#[ idek know what CW to tag this with!! ]

[avrorean]

wait why does Nanna not like Cullen?

I'm gonna take this as like, a character question and hope you're not offput or slighted as a cullen fan or a mage warden/cullen shipper ofjgodsfjosidd.

So it isn't really about Nanna not liking Cullen. Something I think needs to be understood is Nanna is First Enchanter Irving's apprentice - that isn't something I made for her specifically, that's dialogue confirmed in the Tower for every mage warden. You are Irving's Talented Apprentice. She's been witness to plenty of his arguments with Greagoir and has no doubt heard his complaints outside of them, something implied when you choose dialogue with him that's critical of the Knight-Commander. She's already primed and trained against trusting templars, because Irving doesn't trust the templars, and in some ambient dialogue with other mages you can understand why. They show almost immediately that the Templars already abuse their power over the apprentices, the youngest or least capable, in small ways; wariness is for her own safety.

In fact in this instance, it doesn't really have anything to do with Cullen himself or what it's assumed he would do. We know at this point he's very dedicated to not being inappropriate with his charges, he's sympathetic to an extent (but fun fact, if you play a male mage, you see he already has those seeds of paranoia against mages planted this early; cause that's what templar training does), it's extremely unlikely that he'd ever hurt her on his own. I'm sure he'd be very sweet in a vacuum.

But even disregarding that the threat that exists inherently, as I'm about to show, as soon as there's an order from someone higher than him, her life is in danger. And as Irving's apprentice, this is something she is already very aware of.

Cullen: O-Oh, um, h-hello. I...uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly. Warden: Hello, Cullen. Cullen: Th-They picked me as the Templar to strike the killing blow if...if you became an abomination. It's nothing personal, I swear! I-I'm just glad you're alright, you know? Jowan: psst, someone likes you! Warden: Would you have really struck me down? Cullen: I would have felt terrible about it... But... But I serve the Chantry and The Maker. And I will do as I'm commanded.

Slow down there, Romeo. all that just from saying hello. thanks buddy.

I think it's kind of funny that this is framed like a meet-cute with an awkward boy on the surface, but kind of insidiously is a prime example of why a templar-mage relationship within a Circle fundamentally cannot work. At least not healthily. You can be the sweetest, most sexless, classic courtly romance in the world, but as soon as the templar is given an order, the chance that they'll choose the mage's life over their divine duty is slim. The templar inherently has power over their life. Even the good relationships where they do choose their love over duty, like Rhys and Evangeline, kind of inherently carry that power dynamic.

There's also just the fact that this man is not discreet even outside of this conversation. Everyone is telling her every 2 steps that this Templar is in love with you, he's so in love with you, dear maker have you heard this templar is in love with you. You hear about his crush on her LONG before you ever see this man's face. So suffice it to say that Nanna is very aware that she's caught the eye of a templar, and everything that she knows tells her this is a danger zone. So she smiles, she's polite, but this really isn't something she wants to deal with.

also I just wanna. pick through his dialogue real quick in Broken Circle

Cullen: This trick, again? I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong... warden: Cullen! Don't you recognize me? Cullen: Only too well. How deep they must have delved into my thoughts.... Cullen: Sifting through my thoughts... tempting me with the one thing I've always wanted but could never have. Using my shame against me, my ill-advised infatuation with her. A mage, of all things. Cullen: I am beyond caring what you think! The Maker knows my sin, and I pray he will forgive me. [...] You are a mage, and I a Templar. It is my duty to oppose you and all you are. Cullen: And to think, I once thought we were too hard on you.

I know a lot of people take this as ship material for cullen & a mage warden, but Nanna does not find this flattering. This is lowkey terrifying. Imagine you've grown up in the Circle and you're being told, in the most off-putting way possible, that your face, your person, and god knows what else has been used by a demon to tempt someone whose job all day is to watch you. Someone who every apprentice prior to this event has loudly announced fancies you, while watching you. And that it has almost worked.

I think it's also interesting to note that he exclusively refers both to his crush on her and her person in a possessive tense. She is the thing he always wanted, she is his shame, his sin, a mage of all things.

And we see in DA2 that he's still hard carrying that torch; when Hawke gets their Amell status back he immediately starts mooning about how special she was. But DA2 is arguably the worst he's ever been in regards to his feelings on mages. And in a less extreme case, it ties into something Anders says in what I believe is the rivalry romance route: you cannot claim to love me and despise what I am. And Nanna is a mage. She is a (mostly) free, distinctly not part of the circle mage. That isn't something that can change for him even if she reciprocated his feelings.

And that isn't to say Cullen isn't a victim in this scenario in regards to Broken Circle or downplay what he's going through in that scene - he absolutely has been tortured and is reacting in trauma. I don't want to downplay that at all. But I feel like to dismiss the implications of that affecting someone else like a mage warden loses some of the interesting factor to it. Nanna, and more broadly mage wardens in general, are also being extremely traumatized in this event, just in a different perspective. She's lost most of the people she's known her whole life too, her friends as well as his. She had to kill some of them herself. It isn't to lessen his suffering, but to highlight their traumas are on the same level, just different in some ways and very the same in others.

I feel similarly on this as I do with Alistair and the Landsmeet; to exclusively attribute the event to how it affects him and no one else involved is to remove the Warden as a character and exclusively view it through the lens of a player. And, yknow, its rp. I'm writing a character. It's not fun like that to just acknowledge a canon character's reaction to events and not the one you're writing.

Currently, being around him makes her uncomfortable. This isn't to say the two can't, at least in a developed Inquisition era, work things out to an extent. These two have a LOT of very complicated, very interconnected trauma that I think would be beneficial in talking to someone who gets it. That's about as close to therapy as Thedas is gonna get. If nothing else, he's made steps and he's been very open to the Inquisitor about wanting to apologize to her. But Cullen is still very Templar-minded in Inquisition, and whether the narrative wants to acknowledge that or not, is still running on a lot of his old biases. Which, that's part of the process, but without more work in that direction I don't see them being much more beyond coworkers, much less developing anything romantic between them. And I don't think it's without reason that Leliana gets increasingly more angry on her behalf in other dialogue over the fact that he keeps asking about her.

[ellieslittleslutt]

Brewed ❀

MEN AND MINORS DNI!!

pairings: barista!ellie x journalist!reader

the barista you visit every morning finally makes her move.

cw: none really reader is called pretty girl once and smoking? also swearing

a/n: AHHH I LOVE THIS. definitely writing a part two

wc- 1k

not proof read pt2!!

