathing was labored, you legs were beginning to shake. “You know how I feel about award shows..”

Johnny was quick to fire back. “And you know how I feel about disobedient sluts.”

Your mouth hung open, a tinge of pleasure sparking in your sex. Dominant Johnny Cage was something you’d never get over. As sweet, cocky, and secretly nerdy he was… the man was kinky. A pervert behind those sunglasses, but anyone could’ve guessed that.

“You have a choice.” He called out your name, his words dripping with desire. “We can go to bed now and talk about this in the morning.. Gods know how fucking tired I am.” A beat passes, and you almost don’t catch Johnny unzipping his fly. “Or, you can show me how sorry you are. Earn my forgiveness for that stunt.”

Even in his half asleep horny state, Johnny had the mind to give you an out. Fuck, you’re gonna marry this stupid guy. You decided to answer by looking up at Johnny with doe eyes, “I’ll do anything to be forgiven, sir.”

A throaty groan came from the man, and you knew you were in for it now. Your mind raced with the thought of your punishment. Was he going to make you kneel while he fucked your throat? Made to show the camera how much cum he can pump into your little mouth? Or was he going to take your over his knee, giving you spanks until your tears coated the floor along with your wetness. The possibilities were endless, and you were more than eager to please.

“Stay there, princess.” Johnny got up, leaving you to kneel in the living room. As he wandered off, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Not because you were fully naked, but due to the huge outlook right onto the city. That fucker probably designed his mansion with that view in mind, and all the dirty things he could do with that in the background.

You struggled to keep the kneeling position, tempted to give yourself a break while your lover was gone. Though, maybe this was part of the game? He had cameras everywhere and you didn’t want to risk being caught disobeying again tonight.

Johnny’s footsteps alerted you to his presence, the predatory aura sending shivers down your spine. In his hands was a favorite of you both. A quite sizeable fantasy dildo, one you’ve taken many times. It was large from the tip to the base, only becoming wider the way down. You gulped upon laying eyes on it, getting a good idea of where this was going to go.

“H-Honey..” You shifted, your pussy dribbling right onto the tile.

Johnny quickly shushed you, not pleased that you were speaking without permission.

“Up.” He spoke and you obeyed. “You’re going to ride this cock until I know you’re truly sorry for what you did.” You nodded, turning your head to look for the bottle of lube that usually comes along with the toy.

“Oh, no.” Johnny laughed, “You’re not getting that luxury tonight. Plus..” He stepped forward, dragging a finger through your folds. “It looks like you’ve got enough down there already.” He couldn’t deny it, he was impressed. The effect he had on you was otherworldly, one the man would never take for granted. Johnny watched as your essence slowly ran down his finger.

“Mmph!” You startled as he suddenly shoved the coated finger in your mouth, making you taste yourself. Johnny bit his lip as you began to suck on his digit.

With a ‘pop’ he pulled back. The toy was then placed securely on the tile, a convenient suction cup keeping it in place.

“Go on.” The stage was set, Johnny was going to enjoy this. If you did a good job to please him, then maybe you’d get the privilege to as well. “Put on a show for me.”

You sunk to your knees once more, squatting over the sizable toy. You didn’t dare look up at your lover, you already knew the fucker was recording.

The tip of the dildo was thick, providing a sharp pleasure as you rubbed it along your cunt in an attempt to get some sort of lubrication. Your folds gave way to the toy, coating it in your slick. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the penetration. This was quite the task to do without a warm up, but it was your punishment after all. As the dick breached your cunt, you immediately cried out. It looked fucking massive in Johnny’s hands, now you can only imagine the view he was seeing. Your size difference was a massive turn on for the man, awakening the need to push you to your limits whenever he could.

“Look at that, it’s stretching you so nicely for me.” Johnny smirked at you, angling the camera to perfectly frame your stretching pussy.

Your vision blurred, the feeling of taking such a huge dick was heavenly. Pathetic half groans involuntarily slipped past your lips. Once the tip was inside, you paused before continuing your descent.

Johnny hummed, mocking your predicament. He had all the time in the world. Seeing you so willing to please him was intoxicating. You took the shaft of the toy with ease, whimpering as you neared the base. Your breathing was labored, your eyes blown wide with need. As your cunt hit the base, a wave of fullness washed over you. Being oh so full, stuffed with cock… it suited you. The feeling of being pushed to your limit and then some, it was addicting, to say the least. And that was just on the receiving end. Describing your lover as ‘turned on’ was a severe understatement. The whole time you were sliding down on the toy, Johnny was stroking himself. One hand holding the phone recording your debauchery and one sating himself.

“Ride it, bitch.” Johnny commanded, drunk with the authority he had over you.

You didn’t need another moment. Your hips began to move, grinding on the dildo. Every inch of your cunt was being rubbed by the silicone. A steady growing ball of pleasure began to build in your core. You let all of your inhibitions go, humping it like a slut. The pace you set for yourself was relentless, wanting to give Johnny the show he wanted. He made sure to zoom in on your breasts, their bounce only made your act more vulgar.

“Feel sorry yet?” He laughed at you, degrading you. “I want to hear it.”

You looked up at him, showing a hint of embarrassment. Johnny wasn’t going to let shit like that slide and you knew that. “Don’t act shy while you’re fucking yourself. Apologize to me as you fuck yourself.”

Who were you to deny him? You knew your place, humping the toy as your lover pleased himself mere inches away from your face. If you stuck your tongue out far enough, you could get a taste of his dick.

“I’m..” You began to bounce up and down the dildo, chasing your own orgasm. “I’m so sorry.. I’m sah..” Broken apologies fell from your lips, sad attempts at forming a sentence. “I’m so sorry, Johnny..!” Your legs twitched, you were close. Johnny knew this of course, but didn’t say anything. He was curious to see if you’d ask to cum, or risk further punishments.

“May..” Your walls clenched around the cock, barely letting it go to fuck yourself. “May.. I.” Johnny huffed, pretending to not understand your gibberish.

“May I please cum, Johnny!” Screams and moans errupted from your drooling mouth, “I’m so fucking sorry for what I’ve done, see! Please let me cum..”

With a single word, Johnny allowed you your precious release. You fell forward, holding onto his leg as you fucked yourself to completion. It was a display of pure love and submission, you had never felt more safe and more vulnerable as you were in this moment. The pleasure snapped like a tense wire, and you felt your orgasm flow from your cunt and onto the floor.

“The camera loves you, that’s it right there.” Johnny framed your face in the recording, catching your climax in real time. And if you humiliating yourself under him wasn’t enough, Johnny came as well. His cock shot ropes of semen all over your face, painting you for his final act of dominance.

You smiled at the camera, wiping some of his cum off your face. With a dazed chuckle, you licked your fingers clean, blowing a kiss to the camera before the recording ended.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚________________

“Babe.. do you really not like award shows?” Johnny held you steady against his bare body, massaging shampoo onto your scalp. His aftercare consisted of a nice shower, one where you’d never move a muscle. After this, he’d wrap you up in blankets and hold you close as you drifted asleep, or maybe put on a movie. It depended on how spent you were.

You shifted in his grasp, turning around to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Honestly, no. Though, I like you. I love you. Seeing my handsome boyfriend get recognized for his talent makes all of the screaming fans and flashing cameras worth it.”

“Hah.. you called me handsome.” Johnny hummed a tune while he finished cleaning you both up. Of course, that’s the part he heard.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #mortal kombat #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat fanfic

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praisethesuuun · 9 months

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How did hades and Poseidon (seperately ) discover they had a size kink?

You can choose the genre but fem reader plz

RoR characters and size kink!

Warnings: mention of sex, mention of violence

HADES

💀The King of Hellheim would start to notice your difference with very small things: your small hand around the wine glass, the way you look up to speak to him, looking at him with your shining eyes…

💀Hades would start thinking about you, your body, your height without even realizing it. At first it was simply curiosity, wondering how you could be so small, finding your figure adorable. Things changed when he started looking at his hands, picturing them squeezing your waist, while he's on top of you.

💀The embarrassment is strong every time he sees you, he can't think of anything else now. Who knows how small his hands are in yours? One thing is absolutely sure, Hades' hands are big enough to keep both of your wrists pinned above your head while he takes you, over and over again.

💀You just fit so well in his arms! And then...if you're so small and pretty...you're easier to pick up and slam against the wall, with the King of Hellheim grabbing and squeezing your thighs.

POSEIDON

🌊I have the impression that his way of finding out was much more peculiar and out of place. Something born from his deepest desire, the one he keeps hidden and which intimates him to be perfect, to assert himself, and to do it in the worst possible way.

🌊It happened while Poseidon was standing in front of your kneeling figure, trident in hand as usual. When you got up to leave and continue your mantions, the sea god thought how small your head was compared to the tip of his weapon.

🌊It will only take a swing to tear you completely, or for his hand to fully grab your neck. Poseidon would pick you up without any trouble, doing whatever he could with your cute and petite figure...you look so innocent and vulnerable, it's hard for the god to resist.

🌊Poseidon would start playing hunter and hunted with you. Expect to find some strange behavior from him, like his big hands squeezing your waist from behind all of a sudden. You may shout or squirm, but the god doesn't care, he will continue to suddenly touch you as he pleases, observing the difference between your bodies.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror x you #request #snv x reader #snv x you #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror hades #record of ragnarok hades #snv hades #hades x reader #snv hades x reader #ror poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon x reader #snv poseidon #poseidon

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bitchiswild · 4 months

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Winter Ball

Kim Minjeong x F! Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 3.5k

A/n: ❄️🎻🪩

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The Winter Ball, an event steeped in opulence and prestige, stands as the pinnacle of the year's social calendar. Within its glittering halls, destinies intertwine, where chance encounters spark romances and hearts both unite and fracture. This illustrious affair owes its existence to the esteemed Kim Seok, a titan among elites, who christened the gala in honor of his beloved daughter, Kim Minjeong, affectionately known as Winter.

Beyond its facade of elegance and grandeur, the Winter Ball is a nexus of strategic alliances and lucrative sponsorships, where business dealings are as commonplace as swirling waltzes and whispered confessions. Yet, amid the clinking glasses and shimmering gowns, there exists an unwritten expectation, one fervently held by Kim Seok himself. With each meticulously planned Winter Ball, he harbors a silent hope—a hope that his daughter, Winter, might find love amidst the enchanting splendor.

Winter, however, is a vision of independence and conviction. Echoing her father's unyielding spirit, she rebuffs the allure of romantic entanglements with a steadfast declaration: "I have no need for such entrapments. Love is a fallacy." Yet, despite her protestations, Kim Seok discerns a familiar skepticism in her words, a reflection of his own past reservations before fate introduced him to the love of his life—Winter's mother.

In the depths of his heart, Kim Seok yearns for Winter to experience the transformative power of love, much as he did. With an ardent wish that transcends the gilded confines of the Winter Ball, he quietly prays for the serendipitous arrival of the one who will awaken his daughter's belief in love, just as it was once awakened within him.

