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wickedsrest-rp · 6 months ago

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Name: Livia Blithe Species: Spellcaster Occupation: Waitress at the Codfather / Pharmacy Student Age: 24 Years Old Played By: Edon Face Claim: Taylor Russell

"Oh my God… you're a rat!"

TW: Eating disorder

By all accounts, Livia was blessed with an easy life. Youngest of five, by the time Livia was born her parents were far too fatigued with the four before her to implement any strict measures. They were seasoned parents, having successfully raised for alchemists, and instead treated Livia like something of the family pet. She was always going to be their last, and not yet ready to say good-bye to having a baby forever, Livia was coddled all the way up to her teenage years. She was doted on by her father, constantly praised by her mother, anything she wanted was handed to her, no questions asked. Livia had never had to work hard for the approval of her parents. They were usually happy with anything and everything she did, even if most the time all she ever did, was nothing.

Her siblings, aware of this obvious favouritism, found humour in making Livia the butt of their jokes. She was often excluded from inside jokes, not invited to any of their hangouts, and when the eldest ones had gotten their licenses, would usually refuse to drive her anywhere. Despite this light bullying, Livia had no issues making her own friends, seamlessly becoming one of the most popular and well-liked girls at her school. Things seemed to be going so well for Livia, that her life appeared picture perfect to just about anybody. For a long time, Livia had begun to think that too, protected in her own little bubble of privilege, floating high amongst the masses below. Things were almost too perfect, that when Livia began failing almost all of her grades, and the idyllic treatment from her parents slowly began to turn stern and sour, Livia's bubble popped, and she was soon met with the reality of what was expected of her.

With the sudden reality check came a flood of difficult emotions Livia was nowhere near equipped to manage. She could not accept failing, for all her life she was told she was told she was a winner. She could not manage her responsibilities, as she had never had to be responsible for anything in her life, ever. Unintentionally, her parents had created a lazy, indolent individual, completely devoid of any action and intention. She had spent so much time floating and coasting through her life, that she became easily overwhelmed by her responsibilities and turned inwards to things she could control; what she consumed. Livia had quickly developed an obsession with the foods she would consume, cycling from extreme binging to rigid restricting. She felt powerless, unable to control the direction of her own life, and this powerlessness is what lead her to over exerting control in the food she would or would not consume.

Having completely flunked at school, Livia was unable to enroll into college and was unable to carry on the family tradition of pharmacology. Unlike her parents and four older siblings, all successful and reasonably skilled alchemists, Livia soon went from the family's darling to the family's failure. She felt as if she was taking up excess space living at home, and ultimately was only able to get a position as a pharmacy assistant at her parents community pharmacy. This in itself became a source of shame. Sick of feeling like a failure, and easily influenced by social media, Livia packed her bags and told her parents she was going on a solo trip. A solo trip around the coast of Maine. Her one shot at 'finding herself'.

For a while, her trip was going relatively well. Her parents had provided her with multiple charms and talismans imbued with a variety of luck, protection and financial success spells. It seemed as if, once again, she was riding on the coat tails of her parents, and while she appreciated their help, it was beginning to make her efforts at self-discovery feel cheap. In an act of defiance, Livia rid herself of the talismans, throwing them off the edge of a cliff and watching them plummet into the crashing waves below. As she rid herself of these talismans, Livia's trip slowly began to take a turn for the worst. Bystanders were not as keen to help her find her way, her phone ran out of battery at the worst of times and her gas seemed to last a fraction of what it used to. It had reached rock bottom, however, when she had reached a small coastal town named Wicked's Rest. Driving down a long, spindly road in the dead of the night, her tire popped, and she skid across the road, crashing into a tree. Fortunately, Livia had not sustained any serious injuries, and had managed to self-excavate out of her car. Attempting to call for assistance was futile, as her phone was unable to find any service and even if it did, nobody she could have called would have been able to protect her from the ghost stalking her path. As if from a scene straight out of Bodysnatchers, Livia was targeted by an abnormally aggressive ghost attempting to posses her. If it wasn't for the intervention of an older alchemist, Livia would have been puppet to a mischievous apparition. The man, a total recluse living on the outskirts of the town, and fortunately a lover of night walks, offered Livia a place to rest and regain her strength, promising to take her back to her car the next day. Impressed by his skill, and aware of his reputation through her parents, Livia enthusiastically agreed.

Saving Livia was supposed to be a singular act made out of good faith, though Livia soon found herself acting apprentice to only one of the most skilled, renowned and respected spellcasters in the world. All Livia could think of was how proud her parents would be of her. Training under such a well-loved sorcerer, being able to return as a skilled and respected alchemist, Livia was unable to refuse. With the help of her mentor, she was able to find work at The Codfather and enroll into her pharmacology studies. Her alchemy improved, somewhat, and she had managed to find her own routine, making a life for herself at Wicked's Rest. The story of how she almost got possessed by a ghost became one she brought up to impress others and life for Livia melted into one of normalcy, despite it being everything but.