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“have a nice day” she smiled at you. the kind of smile that just makes you melt. you smile back at her trying to ignore how your cheeks heat up “you too” you said turning around each step you melt further into the floor.

it was always her. that one independent cafe that charges $8 for a coffee, you thought it was worth it just to see her smile and say that line she was scripted into saying. every morning on your way to work you would stop by to order the same thing each morning, a hot latte to go with a small sandwich. on your days off you’d take the time to sit down and get some work done with your order.

this morning was no different. while you walked to work sipping on your coffee and taking a bite of your sandwich you noticed the cup had a message on it ‘you’re beautiful enjoy your coffee!!’. you couldn’t help but take a photo of it sending it to your friend lidia.

lils- get her number!

you- idek know her name how tf am i supposed to do that?

lils- she wears a name tag no? just go off that

you- pretty sure it’s fake

lils- how do you know?

you- just doesn’t fit her… whatever i’ll talk more when i get to work

when you got to work you sat down at your desk looking at the stories you have to research made but your boss. “seriously?” you mumbled to yourself as you looked at the long list when suddenly lidia pokes her head in “so cute barista?” she teased sitting next to you.

you sigh “yeah anyway think her name tag is fake it just doesn’t match her” you tell her sipping your coffee while starting your typing “well what does she look like?” she asks leaning against your desk. you think back to each time you saw her and every little detail of her “shoulder length auburn hair, always has it in a half up bun but sometimes a low bun which makes her look so pretty, pale green eyes and freckles”. lidia just chuckles “jesus you’re down bad huh?”

“shut up” you mumble your cheeks red as you hit the side of her arm and she laughs putting her hands up “what stating the facts we get paid for it” she smiles at you and back at the note on you’re cup “so think she likes you?”

“i don’t know maybe she just said that for tips? i used to do that” you shrug and you continue working on your computer “well you could just ask for her numberrr” she says again raising an eyebrow at you, rolling your eyes you go back to typing “like i said im not doing that… ill get her name first or whatever”

⋆｡˚𖦹

thay weekend you went on with your routine, heading to the cafe with your laptop and note pad to try and get some articles done so your boss gets off your ass. you sat down with your usual smiling at the barista when she walked by you.

you smile back at her then look at your coffee seeing another message written in it ‘you look like and angel’. your heart almost explode and you swear you almost passed out. you look back at her and she was leaning against the counter watching you with that smirk. god she was so hot. she gave you a wink before standing up going back to work.

⋆｡˚𖦹

over the course of the next two weeks ellie would leave little messages on your coffee cup or the paper bag of your sandwich. each time you took a picture getting all giggly and happy. you found yourself looking forward to it each morning.

one weekend you got up getting ready in your go to cold weather outfit. you had gotten your bag and keys going to the cafe with a smile. when you got there you saw ellie taking an order from some guy. you sat down opening your laptop and hopped to get a few articles written. with all the holidays this time around your boss had you working harder with more stories to write.

you stayed a few hours the barista serving you and you got your little message. this time while she was taking all the dishes she left a napkin with a proud smile. ‘my shift ends in a few minutes meet me outside ;)’ classic.

you quickly got all your things putting the napkin in your bag. you went outside to the front to see her sitting at a table on her phone smoking a cigarette. she looked up at you and smiled sitting up “hey” she said with a smile. her voice oh my lord you were dying.

“hi” you said nervously and sat down. you honestly had no clue what to do. your flirting game was abysmal. she offered you a cigarette and you took it taking a puff off it.

you both got to talking for a bit. she told you her name was ellie. it suit her really well. with her style and her eyes everything suit her. she told you that the cafe was only a small part time kid she took every morning and she really worked at the clinic in the afternoons. that explained why she was never there for lunch.

you told her you were a journalist and she tilted her head “no way who’s your boss?” she asked with a chuckle “maria miller you know her?” “yeah she’s my aunt” you chuckled looking at her “small world huh?” “more like town everyone knows each other here” she shrugged.”

when it got to around 1 pm ellie looked back at you “ah shit gotta head to the clinic.” she mumbled grabbing her bag “yeah it’s getting cold staying out here” you replied standing up too.

“i’ll give you my number pretty girl?” she asked with a smirk holding her phone. pretty girl? it niagara falls down there. you flushed bright red and smiled handing her your phone and she put in her number “well i would love to do this again? how about i take you out on a proper date? dinner maybe? can you do tomorrow 7pm?” all you could do was giggle and nod “yeah yeah i can make that” you reply still nervous.

“i’ll see you around” ellie says putting a hand on your arm before walking away.

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taglist: @autisticintr0vert @eveshyper @soodle-noup @puppywilliams

[byanyan]

ㅤat first, they're not sure he even heard them, but they don't repeat themself. if he hasn't heard, that's fine — it actually might be better, maybe it's still too soon — they'll ask again later once he's had some time to calm down. and if he has heard... it's completely understandable if he needs some time to collect himself enough in order to put the words together and speak them out loud. that seems to be the case too, because soon enough he's speaking again, and the words have byan's blood boiling.

attacked. out of nowhere. hearing that, it takes every ounce of self control to keep themself in place, to keep themself from grabbing several knives, maybe their old baseball bat out of the closet too, and heading straight out there to hunt the fucker down. obviously staying with sol is more important, taking care of him is the only thing that matters, but knowing that someone out there did this to him, did this intentionally, that they were fucking waiting for him to leave the shop...

they've been angry before, been blinded by rage before, but it's never gotten under their skin quite like this. a searing heat coils inside, demanding immediate action, demanding violence, blood for blood, to pay the asshole back tenfold so that he never tries the same thing again, so he passes the goddamn word on and no one ever lays a finger on sol again—

ㅤ—...and then the rest of the words sink in, making byan's blood run cold.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpayback.

payback in the form of violence, an ambush... sol's never done anything warranting something like that. he doesn't deal with the kinds of people who go to such lengths. no, this wasn't payback directed at sol. they know the moment the word is uttered that this wasn't about him... this was a message for them.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤthis is their fault.

ㅤㅤ" motherfucker. "ㅤa sharp growl escapes before they can stop it, one hand closing into a fist in the back of sol's shirt as their body tenses. fury promptly flaring back to life in place of the new despairing guilt that pulls their heart into the pit of their stomach, byan is no longer thinking straight. arms loosening their grip on their boyfriend with some reluctance, they step away and begin storming back down the hallway toward the living room. with each step, there's intent. with each step, their anger is palpable, though they give no indicator that half of it is now directed at themself as well as at the asshole who did this.

ㅤㅤ" i'll kill him. "ㅤone knife swiped off an end table as they pass, then another tugged out from its hiding place under a shelf as they continue stalking their way through the apartment.ㅤ" i'll fuckin' kill him! "ㅤthey're at the closet, forcing it open and digging around in the pockets of one of their coats for a third weapon when the repeat is snarled, louder this time. this is their fault. sol was attacked, fucking assaulted outside of work, and it's their goddamn fault. furious isn't a strong enough word for what they're feeling, and it certainly doesn't encompass the much wider range of emotions now bubbling within their chest, although it certainly is fuelled by them. the need to act, to do something, to fix this is more intense than it was before now that they know the source, now that they know they need to make up for this, and although they hate the idea of leaving sol alone right now... they don't think they can just sit here in the guilt of it all, either.

it's always been easier to follow their anger. follow their anger, take care of things, and deal with everything else later. it's the way they've always operated, but it's always been in response to someone wronging them.