As the anticipation mounts and the chandeliers cast their ethereal glow upon the revelers, Kim Seok watches over the festivities, his paternal gaze holding a silent plea to the stars: that Winter, his cherished daughter, may find within this glittering celebration the key to unlock the guarded chambers of her heart.

~~~

Winters POV

I let out a resigned sigh, my eyes scanning the elegantly adorned room filled with twirling couples lost in their own romantic reverie. Amidst the enchanting melodies and graceful waltzes, I stood on the periphery, a silent observer of a spectacle that failed to captivate my convictions. Love, in my view, was a frivolous pursuit—an enigmatic dance of emotions I had no desire to partake in. Love at first sight? Ridiculous.

"Minjeong!" Jimin's voice interrupted my musings, drawing my attention to my ever-optimistic best friend. She flashed a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with a certainty that often accompanied her unwavering faith in matters of the heart.

"You're always so dismissive about love, but mark my words, one day you'll see. It'll all make sense," she remarked, her tone laced with a playful certainty that mirrored her perpetual optimism.

I couldn't help but scoff. "You say that as if it's some inevitable epiphany waiting to happen."

Jimin chuckled, her laughter carrying a hint of affectionate exasperation. "Trust me, Minjeong. Once you experience it, your perspective will shift entirely. Love won't seem like a waste of time anymore."

Her words lingered in the air as she sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd with her partner, leaving me to ponder her unwavering belief in the inexplicable magic of love.

Despite my protestations, I couldn't shake off the echo of her words. Was there a kernel of truth in her confident assertions? Could love truly transform one's outlook, turning what I deemed as frivolous into something profound and meaningful?

As the music swelled and the enchantment of the Winter Ball continued to weave its spell around the room, I found myself caught in a fleeting moment of contemplation. Perhaps, just perhaps, amidst the sea of skeptics, cynics, and believers alike, there existed a truth waiting to reveal itself—a truth about love that I had yet to uncover.

As I made my way towards the refreshments, a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught my attention. A figure, graceful and poised, mirrored my steps toward the drink table. Her presence, almost magnetic, tugged at my senses, and for a fleeting moment, the room seemed to shrink, centering around this enigmatic stranger.

"Sorry, am I in your way?" Her gentle voice broke the spell, drawing me from my reverie. I shook my head, startled by the sudden rush of emotions that stirred within me. "N-No, you're not. It's okay," I managed to stutter out, my heart thundering in my chest.

She giggled, her laughter a melody that resonated through the air, and in that moment, it felt like I was enveloped in pure bliss. Was this the inexplicable sensation Jimin spoke of—the rush of emotions, the rapid heartbeat, all in the presence of a stranger? Could this be the much-dismissed notion of love at first sight?

Summoning an ounce of courage I hadn't known I possessed, I extended my hand towards her. "My name's Minjeong. What's yours?" The words stumbled out, coated in a mix of nerves and excitement.

The girl turned toward me, her eyes sparkling with an unspoken allure. "Y/n," she replied, taking my hand in hers. "Nice to meet you, Minjeong. But I've got to get going; my friends are waiting for me. I'll see you on the dance floor?" Her words lingered in the air, a question tinged with a hint of anticipation.

I could only nod dumbly, lost momentarily in the radiance of her smile. As she giggled and gracefully departed, I felt a rush of relief flood through me. It was as if the weight of the moment lifted as she left my vicinity. Gathering my composure, I hurriedly made my way through the crowd, seeking out Jimin amidst the throng of revelers.

"Jimin!" I called out, scanning the crowd for my ever-supportive best friend. Spotting her animatedly conversing with a group nearby, I navigated through the sea of dancers and socialites, eager to share the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

"Minjeong, there you are!" Jimin's eyes lit up as she noticed me approaching, her expression expectant. "Did you find yourself a drink?"

I chuckled, trying to compose myself after the unexpected encounter. "Yeah, but more importantly, Jimin, I just had the most...unexpected moment."

Jimin arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Do tell!"

I recounted the brief yet intense interaction with Y/n, the rush of emotions, and the lingering sensation of having stumbled upon something inexplicably enchanting.

Jimin's grin widened with each word, a silent acknowledgment dancing in her eyes. "Minjeong, could it be? Love at first sight?"

I hesitated, grappling with the idea I'd dismissed moments before. "I don't know, Jimin. It sounds so cliché, doesn't it? But there was something about her... It was different."

Jimin's laughter bubbled forth. "Welcome to the club, Minjeong! Looks like someone's heart might be softening after all."

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn't deny the fluttering feeling in my chest, a strange mix of nervousness and excitement at the thought of seeing Y/n again.

"Will you go dance with her?" Jimin nudged, her gaze filled with encouragement.

"I-I think so," I stammered, surprised by my own resolve. "I hope I see her there."

With Jimin's teasing encouragement and the memory of Y/n's smile lingering in my mind, I found myself swaying to the music, unable to shake off the lingering anticipation of a potential reunion.

As the night progressed and the melodies intertwined with laughter and whispers, I couldn't help but steal glances around the room, hoping for another glimpse of Y/n amidst the swirling crowd.

Time had passed, and there was no sight of Y/n. Faint disappointment settled in as I made my way back to the bar, hoping to find solace in another drink. Yet, to my surprise, there she was, standing next to a guy who seemed to be making her visibly uncomfortable.

My steps faltered as I approached the bar, the familiar sight of Y/n amidst an uncomfortable interaction stopping me in my tracks. A knot formed in my stomach, an instinctive urge to intervene surging within me.

Y/n stood there, her expression strained, a polite yet uneasy smile plastered on her face. Beside her loomed a guy, his demeanor exuding an unsettling sense of entitlement. His persistent attempts at conversation were met with Y/n's subtle but visible discomfort.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" I questioned, my voice poised but carrying an underlying concern.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of relief flickering across her face. "Minjeong! I'm so glad you're here," she responded, her voice tinged with gratitude.

I turned my attention to the guy beside her, offering a friendly yet assertive smile. "Hi there! I'm Minjeong. Sorry to interrupt, but Y/n and I have some catching up to do, right?"

The guy glanced between us, seemingly taken aback but sensing the shift in the atmosphere, he excused himself with a half-hearted smile and sauntered away.

Y/n exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding, offering me a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. That was...unexpected."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation. "No problem. Looked like you needed a rescue."

As the tension dissipated, Y/n's gaze met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The brief yet charged moment solidified something unspoken, a connection forming in the wake of an unexpected rescue.

"Hey, let's grab that drink together," I suggested, hoping to offer some reprieve from the uncomfortable encounter.

Y/n's smile widened, a genuine spark returning to her eyes. "I'd like that."

As we moved towards the bar, the weight of the encounter fading into the background, a newfound sense of camaraderie and intrigue filled the space between us.

The ambient glow of the Winter Ball seemed to dim in the wake of the burgeoning connection between Y/n and me. We settled at a quieter corner of the bustling venue, cocooned in our own world, amid the gentle hum of conversations and the occasional tinkling of glasses.

"So, Minjeong," Y/n began, her voice a melodic invitation to unravel the layers of our mutual acquaintance. "What brings you to the Winter Ball?"

I shared anecdotes about attending with Karina, my father's insistence on finding love for me at these events, and my own skepticism about the enchantment of love.

"And what about you, Y/n?" I inquired, eager to reciprocate the sharing. "How did you end up here?"

She laughed softly, the sound like a symphony in the midst of the ball's elegance. "Honestly, I was dragged here by a friend. Not much of a fan of these extravagant affairs myself."

As we conversed, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each exchange peeling away the layers of initial awkwardness. We discovered shared interests, from music preferences to our views on the complexities of life. There was a comfortable rhythm to our interaction, a natural chemistry that seemed to bridge any gap between us.

Time ceased to exist as we exchanged stories, laughter, and thoughts. The once-imposing Winter Ball now felt like an intimate setting, our dialogue weaving an invisible thread between us, binding our newfound connection.

The night wore on, the music shifting from lively tunes to mellower melodies, yet our conversation continued, unhurried and unreserved. Amidst the glamour and opulence of the ball, a genuine connection had blossomed—a serendipitous encounter that defied the confines of the grand event.

As the evening drew to a close and the final strains of music echoed through the hall, I realized that amidst the sea of faces and fleeting encounters, I had found an unexpected and cherished connection in Y/n.

Our exchange continued, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and aspirations. As the night unfolded its secrets, we found ourselves drawn to the idea that chance encounters often held the most unforeseen treasures.

Eventually, the allure of the wintry night beckoned, and Y/n suggested we step outside to catch a breath of fresh air. The grand doors opened, leading us to the quiet serenity of the winter landscape outside.

A hushed blanket of snow had begun to descend, painting the night in a soft, ethereal glow. The air was crisp, and the gentle flakes danced around us, adding a touch of enchantment to the already magical evening.

Y/n and I stood side by side, gazing at the mesmerizing sight before us. The snowflakes twirled in the air, creating a tranquil scene that felt straight out of a storybook.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

Y/n nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the soft glimmer of the falling snow. "It really is. There's something so serene about snowfall, isn't there?"

We stood there, amidst the quiet elegance of the wintry night, sharing a moment that transcended the grandeur of the Winter Ball. The snowflakes continued their graceful descent, enveloping us in a cocoon of tranquility and wonder.

In that peaceful solitude, our conversation took on a more introspective tone. We spoke of dreams, aspirations, and the inexplicable beauty found in the simplest of moments—a shared understanding that seemed to deepen the connection between us.

As the snow continued to cascade from the heavens, we exchanged quiet smiles, a silent acknowledgment of the rare beauty of this shared moment. For in the delicate dance of snowflakes and the whispers of our conversation, something special had bloomed between us.

As the delicate snowflakes continued their graceful descent, an unspoken warmth enveloped us in a cocoon of shared moments and unspoken sentiments. I turned to Y/n, a genuine sincerity coloring my words.

"I really enjoy your company, Y/n," I expressed, my voice carrying the weight of truth and vulnerability.

Her eyes sparkled with a reflective radiance, mirroring the sentiment. "I enjoy your company too, Minjeong," she replied, her smile a testament to the comfort found in our connection.

We stood there, side by side, witnessing the tranquil spectacle of the first snowfall. The silence between us was filled with unspoken words, an uncharted territory of emotions and possibilities.

"You know what they say about the first snow," I remarked, breaking the tranquil silence between us.

Y/n turned to me, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "No, what is it?" she asked, her voice soft and attentive.

"It's where you make a wish, and they say it might just come true," I explained, a tinge of wistfulness in my tone.

"Make a wish, Minjeong," she encouraged gently, her eyes filled with a gentle encouragement that urged me to embrace the moment.

I let out a sigh, the weight of my wish settling in my chest. "I wish to take you out on a date," I confessed, the words slipping out, carrying the earnestness of my feelings.

In the tranquil serenity of the wintry night, with snowflakes twirling around us like silent witnesses, I dared to voice a longing that had quietly blossomed within me.

Y/n's gaze held mine, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. Her soft smile echoed the silent understanding that had grown between us, a shared connection woven in the magical embrace of the first snow.

As the snowfall continued its gentle descent, a subtle chill began to permeate the air. I noticed Y/n subtly shivering, the cold seeping through the elegant attire she wore for the ball.

"You're getting cold, aren't you?" I asked, concern lacing my words as I observed her discomfort.

Y/n nodded, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. "A little, yes."

Without hesitation, I slipped off my own warm sweater, a comforting shield against the wintry chill, and offered it to her. "Here, take this. It's warmer," I insisted, my voice carrying both concern and a hint of bashfulness.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, her gaze meeting mine in a mix of gratitude and astonishment. "Minjeong, I couldn't—"

"Please," I urged gently, my smile attempting to ease any reservations she might have. "I want you to be warm."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Y/n accepted the sweater, wrapping it around herself with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. You're too kind."

The exchange brought an unexpected warmth to the wintry night—not just from the shared gesture but from the growing connection and the unspoken promise that hung between us.

With Y/n now shielded from the biting cold, our shared moment continued, the snowflakes descending around us in a silent ballet. The act of offering my sweater felt like a bridge between us, forging an unspoken closeness that transcended the physical warmth it provided.

As we stood there, enveloped in the beauty of the snowfall and the quiet understanding that bound us, the promise of a forthcoming date lingered in the air, an anticipation that added an extra layer of magic to the Winter Ball's enchanting allure.

The clock struck midnight, signaling the end of the enchanting evening. Reluctantly, I walked Y/n to her car, the weight of impending separation casting a shadow over our otherwise uplifting interaction.

"Here's my number. Text me about the date plan; I'm looking forward to it," Y/n said, her smile radiant with anticipation, as she handed me a slip of paper bearing her contact information.

My bashfulness emerged, rendering me momentarily speechless. "I'm excited too. I'll be sure to text you. Just get home safe, alright?" I replied softly, hoping to mask the fluttering nerves within me.

Y/n's smile widened, and in that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Her gentle kiss on my cheek felt like a jolt of electricity, sending my heart into a frenzy. For an instant, I felt as though I might lose my footing, caught in the unexpected rush of emotions.

"Good night, Minjeong," she whispered, her words carrying a softness that reverberated through me.

I stood there, watching her car depart, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Placing a hand over my heart, I attempted to steady the rapid beating within my chest, the lingering sensation of her kiss lingering like an echo.

Before I could collect my thoughts, Karina came bounding towards me, brimming with excitement. "Oh my gosh, I saw everything! Minjeong is head over heels, everyone!" she exclaimed with uncontainable enthusiasm.

I stood there, Karina's excited proclamation ringing in my ears, a mix of bewilderment and anticipation coursing through me. Her words echoed a truth I had vehemently denied for so long—love had never held a place in my beliefs.

But as I stood there, my hand unconsciously lingering on the spot where Y/n's kiss had landed, a revelation dawned upon me. I had once deemed love a frivolous notion, dismissing it as a mere illusion. Yet, in this whirlwind encounter, I found myself yearning for something I never thought I'd desire.

The Winter Ball had unveiled a world of possibilities I had stubbornly ignored, and in the lingering warmth of Y/n's presence, my heart had stirred with unfamiliar emotions. What had begun as skepticism had morphed into an eager anticipation for what lay ahead—a date that held the promise of something genuine and heartfelt.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I found myself eagerly awaiting the prospect of love—a concept I once rejected but now, with each flutter of my heart, embraced with open arms.

Years cascaded by in a beautiful tapestry woven with shared moments, laughter, and a love that surpassed every doubt. Y/n and I stood side by side, a testament to the transformative power of love, as we returned to the Winter Ball each year.

My father's beaming smile was a reflection of his joy as he witnessed the love that had bloomed between Y/n and me. The Winter Ball, once a place of skepticism and uncertainty for me, now held a cherished significance—a testament to our enduring bond and the promise of a love that had weathered the test of time.

With each passing holiday season, Y/n and I found ourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. The Winter Ball had become more than just an extravagant event; it was a celebration of our love story—a reminder of the serendipity that had brought us together and the countless memories we continued to create.

The twinkling lights, the elegant dances, and the festive atmosphere held a deeper meaning now—a symbol of our shared journey, a testament to the enduring love that had blossomed amidst the enchantment of that first Winter Ball.

As we danced under the glittering lights, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the whispers of timeless promises, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the unexpected turns that had led me to find the love of my life.

Every holiday season was now a cherished opportunity—a chance to revel in the love that had transformed my beliefs, turning skepticism into an unwavering certainty that love, indeed, was the most powerful magic of all.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

#bitchiswild #BIW.WRITES #aespa x reader #aespa #fluff #aespa x fem reader #aespa imagines #aespa minjeong #aespa winter #winter x reader #kim winter #minjeong x reader #kim minjeong #minjeong

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whoreish-behaviour · 1 year

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Revenant 4

Previous - Next

Na'vi!Colonel Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Warnings >~< = None, next chapter ;)

'Food.' A green package was dumped on the table in front of where you sat, legs crossed and back to the wall.

The blue soldier stared down at you, eyes flickering to your bandaged tail before snapping back to yours.

He had a hand on his belt, stance wide and sucking the very air from the room, leaving you choked up.

As much as you hated to admit it, he dripped the essence of dominance and assertion, his status here very clearly above yours.

That knowledge made you shield in slightly, ears flat as you looked at each other.

However, no matter how much he made you want to naturally obey his commands, your pride wouldn't allow it.

He was no leader to you.

You lazily looked to the so called 'food' before turning your nose up at it, a scowl set deep on your face.

You heard him sigh, sick of your desire to never listen.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw him shift forward and you immediately tried to shuffle back, the wall preventing you.

He kneeled in from of you, knees a few inches form yours and shoulders shadowing over you.

You still refused to look, aqua eyes set on the wall.

'What you goin' to eat then?' He questioned, hands gesturing in front of him.

You didn't utter a word, brain picking apart his words to understand what he was saying.

'You wanna starve? Kill yourself before you even make it back home?' He prodded, pushing for any sort of reaction from you other than your silence.

He felt his patience push at your lack of response.

'Fine - don't answer but I aint force feeding no one. I'll only offer food once, refuse and you don't eat.' He stood back up and turned away, tail narrowing missing your face..

Only as he approached the table, hand reaching for the ration, did you finally speak up.

'Hunt' You word lingered in the air but you knew he had heard you.

'I want to hunt.' You clarified, eyes trained on him as he looked over his shoulder at you.

'You think you behave well enough for me to allow you to hunt?' He turned slowly, disbelief clear on his features. You narrowed your eyes, fists clenching.

'I hunt or starve.'

'This has a tracking devise in it, you try anything and we'll be able to track you, understand?' He shouted, the wind blowing loud and hard as he tapped the collar around your neck.

You looked at him, eyes widening but no answer.

'Do you understand?' His Na'vi was slow and broken but you understood his question, shaking your head.

'Spider! Tell her what I said.' He waved, head turning away and facing the open side of the helicopter.

Never before had you ever been in one, the place small but littered with guns, ammo and seats. You observed your surroundings as Spider translated the Colonel's words.

Once you gave the green light that you understood, you felt the flying machine lower, the ground coming closer and closer.

You crawled closer to the opening where the colonel kneeled, watching in amazement at the sea below - the clear water never looking better.

You had missed it deeply.

The Colonel watched you quietly, making sure you didn't hang too far out the helicopter from your sitting position, your hair whipping around your face and neck.

It was then that he saw you smile for the first time, your cheeks almost turning chubby and revealing dimples as you grinned wildly at the water below.

He then watched as your lips pucker together, oddly cute chirp like sounds leaving them.

Finally shifting his gaze down, he saw exactly what you were doing.

You were calling to them, the creatures that lived below the surface of the water - who flew up and out the blue abyss, scales reflecting the light and sparkling.

A giggle left you at the splashing sounds from below, long snake like things answering your calls with their own.

By now part of the crew had gathered to see the interaction - Spider included.

You sensed the looming boy over your shoulder, turning to face him gently.

'Do you want to try?' You asked, smiling at his dumbstruck face.

He nodded and pressed in beside you, shoulder to shoulder.

You showed him how to move his lips and what sound to replicate, his coming out odd but a call nevertheless. Gesturing to the water, you watched as he repeated what you had done.

The colonel watched on, an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the two of you interact.

You were teaching him, an almost motherly glow surrounding you as you showed him your ways, laughing when he unknowingly shouted their mating call.

The colonel told himself that his utter interest in you was because you were different, new - an insight into what he wished to find out.

That was the only conclusion he came to.

However it still didn’t explain his softening posture, your eased state allowing him to relax again the side of the helicopter, eyes not missing anything as you basked in a taste of your homeland

'I see your head go under that water, I will not hesitate to shoot you. You have half an hour before I want to back on the chopper.' The colonels voice was gruff as he gave you strict orders, tail whipping around him and hand on his gun.