Character Facts:

Personality: Charming, humorous, sentimental, introspective, idealistic, sensitive, clingy, absent-minded, neurotic, cowardly

Livia is a spellcaster and mainly practises Alchemy. She comes from a long line of pharmacists, and is currently studying pharmacology. Despite this, Livia's skills as an alchemist aren't anything to boast about. She is practising well below her expected skill level and prior to transforming her mentor into a guinea pig, was actually making considerable progress with her craft.

Livia has a Cactus-Cat as a familiar she has named 'Bubbles'. Bubbles has the look of a white rag-doll with silvery spines that Livia trims, though does not remove entirely. Bubbles is a recent addition to Livia's life, having being summoned not long after turning her mentor into a guinea pig. Despite the two being strangers, they're off to a good start.

Her mentor, though now a guinea pig, always felt connected to Livia as she reminded him of his daughter whom unfortunately passed from a rare, terminal illness. It was why he stopped to save her from the ghost attempting to possess her and why he decided to keep her under his wing, training her as he once trained his own daughter.

#taylor russell #sorcerer's apprentice #eating disorder tw #retired

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pyramidscience · 1 year ago

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On Modern Christianity

The persecution faced by true Christians today stands in stark contrast to the claims of persecution by powerful, legally-sanctioned, and wealthy "Christian" organizations. The New Testament paints a very different picture, where the disenfranchised—the homeless, the orphan, the widow, the thief, and the sex worker—are the ones who will inherit the kingdom on Earth. These individuals are the ones Jesus identifies as his true followers. It was, after all, a convicted murderer whom Jesus saved as the Roman Empire carried out its death penalty .

Following Jesus's crucifixion and subsequent resurrection, early Christians faced death and imprisonment. The crime? Practicing their faith in defiance of Roman law. While the option to pay a tax existed, the teachings and the lived example of Jesus Christ suggest that such a financial compromise would have been beyond their means.

hundreds of years later, as Christianity became intertwined with political power, it began to echo the Roman Empire's earlier transgressions, endorsing slavery, murder, and a pervasive preoccupation with wealth—this was a far cry from its humble and compassionate origins.

This departure from the essence of Christ's teachings is evident. Jesus never condoned praising any man who held a position of authority that sanctioned murder and unlawful detention. Jesus's message was clear: He is God, and He came to liberate prisoners and to save the forsaken. This is the abiding truth of the Christian faith.

In contemporary times, there is a troubling trend where some Christians have equated sin with criminality, effectively sentencing it to the extreme consequence of death, thereby forsaking the core message of Christ's grace. This inclination is not only disheartening but also directly contradicts the pleasure of God. The Divine promise warns that humanity will orchestrate its own downfall through stringent adherence to the law — for Christ's purpose was not to enforce legalism but to offer grace and to serve as a cornerstone, albeit one that causes some to stumble, particularly among the gentiles.

Particularly in America, certain "Christian" factions have sought to manipulate the legal system to sanction actions that result in the murder and detention of individuals — actions that stand in stark opposition to Christ's teachings. Such endeavors invite condemnation, as they stray far from the path of righteousness laid out in the Bible. The scripture advocates for a transformative love for Jesus, one so profound that it catalyzes a complete overhaul of one’s life, inspiring believers to emulate Christ's example in every facet of their existence.

#jesus christ #christianity

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psychic-oasis · 1 year ago

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I’m searching for an answer. I have no questions. I ask everything. I need no answer. This oasis welcomes curiosity and befuddles despair.

Suffering is my home and each pleasure that comes my way is only a peek into the heaven that I believe in.

Navigating through the darkness I seek to discover new stars that will illuminate the human path.

I am seeking for an answer. Not for me, but for my dear friend. In his words:

“My biggest opp is myself not allowing myself to understand the concept of joy to the full extent making me wonder if I'll ever achieve it and putting me in a position where I'm so used to the lack of it that the most natural the most comfortable feeling is the emptiness and the downfall to such extent that when I feel happiness come scratching to the surface it scares me because it means that I'll no longer be in the comfort of what I have known for so long to be my "normal" inevitably meaning that I attempt to reject that happiness and perpetuating a cycle or self sabotage in order to return to the normalcy that is sadness.”

And he taught me how to finally step out of my comfort zone. It’s only right to help him answer the question of joy.

I only wonder, how a man like himself could struggle with the same thing I do. A god among men he is. And yet he is burdened with this? I am assured, by Kierkegaard, that what we call the interesting parts of my dear friend’s life are the result of some the deepest suffering. I only wish that him, being a knight of faith, will come to accept the joys that come his way. Kierkegaard did not assure us of joy, he assured of us despair and anxiety. Funnily, I think he made it possible to experience both extremes, as long as we can accept the most pressing of the two.