ㅤㅤ" he's not gettin' away with this. "ㅤgrabbing for the bat hidden way in the back of the closet, byan then slams the door shut with their foot and slings the weapon over their shoulder with a white-knuckle grip, moving for the apartment's entrance.ㅤ" he's not gettin' away, period! i'll bash that piece'a shit's skull in! "

you’re home, and you’re safe.

it’s almost hard to believe. yes, he physically walked through the threshold of their apartment, headed straight for the bathroom, and now he’s physically in their arms. but that memory is still vivid, making it very easy to replay those moments in his head, where there’s a chance he could’ve died if he hadn’t fought back.

he’s never felt so hopeless in his life, and god, he absolutely fucking hates it. hates that he’s having this kind of reaction in the first place, even though it’s a completely normal reaction, for someone who had just gone through something as traumatic as he did..

when their grip tightens around him, he tenses up even more, letting out another choked sob. no, you’re not back there, the one holding you is your partner. you’re safe with them. still, even as he tries to rationalize with himself, it’s hard to get himself to. it’s like he’s stuck in the memory. except… he can’t push away, he’s actively trying to remind himself that they wouldn’t hurt him. that all they’re doing is simply trying to comfort him, as evidenced by the way they’re running their fingers through his hair.

his own grip tightens, shaky hands holding onto the fabric of their shirt like a lifeline. afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be taken back there, and killed for real.

he almost doesn’t catch their question, the voice is almost drowned out by his sobs, but when he registers their question, he forces himself to calm down. even if it’s long enough to get his words out. “ i was— ” he hiccups. “ —i was coming out of the shop, and someone came out of nowhere. i didn’t get a good look at who it was, but they just… started attacking. ” the details are starting to get fuzzy, it’s hard to remember every little thing…. but, the more he thinks about it, one key thing sticks out. “ i-i think it had something to do with payback? but i-i don’t know for what, i’ve never done anything bad to anyone. ”

[showstopper35]

Young And Beautiful (arranged marriage with Megatron, part three)

Part Two & Part One

a/n: i'm glad you guys like the story! happy start of kinktober! i did something a little different this time.

tags: @sleepisapriviligethatidonthave @yrsfch @systemofcircuitry @littlecrowtime @lordstarscreamluvsspikes

cw: rodimus slander, gagging, saliva?? bro idek just suggetive stuff

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"So....how old is she?" Rodimus says, during a dull moment on the bridge.

I snap my attention away from the datapad I was reading. "Excuse me?"

"Your conjunx. Wife. Whatever. How old is she?" Rodimus prods, ignoring the uncomfortable look on my face.

"She is...young." I leave it at that, doing my best to dismiss him. I'm glad she is not, for once, hanging around the bridge in her soft and silent way. Rodimus laughs at me, but he thankfully drops it.

What does he care, anyway? He couldn't even keep up his friends-with-benefits thing with Drift, at least according to Ravage's gossip. Just because my wife was suddenly living with me didn't mean I had to talk about her. Or even think about her. Neither of us wanted this marriage, and she was better off entertaining herself.

After Magnus dismissed the command from the brig, I stopped by my room to plug in my datapad. There she was, of course, because it appeared to me that she hardly ever left our room. She hardly looked any different from our wedding day, sitting criss-crossed on the bed with her own datapad in her lap. Her optics, her damn wide, beautiful optics met mine, following my frame across the room as I plugged in my datapad.

"Do you need something?" I ask gruffly, immediately regretting it. Why the frag would I be talking to her?

"N-no." she all but whispers. "You just look...well, stormier than usual." she says softly.

I grunt in response, dismissing her. She was right, of course, but it was only because Rodimus had brought up the age gap between us. "Why do you care?" I growl.

"Because you're my husband, and I like to be out of the way when you're in a bad mood." she states simply.

"What? Why?" My confusion outweighs my discomfort in talking to her.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but you're scary when you're mad. There's sort of a four-billion-year war because you got upset."

"That is--that is not-" I sigh, pinching the bridge of my olfactory sensor. "That is not why I did...all of that. But also, I would never hurt you."

She gives me a small yet disbelieving glance before looking away. I huff, and sink to my knees in front of her.

"Look at me." I order. She gently tilts her helm back to meet my eyes. I can see that she's trembling.

"I swore a promise when we were wed to protect you. That includes protection from myself." I say, less gruff, and almost softer. "I would never lay a hand against you, I swear."

Gently, she cups my cheek. I notice she's stopped shaking. "Okay." she whispers. I nod, then flinch as she places a soft kiss to my forehead.

"Wh-why did you do that?" I sputter, pulling away.

"I hoped it would help you feel better. I'm very sorry." she says softly, and against my better judgment, my spark aches. Those fragging optics of hers....

"Dammit, don't say sorry." I growl, then regret it once I see her flinch. I carefully reach out and cup her face in my claws. My hand is so big that my digits wrap around the base of her helm. I carefully use my other hand to trail my digits across her jaw, then her lips.

"Open." I order, and her lips part obediently. "Good." I stick two of my digits in her mouth, pressing down on her glossa. She makes a soft noise, a weird feeling washing over my frame. I press my digits farther into her mouth, till she gags on them. I remove them, licking the oral lubricant off my digits as she catches her breath.

"Good little wife." The sensation of her hot, wet glossa around my digits is one I will soon not forget. "Don't apologize for meaningless things."

She nods, her face flushed nearly as much as it was during our wedding night. I kiss her forehead, and then I leave.

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is it hot in here or is that just the tall grey socialist robot

[gor3-hound]

can't fight this feeling pt.2

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

part one, part two

cw: 18+ content, dub-con, stepcest, mentions of past non-con and somno, obsessive behaviour, idek what the tag for this is so um - outercourse?? brief mention of murder n non-con recording

a/n: hiii! originally i hadn't planned a part two of this, but here we are! not sure if i like it as much as part one but we move... hope you all like it :))

word count: 1.7k words

Leon couldn't stop thinking about you. You'd crawled your way into his brain and settled down. His entire body itches when you are near, plagued with the knowledge he'd be unable to touch you how he wanted. How he needed.

He loved how pliant you were when he slipped a sleeping pill into your nightly tea, but it wasn't enough. He needed to know how pretty you'd sound moaning his name. He needed you to be awake. He'd had practice now, sneaking into your room at night. He needed to show you how good it would be, make you crave him as much as he craved you.

The perfect opportunity comes up a few weeks later. Your parents tell the both of you they're going away for a couple of days on a couples trip, leaving Leon in charge of the house. He gives them the sweetest smile as they get ready to leave, an arm casually draped over your shoulder as he promises to take care of his baby sister.

“Leon!” You start as soon as they're gone, smiling up at him excitedly. “We've got the place to ourselves! What d'you wanna do?��� 

Oh, he can think of a few things, alright. But he's gotta ease into it. It wouldn't do him any good if he scared you off, so he shrugs, playing it casual.

“I dunno.” He replies, using the arm that's still wrapped around your shoulder to guide you into the living room. “Play some games or something? Have a movie day? Up to you, sis.”