During the ride here, Spider had so graciously blessed you with a quick english refresh, pointing to things on the flying machine.

Helicopter.

Gun.

Shoot.

Dead.

Ocean.

Colonel.

That was how you learned that the blue soldier who seemed to be in charge of you was called a 'Colonel'.

Sky people did always have such odd names.

You nodded at the orders given to you, quickly turning and beginning to walk thigh-deep into the clear water below.

You made sure your tail was up and didn't graze the water, not wanting to be shouted at by the 'colonel' for getting your bandage wet.

You tried to forget about the four guns aimed directly at you, not wanting that to effect a good hunt.

Drawing your knife, the one the colonel threw at your feet after you all left the helicopter, you kept it at your side ready.

Positioning yourself in a stance for balance, you watched the water ripple in waves, looking for movement and shadows beneath the surface.

Once your eyes landed on your target, you felt your body shoot adrenaline through you as your hand holding the knife shot through the water and straight through the fish.

Instantly lifting it up and out the water, your other hand grabbed the body as you removed the knife before plunging it deep between its head and body, stopping all it's movement.

Once you was sure it was dead, you turned and threw it ashore, landing it next to Spider. The boy grimaced at the fresh kill before picking it up by the tail and holding it.

You repeated that until you heard the Colonel bark to you that it was time to go.

Your ears flattened at his voice, your grip on the knife loosening in defeat as you turned to him.

You had almost forgot why and how you where here.

Despite his words, you didn't find it in yourself to move, the waves of the sea brushing up along your legs.

Immediately sensing your disobedience, the Colonels ears flattened in anger, his face set with a deep scowl.

'I won't tell you again, move it!' His tail whipped left and right, his body rigged with tension as he pointed to the helicopter. You clenched your fists before you looked at the 4 blue soldiers behind him.

They were all waiting for you to make a move, wanting a reason to raid your body with bullets.

But you refused to give it to them.

It felt wrong walking back to the land, like you were walking straight to deaths door, your coffin waiting to lock you inside until you breathed your last breath.

You kept your eyes down as you sheepishly held out the knife to the Colonel, not having the strength to face his angry eyes.

You could practically feel them glaring at you as he snatched the weapon away before his large hand grabbed your upper arm, dragging you along as he walked to the helicopter.

You didn't resistant or whine at his tough grip, just trailed behind quietly.

'How can you eat that raw?' You watched as Spider poked his tongue out and looked away, your eye brows furrowing at his question.

'You don't?'

'No!'

You shrugged before chewing on another slice of fish. You were back where you had woken up before, mask around your neck and your kill gutted and bagged for you.

You were in a different room this time - this one having a massive window to view outside and littered with glowing machines, people sitting behind them on chairs.

You had one hand tied to a pole, the orange plastic digging into your skin as you sat on the floor.

Spider was with you as well, although he had no restraints. You wondered why as you ate, watching him.

He seemed conflicted but you didn't bug or pry, looking away when he felt your gaze.

Up ahead, you saw the Colonel talking to another sky creature, the size comparison vast. His shoulders were set wide, his back to you.

His body was muscle upon muscle, something you hadn't seem much off. The people from your village were slim and fast, strength wasn't as valuable as speed.

You couldn't help but observe his movements. The way each muscle was highlighted under his clothes, very obviously there, drew you in.

You didn't notice Spider's eyes on you until he cleared his throat in a almost condescending way.

You looked to him quickly, acting as if you hadn't been staring at the man who practically kidnapped you.

'So, I was thinking more about your escape plan.' Your ears perked up.

'You should use the vents, they're those things near the ceiling' He nodded to where they were.

'They're in every room for ventilation and with your height, you'd have no problem climbing one - only issue is I have no idea which way you'd have to go.'

You looked down as he spoke, absorbing his words and envisioning your escape.

'I’ll do it.' You spoke quickly, looking up and at him.

'Did you hear what I said about-' You nodded briskly, hair moving from your emphasis.

Spider watched you for a few more seconds, his eyes unsure before blowing out a breath.

'Ok, ask to use the bathroom. There should be a vent in there.' He looked to the Colonel before back at you and you understood what you had to do.

Dropping your food, you turned to the blue soldier ahead.

'Colonel!' Your accent was heavy as you spoke but you saw his ears twitch nevertheless.

He looked over his shoulder at you, eyes hooded and checking over you to make sure nothing bad had happened before turning to his superior.

'Lieutenant.' He nodded respectfully before beginning to make his way over to your eager form sat on the floor.

Stopping in front of you, he looked down at your staring light eyes.

'Yes?'

'Bathroom. Please?' You pulled at you restraint slightly as if to remind him.

The colonel looked towards his son, who refused to even acknowledge his existence and then back at you before nodding once, eyebrows raised.

You watched as he leaned over you, his body seeping warmth, and undid the handcuff. Taking your arm in his grip, he helped pull you to your feet.

You took a second to shake your legs, your seat on the floor making them numb slightly.

The colonel watch the flesh move before catching himself and looking away, ears flattening.

Deeming yourself ready, you nodded at him - offering your arm for him to hold and pull you.

Not expecting your willingness, he eyed you cautiously before talking it down to you really needing to go in his head and beginning to direct you to the bathroom.

'I’ll wait here.' You saw him nod at you once you had made it down the hallway and in front of a door.

Wasting no time, you pushed it open and closed it again behind you.

Immediately your eyes darted to the walls, zeroing in on the small square in the far corner. It was above this thing on the ground that had a hole in it.

You looked over it quickly to deem that it was safe to stand on before using it as a boost to reach the vent.

Your hands shook slightly as you pried the thing open as quietly as possible.

The dark abyss before you threw you off slightly but you shook your head and continued on. There was no going back now.

It was easier that you guessed as you crawled your way in, the space big enough to manoeuvre enough in. However you struggled to lift your waist up, grunts leaving you as you tried again and again.

Huffing, you rolled onto your back instead, using your hands to pull yourself further in.

Everything was going good when you suddenly caught you knee on the top of the vent, a loud bang echoing in the air. You stilled immediately, ears twitching to see if the door was being opened.

It was silent, until the door of the vent fell, a loud and very evident crash! piercing through the room, the metal dropping harshly to the floor.

You then knew you didn't have a second to waste, flipping back over and trying to crawl further, forearms and elbows already sore from the friction.

The Colonel’s ears perked at the loud bang echoing from the room you had entered not even 2 minutes ago.

Gritting his teeth, he flung open the door, knowing that you didn't know locks were a thing.

His eyes immediately landed on your legs hanging out the vent, his fists clenching at his sides.

'You'll never stop with these cheap tricks huh?' He practically growled before pouncing over to you, tail swinging behind him.

You gasped when you felt your calves being grabbed by two hands, using their strength to pull you back. You placed your hands on either side of the vent, refusing to go any further down.

It was obvious the Colonel had come to get you.

'No!' You shouted down at him, beginning to kick your legs form his grip. Between your wiggling and trying to crawl away, you were able to shake him off.

Drawing your knees up as much as you could to escape his grabbing hands, you looked down at his angry face - panting out.

Your connected eyes, his narrowed ones set on your almost curled up body before he hissed at you, hand still attempting to reach you.

You made sure to tuck your tail before turning away and making your way down the vent, the surface cold against your skin.

'You get back here!' Your ears twitched painfully as the colonels voice shook the walls around you but you continued.

You were finally getting out of here.

Just rewatched Avatar 2 (yayy) and realised that the time of events so far means that they're on a ship - if that makes sense. Before I was writing as if they were at camp, but they're not!

Part 5

Kofi <33

@namor-is-the-way @kimqueenofhell @simplefools @gremlinfuck @jupekali @cypherpt5fttaehyung @pturnersblog @girlblogger2002 @inkareds @lovejessejay @applesnbannasss @spookyspecterino @the-wafaa-blog @esposadomd @hungrh

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raayllum · 9 days

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A few things because I realize without it, this amalgamation of screencaps may not make much sense but it's all I've been thinking about for like 3 days:

As the two mages of the younger generation, Callum and Claudia are caught in a loop of both competing with and furthering each other's progression in their magical goals. We see this manifest in two main ways:

Callum and Claudia giving each other knowledge they need, even if it's incomplete. Claudia gives Callum the first half of the fulminus spell (and Rayla the second); Callum figures out the riddle that lets Claudia know there's a map to be had. While Claudia offered to literally teach him dark magic, it happened solely accidentally, with Callum's acquired knowledge being her 'undoing' (on behalf of Rayla) in 2x07. This transfer of knowledge and goals means that even though Callum helped get the prison from the Sea of the Cast Out with the opposite goal of Claudia's, he will likely 'finish' her half of the spell, if you will, by being what results in Aaravos actually getting out (possession or otherwise). Likewise, this references back to Claudia giving Callum's Harrow letter after he similarly lost it, and it is that very letter that gives him his biggest piece of information (thus far) about Aaravos' key: "Why would I open it? It's for you" / "Perhaps it will be you, Callum, who discovers the key's secrets" / "Come on sad prince - let's go get your cube" (1x04).

They're both clever, and even when they're screwing each other over, it usually results in some kind of knowledge being transferred back to each other, willing or unwillingly.

We see this most directly in the initial primal stone theft, which is arguably what kicks off both their arcs in the series in a lot of ways. Callum steals and ultimately destroys/smashes Claudia's primal stone in order to free Zym (and subsequently Rayla). He repeats this pattern of (thematic? literal?) theft a few more times: he steals/uses her dark magic book in order to free the dragon in 2x07 (and subsequently Rayla); he steals and empties out her potion in 5x09, knowing that she relies on it for her magic; and as mentioned, him and the rest of the dragang successfully steal the prison from her grasp, too.

The similarity of the prison to the primal stone has likewise been reinforced. The Dragang get the prison from Claudia after Rayla has already allied with Ezran, just like in 1x03, leaving Callum to be the one to actually disempower Claudia by removing her object of power (potion, primal stone). 6x01 ties the prison to the primal stone by giving Callum a similarly staged nightmare about smashing it, which echoes his old 2x08 dreams that do have a premonition slant surrounding them. The fact that Aaravos speaks of a great shattering (Patience) and Callum compares the whole world to a primal stone only makes this potential thread of symbolism more foreboding, whether it speaks to Aaravos' desire for getting out of his prison or for taking revenge on the Startouch elves in some manner.

Last but not least, we have the basis of for why Callum smashes Claudia's stolen primal stone (future prison?) in the first place: he had a good reason. While it's clear this sentiment is important for Claudia (and Terry) as she uses it as justification for her own actions - "Everything I'm doing is for my family. It's to save my dad" - and as the basis for why she's not evil, we see in a few instances that it's important to Callum too. He is relieved when Claudia can tell he had a good reason, specifically criticizes Rayla for not having one upon her return (as she didn't even get closure about Viren in her time away), and asserts that "if she didn't tell me, she had a good reason" when he sets her free in 5x01. And Callum asserts his own justification for both doing dark magic in the past and presumably in the present: "I had to, to save [Rayla]" and Finnegrin affirms this: "Oh, how noble."

When Claudia says "I need to tell you about some things back at home, you know, good things, bad things," Callum tells her about another good and bad thing in destroying the primal stone. It hatched Zym and took off Rayla's binding, but it also left him magic-less (and in the future, vulnerable to dark magic use). Which, ironically, is also true of Rayla's return both being "kind of good, and kind of bad" in helping Callum unlock another arcanum ("To love is simply to know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep") and simultaneously making him more vulnerable to dark magic use (the snake chains in 5x08).

All of this being a long winded way of saying I am intrigued by how Callum and Claudia may continue to circle and 'take' things from one another - Callum leaving a deceptive pearl in the castle that Claudia may mistake for the real one / Callum being responsible for achieving Claudia's goal of freeing Aaravos - in season six, because they really have one of the most interesting and thematic foil relationships in the whole series.

#callum x claudia #my rotisserie chicken #tdp #the dragon prince #pawns #multi #parallels #analysis series #analysis #mini meta #rotating them so carefully in my mind like rotisserie chicken rn #tdp meta #tdp callum #tdp claudia

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mrs5sn0w · 4 months

Text

Serenade of Shadows

I : A Dance of Shadows -> II : Whisper of Deceit -> III : A Symphony of Heartbreak -> IV : Fractured Reflections -> V : Shadows of allegiance -> VI : Echoes of Descent

Series Masterlist

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

warnings: Arranged marriage, HEAVY ANGST, unrequited love, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers

Reader's surname : Flare

Time frame: Before, during and after tbosbas

Synopsis: In the events of Panem's political dynamics and the 10th annual Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow and her find themselves entwined. Standing at the brink of an enforced union, 6 years later, their mutual trust unravels amidst a damaging misinterpretation, prompting Coriolanus to believe the wrong. As the glacial barriers guarding his emotions begin to melt, a revelation of profound feelings unfolds, initiating a sprint against time for redemption.

The grand dining hall played host to an elaborate dinner. The Flare family, adorned in Capitol splendor, joined the President of Panem and the first lady at the expansive table, a picture of power and privilege.

Amidst the clinking of fine plates and the soft hum of subdued conversation, Snow's gaze flickered across the table, a calculated assessment of the political alliances forged through familial ties.

The weight of expectation lingered in the air, a silent reminder that transcended the ornate surroundings.

"Coriolanus," His mother in law's voice, a delicate note in the symphony of Capitol conversations, interrupted his silent contemplation.

"Have you considered the importance of ensuring the continuity of your legacy?"

The subtle shift in conversation drew the attention of his wife, when she widened her eyes

"Indeed,the Capitol demands stability, and an offspring is a symbol of the preservation of our ideals." He answered

The ensuing conversation, laden with unspoken tension, unfolded like a choreographed dance of political discourse.

"Coriolanus, a grandchild would be the embodiment of our shared commitment to Panem's prosperity," Mr. Flare asserted, his words carrying the weight of familial expectations.

Snow, the embodiment of Capitol ideals, maintained a composed facade, his responses a careful navigation of the intricate web of political alliances.

"I understand the significance of the matter, and believe me, the continuation of our legacy is a priority." He smiled assuringly

The exchange of pleasantries and the strategic alliances formed in the dining hall masked the underlying tensions that festered beneath the surface.

As the night wore on, Snow and herself found themselves alone on the balcony once again, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of familial expectations.

The gilded stars overhead bore witness to a conversation that would shape the trajectory of their union.

"Coriolanus," she began, her voice a whisper against the backdrop of Capitol revelry,

"There's more to our lives than political alliances and familial expectations. I can't help but feel that we're drowning in a sea of obligations."

Snow, ever the stoic embodiment of Capitol authority, regarded her with a gaze that betrayed a flicker of vulnerability.

"Do you mean the baby ?"

"Look, our roles demand sacrifices. We must bear the weight of expectation" He continued

"But at what cost?" Her words hung in the air, a question that echoed through the hallowed halls of power.

"A child should not be a pawn in this elaborate game. Their existence should be more than a strategic move-"

"what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to have a child when his or her parents don't even love each other"

Snow responded with a controlled conviction.

"Our duty to Panem go beyond personal desires. Sacrifices are permanently needed in positions of power, and an heir ensures the continuation of our legacy."

The balcony, a stage for a silent confrontation of ideologies, bore witness to a struggle that transcended the grandeur of Capitol expectations. The first lady, torn between duty and personal convictions, sought a connection that defied the political facades.

"Coriolanus, is our marriage just a performance ? Are we condemned to a life of obligations, lacking of genuine connection?" Her words, a plea for authenticity, hung in the air.

Snow, grappling with the echoes of her doubts, responded with a tone that held no room for compromise.

"Our union is a symbol of stability, and personal sentiments must not jeopardize the balance we've established."

The night, draped in the shimmering tapestry of Capitol extravagance, witnessed a moment of profound discord within their shared existence. The balcony, a silent witness to the complexities of their union, stood as a testament to the sacrifices demanded by power.

The question hung in the air, loaded with the weight of unspoken expectations and conflicting desires.

“So, you want to have the baby?”

“I don’t want to. Not with you- but I must” his response carried a solemn gravity, his gaze directed downward, as if seeking refuge in the cold embrace of the balcony railing, an obstinate refusal to confront her.

Speech evaded her in that moment. His words, though not unexpected, bore the weight of an inevitability she had chosen to accept.

This was the determined path of her existence, a life shaped by the ideology of Capitol politics.

Her heart hissed with an indescribable ache, but she scoffed

“You must ?"

"You’re not the one carrying the weight of a life within you for nine months. I have a right to a say in this, and I say no.”

Her retort, though measured, bore the invincible spirit of resistance. The air crackled with the tension of opposing wills.

With that defiance lingering, she withdrew from the balcony, leaving behind an air heavy with unspoken grievances. The lingering echoes of their unresolved conflict reverberated through the night, painting the silence with the brushstrokes of discontent.

Days turned into weeks, and the looming specter of the 16th Hunger Games approached.

The Capitol, with its insatiable appetite for spectacle, prepared for another iteration of the gruesome tradition. Amidst the preparations, she found herself entangled in an afternoon tea party with the wives of powerful men, an event that would unveil a secret world of Capitol vices.

The air in the lavish tea room was filled with the delicate fragrance of brewed chamomile, and the soft clinking of porcelain echoed through the opulent space.

The First Lady, adorned in Capitol elegance, gracefully mingled with the wives of powerful men, each of them putting on a facade of refinement. She smiled, greeting them

“Ladies, isn't the selection of teas exquisite today?”

Mrs Creed, the wife of Mr Creed who was considered old capitol money as he made his fortune mostly from Timber within district 7 answered her

“absolutely dear, they Capitol always knows how to indulge our senses.

Another wife of a powerful man, Mrs Heavensbee, who is married to Mr Heavensbee, who helped funding the reconstruction of Heavensbee Hall chimed to the first lady

"Indeed. It's a break from the usual hustle."

Mrs Crane, a distant relative of the late Arachne Crane and the wife of a senior game maker confided in a hushed tone,

"You know, ladies, I've found the most thrilling way to make our privileged lives less boring."

The first lady smirked under her breath, intrigued she answered

"Oh? Do share, Mrs. Crane"

Mrs Crane leaned in and whispered

"My Husband and I have been selling information about this year's Hunger Games to the districts. It's quite the profitable business, I must say."

A collective gasp swept through the tea room, but Mrs Snow, a master at masking her true emotions, maintained her composure. The revelation hung in the air, a breach of Capitol decorum that threatened to shatter their carefully crafted illusions.

"Mrs Crane, you can't be serious!" Mrs Creed said

Mrs Heavensbee whispered to the ear of the first lady

"Did you hear that? Selling information about the Games?"

With her purposely shocked feigning shocked expression, Mrs Snow replied to the woman who had just revealed her secret

"My, this is quite unexpected. Mrs. Crane, are you aware of the consequences of such... actions ?"

Mrs. Crane smirked and gently touched Mrs. Snow's hand, "Oh, my dear, power isn't just about what you have; it's about what you know. And I know quite a bit." Yet, she felt uncomfortable with the contact.

"And you won't tell your dear husband about this, will you? Seeing that it's only a marriage of convenience as well. He doesn't love you, does he?"

The words hung in the air as a collective gasp swept through the room, and even Mrs Snow couldn't conceal her shock when Mrs. Crane uttered those offensive words.

The atmosphere shifted, and a fiery rage ignited within her, a desire to retaliate against the venomous insinuations.

The tension in the room thickened as the wives grappled with the implications of Mrs. Crane's revelation. The First Lady, however, saw this as an opportunity to play a dangerous game of her own.

She maintained a composed facade despite the storm of emotions within, responded to Mrs. Crane with a subtle smile that masked her inner turmoil.

"Oh, Mrs. Crane, your insights are truly intriguing," she remarked, her voice carrying a calculated charm.

"But you see, secrets are like delicate flowers. They bloom in the shadows, and revealing them too soon might wither their beauty."

As Mrs. Crane smirked, believing she had the upper hand, the first lady continued her deceptive play.

"As for my husband, it's good to let curiosity stay alive, don't you think? I wouldn't want to end the interest too soon. After all, a convenient marriage can be interesting too."