Happy and sad. Two categories. Good and bad. They can be used to describe most of our lives.

My dear friend breaks these categories and discovers the secrets of the universe and he has shared them with his friends and family along the way. I only hope that in breaking these categories, he has not left himself to forever live in the uncanny. The uncanny which, after enough disillusioning, leaves you at the very same place you entered this world—in suffering. Perhaps suffering is not to fall in one or the other category, good and bad, happy and sad. Perhaps that is why it is so difficult to comprehend or to cope with.

Why should we benefit from his insights and wisdom, if we can put them into categories that improve our lives, while he does the work figuring this all out?

I suppose I should take it at a face value.

My dear friend does what we all ought to do, what we all need to do, what we all might find is an answer to the question we never wanted to ask. But will improve our lives indefinitely.

Self-responsibility.

Sartre says it’s the basic condition of existence, to be responsible for yourself.

But I think my dear friend has much more to say about that. But he won’t tell you in all the painstaking detail that he required in order to discover these secrets.

He speaks like a poet. You gain what you may from his wisdom. But if you really listen to what he’s saying. He’s saying that there is, indeed, a way.

There is a way.

When I sat at this waterfall, I just wanted to look cool. I was blind. And for a moment, I was just capturing the moment. Maybe that’s okay sometimes. To just want to set the scene.

Now I look back and I see myself walking confidently that day. On that day I had my dear friend walking with me.

He’s not gone. However long the distance. Never gone.

I can’t help but be thankful that he feels so close no matter how far.

Hopefully he has someone to walk by his side, no matter where he is.

But something tells me the reason he’s achieved so much is that he walks alone in stride. In defiance to the quiet universe.

His voice alone, echoes throughout the cosmos.

I listen.

#friends #unknown #discover #hope #suffering #existential #existence #existensialism #existential despair #existential dread #self love #questions #help

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ofpsalms · 2 years ago

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[ v. empire of the wolf ] - late roman empire

425 AD - Rome was not built in a day, and it did not fall in one either. After years of instability, the great empire has split into two, run by separate emperors, beholden to the same sense of greatness and destiny. In the West, the child-emperor Valentinian III has been placed on the throne- though most with eyes and ears are aware that it is his devoted mother, Galla Placidia, who truly runs the Empire. Through this period of instability and turmoil, a hunter of the newly formed Order of St. George begins her journey.

Annaea Lupa is a member of the ancient gens Annaea, a clan of dreamers known for their love of literary pursuits, whose members include great thinkers and poets such as Seneca and Lucan. Lesser known in the history books is their love of power. Nico is the daughter of prominent Roman general and statesman Gaius Annaeus Lupus, a man eager to seize power whenever he can and often seen at Galla Placida’s side.

Devout Nicene Christians described as “friends of the Church”, her family is of great wealth and influence. She leads a good life, having spent her childhood in her family’s expensive Roman villa, trying to keep up with three elder brothers. It distresses her mother, Claudia Atella, to see her prefer swordplay with her brothers over stitching fabric and racing horses over learning to be a good homemaker. Her need for adventure, for purpose, exists as a fire within her that even the stern reprimands of her oft-absent father cannot fully quell.

As she grows into a woman, her beauty, intelligence, and her family’s power make her a highly sought after bride. Annaea knows that it is expected of her to be married off to whomever her father picks. She has been taught to obey his decision. And still, it horrifies her when he announces her future husband- Cassius Rullianus, a widowed statesman known for his violence and cruelty. In the night, she takes one of her father’s horses and flees to the only place she knows she will be able to find shelter; as a deaconess of the Nicene Church.

Her sanctuary here does not last long. Her father’s position prompts many parties to pursue her, going door to door in their search. If she is not killed for her defiance, she will be dragged back and forced to marry. The priest of the abbey she hides in, Father Boniface, gives her an ultimatum- she may either surrender herself to the state, or accept a role as a hunter for the Order, a position which will grant her to protection she needs and allow her to keep her citizenship. Annaea accepts, and in her new life, adopts a signa of her long forgotten praenomen, Nicola.

It is a treacherous journey filled with old gods, angels and beasts. Yet as Nico traverses the unstable lands her forefathers claimed centuries before, she is confronted with a horrible revelation- perhaps the real monsters are the ones who raised her.

*Nicola has a very unique name for this time period. In another act of defiance against the established order of the Empire, she usually refers to herself by her praenomen rather than her nomen ( Nicola Annaea Lupa ), a convention typically reserved for men. If your muse is familiar with Roman naming conventions, they will find it extremely odd.