“God, you're so boring.” You whine, playfully pushing at his chest with a giggle. He grins at that, squishing you close with his arm and ruffling your hair, ignoring your protests.

“You sure you wanna start a fight with me? You know I'll kick your ass, right?” He says with a playful grin, sliding an arm down to your waist, his hand gripping you there.

“No you wouldn't. You're a big baby.” You say with a laugh, looking up at him and sticking your tongue out. He cocks an eyebrow at your display, and before you can react, he's pinning you to the couch and tickling you.

“Lee!” You exclaim, laughing and trying to kick him off of you. Your arms push at his shoulders, but he's using all of his body weight to pin you down. You wriggle and squirm as much as you can, but nothing seems to get you loose.

“Come on, I give up, alright?” You manage to force out between giggles, using all of your strength to tug at his fingers and try and get his hands off of you.

“Nah, too late for that.” He says with a grin, pressing himself against you as he continues to tickle you. His hips meet your stomach, and he seems to realize that's a mistake as soon as it happens.

His cock is rock hard, and he can see the exact moment you feel it. The way your eyes widen and you freeze up. His own movements halt, his breath hitching as he finds himself unable to move away from you.

“Okay, seriously. Get off now, Lee. That's so weird.” You say with a frown, pushing at his chest. When he doesn't budge, your brows furrow, and you try and squirm away.

His grip on your waist tightens, and you find yourself panicking slightly. “Leon! What the fuck? Let me go.” 

“M'sorry. You're just so pretty. Can't help it.” He all but whines, grabbing your arms and pining the above your head with one hand, the other pinning your hip to the couch. “You got me so hard, princess. Just let me deal with it, yeah? Promise I won't hurt you.”

“Leon, this isn't fucking funny-” You start, your words being cut off by his lips meeting yours. Your eyes widen, and you jerk your head to the side to separate them. 

He whimpers, pinning your thighs down with his own instead so he can use your free hand to grip your jaw and keep your head still. It hurts a little, but he tries his best not to grip you too hard.

He kisses you desperately, digging his fingers into your cheeks slightly to pry your teeth apart so he can stick his tongue into your mouth. He's never been able to kiss you like this before, always too scared of waking you. You're so soft and warm everywhere, it drives him insane.

He begins to rock his hips against you, shifting so he's rubbing over your clothed pussy. You moan quietly into his mouth as he brushes your clit, already feeling your panties dampen. 

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, the thoughts about how fucking weird this all is on the forefront of your mind. You let yourself be kissed by Leon, no longer trying to fight it. You find yourself kissing back before you even realize, tongue sliding against his as your eyes flutter shut.

When he pulls back, you feel a heat rising to your cheeks, and your breath comes out a little heavier than usual. He's still grinding against you, and you're doing your best not to show how much you like it.

“Leon, come on. That's enough. Mom and dad will kill us if they find out. This is so fucking weird.” You protest weakly, brows still pinched together as you look up at him.

“You're the reason that I'm so hard. The least you could do is help.” He grunts, dropping his head to suck bruises into the skin of your neck. You don't stop him when he reaches for your pants to tug them off, or when he starts fiddling with the bow at the top of your panties.

“Cute.” He says with a grin, sitting back on his heels between your legs to look at you. He dips the tips of his index fingers in the waistband, slowly pulling them down.

“Leon… we can't.” 

“Hmm? Why is that? It's not like you're actually my sister. And look. She likes it.” He says with that cheeky smile you've grown so accustomed to. You never thought you'd see it in this scenario.

“I'm a virgin.” You say quietly, eyes darting to the side like you're embarrassed to admit it to him.

No, you're not. He thinks to himself, trying his best not to give anything away with his expression. He almost feels bad lying to you like this, but it makes it so much sweeter knowing he's the only one that's touched you like this. 

Figured out you were taking the pill when he snooped in your room one day and assumed you must have been sleeping with someone else. He's happy to know he was wrong about that.

“S'okay, sis. I'll take it slow. Won't even put it in, pinky swear.” 

You pause, swallowing hard as you look up at him. You had no reason not to trust Leon, right? He'd been nothing but nice to you… it's not like anyone had to find out.

“You promise?”

“Yeah. Promise. I'll make it feel good for both of us.” He replies easily, leaning forward to kiss you again. He could be patient. It would feel so satisfying when you finally let him fuck you willingly. He doesn't mind taking it slow.

He frees his erection from his boxers as he kisses you, adjusting your panties so he can slip in them. He pushes himself between your folds, sliding back and forth. His tip brushes your clit every time he pushes forward, his thumbs holding his dick firmly against you.

You gasp softly at the feeling, hips bucking towards him as your hands grip his shoulders. He moans into your mouth as your nails dig into his muscles through his shirt, rutting against you faster.

Your moans are ever prettier than he imagined. His kisses turn even hungrier, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he sucks it into his mouth.

You're even better when you're awake. He can't believe it took him this long to gather the courage to make a move on you. You're so wet, dribbling all over his cock and making the slide even easier. 

He's not gonna last long like this, so he focuses on grinding the head of his dick against your clit, trying to get you to cum. Maybe if he makes you feel good enough, you'd let him fuck you before your parents got back.

“Leon… Leon, fuck.” You whimper, breaking this kiss and burying your face in his neck. It doesn't take long for you to be pushed over the edge, coating his cock ever more.

Just hearing you moan his name is enough for him to coat your pussy in cum, making a mess of your cute panties until the fabric is transparent.

He collapses on top of you, pressing his weight against you. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a sigh. He feels his heart start to race when you try and press closer to him.

He's finally got you where he wants you. He knows you so well, knows he can make it so you'll be ruined for anyone else. He wants you with him forever. He'd kill anyone who tried to come between the two of you, and he's not above using his badge to scare off any men who so much as look in your direction.

As much as it pains him, he knows he's gonna have to wipe the videos he's taken of you off his phone. He can't risk you coming across them one day and ruin what you have going. He'd get some more, convince you to record a proper home video with him.

“Told you I'd always look after you.” He mumbles into your skin, rolling off you only to tuck you into his side, running a hand through your hair.

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with affection that only serves to drive him insane.

Yeah, you'd be his. He'd make sure of it.

Whatever it takes. 

[sunfl0werlevi]

HOME

ʚ✩ɞ ratings: sfw, angst to fluff, comfort

ʚ✩ɞ cw/tw: jjk manga chapter 221 spoilers! slight angst and depressive tones. slight sexual tones hehe.

ʚ✩ɞ wc: 10.5k

ʚ✩ɞ tags: gojo satoru x fem!reader, husband gojo and wife reader are teachers

ʚ✩ɞ an: hi! yes, this is the first time ill be sharing one of the many works i have in my drafts (that im confidently not sharing ever). idek how it got this long. gojo being unsealed triggered something in me so i hope u enjoy. ( ˘ ³˘)♥

italicized texts are past dialogues! FEEDBACKS are highly appreciated.

you stared at the golden band around your ring finger, toying it around. your bed seemed to stretch twice its size and grow colder every morning that you wake up.

every morning, you trace the outline of the dips on his side of the bed. you left it dismantled the way he did, since 19 days ago. you could still see a few strands of silver hair on his pillow glowing under the daylight.