The words were carefully chosen, each sentence a thread in the intricate tapestry of her deception. While Mrs. Crane reveled in what she perceived as victory, the first lady harbored a secret plan to disclose the truth to Coriolanus Snow at a more opportune moment despite their rocky relationship.

The tea party, once an arena of veiled conversations, transformed into a battleground of strategic maneuvers, and she played her part with a masterful finesse.

The ambiance in the grand study of the Presidential Mansion was steeped in the warm glow of late evening. As Coriolanus Snow occupied himself with the affairs of the Capitol, she made a determined entrance, her eyes ablaze with an intensity that demanded attention.

"Coriolanus, we need to talk," she declared, her voice cutting through the otherwise still air.

Looking up from his desk, Snow responded with a dismissive air,

"What could be so important?"

Her gaze bore into him, a storm brewing within her. "Mrs. Crane revealed something today, something that affects us."

Raising an eyebrow in skepticism, Snow retorted,

"Mrs. Crane? What nonsense are you talking about?"

With a sharp tone, she revealed

"Tea parties aren't just for pleasantries. Secrets spill in the presence of satisfaction."

Unconvinced, Snow urged her to get to the point. A cunning smile played on her lips as she disclosed

"She and her husband have been selling information about the Hunger Games to the districts."

"Why would they do that?" Snow questioned, his disbelief evident.

"Power, influence, money," she replied, the coldness in her tone underscoring the gravity of the situation.

"Capitol vices that run deeper than we imagine."

Brushing it off, He asked, "And how does it affect us?"

A flash of fury crossed her features.

"She questioned our marriage, Coriolanus. Doubted your love for me."

Snow, in a dismissive laugh, attributed it to jealousy. However, she remained resolute.

"That's not the point. We need to address this."

Sarcastically, Snow queried, "What do you suggest?"

A cunning smile returned to her face.

"Expose them, let the Capitol see that even in our so-called convenient marriage, we are a force to be reckoned with."

she paced around the room, then continued

"You need to get someone to dig more into this, If i may, I will modify the game, I have a few ideas in mind and never have I thought in my whole life I'd say this, nor do I want to, but they must be eliminated"

The gravity of her words hung in the air, creating an unsettling atmosphere. Snow, while accustomed to manipulation and power plays, felt a momentary shock at the transformation in her.

Her determination to take control and eliminate threats mirrored a darkness that echoed his own. In that moment, a chilling realization dawned on him — he didn’t want her to descend into the depths of cruelty as he had.

The intricate dance of power within their relationship took an unexpected turn, leaving Snow to grapple with the weight of the monster he might have inadvertently influenced.

Taglist : @randomgurl2326 @princessloveweird @rosewine-5 @cookielovesbook-akie @qoopeeya @corpsebridenightmare @bl0ndelilac @unclecrunkle @puredreamagination @lofhdfn

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starlightvivi · 4 months

Text

Soldier's Silent Love

Ghost x Reader

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Summary: Y/N and Ghost, comrades who once kept their feelings unspoken, find themselves reunited on a mission where a forced fake marriage unravels years of hidden emotions. Ghost, who concealed his affection when you were transferred away, now faces the challenge of maintaining the act while wrestling with a love that never truly faded. In the midst of duty and deception, their story unfolds, blurring the lines between soldier and lover.

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Mention of :- Romance, suspense, smut, (mdni 18+) some fluff, a lot of flirting, jealous ghost, fake married couple

(Smut) MDI

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

First part This part 4

Words: 6.3k

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As Ghost booked the room he called Y/n, and you followed with him, as ghost realized you were beside him he instantly grabbed your waist harshly and pulled you close to him, you were surprised but you didn't mind instead you liked it, it's like they finally are together and after like years hiding their feelings, you both gets into the elevator ready to head to your room as the elevator door closes. Ghost positioned himself in front of you, lowering his head to meet yours. "You looked divine this all day, I can't take my eyes off you" he confessed in a hushed tone. His hands, previously at her waist, delicately traversed down to her ass, applying a gentle yet possessive squeeze. As she met his gaze, she found his eyes filled with a potent mix of lust and deep affection, creating an undeniable connection between them. Then the elevator opens, ghost back, and gives you some space to walk as you both walk in the hotel hallway finding the room as you get inside. You can't wait to share your long-back feelings with him as you hide it never relieving as they are alone now you can finally tell him. Having all night to talk about. As you turned to face him, a surge of electricity pulsed through the air. Without hesitation, Ghost's hand found its way to your neck, a tender yet assertive grip pulling her irresistibly closer. In that charged moment, he met your lips with an eagerness that mirrored the intensity of their emotions. Simultaneously, his other hand enveloped your waist, creating a magnetic connection that transcended mere physicality. The kiss was a dance of passion, an exchange of unspoken desires that had lingered in the air for far too long. As their lips melded, she willingly surrendered to the whirlwind of emotions, losing herself in the raw intensity of the connection. Your fingers instinctively found purchase, holding onto him as if anchoring yourself in a sea of shared emotion. As he held you and turned around pushing you against the door and pinning you in one place with his huge muscular body, while not breaking their passionate kiss. His heavy hand roams around your back, pulling your dress zipper down, completely making your dress fall on the ground, he slightly moves back to see you and to his surprise, you are wearing matching lingerie (his favorite black) making ghost spark with excitement and more needy, he gets closer to you and kisses your lips gently but slightly roughly, he picks you up in his arms turns towards the bed lying you down. He quickly undone his clothes and gets back on top of you, you let out a shaky breath he notices how you are breathing heavily and shaking a bit, he leans and pepper kisses your face, trying to relax you, as you calm down, his hand goes down between your thigh rubbing on you pantie, gently massaging your clothed cunt, you let out sharp intake of breath. He glides his hand up to your thighs, feeling you shiver as he does. Gently massaging your clothed clit his fingertips touches your clit, as you flinch a little. He breathed "Do want me to contin--" "YES" he didn't even complete his sentence as you enthusiastically, responsed to him. He slowly removed your panties leaving you exposed to him, hearing a gasp from your lips. He lowers himself on top of you, pressing his lips to yours again. You kiss him sloppily, fully flushed, and your belly feels warm, he moves down kissing your neck and leaving some hickeys as he unclasps your bra, sucking gently and biting on both of your nipples. You never felt this way, you never thought you would be having this moment with him, you have never been this turned on before, he lowers his head and rests on yours his gaze focused on you, watch your reaction and discomfort as he doesn't find any of those he quickly moved down between your thigh and holds them still as he slides his tongue over your clit and sucking it, you tilting your head back moaning out.

Continuation

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socheckitout-mikey · 2 years

Text

heey y’all! (‘: i don’t usually write smut, but this was a request from my old blog. it’s taken my ass like deadass three years to write it. ik it’s super long and i got carried away, but i’m proud bc i haven’t written smut in a very long time. originally it was meant to be semi nsfw but i went the whole nine yards instead!

also i’d like to give credit to @brideofcthulhu10 for helping me with this one. she helped co-write the beginning, whilst also giving me amazing pointers and keeping me on track when it came to marko’s character. so deffo give her blog a look through bc she’s such an amazing writer! <3333 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

(GIF credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs)

Title: The Dilemma

Pairings: Marko x Fem!Reader

Summary: As any high-school senior, end of year exams encroach upon you, which results in your disappearance from the infamous Boardwalk. Marko, your vampiric boyfriend, feels awfully neglected and sees the strain that boring old studying is causing you. After being a gigantic nuisance in your time of need, Marko decides to aid you with your dilemma by getting you to to unwind. An innocent massage turns to much more. (READER IS 18/19 YEARS OLD IN THIS PIECE!!!)

Word count: 9,916

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD SO 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!! READER IS 18/19 IN THIS PIECE!!! Anxiety, angst, mentions of tension with parents, mentions of reader throwing things at Marko (mainly bc he scared her and also a plushie), established relationship, argument, make out session, massage, oral (female receiving), sexual content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, marking, depictions of blood, blood drinking/feeding and Marko being a sex God v.v Lemme know if I missed anything.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Finals had encroached upon you and the rest of your senior class like a throttling bitter conclusion. An immense pressure had settled upon your slumped shoulders in a complex manner. It all gave you an uproarious migraine. Perched upon those shoulders of yours was a Devil and an Angel, reciting an exhausting, unanimous monologue you had encountered fervently with frustration and exhaustion for the past few weeks. The Devil enumerated vividly about how the stress of hunching over your books would only cause your spine to permanently warp, whilst grey hairs would prematurely appear on your head. It whispered of the sincere notion that you would be able to seek vehement pleasure by kicking back and relaxing with your boyfriend Marko; who currently laid sprawled out against your cushiony pink covers in an absurdly bored fashion behind you. He was the poster child of, “Are you finished yet?”

His only purpose was to grate on your nerves that much more viciously.

The Angel held up its own assertive chant with the utmost conviction. A soothing lullaby that frankly lulled you into boring hibernation, as if you were a grizzly bear entering its cave for the tundric winter months to come. You were well aware that it spoke of knowledge, reason and logic. The qualities that were dwindling — yet with its vibrant torch, it led the way to the future you so desperately had dreamed of since you were in middle school: A good job meant a good home, and so the domino effect would hopefully follow you in a cascading positive effect. Yet passing wasn’t everything, right? Well, the Angels’ lustrous song seemed to disrupt the already choppy sea wrecking the ships in your mind, pointing the way to salvation. However, you felt as though the Devil latched on, shoving you under the bartering force that the School District whipped into your back. You were merely a slave to the formidable system.

And thus the Angel and Devil fought their daunting battle amongst who could lead you quicker to each destination they desired for you to propel towards. The truth of the matter was that there was no balance within the chaos. You either went all in or did nothing at all. You were only battling with the Yin and Yang within you, but you didn't quite realise that. You needed someone else to obtain that truth and light it up in a firework festival. That someone was unfortunately your bouncing boyfriend Marko.

The sudden weight upon your tired shoulders felt like an angsty teen drama — unbearable. They slumped down with a force as you looked at the Math equations before you with contempt. Your mind was playing tricks on you because now the algebra seemed to be written in some bizarre language you swore was only known by extraterrestrials. Never had you experienced such affliction quite so potent in all of your young years of living until this very moment in time. High school, fortunately, had come and gone like the spring’s floral breeze, allowing for the stuffy summer heat to bound through the atmosphere like a blundering bull in a China shop. Great, now you were sweating too.

Despite your immortal boyfriend, Marko, having intermittently insisted that you hadn’t needed the extra education, you had graciously swung your bat in a conflicting vicious fashion. Your battered old baseball had leapt its last journey, landing into the lap of a comfortable Community College here in Santa Carla. Your original aim and hope had been to apply for greener pastures, such as the university in the nearest plush city. Yet you knew it was too far away from the Boardwalk. Your painfully vampiric boyfriend would kick up a putrid stink at the mere notion of you being so far away. Especially since daytime already kept you both apart, creating such a colourful apprehension to course through your very mortal veins.

You’d miss Marko too much as well, and slumming it under your bed in the dorm room all day and night just wouldn’t cut it. It wasn’t going to be the ideal move for any party involved. Familiar sunny Santa Carla would just have to do before you surfed your last wave, ticketing you straight to The Immortality Club.

“College?!” Marko sputtered out like a dying steam engine.

His hazel eyes blinked several times in absolute bewilderment as his body froze. The brown fuzzy teddy bear he had been carelessly chucking up and down in the air in a mindless fashion missed his right hand entirely. Its furry, soft backside flopped with a tender bounce atop his chest.

“Why would you go back to school baby?” He inquired desperately, “You’re already done.” His words hung in the air, thick like an uncomfortable smog riddled with consternation.

His nimble fingers swatted the bear off of him and he sat up straighter than a plank. The tender plush bounced off of your floorboards, tumbling into your open closet.

The same fingers suddenly danced restlessly to your dusty, cluttered nightstand where he aimed for that prized purple pen with the fluffy pom-pom dotted on the end of it: His digits fiddled with it fruitlessly, eyebrows creased together. Boy was he all sorts of twitchy tonight since boredom had taken hold of him by the balls. He felt as though he was going crazy. Especially with the apprehension at your announcement to further your needless education. Who needed books and crammed study sessions when you could be a youthful undead being for the rest of eternity? You’d never grow old, never die — this was a total blessing sitting right in your lap! Yet you shoved it off to the side without another thought. All of the previous discussions you’d had with him about turning meant nothing to you now, or so it seemed. Poofing into thin air, therefore to Marko, it meant you’d been replaced by some other worldly ghost that reeked of crippled anxiety; which, by the way, was akin to the rotting scent of death itself.

He had lazily propped himself against the headboard of your bed now, eyes not meetings yours — almost as if he were too meek to look up at you. He already knew the answer to his question from interpreting the blurry, chaotic dance of your thoughts rattling in your brittle skull. One more thought and your head would come blowing off! After all, he’d also noticed that physically you were in a frenzied stupor of stress and inner turmoil. You reeked of palpable insecurity and rotting angst, just like a teenage drama on screen. Blegh! It caused the blond boy to crinkle his hooked nose wryly, warping his angelic gestures.

Part of the reason why Marko alluded to the opportunity of peering up at you was due to the simple fact that his visit had come to be a frightening ordeal on your behalf. One that led to an abundant earful of curses and a book to have been launched at him — almost knocking his head clean off his shoulders. Right, you had the reflexes of a rabid raccoon startled by a rat when you were snuck up on. He knew better than to do such a thing. Luckily he had ducked just in time, smartly remarking that you should have gone for sports instead. He regretted the witty quip instantly by the displeased look on your face. So he was cast upon your frilly bed to pass the time like a woeful jester sentenced to imprisonment for not having entertained his Queen accordingly. The tragedy of it all!

And although you were aggravated at his unexpected visit — more salty over the fact he’d frightened you —, you did not have the slightest of hearts to kick him out. It felt too heart wrenching for you to do so. In fact, it was like kicking a stray kitten out into the rain. His damn bulbous eyes whenever you’d get close to the notion would appear like round, quivering rain drops — the pupils heavily swallowing the earthy iris. So you sighed instead, turning back to your work whilst Marko made himself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as his bored self would permit.

“I don’t want just a job, Marko.” You muttered irately under your breath from over your complex Math equations that were scrawled in their dreadful chicken scratch language upon gridded paper.

“I want a career! I wanna hone a craft.” You explained further with a nonchalant wave of your wrist. Your tone was curt, attempting to balance out his boredom that apparently began to increase the longer he remained there.

You paid no heed to his insistence, scribbling your notes with a vengeance for the paper you carved it into.

“That’s what I mean though,” Marko huffed out a hefty sigh, sitting up straight suddenly with his legs criss-crossed in a half lotus position. “Why do you need to work, anyway? Just one bite and BAM! All your problems would be gone, baby doll. I keep tellin’ ya!” He exclaimed animatedly, hands thrown up in the air in his own heated and wondrous stupor.

He’d even get David to teach you how to use compulsion so you could get whatever you wanted. It was so pathetically simple! He wondered now if you’d hit your head recently to have forgotten the simplicities of becoming a vampire. No stress would ensue, so long as you abided but the rules. Why couldn’t you just see that?

“Hush! I’ve already made up my mind about this. You’re not going to change it!” You quipped back sharply, grabbing a rusty coloured stuffed cat from your messy desk and hurled it half heartedly in his direction for the second time that night.

Damn, you really did mean business tonight.

The plushie cat managed (miraculously may I add) to bounce tenderly off of the side of his perky blond curls. A low laugh escaped from his sharp mouth. He was well aware by now that you were only attempting to push him away due to the draining stress of academics. The prospect of taking things too personally had been going really swell up until this point. He wasn’t going to afford himself to buckle now like he would from anyone else. Afterall, any other person who launched two objects at him would be decapitated and dead at his musty booted feet. You were getting off easy by a mile in comparison. You didn’t even know how much Divine Intervention had spared you at this point.

So instead he untangled his thin legs from their half lotus position, swinging them off the edge of the bed as he observed you nervously wind your fingers through your hair — tugging slightly at the roots in vexation. The sight made him feel sympathy for you, a feeling that was nearly completely foreign to someone like him. It caused his dead stomach to knot and twist uncomfortably because he just wanted to lend you a helping hand. He just wasn’t sure how he could. School work wasn’t exactly his forte and all, being as he never acquired much of an education when he was a kid at the end of the last century. Nevertheless, he was your boyfriend and boyfriends had to take care of their girlfriends, right?

With a defeated sigh, Marko pressed his strong palms on his knees and found the sudden energy to get to his feet. His chunky boots clunked noisily on the ground, an incessant irritance to you. It made your body visibly cringe in your chair with each step he took. It was as though he was dropping bricks of led onto the ground. Your boyfriend, lost in his own deep thoughts, remained oblivious, wandering aimlessly to your bookshelf in search of something to cure his doldrum. The shelves were coated in a peculiar thin layer of dust, a dead giveaway that you had not kept this space to its usual tidiness. His inquisitive fingers collected the fluffy debris similar to dust bunnies on the tips before swiftly rubbing them together, which disintegrated his fuzzy pals into mere nothingness.

‘Damn, when was the last time you cleaned this place?’ He thought. It wasn’t like you to just allow things to collect dust. At this rate, you’d end up having your own personal Cave that Marko didn’t want a hand in helping you clean.

His pesky touch ventured along, dancing across the spines of old tattered novels aged well with love. Reading wasn’t really his style, but he supposed he didn’t mind it when he’d lounge in your lap like a cat, bathing in the stark silver moonlight whilst you read ‘The Outsiders’ to him late into the night. The accents you pulled off were enjoyable, a husky hushed twang so your parents wouldn’t hear. You always did a spanking job at Matt Dillons’ Dallas Winston. He couldn’t help but snort at the times you’d tear up during said character’s devastating death. It had alarmed Marko the first time it had happened. Now he only ever teased you about it, equipped with the ability to wipe your tears away and give you a moment to settle before continuing. He enjoyed those memories a lot.

Marko’s marvellously silver tongue clicked in his mouth liberally to an unordinary beat he’d plucked out of thin air from many moons ago. It did nothing but sourly distract you from your work. Your body tense once more, knee jerking in a wild bouncing fashion, knocking the underside of your desk in time with his clacking tune. You chewed your pencil menacingly, the brittle wood splintering slightly in your mouth. It made astounding practice for future inevitable victims. Perhaps the School Board would be your first ones.

Still, the more you travelled down the mental highway, you felt nothing but guilt at the thought of kicking Marko out. Recalled his disheartened countenance that struck his handsome features at the mere inkling of casting him out into the bewitched humid night.

Just when you thought you’d lost your mind enough, Marko flicked the power switch of your radio as if on purpose. The speakers screamed to life, blaring out the belting introduction of You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. The precipitous noisy intrusion throttled into the air, shocking your eardrums. It scared the living daylights out of you for the second time that night! Marko’s mouth spread into a harmless grin, mouthing the lyrics with the utmost enthusiasm; his hands scrambling to his abdomen to begin shredding on the gnarliest air guitar he could muster. His head and body hopped comfortably along to the hypnotic drum beat and flourishing bass, floating up on a mouthwatering guitar riff and husky vocals to die for. Edgy.

As if possessed by a formidable spirit, you whipped around in your seat, eyes wild with offence. All of the equations behind you were now abandoned. You were giving Marko the look that could surely kill even an immortal. He seemed to be on another planet, too deep in the rock n’ roll blaring boisterously from your speakers to take note of your inconvenience.

Prompted by a supernatural sixth sense, the curly blond turned to look at you — an honest inquiry over whether his air guitar appeared better than Paul’s ready on the tongue. It’s life, a premature one, slid back down his throat and into his voice box. Realisation hit him when the usual mischief in his facial expression fled his countenance entirely. He mimicked that of a child being told off by its raging mother.

“Oops!” His lips mouthed, turning off the radio instantly.