"satoru, please."

"you know there's a lot of souvenir shops in shibuya! maybe i'll take you to some if you're a good little wifey."

"you told me we're working together on this. just let me fight alongside with you-" you pouted and so he gives you a wet smack on the cheek and booped your nose.

"babe, my honey, sweetiepie, you're on children duties!"

"no fair!"

"don't worry, ijichi will take you there. toodles!" and then he warped out.

fools. you didn't even know half of the shit that was about to set loose.

the wooden sliding door of your shared room slammed open, startling you out of your thoughts. there stood an out of breath yuuji with both his hands clinging on to either side of the door frame.

"sensei," he looked at you with determination, a sense of sparkle behind his eyes.

no. no.

you can't have this right now. not right now. you were not ready--not when what you've been preparing yourself for was the worst. but this? this wasn't in your plan.

any indication of hope from him has all been but failure. you were under the high of false hope but now...now, you don't even know how to respond with this pressing matter in front of you.

what kind of wife are you to even think that way? will he even understand if you feel this way?

but you are here now and he is here now.

his frame stood patiently behind your student, waiting for you to say anything. but only the sound of your shallow, shuddering breaths filled the room.

the pink-haired boy staggered backwards to leave, as to give room to your man.

doors were always never tall enough for satoru so he has to duck down in order to grace the room with his presence. his presence that is so invigorating, with his own hint of charisma.

and there he is. he is still so beautiful. his alabaster hair unreasonably still glimmering. your eyes were met with the color of the sky--lustrous and comforting, anticipating you.

but beneath this façade, they were chagrin and desolated, designed with heavy lids and undereye bags that loitered his skin.

the man that came to face you is not your satoru. although indulging with the fact that he looks bigger, more rugged, with his toned arms filling up the sleeves of his shirt--this satoru is only the shell of the man that you used to know.

he scratched his neck, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he gave you a small assuring grin. he opened his arms, wide and warm, welcoming you into a zone you knew all too well.

"c'mere."

though against your will, your body seemed to have a mind of its own--lunging forward to the sense of familiarity that is in front of you. amidst the unconvinced and confused face you held, your body knew how much you ached for this moment and alas your feet brought you towards him.

he gripped your waist so tightly, so much that he could break you in half like--like there were no tomorrow.

words could not even begin to detail this feeling. missing him is an understatement. no--you yearned for him--for his touch, for his smell, for his warmth. for this moment.

you sank deeper into his broad chest. the feeling and the sound of his heartbeat confirming that this is all true and not just a pigment of your imagination, or not you going insane.

he stuck his nose on top of your head, breathing in your smell. god, he could cry. he missed you so much and he was going insane because he was beginning to forget what his favorite shampoo you use smells like.

the silence was both so comforting yet so delicate. there are both no words yet too many words to tell. one pin drop could make or break the atmosphere. a paradox in the flesh. just in character for your husband.

but just in time, he spoke up, breaking the tension. you had imagined this moment, him apologizing or saying i love you, over and over. but no, he yet again breaks the record.

"thank you."

the last thing you wanted was to ever forget him. so, you listened to every voice messages, voice mails, and videos that he sent you every day like it was a routine and a lullaby before you sleep.

you would not forgive yourself if you forgot what he sounds like.

with the sound of his voice triggering the turmoil in you, your chin quivered and your throat burned in an agonizing pain. all of the weeping and mourning you've suppressed poured out onto his shirt.

he brushed your hair and cooed you into silent hushes.

"i'm sorry."

"satoru, she never cried," shoko said.

gojo sat silently on shoko's loveseat chair with both his arms resting on its armrest. he is finally relaxed which unfortunately meant that he has the time to think.

all of the guilt is finally blossoming inside of him.

for the longest time, he wished that he'd be rid of all the burdens that are pushed onto his shoulders. he wanted to run away. with you.

but he knew that his being makes everything complicated and you'd be in greater danger beside him than staying with everybody else.

so, him being in that damned box? his wish came true. was he selfish to somehow feel relieved while being isolated, knowing everything he left behind and all the chaos that ensued?

his colleague and good friend, nanami, who all but strayed away from jujutsu, was pushed towards it again by gojo. and now he's gone.

his teacher and a parent that he considered, principal yaga, lost his life fighting for everyone--especially for the children that gojo was supposed to protect.

his students--tiny but fighter nobara, with half of her head barely even of any shape and unresponsive on a pale hospital bed. yuuji who always graced a smile, now looked like he aged a dozen. and megumi--his son, who always quietly rooted and stood for everyone, lost his hope and is now a vessel to sukuna.

and you. he could not even begin to think how much of a toll it took on you.

"she kept everyone glued together, you know. when everything was falling apart after you...you were gone, she held all of their hands."

shoko blew a smoke out of her office window then tapped her cigarette onto an ashtray. "every day, she cleans nobara's body with a wet towel. when the students would come back with all unimaginable injuries, she tended to them with all of her reversal."

"satoru, i had to clinically force her, just so i could tend to her own injuries for a day. she did not want to stop working as if..."

"as if she will lose it, if she stopped," he finished the sentence, holding a firm gaze with shoko.

she and him knew what it was like to grieve for someone but still having all the responsibilities demanded at every second.

gojo, whether everybody admits or not, was their source of hope. the students gravitated towards him, and even curses do not fail to see the light that he shines--attracting them like moths to a flame.

he tended to everyone's troubles, to the bullshit of the higher-ups that even led to him killing his own bestfriend.

but you-you are the damned closest thing to him. you were his half. you are his half. and everybody knew you are a gojo too.

so they all went to you. for 19 whole days, you shared, albeit, owned his responsibilities. and you had to keep it together.

you should not fall apart. you cannot fall apart. the children relied on you for their strength and you kept them all stuck together like a little patched-up family of your own.

you became him. a true gojo. although it sounds gratifying, it was the last thing that he wanted for you to ever encounter.

he never wanted to share his pain and bare all of his weaknesses to you. but you unconditionally took them all, without any words nor complaints.

"she-she wasn't there."

"she didn't want to be disheartened and defeated if it had failed. you were gone and she is here. still here. you know where to find her, so go."

it wasn't just you. he also does not have the heart to see your face yet--he never really had a say on when he was getting released, anyway.

but he went to you.

your palms cupped his face, searching every inch of his skin like it is something foreign. his large hands held onto them, rubbing slow and soft circles on it.

"i've missed you...so much." you mumbled, risking a hiccup and another bout of tears to pour out of you. he dried your cheeks with both his thumbs.

"i know. i know, sweetheart," his voice was soft, barely a whisper, as he brought his lips towards your eyes.

he kissed your eyes tenderly, as if commanding for them to close for a minute. satoru knew how much you needed to crack--he wanted you to fall apart on him and he can pick up all of the pieces. he can make you whole again.

he can hold you together with his warm hands, thawing and melting you into a puddle of your own unresolved emotions. molding you exactly, to fit perfectly right where you belong.

right here. right next to him.

to him, you are the apple of his six eyes. the immeasurable devotion of his limitless. and the bottomless beloved of his infinity.

he could never leave you again. not like that. not ever.

he pressed his forehead against yours, his proximity tickling you with his breath and his pillowy lips brushing against yours. he rubbed his nose on yours and his eyelashes feather on your cheek.