The stark silence built thickly in the air, only allowing the remaining orchestra of cicada’s outside to be heard. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that vein in your forehead bulging with every beat of your galloping heart.

“Sorry babe.” He stated sheepishly, hands held up in surrender by his head.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” You gritted out twice, more for your benefit the second time around.

As if to solidify a semblance of being non-combative, you held your hands up on either side of your head. A silent plea for Marko to cooperate with your simple boundaries.

Perhaps he wasn’t entirely sorry about it, but that didn’t matter if you didn’t know it. Though with the way you tried not to glower at him, he understood, without a doubt, that you were more than aware he was only half apologetic. After all, he was fuelled by a thick smog of boredom, which only forced unease to burst from him like the flames of Hell. Nevertheless, he watched you with his widened gaze before settling on your bed once more. A couple more hours wouldn’t kill him, right?

“Just don’t touch anything, okay? As soon as I get through the rest of this chapter, maybe we can watch a movie together.” You suggested through gritted teeth.

An inkling of hope dawned across Marko’s features like The Gates of Heaven had opened for him. It felt like the sun was warming his ice cold flesh, the fuzzy memory from his mortal life in 1901 came to fruition in his mind. Refreshing to say the least. His back inched higher, attempting to obtain a good look at your bulky textbook.

“How much ya got left?”

You hummed, pondering whilst your stiff aching fingers thumbed the pages. It was an entire wad. Marko’s heart rocketed into the old floorboards under his feet, and he hung his head in existential dread. You wouldn’t even be finished by sun up.

“About half a chapter,” you commented with hope, but to him it was all a charlatan’s sham.

“Yeah, yeah okay…” he mumbled, cast to the cushiony abode of your bed.

The ambience of the room settled back to the mind numbing pace of planned study sessions. His only two forms of escape were to either cast himself into a premature sleep or leave without you noticing. Both were tempting. Nevertheless, he remained there, paralysed with indecision.

Soon misery encased him, your plush bed and messy surroundings incapable of quenching his need for attention. A sour trance gathered deep within his undead soul. Blasé eyes analysed the way that you seemed to slightly settle in your seat. The scratching of pencil on paper overcame the atmosphere like a thick infestation of utter disinterest. Though he wasn’t alluded by the fact your muscles were still taut underneath your baggy black shirt and baby blue pyjama shorts. The sight made him pity you once more, because you were slaving away.

Suddenly a nagging urge told him to just burn all of your textbooks so he could have his damn girlfriend back!

From his stance on the bed, he noted that complex algebra was what you were studying: The sight made his stomach twist sickly and his head throb, because with Paul rotting his brain ninety percent of the time, Marko couldn’t even recall what 2+2 equaled.

Eventually his patience wore thin.

“Babe, how long have you been studying?” He finally broke the long silence. A casual air to his tone.

Marko rested his elbows upon his knees with a hunched back once he sat up; unconsciously mirroring you. Fixated on your entire being. It was almost humorous the way you seemed to sink further into your stressful work with every equation you tortured yourself to complete. The inclination both distressed and astonished him. This wasn’t like you at all. In fact, he was willing to bet that you’d been switched out by a government clone provided by the CIA with the way you were acting. You despised math!

When was the last time you had taken a damn break? When was this ever going to end? Were you ever not going to throw ginger stuffed cats at him? God forbid if he had to endure you worrying when your exams were all said and done. If you so much as breathed a damn fear towards the notion of not passing, he was going to lose his damn mind.

It was almost nearing the mark of an entire month since you’d made your typical appearance at the Boardwalk. An unusual occurrence in itself. It had worried him to begin with, especially since it had occurred out of the blue. No notion communicated whatsoever of your educational predicament. Marko was usually rather patient with you, however, since he hadn’t ever exactly attended school himself (or graduated for that matter), he was honestly struggling to relate to the importance of it all. Good grades and whimsical desires to attend college didn’t hold the same meaning to him as it did to you. It frankly just sounded like a damn fairytale.

In fact, the whole ordeal just was a major waste of time to him. Afterall, he held the potent magic of immortality in the palms of his hands; brandished like the forbidden fruit that Adam himself consumed. There were sneaky tricks and enchanting gifts that he — along with every vampire — possessed. All that temptation didn’t seem to tickle your fancy in the current moment. Marko couldn’t deny the truth that if it (college) made you happy in the long run, he didn’t have the heart to cut in and stop you. He wanted you to be content at the end of the day. So long as you also cared about his happiness too. It didn’t really feel like you did — not with you pushing him away like he was some diseased fleabag.

“Uuuuhhmmmm shit,” you began with a flourishing fluster encapsulating your countenance. You used the end of your chewed up pencil to scratch the side of your head vigorously, “I dunno, three days?” You shrugged.

It sounded as if you were asking him for clarification, but Marko sat there just as clueless and waiting for your answer.

To be completely transparent, that was only a guesstimate thrown to the stuffy air with no refreshing breeze to carry it away from you. You were utterly fried; all for very different reasons. Meals consisted of take-out or quick instant snacks so the remnants could be discarded easily. You went from a daily shower to one every three days; dishes had been piled up so high in your sink, because you didn’t possess the luxury known as time: All until your mother lost her mind and dove in infuriatingly to maintain downstairs her spotless domain. Completing these simple tasks designed to keep your living quarters in order were overwhelming now.

Marko wasn’t the only one feeling the absence of your chipper presence. As just mentioned, your dutiful mother took up your chores to accomplish with disgruntled agitation, because she had limited time too. Yet no matter how much she may have resented you currently, she found some compassion for you in your final weeks as a senior highschool student. She took it with a badge of silence, but you felt that heavy churning of guilt in your gut whenever she would impulsively huff and puff through the thin walls, as well as slam cupboards shut. Nothing went unnoticed by you, but it drove you further into the disorganised abode of unrelenting chaos. You were just glad your parents were out on a weekend trip. Sweet silence was yours.

Escaping was all you wanted to do. Yet you were bound to your desk by a hefty chain around your ankle with the belief that if you failed, you’d have let everyone around you down. There was so much pressure riding on your back that it felt unbearably hot. Scalding tears burnt the corners of your eyes and you fought to wipe them away with two quick slaps to your cheeks.

Oh how you missed the Boardwalk desperately! Longing for the nights out with Marko where the oceanic droplets dotted your skin when you paraded down it on his metallic steed. They seemed so far away now, so out of touch that you could barely recall what it felt like to be nestled in the musty, dusty caverns where the boy’s home sat within. Those nights were always fun, riddled with a peculiar perception of time that made them feel as though they went on forever. Frankly, you missed him and his brothers. However, even though you did, you couldn’t afford to burn out. If you could just squeeze out a little more, then maybe you could manage to get through with a hair length left of energy and patience.

Like a precariously challenging puzzle, the pieces finally clicked into place in Marko’s nifty skull. A lightbulb dinged over his head, illuminating everything around him and he saw things with virgin eyes. Once that had occurred, the relief he experienced was knocked viciously out of the way and replaced by a worry that he never had felt before. You’d always been splendid at managing yourself in a healthy manner. Balancing and pacing yourself was a natural instinct you possessed, crafted into an art during the academic year. Marko had sat back comfortably up until this point, just taking it all for granted, because you’d always been so self-reliant.

Yet as he stared at you from across your bedroom intently, he began to take note of the little differences surrounding you both. The space was riddled with disorganisation as its main theme, messiness spread out in all of its glory. A large pile of dirty clothes lay in the left corner of your room, making him silently plead with the universe that your socks wouldn’t start crawling out towards him with a mind of their own. Your pink bed covers he was perched upon weren’t made in their usual neat style; that stupid desk you had yourself rooted in front of was clumped together in a marinade of dirty food containers, pens, pencils and papers. A giant teetering tower of jagged books to the right looked ominous and shaky to him. The trash can beside it was overflowing with a cornucopia of crumpled bits of paper that looked as if Jason himself had hacked at them with his own chainsaw! What in the hell was going on with you?

“You shouldn’t sweat the exams, babe.” Marko stated without much of a rational thought.

The gratuitous comment seemed to startle you to austere stillness. Similar to a cat who’d grown enraged, frightened as its fur and tail zapped with pulsing electricity. Your aura resembled the frizzy taut hairs of said feline friend; and your head whipped to the side so viciously that it struck a literal nerve, causing your vision to blur. Paying little mind to the agony of the nauseating feeling, you pressed on.

“What!?” You seethed through tightly gritted teeth. You were a festering beast. All the chipped pieces of fragile pottery you’d held together shattered. Patience was no longer your virtue.

Acting on impulse, Marko’s fingerless gloved hands sprang to the sides of his head once more, eyebrows raised. You really needed to chill out.

“Damn, hear me out!” He started, a little heat behind his words.

He was frankly pretty tired of the onslaught you shoved onto him. You were beginning to yank him into the depths of your own anguish. He never swung that way initially, but you were spoiling his night that had started off perfectly fine, thank you very much.

“All that I meant by that was you’re the smartest person I know, babe. You’ve passed everything so far. There’s no way you’re failin’ anything!” His words had intended to diffuse the bomb he’d set up from his previous comment.

Reassurance was what you needed right? Wrong. It only seemed to spread the shrapnel and vibrant inferno swirling violently within you. A snort dispelled,, forcing you to drop your pencil on your notebook. Disbelief rattled your expression, the fuse to a TNT’s detonator had been slammed down staunchly and rage encompassed you over the smallest of things.

“Yeah, like you know what it’s like to have all this pressure on your shoulders. You just bum around the Cave like you’re a damn king without a care in the world! The most you have to worry about is whether you get David the right kind of take-out when Michael’s lazing on the bed next to Star!”

The words were haughty, sturdy ammunition pelting Marko to a mushy pulp. The worst part was that you’d turned your back on him when you’d said it. Honing in on your unreasonable point. The world didn’t just revolve around you, you know.

There was a flicker of irritation that blossomed like a breathtakingly fiery rose in his chest. Hot electricity pulsed his eyes alight, though as soon as the burning rage had appeared, Marko settled it with a deep breath. Right, you were his girlfriend, he couldn’t kill you like some blundering drunk Surf Nazi. No matter how much of a raging bitch you were being right now.

A few minutes sauntered by, a tense silence stretching with its thick tendrils that imbedded themselves in your throat. Realisation hit you square in the chest and you dug the heels of your hands into your sore, closed eyes harshly at the thought of how stupid you were being.

“Shit! I’m so sorry.” There was a denseness to your tone, shame blanketing it like a sugar coated donut. If only it felt as sweet.

“Nah, don’t sweat it, babes!” Marko released with a heavy sigh, a passive manner taking over him. It wasn’t hard to do.

Afterall, the anger had been shaken out of every dead cell in his body. He lifted a cool hand, his fingers burying in his blond licks and pushing them out of his eyes, a simple motion that soothed him slightly.

“No, it’s not not!” You sighed out, tipping your head back in your wooden chair till it teetered a bit. You stared dreadfully up at the ceiling with bitter contempt. “I hate this! I hate all of this studying. If I look at one more number I’m gonna commit arson on the school so I don’t have to take my exam on Monday morning!”

“You know that can be arranged for you with the help of Paul and I? ” Marko grinned at you, the prospect of putting all this incessant studying to a grand halt really tickled his fancy; whether you were being serious or not.

“Not funny!”

“What? You wouldn’t be connected. Scouts honour, babes.”

Though from the expression you were giving him, Marko was certain that attempting to pull jokes with you so soon wasn’t in anyone’s best interests just yet. Not when you were wound up so tight. However there was the beginning of a smile working on the edges of your beautiful lips. It settled the tension a little.

“There’s my girl!” He replied proudly, patting his gloved hands on the thighs of his jeans habitually.

Suddenly another lightbulb moment zinged its fluorescent rays above his head. Jackpot! He knew exactly what you needed to relax. He did, afterall, have magical hands that were perfect for massaging. A little TLC and you’d be well oiled enough to snuggle with him as you both watched a movie. Just a little loving was all he wanted — he missed you.

Like a golden sleek mountain lion with prey locked in its predatory gaze, Marko crept stealthily towards you on surprisingly light feet with his paws out. Ready for the kill. Those icy digits were immediately welcomed by your clammy hot skin, and your affliction seemed to melt away in the heat of the humid air. This was precisely the reaction Marko had imagined in his wondrously gruesome noggin.

To begin with, you seemed tense at the idea of his touch gone foreign from the lack of his familiar presence. Frustration mixed with guilt at your own pitiful past actions as a girlfriend. The stress was making you crack on so many levels. His touch was comforting despite the fact your shoulders made a subtle attempt at shaking him off. Yet he had a firm hold on you — certainly not enough to cause harm. What didn’t he understand about this entire ordeal? This was extremely important to you. His candid words rung in your ears, a gong gone off to begin the journey of relaxation and release of pent up frustrations.

“You gotta take a break. Even just for five minutes.” He echoed your already persuaded thoughts. A wispy coo, hypnotic in nature.

You were incapable of resistance to his powerful abilities he reserved specifically for times such as these. Sure he wasn’t David, but Marko knew how to pull someone as stubborn as you into his lane, wrestling them into a relaxed submission of chill time. Damn him and his undead powers!

His fingers were possessed by black magic — working at the sore, aching muscles that had become strained by impeccably poor posture and a lack of necessary exercise. You lacked both the hefty bark and bite to fight him, it had disappeared with the energy and motivation to engage in anyone or anything other than what was currently going on in the present moment. Temptation wanted you to reap the rewards of Marko’s skilful ministrations. You swiftly ushered into the realm of utter selfishness, leaning into his touch wantonly the moment his pesky long appendages massaged down your shoulders in a taut yet tender fashion. A wince escaped your lips once he worked on a specific knot. You stirred and twitched in the seat like it had become unbearably hot.

With your face bunched up, a moan entailing slight anguish fluttered past your lips, Marko eased up on said spot, focusing on another area.

“Atta girl,” He grinned, “Relax…” an angelic whisper crept into your ear.

He sounded hypnotic, binding you under his blissful spell of ease. Though it was that specific spot in your sore muscles that caused you irritation. Marko left it happily because he’d worked the majority of it out. Now his long, thin fingers padded at the balls of your shoulders, solace in nature before returning up the valley of your neck for the second time. He simpered subconsciously to himself in a victorious fashion the moment you went completely lax under his touch. A pleasurable surrender to his beck and call. Your arms went limp, resembling the feeling and look of overcooked spaghetti. The rear of the chair and Marko’s light, yet secure grip on you were the only two things that kept you upright. There was an immature smugness to his motions that you could practically feel engraved into you.

“You like that?” There was audacity for him to whisper it against the soft shell of your ear. Such a seductive note.

Your response came to him through another throaty groan of approval and a swift, gentle nod of your head. So subtle that for a moment, he wondered if he’d dreamt up the consensual physical action entirely.

Mischief purchased him, a long lost friend. Sharp teeth nicked the delicate flesh of your earlobe, mouth finding a mind of their own to trail down the side of your neck. The feverish pulsepoint he’d grown to know well was peppered in an onslaught — each kiss and nip purposeful. Melting like the ice caps into his touch, the Devil suddenly pulled away after taking a step back. Your back was held up by the chair entirely. A pout formed your precious mouth, head tilted towards him. Your half hooded eyes unveiled a cheeky sight indeed: He was smirking with that Cheshire grin he was so renowned for. Not to mention that he’d propped himself like royalty on the edge of the bed, his head cocked to the side in amusement.

“What? You want more?” An arrogance wafted from him, sent on the hot summer breeze.

He knew you were hooked by the way you turned in your chair to finally acknowledge him fully. “Then c’mere.” He said simply, patting his lap.

Rising from your chair was methodical. Lots of attention had to be put into moving your stiff limbs almost gone numb from being in the same position for god knows how long. Yet you padded over to your awaiting throne, straddling his waist boldly. Hands floated to your hips, squeezing them longingly, and as if bound under his hypnotic spell from earlier, you found his lips in a mixture of rushed passion and want. Marko was cool, hanging back and letting you explore the excitement you’d been starving for for weeks. He was just happy to go along for the ride, seeing where it took you both. This wasn’t so much about him as it was about you.

Your tongue intruded his mouth, a sudden willingness to become as close to him as physically possible. He beckoned beneath you, chest tightening with the giddiness that felt oh so good to experience. Teeth nipped at your lower lip, a yearning to eventually get at the crimson liquid buried beneath your thin, delicate skin was intricate but controlled. Taunting and malicious hands wandered, pushing beneath fabric to clutch at the supple flesh of your breasts. You pulled apart for a breath, a gasp of alluring surprise fluttering from your mouth. Marko chuckled against the flesh of your delicate throat — not missing the sultry glow having engulfed you. It now permeated towards him. Frustration could be played out in more than one way, which he was happy to do.

The black tee you’d been sporting came over your head in a single tug, cast to the floor with his mix-matched jacket and crop top. He admired the rise and fall of your bare breasts, highlighted in the moonlight — embarrassing you in the way he deemed was the cutest. Yet he made no move towards influencing your next moves. Instead the icy tips of his fingers tickled up your sides, ghosted along your spine to entice goosebumps. Your gaze settled on his beautiful flesh , fair and adorned with muscles beneath his strong skin. He made your mouth water, the washboard abs and the strength that came from him in more than just the physical aspect set you on fire. Your staring amused him. Were you still too shy to touch despite this having happened in times gone by? He was all yours. There was no need for meaningless delays. The inevitable was bound to occur. You might as well just meet him in the middle.

Your warm fingertips settled upon his sturdy chest whilst you mounted him. A delicious expression of your needs being met flashed across your angelic features, but your lips twisted into such a devilish smirk. Some would title you as a promiscuous nymph, tantalisingly rocking your hips back and forth — creating much needed friction. Marko’s fingers smoothed up your sides, his own breath flustered out of his lungs. Yet he just watched you, hazel eyes deepening from the dilation of his pupils. A hunter was being fed under your seductive spell. Such a horny, pretty thing you were, rutting against him like a desperate bitch in heat. It caused amusement to tickle his senses, because he knew this wouldn’t suffice enough of your needs. Witnessed it dawn frustratingly upon your countenance. You needed more. You wanted more.

“Atta girl.” He winked, grinning impishly up at you. A seductive golden halo flowed from his head as he laid there admiring you.

Before long, his patience wore thin. His back arched upwards then, lips trailing along the swell of your sensitive breasts. They glistened deliciously with sweat in the moonlight, inviting his tongue to taste the salty liquid. You sighed, hips faltering, thwarting your efforts to get off. A pathetic whimper of dissatisfaction escaped you, rumbling in your chest. He felt it against his sinful tongue, sucking sweet little marks into your skin. And silently, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging down gently. You manuevred yourself over him, eager to get any remaining clothes off and have him take control. You never knew what to expect with him, which was all the more exciting. Yet all he did was clasp his lips around your right nipple, suckling on it firmly, though not enough to hurt. His teeth nipped at it, tugging ever so slightly in the way you always approved — all whilst he stared up at you. Man was he a tease.

As soon as it had started, the pleasure ceased. Gone in the blink of an eye. You stared down at your boyfriend, your hips twirling in rebellion. Already you were quivering, at his mercy whilst your fingers tangled in his beautifully curly locks.

“What?” He inquired with an innocent tilt to his head.

Distinct symptoms of embarrassment clouded your features — your skin felt hot. The only thing you could do was nip your swollen bottom lip and draw your eyebrows together in the centre. So cute. Why was he doing this? It was simple, he wanted to.

“Hmmm? Use your big girl words, baby.” He added with a breathy laugh meant to mock you. His large palms smoothed against the softest parts of your body reassuringly.

You gulped, throat dry and hoarse. Your hips rutted on his hardened cock concealed beneath the rough denim. It’s roughness dampened by your sopping cunt. You whimpered as he guided your hips, looking hungrier than ever. Silently pleading for him to touch you the way you loved it the most. However, he did not play into these silent games. You knew that, but it was always worth a try. Sometimes he was forgiving and lenient. Tonight he seemed to be holding back, admiring your handiwork until you begged him with delirium to give you what you wanted.

“I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me. Hmm?” He cooed up at you.

“I want more,” you began pitifully, eyes unable to meet his heavy gaze.

“More of what?” He was milking this, enjoying the way you twitched.

“More of you.” As if that could answer his blatantly insistent inquiry. Yet before he could open his mouth to prod further, you’d beaten him to the punch, “I want your mouth.”

A diabolical sexy grin spread across his face. Sharp pearly whites glinted in the argent glow menacingly, but only for show. To intimidate you into the correct position. The air in your lungs caught in your throat at the sight, forcing you to shiver. He was going to force you into helplessness with your limbs unable to hold you up afterwards, all accompanied with a mushy mind with him at the centre of it. Duties and resilient responsibilities were a thing of the past. Well, at least for tonight. What you were asking him for was something he was more than qualified to provide. A god-like tongue that made your head spin in a volatile tornado and your thighs squeeze deliciously around his head. The thought began thawing out the embarrassment coiled in your gut and latched into your flesh like barbed coils. Marko managed to pull them out effortlessly and painlessly. Thus, fueled by a fire in his own belly, he flipped you over at the flick of a finger. The cool sheets beneath you were welcomed because of the clammy air. The wind momentarily knocked out of you due to a lustre of giddiness. You laid there, breathless and bothered, watching him slither down your body like a ravenous serpent. Attentive nips and open mouthed kisses pressed along the way. You sighed with contentment, legs parting to fit him between them.

Gazes locked, he pressed your legs up towards your chest, spreading you open for him. There was little you could do to hide from him. His strong palms prevented such a shameful sin, the tips of his blunt nails digging into the supple backs of your thighs. The sting welcomed by you. Vulnerability was nowhere to be found — not even in your fuzzy brain. He liked it better that way. You were entirely enthralled by impulses and senses. The events of earlier ancient history he didn’t want to revisit any time soon. Wanton desire encompassed you. He’d incinerated all feelings of abashment from your being. You were tainted with a bold desperation. A one track mind that only Marko could read and satisfy.

“Just relax…” He breathed against the tender skin of your inner thigh. You could entrust him with this.

When he dove in, he had the enthusiasm of a starved man. The tip of his wet flickering appendage swiped your folds. Once, twice and a third time. On and on it went. The taste of you was salty yet sweet, the perfect addictive combination. You were perfect underneath him, letting his pretty gratified tongue serve blessings upon your clit. Faster and faster he adored you, suckling and nipping upon your sensitive bundle of nerves at the right intervals. It was all so perfect. Driving you further and further up the edge. You squealed under his onslaught, chest rising and falling as if possessed. Your limbs shook, eyes rolling into the rear of your frazzled skull. Yeah, you’d finally escaped. All of your inconsequential concerns fled from your body whilst you pushed Marko further into your sex. It was pathetic as you wantonly moaned his name, a repetitive mantra. So pitiful in fact that your hips rocked against his tongue, the tip of his nose catching your clit. Marko was just happy to drown in you. Your sticky essence dripping down his chin. All he could do was lap up what you offered, and none of it went to waste.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!” You heaved into the clammy air, your eyes bleary by now.

Just one more stripe and he was going to ruin you.

You tumbled from heaven, rocketing down to Earth. Your descent imploring delirium. The ability to quit shaking was nowhere to be found. There was Marko, parting from your folds in a sticky and panting mess. His predator instincts lit aflame like a match in the dark, all because of your erratic heartbeat that had been palpitating under his skillful onslaught. You smelled so superbly delicious it made him delirious, rough hands settled on either side of your head to trap you in the cage he put you in. His glowing yellow eyes and slightly warbled features should have terrified you, yet they did not. You felt a love for the monster that mirrored your feelings in his own, demonic entirety. Your fingers were lazy, ghosting the tips upon his protruded brow bone. Despite his monstrosity, his features morphed back to that of a human’s with your enduring patience. A glow remaining in his perky eyes — an ardent aura surrounded the beast. Calloused fingers smoothed away the stray hairs to your face uncomfortably with sweat. Couldn’t stop the grin that came about from you looking so lost in your thoughts. You were fucked out already and he’d barely even begun. He decided then that he could’ve stared at you like this forever, because not a thought outside of him remained in your head. That’s what he appreciated the most. No competitions, just you and him. That’s all that was yearned for.

Lips crashed together, though your fight for dominance was easily overthrown by Marko, his pesky fingers pinching and pulling on your nipples. He rolled them between his fingers. A surge of gratitude took over you, hummed right into his mouth. Teeth gnashed together, it was heated, fueled by an endless amount of passion. Oh you were driving him crazy. Your hands fiercely clutched onto his strong shoulders, nails digging into the soft cool flesh of them. You were lost fully in the reality of ecstasy. Disoriented from the notion that once you started, you didn’t want it to stop. He was the incubus that tainted you, and he too could not stop himself from damning you once again. He’d yank you straight into hell with him. You were all his.

So his palms were strong, scrunching up the bedsheets beside your head, catching the strands of your hair within its hold. It stung, leading a pleasant hiss from you and into his mouth. Your own fingers pinging the button of his jeans before dipping into the waistband of his boxers. His lips broke apart, teeth nipping your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Yes, you were a promiscuous nymph, working him further and further until precum leaked languidly from the tip, trickling and spilling onto your knuckles. The impish smirk you gave him sealed the deal.

“Not yet,” he whispered against your ear, a breathy chuckle expelled when you continued. “This is about you, baby. I can’t do that if I’ve busted all over you.” He grinned.

He did have a fair point. Off the remainder of his clothes went. Now no barriers remain between the pair of you. Naked and vulnerable in an iridescent glow from the moon.

In typical fashion of your boyfriend, he possessed an impatient roughness to him. A single hand manoeuvred your legs apart, one hiked upon his awaiting forearm and the other snug around his hip. In one swell tug down, you were spread open for him, the tip of his glistening cock pressed into your soaked folds. The minimal friction had invited your hips to buck up rebelliously. Yet the beast watched you with heavy eyes, watching the mouthwatering way he sunk barely into your cute little hole. It was enough for his senses to snap entirely. The second he pushed in fully, a grunt tumbled out and against the shell of your ear. The size of him filled you up in a way that you never thought was imaginable. The intrusion was sudden but smooth, forcing you to whimper and tuck your face into his shoulder. Your legs twitched, tensed whilst your palms instinctively reached out to press themselves against his lower abdomen. You protested, softly pushing back and he obliged, but only to sink back in slowly.

Yet a sweetness prevailed, his mouth whispering encouragingly into your ear, “That’s it, babygirl. You take me so good.”

The praise led to your hands smoothing up his rippled abdomen, appreciating the body that belonged to a Greek God. Closer he leaned into you, your body relaxing from the sudden intrusion he’d worked in and out of you with a gentle rocking of his hips. All of it pulled that wolfish simper from your breathless boyfriend. Your hips had a mind of their own, twitching to meet his abundantly stuttering hips in the middle. A dull ache blossomed and pulsed in your hot cunt. You wanted him so badly that it hurt. He pined for you just as violently, enough to pull back swiftly and snap his hips roughly into you. Any semblance of patience eradicated at the weathering fray in the string, crashing over into a dominant nature he was renowned for. You were all too obedient and joyous to follow. The intrusion into your cervix was unexpected, drawing out a wanton cry from your parched throat. His movements were deliberate, gaze darkening substantially in the shade of luscious ecstasy. Every cell in both of your bodies bursting to life whilst Marko did all of the work.

“M-Marko!” You stammered and gasped. Nothing but a pathetic whimper against the edge of his mouth.

Your foreheads were pressed together lovingly, hazel eyes finding your watery gaze easily. Tears pricked the corners. The pleasure curling you into his body.

At this rate, if he kept up his onslaught of devotion, you’d be a mess all over again; shuddering and sighing underneath him in a pitiful fashion. It was his favourite. Watching you crumble under everything he offered you, and by god would he offer you absolutely everything. The mere thought tempting him into overdrive with his impeccable stamina and strength. You could hardly keep up.

Yet with all of his rough ministrations and hungry motivations, there was a loving twitch to his lips — an extra devotion in the roll and smack each thrust brought. The tip of him hammering home on the delicate spot inside of you. Witnessing what each pull and push built up inside of you. It was perfect, feeling you cream all over him thickly. Your perfect moans and hazy eyes only made him love you more.

The only response you’d acquired was a grunt gritted between clenched teeth and panting breaths. His calloused digits feathered into your hair, gathering it into his fist. Nothing about him relented. He could tell by your half lidded eyes that you were nearly there. Expression consumed by an ample amount of bliss. It seeped into the air, boasting an array of vibrant hormones and scents. You were bewitching him with your morality, your head toppling back when he tugged on your hair firmly. The notion only forced him to grow more sporadic. Your content mewls of mercy morphing into the sweaty, salty air. His cool skin warmed by yours alone. Yet deep inside, even you knew that you didn’t possess a desire for him to stop. You wanted this. Wanted it more than you had any other time, because you’d stupidly starved yourself of most of your needs.

Toppling over the edge didn’t seem too far away. You could feel every inch of yourself under the mercy of your painfully vampiric boyfriend. He nurtured you into a quaking mess with his ragged edges, but it was all so utterly perfect. Your throbbing heart thrummed against your rib cage painfully, warping Marko’s features for a second time that night. Though it remained hidden within the cosy crook of your beautiful neck. Each pounding beat synching with his sinful thrusts until everything felt like a hot and heavy blur. Higher and higher you went, rising into cloud nine. He followed behind you, your scent driving him to weakness. He was dizzy, fingers grappling upon your flesh; grasping what he could to both pleasure you and steady himself. Your hands held onto his shoulders, fingers slithering up into his damp curly mullet. Over and over he went, but you held on.

“Let go, babygirl…” he whispered in a strained husky fashion against your sweaty skin.

His elongated teeth grazed the palpitating vein of your sweet spot. They glinted threateningly unbeknownst to you.

A temptation too reckless overcame him. The ruby rushing rivers beneath the surface of fragile skin spoke to him. Sung seductively into his soulless chest. It’s sweet nectar coaxed him in until said sharp teeth grazed a little too harshly. One drop was enough for his tongue to burst to life. Inducing him to suck on the wound. A harsher one warranted more blood to ooze out, and thus you yelped in protest. Though now too delirious to feel much else than the driving force that brought you literally on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. He could barely stop himself, the edge pulling his hips more violently into that back and forth motion — just as harsh but clouded with sloppiness. All until you both spilled over the edge of the cup.

It was a viral shock, numbing your body into intense bliss. A chorus of heightened groans poured from your mouth. Quaking limbs wrapped around his rocking body, pushing his spilled seed further into your womb. A long, husky groan buried itself into your neck — forcing his brief blood drinking to come to a halt. A heavy ’o’ shape formed your lips, throat hoarse from your incessant whimpers. The crash back down to hell was something in itself. Just as intense whilst you both hurtled, twitched and panted down in the fiery centre of the earth. Both of you left joined together from sensitivity. Gazes locked together with a dopey satisfaction. You watched his mischievous grin on his features, gone slightly pink from your blood. Your boyfriend was high on your blood — no doubt because it felt akin to taking a hit of crack. Yet you remained jelly legged, arms unable to move and your mind fuzzy. You were relaxed as he pulled out, admiring his seed trickling from you before he prized his clean crop top from your floor to clean you up.

“You… bit me,” you pouted up at him.

Your own pair of heavy fingertips inspected the small, messy series of puncture wounds engraved into your neck. A form of marking Marko was infamous for implementing. It stung so you winced.

“My bad.” Was all he grinned out in a lopsided fashion.

But it wasn’t an apology. He’d never apologised for such an act — not even in his controlled feeding on you. You were his and he was yours. Maybe he was a little too possessive. Nevermind, because the post orgasm glow only invited him in on shaky forearms. The tip of his nose skimmed your collarbone, inhaling your luxurious scent. His tongue poked out, lapping up the rich droplets you offered him of no fault of your own. It tasted sweet, yet decadent, almost like spiced mulled wine. The coolness of his appendage felt relieving against the hotness of your skin.

“Thank you,” you mumbled sleepily, fingernails softly dragging against his scalp to hone in on the appreciation that swarmed you.

Your gratitude was humorous. It made him chuckle as he pulled back, towering over your fully relaxed body. He tilted his head, “For fucking your brains out?”

“Mhmmmm!” You nodded, adamant.

More laughter propelled from his mouth, because Marko was not quite sure how else to respond. You’d never thanked him for such a thing before, and it was a warrant for teasing that’s for sure. Still, it made his still heart swell a thousand times in size, mimicking the distant feeling of a pulse of his heart. His silent lips pressed ardent kisses to the wound on your neck, running his tongue over the wound only to watch it magically heal somewhat. Then his mouth travelled to your ear, just to hear your soft giggle in time, sleepily stirring beneath him.

“I love you, baby.” A smile evident against the shell of your ear.

“Love you too…” you sighed with your own mirrored grin, all dopey from exhaustion.

The tug of sleep won and you plummeted into the blackness your closed eyelids entailed. It was a warm welcome after weeks of choppy and restless sleep from rampant anxiety. Marko laid there beside you, his fingers hovering over your tired muscles to clean you up and smooth ardent circles into sore patches of skin from his rough handling. An arm of his draped underneath your head as you silently curled into him. Your relaxed breaths tickled the nape of his dewy neck. The dilemma was averted and now he had you back. A few hours was all he could spare before he’d be forced to bid you farewell. The need for the dank darkness of the cave would call to him before sunrise. Yet for now he admired your tranquility with a laboured inhale and exhale. He pulled the covers over you both, hoping that your relaxation would remain until the following night. He’d sweep you away from your work and into the exhilarating arms of a good time. Thundering down the Boardwalk and harbour, perched on the back of his metallic steed. The pair of you damned, left to unleash your sly delightful terror upon Santa Carla. Yes, your absence had been so missed by your boyfriend as he stared up at your ceiling with satisfaction.

“Crisis averted.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

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throwaway-yandere · 4 months

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𝗦𝗖𝗣-███: “𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗦”

[Artistic depictions of Researcher "Ansy"'s deceased husband]

“𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛, 𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙— 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑒. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒.”

— Junior Researcher Astrilde "Ansy" ███████-█████

𝗔𝗻𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗜𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: See the addendum below for more details.

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀: Euclid.

𝗔𝗻𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀: SCP-███ are conscious and sentient beings produced by Dr. Ansy using water and other confidential matters that cannot be disclosed for researchers below Level 2 Clearance. They are known as "mimics" in Fodlan & Valentia and "hydro eidolons" in Teyvat. They take form in any shape the creators (and rarely, the SCP themselves) desire.

𝗔𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗺 𝟬.𝟭: Researcher Ansy confirmed they had mostly forgotten Demetrius' face and only retained information in regards to their deceased spouse's most basic details, which were "blonde and blue eyes."

𝗘𝘅𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗽𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗦𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗿 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗿. 𝗠𝗮𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗼'𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗻 "𝗟𝗶𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗦𝗶𝘁𝗲-𝟳𝟬𝟬'𝘀 𝗗𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗠𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗙𝗼𝗹𝗸𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘀"

The "End of Year Blues" Tragedy Play is the simultaneously the best and worst way to understand SCP-███ and Dr. Ansy's relationship. It is a crude and sentimental way of expressing what went wrong in their "love story" while continuously painting Dr. Ansy, the author themselves, as the villain.

(𝗜𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗺: all male leading roles in this play are meant to represent Dr. Ansy, which they themselves confirmed in Log AL-43)

It is public knowledge that the junior researcher was a Nabatean Sea Dragon who was entrusted by their divine ruler to pair mortals into loving relationships. The name "Astrilde", in some Norwegian dossiers, was claimed to be their localized version of Cupid, God of Desire. Act I depicts a draconic judge who had placed his lover on a miserable position of forced marriage.

Act II stars a tyrannical royal, which is a title not far off the role Dr. Ansy masqueraded themselves in one of their many lifetimes. It is common for long life species such as the researcher to fake identities and play various roles. One of their many "lives" involved becoming of grave importance to the imperial throne. The second act follows that the prince killed the lector's child, which does not reflect true history. True historical records dictates that the "country destroyer" did everything in their power to save the lector's family.

Hence, we cannot discern that what occured in the play is Dr. Ansy's definitive history word-for-word since it is likely a distorted interpretation of what transpired. Another junior researcher, Dr. Yemon, asserts that their husband truly adored and worship them, and that Dr. Ansy wrote this story as a belated self-punishment for not being able to save him in several reincarnations.

"This was their weird way of handling grief," Dr. Yemon stated. "They'd rather take the blame for his death every time rather than just accept that fate always wants him to die at such an early age. Astrilde never killed Demetrius and his reincarnations or led him to die— they love him too much, and I know they're too scared to acknowledge that he does love them back. Because if he did, it would hurt them more."

As for the last two Acts, III and IV, I'm inclined to believe it is currently ongoing. Dr. Ansy is currently stationed to handle SCP-██████'s (registered name: Kamisato Ayato) matters as his retainer while simultaneously working for the Foundation as our hydro researcher. In Act III, we follow Ansy's slow descent to madness as they fail to save SCP-███ incessantly, and in Act IV we follow how they fail to clone him as well. A rather tall order, for someone who can't remember what their husband looked like.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗿. 𝗔𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗲 "𝗔𝗻𝘀𝘆" ███████-█████'𝘀 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝗦𝗖𝗣-███.

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹 #𝟬: "𝗞𝗢𝗣𝗜"

𝗜𝗻𝗽𝘂𝘁: Dr. Ansy's tears.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: KOPI currently resides in an alternate universe, serving as a moderator for "Lumine". He is the first and last test subject that have been made using Dr. Ansy's DNA. The SCP interestingly does not show major similarities with the researcher and many speculate this as a clear sign that "nurture" triumphs over "nature" in child rearing. See Log-ACG for further details.

[ʜᴇʏ ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ!!! ɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴏғғᴇɴsᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ!!! ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀ. ᴄʀᴇᴍ, ɪ'ʟʟ sᴛʀɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ. — ᴀ]

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹 #𝟭: “𝗗█████𝗶”

𝗜𝗻𝗽𝘂𝘁: Demetrius' hair.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Unknown. Likely exterminated. Known to be the closest replica to "Demetrius" Dr. Ansy had created, but his vital organs had allegedly failed under a month. Seemed to have shown signs of affection for them. See files LOG-JM to know more about his platonic relationship with (Person of Interest) Joachim.

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹 #𝟮: “𝗗𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗶𝗳 — 𝗕𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗞𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗿”

𝗜𝗻𝗽𝘂𝘁: Demetrius' hair.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Alive(?) Currently being used as a "bargaining chip" by the Geo Archon, Morax (Alias: Zhongli). Does not seem to be aware that they are a "hydro eidolon", and not the true Dainsleif. Longest surviving SCP-███ to date.

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹 #𝟯: “𝗗𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗶𝗳 — 𝗛𝗶𝘁𝗺𝗮𝗻”

𝗜𝗻𝗽𝘂𝘁: Demetrius' hair.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Dead from gunshot wound. See Log-IYT for further details.

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹 #𝟰: “𝗚𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗿𝗱”

𝗜𝗻𝗽𝘂𝘁: Demetrius' right eye.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Unknown. Test subject was lost in the "back alleys" near the Belobog theater. See Log-1010 for further details.

𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹 #𝟰: “𝗟𝗮𝘄𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲”

𝗜𝗻𝗽𝘂𝘁: Demetrius' blood sample.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Dead upon Test Subject #2's demands. Speculated to have been TS #1's lover. See Log-LW for further details.

#throwaway rules #end of year blues #ast-rius

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tsunael · 2 months

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mechanical - a character put in a situation where their reactions/responses are mechanical and what is underlying that

{-sneaks along in Sea's footsteps-}

Glimpses of the past (?) | unprompted!

I don't think I reblogged this-- BUT I've been wanting to-- so thank you for sending even if it was probably a misclick.

cw for depersonalization.

Death became Garlemald’s treacherous landscape. With every frozen corpse unearthed, they must put an end to its Blasphemous cause.