"i love you," he rubbed his thumbs on both your cheeks while holding your gaze, accessing all of your senses with his presence.

he wants you to know, he's here.

he tentatively leans closer, only kissing you daintly. "kiss me. kiss me, satoru."

and so he planted his hand at the small of your back, leaning forward, obliging to your words. he kisses you--deeply and passionately. your mouth presses eagerly, gliding with his lips fervently without any lapses, like your life depended on it.

you put your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even more. he gripped your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

satoru is trying his best to not tear your clothes off, on behalf of his student waiting outside.

"god-" he retracted, staring at your eyes.

"i-" he kisses your neck "-missed you-" your chin "-so-" your nose "-much."

there is no reason for the both of you to be separated at all. not anymore.

and so he interlocks your pinkies together like he always did. you giggled and he grins widely.

"i'm here. i'm home."

[solurae]

four eyes (more to love underneath the frames) — PT.1

HELLO!!! okok the prologue received some good reception so i will!!! be continuing the series :3c THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE NICE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND OHHHH MY GOD THE MOTHER OF NERD!MIGUEL @nymphomatique REBLOGGED MY PROLOGUE (i could die happy) ty for the food and the inspiration to start this series!!!

i’m still the process of setting up my tumblr because my ass made this my secondary blog (but idek if that changes anything… i don’t think) OH AND YES THERE IS NOW A TAG FOR THE SERIES! ALSO PLSPLSPLS DON’T BE AFRAID TO SEND THROUGH ASKS FOR DRABBLES OR REQUESTS OR ANYTHING REALLY!!! i’m more than happy to feed us both hehe

tw/cw: mmmm not any i can think of (FIXING ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AFTER POSTING BECAUSE I’M COOL)

PROLOGUE?! < <

“sorry students, the projector is currently out of order so i’d like for all of you to just go through the powerpoint on your own. feel free to come up and ask questions.” the professor sighs as he closes his laptop and settles down onto his desk, the chatter of other students and laptop keyboards create the perfect white noise for your 8AM lecture.

you weren’t really that keen on studying this period anyway so you’ll just get it done later but god he looked so much better up close. why did miguel have to be so fucking dorky and hot and cool all at fucking once? it bothered you that miguel has never spoken to you. ever. but with that in mind, no one would ever think of the effect this nerd had on you, not even the nerd himself.

“oi mate, mandem depending on you to pass this class.” you shake your head after you’re slightly shoved to the side of your desk by none other than your best friend bad influence. hobie, hobie, hobie… you groan as you look his way, legs propped up on the desk as if he’s completely unaware that he’s in an lecture hall. next to him is peter, trying to shove hobie’s legs off the table for fear of accidentally hitting miguel who was seated right infront of you.

peter and hobie were the angel and devil on your shoulder that manifested into your closest friends. it was so hard to make friends (partially because you weren’t interested in anyone aside from miguel) and that everyone in your class were already in tight knit friend groups, and it was clear they all wanted to keep it that way with the silent treatment and one-sided conversations. but that didn’t matter. what did matter was that neither of them were taking this class seriously.

hobie - for god knows what reason - just took the class for fun. well, hobie took it out of spite. he said and you quote, “it is my take on deconstructing the stereotypes and preconceptions of particular social groups alongside us punks that dictate that we lack the desire and strive for academic feats”. and you know what? for someone who likes to laze around and count the panels of wood used on the ceiling for half the lecture, his high grades put his narrow-minded folks to shame. oh and peter? although he couldn’t afford to skip his classes, he did anyway. mary jane, MJ - the mother to his children, as he calls her - is in the humanities elective they both share. and peter might as well skip that class instead of looking at MJ as if she invented humanities. you don’t know how watching you and hobie bicker was a better investment of peter’s time but no one was complaining. someone had to remind the both of you of operation miguel mutation, or in other words, get his gaze out of his books and onto your face.

“so much for wanting to prove the world wrong when you’re relying on someone else to do it for you”, you scoffed at hobie, pretending to brush dust off your shoulders. he chuckled, “i just wanted to know how it feels to be those good for nothing, narcissistic capitalists, is all”. you shoved him so hard it rattled your seats and you didn’t even realise you accidentally kicked miguel’s seat until his cold hard gaze towards you even made hobie look like an art piece in the middle of rendering.

“can i help you?”, fuuuuuuck off. he sounds so fucking hot. insanely hot.

his large pitch black frames could never obstruct how chiseled miguel was, he had angular features such as his nose, his jawline and even his cupid’s bow. but these features were softened with warm red eyes and wisps of his hair coming down to frame his forehead. o’hara’s face overall was slightly scrunched, his hand gripped onto the fold away desk while he faced you, his casual attire in sweats could barely hide his build. his mouth was slightly open, the very tip of his fangs making themselves known. he was definitely a specimen, a gorgeous specimen for lack of better word. you didn’t even realise you were staring at miguel until he raised his eyebrow and glanced over at hobie, then over to peter who was just happily content watching your unplanned, unconventional first meeting.

“oh. um, no?”, you were still confused why miguel (the man you’ve been trying to get the attention of ever since the first inkling of a feeling), suddenly turned around and spoke to you—

“excuse me, may i ask that you don’t disrupt your peers during class? i’m watching you too, brown.” if your teacher scolding you like a wack ass boy in year 9 wasn’t enough to make you embarrassed, your quick descent into realising that you quite literally pushed yourself - pushed miguel, rather - to make the first move. in the worst fucking way possible. you ducked your head a bit in an attempt to avoid the gazes of your classmates only to find your shoe jammed between the gap next to miguel’s seat, missing his elbow by a mere few centimetres.

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

so much for devising a plan to properly introduce yourself by actually trying in class by answering the lecturers questions, to the point miguel can’t help but wonder that there is in fact competition. aware of his competitive nature, miguel would try to get ahead of you or widen that gap but then realise he was all wrong from the moment you’d tap his shoulder for a question you pretend to not understand, to look as if you’re struggling so much miguel can ignore his own studies for a little while to help you. men are stupid after all. miguel doesn’t apply here but being an outcast adjacent of the entire university has its benefits, in a way where it benefits your elaborate plan from stroking miguel’s ego by helping you, to ever so slightly become more and more interested in you. once you slowly ease into getting out of pretending to be an academic victim and miguel finds the joy in being academically challenged by the one girl who braved the odds and approach the mysterious mutant, he’d ask to you to meet at the cafeteria or the library. it didn’t matter. you would then, finally then, be in miguel’s line of sight.