Tsuna stared lifelessly toward the wooden beams that comprised a vaulted Garlean ceiling, awoken by the sound of raucous speaking in the other room. Such makeshift barracks were made of one of the only buildings left structurally sound in Garlemald, yet the nearly-shattered window did whistle as a kettle once the frigid air slammed against it. Tsuna did not stir, nor weep, but her skin began to crawl like vilekin over festering flesh.

The itch would not cease. She scratched, and scratched, but still she felt that man’s filth inside her, rotting her from the inside and out. Her body was her own again and yet it was as if that man's aether had left an indelible mark.

If she had been any slower, her friends would have been red mist on the snows, slaughtered by her own hand—

No, not her own. It was, and it wasn’t.

No matter the rationalisation, her mind’s eye would not stop its visions. What if he had massacred them, too? Would she then be charged with making a lichyard for her friends once more? What if she had been bound forever inside that corpse?

Tsuna shrouded herself in her thin duvet, and quickly stumbled from bed to escape her own head.

Amidst the low chattering, she distinctly heard the words 'Babil' and 'tonight' from beyond the door to her makeshift room. She braved to crack it, and found the Scions parked upon crates and broken chairs , crowded around a ceruleum heater, nursing mugs full of something hot and warmly spiced. Mulled tea from Ul'dah. A reminder of home.

Her arrival was enough to silence whatever conversation they were having, and turn their heads. Immediately, she regretted her impulsiveness, feeling as if she had just walked on stage unprepared.

"Take me with you," she said, though her voice was too weak to carry the boldness of her words.

The group exchanged cursory looks, most simply turned their noses to their laps.

Alphinaud was the first to speak up. "Tsuna, while I'm... I'm gladdened to see you awake, I really don't think..." His voice trailed off, unsure and tepid, as if his normal charismatic self had been blind-sighted by the demand.

"You're in no position to be going anywhere," Y'shtola smoothly interjected.

Tsuna wrapped herself tighter, stepping further out into the room.

"You're in no position to be telling me where to go." The flatline of her voice begged no argument, though it did wonders in drawing Y'shtola's ire. The Miqo'te's ears drew back, and she knew at once that she was simmering beneath-- if looks could kill she would have been dead in several exciting ways already.

Someone among them cleared his throat loud enough to put a wedge between them. Thancred stepped forward with intent to corral her back to her room.

He rounded her as if she were an animal, and she felt her back hit the wall in order to avoid touching him. She couldn't touch anyone.

"I'm going tonight," Tsuna asserted, quietly, ignoring how the wool of her duvet began to itch.

Thancred looked away briefly to avoid rolling his eyes. "You're going back to bed. Sleep is in short supply these days. Best catch it while you--"

"Do you think you can stop me!?"

He paused, annoyed.

"I do."

She wanted to be angry, furious. She wanted to raise her hand against him. She chewed her lip, reaching out with one hand to angrily grab at his collar, only to retract it. Her face twitched, briefly twisting in rage at the injustice, but fear for the sudden violence that compelled her doused her flame, and she had no desire to rekindle it. Tsuna's arms fell to her sides, letting the duvet pool around feet that she barely recognized as her own.

He watched her with a curious expression that could only be described as sympathetic.

"Let's get you back to bed."

#asks ; playing postmoogle #thefreelanceangel #I frankenstein'd an old drabble i wrote for this #I don't really think this fits but I couldn't think of anything else 🙈#my writing (derogatory)#girl what happened to my read more

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zvaigzdelasas · 6 months

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[SCMP is Hong Kong Private Media]

Indonesia’s long-drawn-out presidential election process has officially entered its final stages, with some of the country’s biggest political names formally submitting their nomination papers and launching their policy platforms.

Ahead of the opening of the nomination process, much of the national intrigue involved the identity of the running mate for Prabowo Subianto, current President Joko Widodo’s former rival-turned-ally. As long speculated, the 72-year-old defence minister revealed last weekend that his running mate would be Gibran Rakabuming Raka, Widodo’s 36-year-old son and mayor of the city of Solo.

Speculation has also swirled around who would get the outgoing president’s stamp of approval: Prabowo or former Central Java governor Ganjar Pranowo. Pranowo, 54, leads the ticket for Widodo’s ruling Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle, alongside his vice-presidential candidate Mohammad Mahfud, 66, the outgoing coordinating minister of political, legal and security affairs.

Rounding out the list of candidates is Anies Baswedan – like Widodo, a former governor of Jakarta – and Muhaimin Iskandar, 57, deputy speaker of the House of Representatives. Supported by a coalition of parties named the Coalition of Change for Unity, the 54-year-old Anies has styled himself as the antithesis of Widodo, who is constitutionally barred from running for a third term.[...]

All three candidates have vowed to maintain Indonesia’s long-standing commitment to a neutral and non-aligned foreign policy, while also being active on the international stage to champion world peace – including by advocating for Palestinians amid the ongoing Israel-Gaza war, with Prabowo going the furthest in this regard by saying he would push to open an Indonesian consulate in Palestinian territory if elected.[...]

“Anies and Muhaimin will tend to be more critical of China in terms of maritime territorial integrity,” said Ahmad Rizky, an associate lecturer and researcher at the University of Queensland’s School of Political Science and International Studies in Australia. “But I am not sure that Anies will eliminate the engagement with China that Jokowi has been doing so far.”

Anies, who has trailed in opinion polls in recent months, said in his manifesto that he aims to “position Indonesia as a balancing force in the global order” so that the country can “prevent the domination of certain powers”, which Ahmad interpreted as a criticism of China’s rising assertiveness.

Prabowo [...] has been the most explicit when it comes to addressing fraught geopolitics, underlining that a major strategic challenge for Indonesia would be “rivalry between the two superpowers over Taiwan that could threaten the smooth supply chain of food, energy and trade” that passes through the Malacca Strait and North Natuna Sea.

The former special forces commander, who is making a third tilt at the presidency having twice lost to Widodo in 2014 and 2019, has pledged to “restore Indonesia’s foreign political authority as a large and sovereign country in the eyes of the international community”.

Twice last month, Prabowo made speeches warning against foreign influence, telling an audience of students at Muhammadiyah University in Malang, East Java on September 27 about Indonesia’s long history of colonisation and exploitation, and cautioning that the country should never again become “a puppet” of outsiders.

In another speech just a few days later, [Prabowo] again warned Indonesians not to become “the playthings of major powers” who “clearly set forth a strategy of divide and conquer”.

In past elections, [Prabowo,] the former son-in-law of late strongman president Suharto [and son of a major state economist in the Suharto government] had held the establishment responsible for society’s ills, but [an analyst] said this tactic would no longer work, as Prabowo was stripped of his opposition credentials when Widodo made him defence minister in 2019.[...]

“He wants Indonesia to engage with all major powers, not just the US and China,” Ahmad said, adding that the outgoing defence chief would “want Indonesia to play a bigger role outside of the context of [ASEAN] regionalism” and also “change his stance to no longer being anti-China”.

“He would want to encourage stronger engagement with China, something that he has already done in a diplomatic and defence context,” Ahmad said, further predicting that “Prabowo could tend to be closer militarily to the US”.[...]

[Prabowo] has led efforts to overhaul Indonesia’s ageing air fleet – mainly US-made F-16 and Russian Sukhoi Su-27 and Su-30 jets – securing a deal in February to order 42 Dassault Rafale fighter jets from France for US$8.1 billion; confirming in June the purchase of 12 Mirage 2000-5 jets previously used by Qatar for US$800 million; and in August signing a deal with Boeing for 24 F-15EX aircraft, the most advanced version of the US company’s F-15 jet, for an undisclosed amount.

Anies and Ganjar have likewise committed to modernising Indonesia’s military, with the former focusing in his manifesto on upgrading the country’s coastguard and protection of outlying islands.

Ganjar, meanwhile, outlines in his campaign manifesto Towards a Superior Indonesia a plan to introduce anti-access and area denial weapons and strategies – which can span missiles, electronic warfare, mines, aircraft and coastal artillery – “to secure territorial sovereignty and the implementation of sovereign rights” in the country’s exclusive economic zone.[...]

Ganjar was essentially signalling that the US and China should “not use Indonesian waters for their military interest” [according to an analyst][...]

All candidates have said they would uphold Widodo’s flagship “downstreaming” policy, whereby exports of critical raw minerals such as nickel are banned and producers are required to build refining facilities onshore, with Prabowo even vowing to widen it further to include “copper, tin, agriculture products and maritime products”.

Yet Sulfikar Amir, an industry, innovation, and technology spokesman for Anies’ campaign, said under his candidate “there will be a ban on commodity exports, but it will not repeat the current downstreaming order”.

As it stands, downstreaming “basically gives away our materials to foreign investors who come to build processing facilities in Indonesia and ultimately export them,” [Sulfikar] said. “Ultimately the ones who enjoy the [added] values are foreign investors.”[...]

The spokesman added that Anies would also not prioritise another of Widodo’s big-ticket projects: moving the country’s capital away from Jakarta to the new city of Nusantara being built on the island of Borneo.[...]

Ganjar, by contrast, said he aims to complete the new capital’s construction if elected, calling it “a symbol of futuristic Indonesia”.[...]

Anies took a stronger line, openly criticising Widodo’s dealings with foreign investors, particularly within the context of the Belt and Road Initiative and other multilateral economic forums.[...]

Belt and road projects offer “benefits for Indonesia, we cannot deny it,” Sulfikar [Anies’ campaign spokesman] said. “But the scheme and relationship between Indonesia and [the initiative] needs to be reviewed so that we would not deeply depend on [Chinese investments] that could harm Indonesia in the long term.”

“Look at the [Jakarta-Bandung] fast train [project]. Indonesia has to go into debt because the project is delayed. So everything [agreed under the belt and road] will be reviewed.”

27 Oct 23

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knowlesian · 2 years

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i’ve talked about it through a super narrow lens, but because i love the izzy’s revenge scene in e9 and there’s a bunch going on/acres of unspoken and very cool history at play, why not. time for a line by line!

we start with izzy, sitting and eating what looks like a steak, flanked by a standing ivan and fang.

the thing about captain hands is: he’s tough, yeah. but also, he’s fair, as ivan and fang can attest to. needs more salt.

so after asserting he can speak for them, izzy does not pause ask fang or ivan if they agree. he doesn’t even let them respond at all; just demands fang put more salt on the meat for him, despite the fact that it’s right in front of him and it would actually be easier to just do it himself.

the history of the spice trade is one that’s... ooof. if i start talking about islands razed to the ground and endless scores of people murdered over nutmeg and pride, i will never stop. suffice to say, the demand for spices (and desire to keep them out of the hands of fellow colonizer competition) is inextricably linked to the whys and the hows of this era of colonization.

the use of salt in particular carries a lot of resonance; one of the stories told about columbus and his proverbial “first contact” with indigenous people was that he stumbled over some local taínos— the spanish would later name this particular group the lucayans— just out collecting sea salt and went, oh shit look what i discovered!

(how true this version of the story is... look. there’s a lot of debate going on as we speak among historians about which modern island was the first landing spot at all, so the point is it’s one of those things that businesses will quote and not cite their sources, because a neat little trivia fact like ‘salt was there at first contact!’ stripped of all nuance helps... sell more salt. ew. love 2 live in a society.)

so: there’s a lot of oomph in that there demand. moving it on along, as the music starts to gently rise behind izzy’s Moment Of Triumph.

all right, all right. listen up, listen up! work hard, keep a spring in your step, and you’ll all have a long tenure aboard... izzy’s revenge.

con just CHEWS on the word revenge for a minute while he says it, as the show allows izzy to enjoy the taste of power on his tongue. this is his ship now: this is his revenge. look at him, dad (metaphorical and societal)!!!! he’s doing manhood and masculinity right, everyone is gonna see it and goddamnit he is going to get his entirely earned reverence and applause. right? right?????

...right?

lol no. the music drops out, and wee john starts to laugh at this sad little man and his sad little powertrip.

because why wouldn’t he laugh? fuck that. ‘do what i say, exactly how and when i say it and pretend you’re happy about it no matter what, and then you’ll be fine’? i would snicker at somebody who said something like that, and i know that because i have snickered (usually where they could not see me, admittedly) at managers who said shit like that.

here’s the thing about living aboard a ship irl that i would assume is also true in the show despite the dream logic of canon: no matter what’s going on there is always more work that could be handled right then and there, always always always. it’s a little like working in a restaurant; at any given seeming lull in the action, there’s 1000000% a chore or task left undone that needs attending at some point, maybe even soon. however, the key words there are ‘at some point’.

that’s the problem with the respect and immediate presumption of skill and perfect authority izzy is demanding from the crew; it doesn’t matter what practical skills he does or does not bring to the table, he hasn’t earned anyone’s respect and actively runs around doing a lot to make sure if he doesn’t course correct and sincerely attempt to display anything resembling real solidarity and mend some fences, he never will.

when it comes down to 'but what about the practical measure of his Good At Pirating Quotient!’ i would say izzy’s skill with a sword is not in dispute so much as his skill with adaptation, and he’s seemingly good enough at sailing to stay on ed’s ship or he wouldn’t be there. however: there’s a pretty big difference between meeting the standard/keeping up your end and absolute mvp, The Most Skilled and Important in every single way. you can be a good pirate and not be the only reason a ship’s afloat; a lot of the oomph to izzy’s character build for me is that it’s not the usual ‘he’s just so goddamn right and skilled and above everyone else it’s understandable that he treats people like shit and he doesn’t ultimately need to change that because look how good at everything he is!’ mode on any level.

izzy’s a decent pirate, but he’s certainly not a pinnacle of the career who simply isn’t being given his due. the men in that bar in the finale do not give a single fuck about izzy hands; and sure, they don’t actually know him or ed. but fang and ivan know them both, and thanks to fang we know for a fact ed’s crew referred to him as izzy the spewer behind his back before canon started.

i think it’s notable that the people who spend all their time around izzy do not like or particularly respect him— i’d say it’s because he never really gives them a reason to, either through personal interactions or grudging acknowledgement of his practical skills because they are irreplaceable and fall far outside fang or ivan’s own capabilities.

on the other end of the spectrum, ed does shit like make fang kill his dog and fang still respects him. he’s also clearly holding the world’s most valid grudge on that one (and seriously: what the fuck, ed, justice for fang’s poor dog and justice for fang) but they contrast fang’s immediate ‘oh fuck, boss is here!!!!’ when he thinks ed is back with ‘oh, izzy??? yeah if it’s still just him who cares, none of us actually give a fuck about that guy on his own merits and we tolerate him because ed likes having him around for whatever fuckin reason’ when it turns out ed’s still gone. and ivan is the one who pipes up all ‘that’s why you DO NOT doubt the captain!’ in e4.

(this is part of why i don’t buy izzy is handling all of ed’s day to day enforcement, and that the crew rarely saw ed because he was hiding away. ‘most emotionally available’ implies a lack of emotional availability, not a lack of physical presence. if it had been some variation on 'i haven’t seen him this much in ages’, ‘usually we never see him’, sure. but a comparison on emotional availability literally requires a basis for that comparison.)

so i would argue the crew sees a lot of ed and a lot of izzy, and they have fair reasons to resent them both, but they still respect ed while talking shit behind izzy’s back whenever possible. honestly, the only person we ever see be obsequious towards izzy is geraldo— and i’m not sure given things like jackie’s constant exasperation with him we’re meant to think geraldo is an accurate judge of character or indication of wider opinion.

izzy is good enough to pass muster or he wouldn’t be there, and as long as everyone plays by the rules he holds to and doesn’t think outside the box, he seems to do battle/executing prisoners type shit pretty reliably well. however: the only supplies we ever see him ask about or show any interest in are munitions (weapons and ammo) and every single time we as an audience see him insist/demand a specific sailing chore must be done at the very moment he wants it done, it is never once about an actual immediate need.

(even the request for munitions is not actually the right call to make; they would have been blown to smithereens. it’s an out of the box let’s be a lighthouse!!! plan that saves them, just like surrendering and invoking the act of grace was the right swerve to make in e8 instead of stede’s initial izzy-like idea to go ...idk, let’s just start shooting first???? see where that preemptive attack life leads, seems like not a bad idea at all.)

so, narratively speaking, the thing we are meant to take away is not that izzy is just always right and underappreciated and making everything work, but rather that he is quite often wandering around being a real jerk to people and he needs to knock it the fuck off. even more than that: that it’s not a sign of good leadership when you consistently treat people like shit and call it a necessary evil, or if you admit you do it but refuse to do any real work to curb that impulse and change that behavior.

there is a pretty big gap between a person knowing how to do something on a technical level and knowing how to accurately gauge if they can do it later and for now it’s time to take a second and eat/take a break/socialize. we can (and knowing fandom, probably will) argue forever, trying to pinpoint izzy’s exact levels on the first; his skill at the second is unquestionably fuckin subzero.

part of being a good leader is being able to discern the difference between when it’s appropriate to say ‘no, literally it’s gotta be now we are in the weeds and there’s no time to waste, this is no joke do it or else time, kids!!!!’ and when a task can wait for later, then being able to communicate those different states of urgency and encourage others to follow suit.

i don’t think we see any of these situations played out via izzy, but both states do exist! there are times in life when your job involves managing people and it’s not a subjective ‘well i just don’t think you should be chatting right now’ thing, it’s a ‘you can’t put bananas in instead of strawberries and say you just have a different vibe than the recipe; unless you are actually asked to 86 the bananas and double the berries, please don’t do that again. additionally don’t lick the nozzles on the ice cream machine anymore, we will be forced to fire you if you keep that up’ thing.

sometimes people need to be coaxed along, and sometimes they need to be firmly told to shape up when coaxing fails to work. but being firm and matter of fact about what needs to be done isn’t being an asshole— and neither is correcting a genuine mistake, because there are ways to urge people to understand when they need to step on the gas or change up the procedure that don’t involve crossing lines into empirically shitty behavior.

honestly, this is one of the differences between a good manager and a great one. the front half stays the same, but a great manager adds a second step: is it possible that in this case someone actually managed to improve upon my procedure, and i should consider a new way of doing things/allow that their different path gets them to the destination required without causing any issues for themselves or the rest of us?

a lot of the time, asking that question does end up on ‘nope, we fill the spice canisters that way for a good reason and this new spin on pouring is getting parsley all over the goddamned floor and i will have to mop it up later, so thanks for that!’

but every so often, it ends up the other way and you realize you can fit six rolls in the bag instead of four and then you only have to use one bag if you align them like this instead of how corporate said to do it. that cuts down on waste and time spent bagging; everyone rejoices and says ‘ahahaha fuck corporate, those assholes are wrong about everything anyway’. those times are super cool, but they only happen when the people who get the final word on those sorts of things listen to the people who are doing the actual on the ground work.

(yes, i have worked in food service on both sides of the manager line. how on earth could you tell???? etc.)

okay, back to the scene itself. notably: nobody else laughs yet. and other than jim and the swede, they’re all there! buttons is in the background winding rope, lucius is sweeping off to the left, pete is just standing there hanging out on the right, and at this point i think we’re all aware of who izzy had doing the hard labor, no matter where we land on why exactly it happened. jim’s off the ship for the moment, and the swede’s... either i missed him, or he’s there but hiding in a barrel again or something.

point is: wee john is the only one who doesn’t just roll their eyes and ignore izzy, at first.

izzy, quite obviously, is not thrilled that somebody didn’t find that little speech super cool and intimidating.

what’s funny, mr. feeney?

it’s just that... ‘izzy’s revenge’ sounds a bit like an intestinal condition.

once wee john lays it out, everybody else starts to laugh, too. we don’t get direct reaction shots from buttons or lucius and my ears are not good enough to pick out nathan’s laugh by sound alone if it’s there in the mix, but everyone we see outside fang and ivan— including pete— are now unified in agreeing, yeah. that does sound like a gnarly stomach bug and izzy’s being a dick, we don’t need to keep our heads down in hopes he won’t notice us and pretend otherwise.

as an audience, we get an extra punchline because we know: it’s funny because it’s true. izzy’s revenge sounds like montezuma’s revenge, which is a colloquial term for traveller’s diarrhea and supposedly a curse laid down and/or just the cosmic price white people have to pay for their ancestors’ sins.