“if this is your way of trying to get into my pants, i’m not interested.”

papers were stuffed into bags and the squeaking of chairs reverberated the lecture theatre. people were making their way to their next class while peter, hobie and yourself shared looks of disbelief, disgust, along with hobie’s infamous expression that scream the words i fucking told you so.

what the fuck? what the actual fuck was that?

o’hara didn’t miss a beat and swivelled around to start packing his belongings, completely unaware of how his response alone completely changed and destroyed all prior preconceptions about this man - or boy as you would now call him - turns out being smart never stopped anyone from being dickhead.

you felt like you just failed a quiz you didn’t know that was happening, despite being prepared to ace it.

it wasn’t like you to fail, however. especially not to him.

[ 🩷 — TAGS! @angelicful @lilipads @zaunsin @m4dyy @okkotszn @rhythmloid @cosmicbarstardust @thespaceinbetweennothing @cu1tvenus @huniedeux @oharasfilipinawife @ilovemuppets @loonalockley ] feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

[murderoushagthesequel]

Inappropriate Use

from @jegulus-microfic's prompt, champagne (207 words)

this one is honestly so random idek anymore. i didn't even proof read this help. but CW for implied/referenced nsfw

James refreshes his search and finds a new tag he’s never seen before. 

“Inappropriate use of champagne. What the fuck does that mean?” he mutters aloud.

“James, are you scrolling through weird tags on ao3 again?” Regulus asks from next to him, lightly closing James’ laptop. “We’ve discussed this, it never ends well,” he sighs. 

“But sometimes it’s fun!” James defends, trying to pull his laptop back.

“James. Do you remember when you found out what water sports were?” James shudders in reply and relinquishes his laptop to Regulus who carefully sets it on his bedside table.

“So,” Regulus sighs. “What did you find this time?” He turns to face James, sitting cross cross on the bed.

“Inappropriate use of champagne.” James replies. Regulus smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Do you know what that means?” he asks. “How do you even use champagne inappropriately?” Regulus sighs and stands up.

“One minute,” he says, walking out of the bedroom. James sits perplexed and waits for his lover to return. 

A few minutes later, Regulus returns, dressed in a black silk bathrobe and holding a bottle of champagne.

“Not sure how well I could tell you, Jamie,” he starts, walking towards the bed. “Want me to show you instead?”

[bigmack2go]

(Ridiculous-)

-Things that i think the newsies would get cancelled for if it were modern era:

Crutchie

His name. He blew up in quarantine and only streamed gameplay and sat down. He only ever explained his name like,,, once or so and that was way back, the succes came slowly and so he never felt the need to explain it again. After a while some pointed out his name and i like,,, blew up! He was on the twitter trending page for a whole week! But he was only cancelled for a day or two(?) before he uploaded a video laughing tears. The mother fucker probably used it as clickbait on the preview banner pannel thingy (wtf are those called??) and in the title. I mena,,,, imagine!! “!SPEAKING UP about the recent ALLEGATIONS! (EMOTIONAL) (CW: CRYING)” and probably ant like “(real) (not fake!)(fuck clickbait)” or something. He would troll the shit out of social media for it

Ike

Probably like queerbaiting or some shit. Like he’ll go “holy shit, i’m so gay!” And people will go “I THOUGHT HE HAS A GF” and hotshot is just watching the whole thing, making fun of him for D A Y S while he’s cancled and she’s like “hOw dArE yOu bE bIsExUAl?!”

Hotshot

That exact thing i just said. Because she wasn’t including pan people, poly people and all the other sexuality’s when she was making that joke.

Race

Cheating. On Spot. (See also-> my spralbert fic) ofc he didn’t actually cheat but some people foubd and old clip of when he was still less known and didn’t know he would blow up like that and people pretend that poly people dont exist. He probably had a big thing and then he “cancelled them back” (his words not mine) or something like that.

Spot

For staying with Race even after he found out he “cheated”. People said he was only with Race for the money.

Albert

For being the person that Race “cheated” with

Jack

For saying “i wanna kiss you so bad right now” to a guy and apparently making fun of gay people with it. That shit was just like an hour or so tho at the highest.

Katherine

For her father lmao

York

Having a problematic mod. People say shit like he’s just ignoring that fact. But he legitimately just did not now. He wasn’t online for a solid two days and when he was it was to stream so he had to find out by chat, but he thought chat was joking and so one thing led to another and uh yeah. By the time hotshot called him asking why he was joking about that sort of stuff and he realised that it was true, the tag was already trending.

Romeo

Let’s be honest, the fucker prolly said something like “you’ find the right person eventually” or be like really penetrant like a Karen that refuses to acknowledge aro/ace people exist. But like for fun. Like,,, jokingly. This guy is literally aroace. It prolly went pretty much the same as for Crutchie.

Tommyboy

Cheating.(but like at a game) Come on lets be honest . This mf would have the whole dream sCaNdAl procedure and you know it. He acedentally cheated and then get death threats for it (which, just to be clear, even if dream had cheated is just— like,,, idek)

Myron

Tried to kill a pigeon once when he was like seven or something

Elmer

Being involved in a russian spying scandal or some shit. Dont even ask! The best prt is that this is the only one where the internet was being justified. Not only dod all the evidence ACTUALLY lead to him (and it wasn’t something little like cheating) butthe reason for that is that it was actually him. Now obv it wasn’t on purpose bla bla, someone put a wrong server adress or what-not idek but like,,,, it was fair for people to want to cancel him…

Buttons

Capitalism. He probably told someone they had to pay if they wanted him to make them a piece of cloth or whatever. (Obv this is exeragated. The internet is not actually that bad… mostly. And he probably did go about it a little worse and people probably didn’t actually cancel-cancel him as in like,, career threatening but yk. It was still a little ridiculous)

Davey

Defending church. He’s like “GUYS IM NOT EVEN A CHRISTIAN WTF!? Im just saying, let people believe what they wanna believe. unless that specific person uses their faith as an excuse to disrespect, discredit or discriminate you, they are not a bad person for their faith”

In case you’re wondering, this happened in the same context as-

-Jojo

Jojo told his coming-out-to-the-nuns story and how he wasn’t too scared (and some other stuff) and then people said that he was pretending the church never was problematic. (Ive never phrased a sentence to say less of what i meant than this one but im tired and i have the excuse that English isn’t my first language so gimme a break)

[lunarharp]

long romantic baddy comic which i guess is like a retelling of some stuff from pocky’s POV idk. had a lot of fun making it :) cw character death bc yeah

[useless-denmarkfacts]

Since clarification was asked for, let me curse your dashboards with The Incident of The Hanged Nisse.

So, yeah, this priest did this in 2010 because he really fucking hates nisser and finds them ‘demonic’ for making christmas a more ‘heathen’ tradition. Here’s an article in danish abt the man and his Deep Struggle against the forces of nisser.

[ofprevioustimes]

@forloveofthestory​ a plotted starter... that was supposed to be about our current muses... but instead brought to life a whole bunch of OCs

07:30 AM

After a few attempts to resist being awakened by the acute noise of Bridget’s screams emerging into her bedroom from downstairs, a very irritated Blanche had inevitably reached the point in which it would have been impossible to go back to sleep. Grumbling to herself, she sat up on her bed and stretched out her arms, moaning lazily. Awareness leisurely made its way back into her mind once her bare feet felt the shock of the cold marble floor and she stood up, walking in slow steps towards the tall windows and spreading open the curtains to welcome the heat of the golden sunrays which quickly filled the room. 