so that’s joke made just for us, the audience who live in the real world and know the reference being made, done as a wink by the writers who also know exactly why that’s funny. because that line only makes any sense if they’re referencing montezuma’s revenge, and i find it pretty implausible this team made the joke on purpose and simultaneously had no idea why the term exists, or what it would imply to say izzy suffered from symptoms of the same the single time he took control of ed’s ship. anything’s possible! but i’d lay down money they knew what they were doing there.

although i guess on that first ‘is it a joke the characters get too’ question, it might be more up for grabs: the actual history and the man at hand here is from the 1500′s, even if the term is modern. maybe in ofmd’s world, ‘montezuma’s revenge’ is already a thing people joke about when white people metaphorically or literally head south, cross a border and then immediately shit their pants.

and just as a personal sidebar, because it sort of itches at the back of my brain and bothers me a little bit more every single day: this is why i am less than fond of the jokes and headcanons re: izzy the spewer being about anxiety or lack of dramamine or food issues.

where i keep getting stuck is that not acknowledging or engaging with the montezuma’s revenge connection the show is making and all it implies ends up in some pretty uncomfortable places. ignoring the undertones there entirely inadvertently turns a joke where the punchline is ‘lol, ha ha ha @ colonizers getting a little of their own back, and the metaphorical standard bearer for that history in the form of an angry little man telling people to do things his way or ELSE is being a dick rn’ into a thing where izzy is the victim and we should feel sad for him because he just needs care and affection because until then, of course he acts like this & etc.

it’s not that they’re bad jokes as a matter of course and i’m judging anybody who makes or enjoys any of them; and i would absolutely be the first one to say i would prefer izzy have an arc where he does the work to unlearn all his toxic shit, show some real solidarity for once, and become someone who will allow himself to receive/give care and affection in ways that aren’t damaging everybody involved. and maybe he does have any or all of those medical issues, maybe it wasn’t a one-off and he does throw up all the time, etc etc etc. debating the particulars doesn’t much matter to me on this one.

i’m just saying i wish people would engage with both sides of the izzy the spewer/izzy’s revenge setup and payoff if they’re into the jokes and ‘izzy didn’t just throw up once while in charge, he throws up all the time for this practical, in-world reason’ headcanon lane, because the montezuma’s revenge joke is both funny and really thematically resonant/important.

okay, sidebar over and now back to canon.

thanks to wee john, the crew is united in acknowledging that izzy sucks and his Big Moment was actually just funny.

izzy can’t let that stand; in his world, respect and power are granted after performing elaborate rituals of violence and intimidation.

i wonder what the condition of your intestine might be after, say... no rations for a week?

so, first off because it’s another subtle note of acknowledging without centering historical pain: izzy threatening a character played by a guy from northern ireland (and yes, i very much understand that wasn’t a thing in 1717, but neither were a lot of things that exist in this show) with starvation as a punishment... there’s A Lot being said there in the subtext, done so deftly that if you’re not aware of the history and/or thinking too much about the larger history of ireland at the same time you process that scene, it could easily slip by.

much like the subtle acknowledgments of racism or homophobia existing in the the world of ofmd (because in a world without homophobia or heterosexuality being the assumed norm, why would lucius’s mother just assume he liked girls, and why would he feel any pressure to let her keep doing it?, etc etc etc) trauma doesn’t need to be overt and centered in the narrative to be there.

god, this show is good.

wee john’s face falls somewhere in the middle of izzy’s threat, and when he cuts his eyes to the side to look for support everyone else has fallen silent again. and since very understandably he would like to be able to eat over the coming week, wee john shuts up without further commentary or complaint. he doesn’t look happy about it, but to izzy’s ...credit? i suppose? he gets what he wants in this immediate moment: wee john is no longer pointing out izzy said something that sounded unintentionally funny, and absolutely nobody is laughing.

so, flush with success, izzy looks around at the crew and addresses all of them one more time, making sure everybody feels a little bit of the sting.

any other funny bits?

the subtle thing i maybe love best here is that wee john was just empirically right. izzy’s revenge quite literally does sound like the name of an intestinal condition! so wee john just stated a fact that made izzy feel some kind of way, and izzy went ‘counterpoint: you say something that makes me mad, you eat no food for the next week’ in response.

we all know wee john is right, even those of us in the audience; but nobody on the crew thinks it’s worth a week of no food to say so now that izzy’s set the terms of engagement.

so everyone stays quiet, including wee john, but that’s not enough for izzy. he needs to get in one last reminder he’s a big boy, in big charge, and everybody needs to shut up and respect his authority.

yeah, i didn’t think so.

izzy, bless his motherfucking heart and may gay god love him, thinks this is winning. when you’ve got the power, you can do what you want with it; you go the extra mile to make sure the people under you understand you have all of it and they have none.

because in terms of in-world reasoning, there really isn’t any reason to give that little speech while eating a nice meal except to establish power and then luxuriate in it while reminding the crew their place is below him.

the kicker might be that he’s also being incredibly foolish. it’s not about being a badass pirate, being used to a different life or rules or metaphor canon; mutinies absolutely happen in izzy’s world, and giving a speech to the people who work for you about how they better smile when they say yes, sir and hop to it while you sit there and chow down on a meal they will not be allowed to partake in is a good way to get the ball rolling.

you can eat while they work but be nice and get away with it; you can be an asshole who isn’t flaunting their bounty in the face of someone else’s lack and get by depending on who you’re with, but you can’t do both at once or guarantee future trouble from those holding the shittier end of the stick. the way izzy is acting right now isn’t just arrogant, it’s tactically stupid. there is zero chance it will engender respect and overall good conduct, and every single chance it breeds resentment and makes solidifying any sort of movement against him that much easier.

he’s getting what he wants in the very, very short term by any means necessary; he is not considering that in the longterm, this is the kind of shit that can only come back to bite him.

because what izzy displays in this scene is the kind of unnecessarily dickish behavior that turns a mutiny from a possibility into a slam dunk, you know? the ‘fuck that guy’ factor is often what turns the tide, when people are hesitant to take action otherwise. ‘i hate this job but my boss is nice to me, personally’ introduces a conflict of interest. if you hate your job and your boss... well. all that’s standing in the way then is coming together on the low, making a plan, and having to wait for an opportunity to do something about it.

so if izzy can’t see fit to treat people with a baseline modicum of respect because it’s just... you know. the right thing to do, and because there’s never a good reason to be cruel, he might consider that doing so would be better if he wants to maintain power and not end up thrown to the sharks.

and who knows!!! maybe someday he will. i have said it before, and i will say it again: fuck linear time not existing and ocean travel being more like teleportation, the toxic white guy getting it together and becoming a member of the community instead of resorting to siding with the system when the going gets rough is the twist of a LIFETIME, and i think this team could pull it off.

to end: this show is fucking wild. barely one minute of screentime and you can talk about irish history and taíno history and implicit bias v overt racism and How To Manage Good and some very granular art of war type advice like ‘being literally the worst and threatening people with out of pocket cruelty like starvation encourages people to band together in solidarity against you, and it does not increase overall productivity, merely gains you an immediate— but ultimately false— pretense at compliance’ and then a million other things on top of that.

you can fit ALL the oomph in this baby and i will meet the writers, as ever, OUTSIDE.

#this is NOT EVEN A MINUTE OF SCREENTIME I AM. I HAVE. I AM NORMAL ABOUT THIS SHOW????????#long post. super long post. very long post. hey: if you finished this what's up we're friends now i guess #anyway now to go eat pizza GOD i just fucking love this show #my ofmd meta #our flag means death

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formyloveoflove · 10 months

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A Place in the Sun [ATTOYE One-Shot]

Rating: Mature

Summary: On their day off, Okoye just wants to lounge around the house, but Attuma has other plans in mind.

Part 2 of This Water Knows Our Name | Part 1 Here

Read on AO3

The warm sand was heaven to her aching body. The towel she originally laid beside her. The sun’s rays glittered on the oil of her skin. Salt settled in the air with every wave crashing. It was a bright afternoon. The perfect epilogue to a restful morning. All of which she spent with the current sea general toying with the charms of her anklet.

“What’s the matter?” she rose towards him. He was unusually quiet. It was his idea to come to the beach. His boyish grin while he packed her bag was addicting. Even the pout that he sported made her heart jump. “Are you upset because I didn’t wear my swimsuit?”

He gently shook his head, tracing circles on her calf. His voice shuddered: “I have something to ask you,” he placed a sly kiss on her knee - a quick sign of affection that she allowed more and more these days, “and I fear that you will say no.”

Her giggle was melodic as she said, “The Great Attuma? Scared? Thought I’d never see the day.”

“I am a man of many emotions, Okoye,” he teased.

“Ask me, Shark man,” she rested her knee on his shoulder. “Do not be afraid.”

His back tensed up at her peculiar nickname. Out of amusement mostly, but a small part of him felt like she could read his mind. As he glanced over his shoulder, he halted when he met her gaze. She was looking through him, seeing all of his secrets, knowing everything he never wanted her to find out. His insecurities, his fears, laid bare under her discerning eyes.

What a woman, he thought.

“There is someone I want you to meet, and it requires you to,” his voice trailed as he motioned his head towards the ocean. He winced playfully as she shook his shoulders in protest. She had told him before they left that she had no intention of going to the water. Today was their day off, and she wanted to spend it horizontally. She made it perfectly clear that she was content with watching him splash around enough for the both of them.

And Attuma understood. If he could bring his guest to her on the shore, he would in a heartbeat. Plus, he wanted to see Okoye in his domain. He had taught her to fear the ocean, and now all he desired was for her to know all of the beauty that the waters hold.

“Attuma,” she whined. “I don’t feel like walking back to get my swimsuit?”

“Then don’t,” he asserted.

His nonchalance really had a way of getting under her skin. Or maybe it was his curt logic that always pissed her off.

“Do you know how long it took me to make this skirt? I’m not swimming in this.”

His smile was infuriating. Almost as aggravating as when he said, “Then don’t. No one is here but us, and my friend. And he would not mind if you were,” he choked back a laugh. “under-dressed.”

Read the rest on AO3

#attoye #attuma x okoye #okoye x attuma #wakanda forever #okoye #attuma #attuma of talokan #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever

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coldfrontoficeandsky · 1 year

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Villain!Dragonets of Destiny AU

Did some brainstorming with a buddy on Discord, so I thought I’d share our ideas.

Essentially, Queen Scarlet keeps the Dragonets of Destiny for longer than in canon, roughly about a month in captivity, and eventually they escape and break out of the arena.

Tsunami

She easily cements herself as the group leader, spending enough time as a gladiator champion in Scarlet's arena to enjoy the thrills of the fights and the treasures thrown to her.

She’s the one that does most of the heavy lifting when it comes to the arena fights and becomes less and less reserved about fighting and killing.

But, she still desires to become a queen.

She wants nothing to do with the prophecy and everything to do with her destiny as Queen of the SeaWings.

So, when they break out, the first thing they do is go the Kingdom of the Sea, where Tsunami realizes her mother isn’t fit to be queen at all and isn’t the idealized version she imagined all her life.

When she’s breaking her friends out of prison to save them from drowning, Tsunami gets an idea from the guards.

To use their status as the Dragonets of Destiny to take over the tribes and make the world the way it should be.

Tsunami challenges her mother for the throne and Tsunami, having already killed her father and has had plenty of experience in Scarlet’s arena, wins the challenge and becomes queen of the SeaWings.

While Starflight still acts like Blister should be queen, the others don’t agree and put their decision on hold. However, Sunny convinces Tsunami to let Blister think that they’re considering her. They simply want to work with her to determine how good of a queen she’ll be. But in reality, almost none of them have any intention of choosing Blister.

Tsunami, unlike her mother, proves to be a far better and fairer queen, educating her citizens with actual curriculums, treating her brothers like trusted and valued members of her court, and being fiercely protective of her sisters.

She doesn’t hesitate to dispatch Whirlpool and she keeps Moray and Shark on a very tight leash.

Her brothers act as spies to weed out any dissent in the kingdom.

Tsunami gladly takes Riptide as a king under the expectation that he resigns from the Talons of Peace. Had she not discovered Coral’s darkest actions, she may have had Webs executed, but she pitied him enough to keep him on under strict surveillance, Riptide being allowed to have visitation rights.

Starflight

He was always meant to be 'the leader,' but everything he was being told was by Morrowseer and Starflight didn't trust him.

He simultaneously believed that Starflight was naturally superior, yet didn't believe him to be a satisfactory NightWing.

At first, he goes along with Morrowseer's plan to convince the others to choose Blister.

On the NightWing Island, Starflight eventually gets fed up with Morrowseer's desire for control.

He makes fast friends with Fatespeaker and actually manages to assert his leadership over the False Dragonets of Destiny, earning their respect.

At first, Morrowseer is impressed and satisfied by this, but instead, Starflight decides he’s had enough of Morrowseer’s meddling and has him killed, ordering the False Dragonets of Destiny to kill him.

It’s a close fight, but working together, they all manage to kill him, convincing the other NightWings that Morrowseer wanted Starflight to lead as the NightWing of the prophecy.

Negotiating an alliance with Glory as queen of the RainWings, she allows them territory in the Rainforest that was going unused.

Despite Starflight having feelings for Sunny, he chooses Fatespeaker as his queen, the pair ruling over the NightWings in the Rainforest.

The False Dragonets remain loyal to Starflight, serving as his bodyguard and entourage.

Starflight axes the NightWings’ alliance with Blister and tells her that Morrowseer is dead, handing his leadership to Starflight.

Starflight easily outsmarts her, the False Dragonets coming to his aid to fend her off and she flies away in shame.

Deathbringer serves as a bodyguard for Glory, but also as an assassin for Starflight, taking out anyone that attempts to kill either of them.

Glory

She had never wanted to be a part of the prophecy and has no qualms about doing the dirty work necessary to further the group's ends.

If she has no place in the prophecy, then she has no façade to pretend to adhere to in terms of being for peace.

She has zero interest in the prophecy and only cares about furthering her own self-fulfilling goals.

However, she does care still about others and about upending the status quo, just not necessarily for peace.

When the group escapes, Glory doesn’t hesitate to kill Scarlet, having been biding her time to ensure that her defenses were as low as possible. However, Burn escapes before Glory could hunt her down.

When Tsunami offers the idea of ruling the tribes, Glory is most eager for the idea. She ends up leading the group in Tsunami’s absence, knowing exactly what to do.

Glory doesn’t even hesitate to assert herself onto the RainWings, challenging the queens outright from the get-go.

When she wins, the first thing she does is investigate the disappearances. The second thing she does is impose strict regiments and starts training the RainWings for battle.

As a queen, she’s the most rigid and strict, exerting the most control over the RainWings.

After the NightWing Island is destroyed, with Starflight as its leader, Glory forms an alliance with them and sets her sights on the SkyWing kingdom.

After all, wouldn’t it be ironic if the RainWing in the prophecy, the hasty replacement for the lost ‘wings of sky,’ ruled the SkyWings?

Glory challenges Queen Ruby for the throne and wins, but instead opted to spare her, seeing the value in having a figurehead speak for her in the Sky Kingdom.

Peril and Clay act as her bodyguards in the Sky Kingdom and are in charge of enforcing her rules and keeping an eye on Ruby. Meanwhile, Deathbringer is her bodyguard in the Rainforest Kingdom, taking full advantage of the Night-Rain Alliance.

The only reason Glory doesn’t rule the NightWings is because Starflight and Fatespeaker do, and managing an alliance is easier than ruling three tribes at once.

Clay

His loyalty is to his tight-knit group and them only.

He harbours intense distrust towards anyone and everyone outside of their small group, but defers to them when they defy him if they believe someone deserves to be part of their small group. After all, he brought in Peril to be a part of their group.

Clay thinks to how much everyone in their life has used them or tried to use them, the Guardians and the other queens and decides his only loyalty is to his friends.

He has no desire to choose any of the candidates for the SandWing queens, but he’ll support whatever decision the others choose.

When Tsunami floats the idea of all the dragonets becoming queens of each kingdom, Clay’s the only one who resists the idea, having no desire to rule anything.

However, later on, he is able to secure an alliance with Moorhen if she swears allegiance to the Dragonets of Destiny rather than Burn, promising that she would be protected by them if she swore loyalty to them, no matter which queen they choose to rule the SandWings.

While Clay is intensely distrustful and stand-offish towards anyone outside of his group, he does have a soft spot for dragons that are like him. Dragons that are seen as outcasts or misunderstood or are treated like objects to use by others, hence why he attached so easily to Peril and inducted her into their group.

Though Clay doesn’t necessarily enjoy his position in the Sky Kingdom, he is glad that he has Peril and the two are nearly inseparable. Even though it’s not ideal, Clay takes his job very seriously.

Ruby occasionally tries to claim some sort of power, but Clay is quick to remind her what the terms are and Peril is quick to enforce them.

It doesn’t take very long for Peril and Clay to become an item.

Clay meets his siblings and encourages them to join him in the Sky Kingdom and join him as his personal guard, the pod making a formidable team. They can’t quite fill the void left by his friends, but they help and he’s glad to be able to visit his friends as often as he can.

Peril

She has always had issues when it came to attachment. It's what made her latch onto Clay and made it difficult to give up on Scarlet.

However, since Glory had no qualms about killing Scarlet and making sure she's dead, all Peril has left is Clay.

Clay is the only source of belonging and attachment she has left, so she clings to him like her life depends on it, being fiercely loyal to him and only him, obedient to a fault.

Clay has no objections to this arrangement. After all, the only ones he can trust are outcasts just like him. Outcasts that everyone else sought to manipulate and use for their own ends.

Peril doesn’t necessarily get along with the other dragonets, but Peril does whatever Clay says and thinks is right and trusts him more than anything.

While she and Ruby don’t get along, Peril tries not to be violent and Clay helps keep her in line.

She takes her job as enforcer very seriously, enjoying the power she’s now able to have thanks to her newfound freedom. Dragons can’t use her, anymore, and she enjoys being able to make dragons do whatever she wants.

The only authority above her is Clay himself.

When his siblings join their group in the Sky Kingdom, Peril is a little apprehensive at first. But, they’re Clay’s siblings, so she makes an effort to get along with them.

Secretly, Peril is glad that Clay doesn’t spend a lot of time around the other Dragonets of Destiny, anymore, viewing Tsunami, Glory, and Sunny as potential competition.

If any female shows an interest in Clay, they mysteriously disappear, Clay none the wiser.

It doesn’t take long for them to become an item, and Peril just gets more possessive, rarely letting Clay interact with anyone outside of his siblings and the other Dragonets of Destiny. And even then, they’re on thin ice.

Sunny

Sunny has always believed and had faith in the prophecy and faith in others, however her faith is shaken. Badly.

Instead of believing in the prophecy, she manipulates it, controls it to get what she wants and how she wants the world to be.

Eventually, she winds up in Burn's possession and manipulates Burn into believing that Sunny wants her to be queen of the SandWings, when really, she's fully intent on driving her to her death because she doesn't believe she's fit to be queen.

In-fact, she intends on being queen herself, leaving Blaze alive because Blaze will be much easier to manipulate than Blister.

She doesn't even have to try too hard to convince Starflight because she knows he'll support her being queen instead of Blister.

Sunny sets up the Dragonbite Viper attack with Blister to get Burn killed and then Sunny gets Thorn to kill Blister when she’s distracted.

Taking the throne, Sunny is a surprisingly benevolent queen, though she is incredibly manipulative, using everyone in the palace.

The Outclaws become a secret police, spying on everyone in the Kingdom of Sand, ensuring that they follow her laws and if they don’t, they’re ‘corrected’ in the stronghold.

Sunny maintains an alliance with the Ice Kingdom, getting along well with Queen Glacier and using her relationship with Blaze to her advantage.

Instead of Jade Mountain Academy being founded by her, it’s used to create a secret task force. Almost like the Talons of Peace, but their allegiance is to maintain and keep order in all the kingdoms on behalf of the Dragonets of Destiny.

Sunny is its leader and its founder, and she leads all the Dragonets of Destiny from this point onward.

#wings of fire #wings of fire au #wof au #villain!dragonets of destiny #tsunami #starflight #glory #clay #peril #sunny #dragons

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