As the fight went on between her stepdaughter with either her father or Edgar, Blanche hurried with her morning routine, anxious to figure out what was the cause of the quarrel. In the private bathroom connected to the master bedroom she washed her face with water and a refreshing mint cream, brushed her teeth, then rushed to the stairs without bothering to comb her hair, while still placing a transparent black déshabillé over an equally black, silk nightgown.

The sounds that had been thus far muffled and unintelligible became clearer as she made her way downstairs, waving her messy chestnut curls with her hasty steps and detecting the constant ringing of the telephone beneath the voices.

“YOU HAVE EMBARRASSED ME!”, cried Bridget

“Sit down”, Anthony said, cooly, “and eat your breakfast”.

“What’s going on?”, Blanche intervened, finding father and son sitting before a sumptuous breakfast table, whilst the daughter stood across from them, her temples reddened with rage.

“You”, the girl replied in a seething tone, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she met Blanche’s eyes and a smile of pure fury ascended on her lips, as if to conceal a snarl, “why don’t you see for yourself?” 

It should have been odd that such a loud fight would break in a place like this. The family’s beach house was located in a private area, where no press or business could disturb them, surrounded by swaying palm trees and facing the ocean’s calm, gentle waves - the very image of peace right before their wide glass doors - and yet, with Bridget’s presence, it could have hardly been considered a surprise. The girl pointed her finger towards a creased newspaper, which appeared to have been carelessly tossed into the floor. Blanche moved her gaze towards it, her eyebrows furrowing with confusion, but Anthony’s words cut through the room like steel before she could make a move.

“Sit down, both of you”, he commanded.

A sarcastic laughter echoed from the bottom of Bridget’s throat. “I’m leaving this place!”, she shouted, then stormed out. 

“Blanche---” Anthony called, his voice resonating like a warning into her ears as the sound of Bridget’s car driving away filled the air. Still, Blanche stood, thinking. Saying nothing, she walked towards the spot where the papers had been thrown and picked it up, while her husband did nothing but sit back on his chair and release an exasperated sigh, shifting his attention back towards the food on his plate, seemingly indifferent.  

Then, the puzzled expression on her face gradually began to change as she read the words on the article that had been pressed against the carpet.

LOVE AFFAIR THREATENS CRISIS AMONG CONSERVATIVES

Party leadership grows silent at leaked letters exposing MP’S sleazy private life

AN EXTRAMARITAL AFFAIR involving conservative MP Anthony Melbourne, 56, and showgirl Angela Williams, 19, has been made public after a series of steamy love letters were anonymously delivered to the DAILY MAIL’S office last night (...)

Her stomach sank. A sudden wave of cold hit her body and caused her to slightly lose balance. Her eyes rose from the page to look at Anthony as he pierced a sausage with his fork, took it into his mouth and chewed it nonchalantly. Blanche, who was by no means ignorant of her husband’s dalliances with prostitutes, was nonetheless shaken at such exposure, feeling her knees weakening and her fingers slightly trembling against the page. As she grew more anxious, the printed words appeared blurry. The pace of her eyes grew quicker as they scanned the paper, barely making sense of what was written there, save for one or two sentences.

Church representatives have expressed their concern at one particular letter in which Melbourne relates his wish to divorce his wife, Blanche Melbourne (née Dujardin), 25, after a period of estrangement between the couple, who were wed 10 months after the decease of MP’S first spouse. So far, his colleagues from the Conservative Party have not addressed the issue. Melbourne’s press has released an official statement denying the allegations (...)

Reading her name had only made it worse. Within seconds, this sense of public shame had awoken a sleeping demon inside her soul: voices of other girls laughing quietly as a young Blanche walked down the corridors of her expensive boarding school for the last time, mother breaking the radio in the living room of her childhood home while the downfall of father’s business was shamefully broadcast in a national station, deepening the family’s wound… It hit her like a deadly storm, all at once.  

The paper fell from her hands.

A moment of silence froze the room that had just been fresh with humid air.

“HOW could you DO THIS to me?”, her voice rose, full and incensed as Blanched stomped towards the table, slamming her fists against it.

“This is not about you, Blanche”, Anthony answered with indifference, sipping his tea. “I’ll fix this after breakfast. Now sit down and eat.”

“FIX IT?”, she retaliated, outraged. “For your voters, perhaps! But me?”, she pressed her palm to her bosom, flaring her nostrils with anger. Between her questions, Blanche hesitated for just a moment as she observed Anthony inhaling a deep breath, appearing to summon the last ounce of his patience as he took his fingers to his temple. “Don’t you see how this DEMEANS me?”, continued the wife, “when people speak of us, you know what they will say? ‘He is a self-made man,” she quoted, “but pity his wife---”, Blanche added with scorn, “whose husband has a taste for whores’!”.

That, apparently, was the last straw for Anthony. He abruptly rose from his seat, walked in her direction with a cold wrath on his face, and as Blanche moved away he took steps in her direction, until her back was against the wall and she could escape him no further.

“Well, that is nothing new, isn’t it, dear?”, he asked, mockingly. “Are you dissatisfied? Then leave. Abandon your car, your fancy clothes, this jewelry”, he added as his fingertips touched her throat, then tore off her golden necklace and placed it in his pocket, “lazy days in a beach house, your whole fucking expensive life… Leave that behind and go find your happiness cleaning someone else’s toilet, if you’re so much different.”

Blanche gulped. Her eyes watered, hurt by this further humiliation, but she said nothing. 

Anthony moved away with a sardonic smile. “No?”, he asked. “Didn’t think so”.

With that, he headed at once towards the door. “Anthony?”, Blanche called. “Where are you going?”

Leaving the room, he went to the garage, ignoring the sound of his wife’s voice that followed right behind, demanding him not to leave her talking to herself as he entered his car, started it, then drove away. 

Belittled and furious, Blanche returned towards the house, wiping tears from her cheek, to find that Edgar was the only person left to whom she could express her rage. With that, she picked up the newspaper again, then tore it into pieces. The phone, which was still ringing, became her next victim, quickly going silent as she tossed it against a wall.

“YOUR FATHER IS A CUNT”, she yelled.

[mgrzelcyk]

when the discord is popping off

[aceyanaheim]

like the thing is if you don’t know what you are figuring out what kind of relationships if any you want or can have gets tricky

And uh...figuring out what kinda relationship you can have seems to be a key factor of having/building  a home that doesn’t drive you to consider a drinking habit.

[krokonoko]

so I just moved and married and the subsequent fallout with my mom over her continual loss of control over me and my life may have allowed me to make a couple of connections I didn’t see before.

[shrekshugebadussy]

i’m so sick and tired of feeling like i gotta cough right after i get done coughing shit up.. can i please get some rest 😭😭 my head hurts