*A verse variant set in 316 AD will also be available and tagged as such- several years before Christianity becomes the state religion of Rome. The story is pretty much the same aside from the fact the Order is far smaller in this variant, known instead as the Brotherhood of St. Eustace. Nicola’s family are recent political converts to Christianity from Hellenic paganism.

#[ 𝐕. | empire of the wolf ]#yes i know the eagle was the symbol of the roman empire #and the wolf the monarchy #but tropes! symbolism!

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vinceleemiller · 6 months ago

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Aging Spiritual Leadership | 1 Samuel 2:31-35

You never age out of spiritual leadership.

Welcome to the Daily Devo. I am Vince Miller.

This week, we are immersing ourselves in 1 Samuel 2. Chapter 2 contrasts two families—one who stands with God and one in defiance. Today I am reading verses 18-21:

Now Eli was very old, and he kept hearing all that his sons were doing to all Israel, and how they lay with the women who were serving at the entrance to the tent of meeting. And he said to them, “Why do you do such things? For I hear of your evil dealings from all these people. No, my sons; it is no good report that I hear the people of the Lord spreading abroad. If someone sins against a man, God will mediate for him, but if someone sins against the Lord, who can intercede for him?” But they would not listen to the voice of their father, for it was the will of the Lord to put them to death. Now the boy Samuel continued to grow both in stature and in favor with the Lord and also with man. — 1 Samuel 2:22-26

Then, jumping down to verses 31-35, a man of God comes to Eli and delivers a message from God.

Behold, the days are coming when I will cut off your strength and the strength of your father's house, so that there will not be an old man in your house. Then in distress you will look with envious eye on all the prosperity that shall be bestowed on Israel, and there shall not be an old man in your house forever. The only one of you whom I shall not cut off from my altar shall be spared to weep his eyes out to grieve his heart, and all the descendants of your house shall die by the sword of men. And this that shall come upon your two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, shall be the sign to you: both of them shall die on the same day. And I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind. And I will build him a sure house, and he shall go in and out before my anointed forever. — 1 Samuel 2:31-35

An Old Spiritual Leader

There are some interesting details in both of these texts.

Eli was very old. In fact, according to 1 Samuel 4:15, he was 98 years old. This suggests that he may have been out of touch with what was happening with his sons and their spiritual leadership. However, he eventually learned about their involvement in two forms of serious corruption.

Using their power and position for personal gain.

Using their power and position for sexual exploits.

What you have are two boys who feel entitled and have become especially egregious in their behavior. But what makes these sins egregious is that they interfere with God's sacrifices and in his house, and the boys just simply don't care. Then Eli's "why" is as close as he gets to calling them to repentance. He approaches them like a helpless old man and father who has washed his hands of them. In addition, we know the boys are going to dismiss his extremely soft interrogation.

An Indictment

The most startling part of this text and chapter is the indictment by God in verse 25:

"for it was the will of the Lord to put them to death."

The boys had gone too far. Most of us reading this text don't like to hear this. But it's a serious mistake to assume that these boys and their stubborn, entitled, sacrilegious, and hard hearts should be blamed on God. The hardness of their hearts was their choice, and thus, we see God's judgment for that choice. And given what I read here, Eli should have been a little more engaged in guiding them to repentance.

However, what is particularly interesting about this whole situation is that we never get the impression that Eli was a wicked priest. On the surface, he seems to be presented as a fairly "good" guy, but the way he deals with his sons and stewards the house of the Lord at the end of his life is not good. He is simply too old and lacks the fortitude to deal with his son's wicked conduct, which is not good.

But when one father fails to do his job, another takes over. God, the Father of his nation, inserts himself where Eli fails to lead.

An Ageless Responsibility

This is an important message for fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers. The spiritual leadership of your family never ends. There is no time in your life when you age out or retire from giving your family spiritual correction and guidance. You cannot simply wash your hands of giving needed spiritual correction and direction. Sometimes, you need to muster some fortitude and call your family to repentance because you love them. It's not loving as a father to let them face judgment from the Heavenly Father.

So, what sins do you need to address in your family, and how are you going to do it?

#SpiritualLeadership #FamilyFaith #LegacyofFaith

Ask This:

How can you emulate Eli's initial concern and engagement with your family's spiritual well-being, despite any challenges or discomfort it may entail?

Reflecting on the consequences of Eli's passive approach, how can you actively cultivate a culture of repentance and spiritual growth within your family, fostering open dialogue and accountability?

Do This:

Never stop leading.

Pray This:

Heavenly Father, grant me the wisdom and courage to lead my family in the paths of righteousness, never shrinking from the responsibility to guide them closer to You. Help me to embody Your steadfast love and discipline, nurturing a home filled with grace, repentance, and growth in faith. Amen.

Play This:

Confidence.

Check out this episode!

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lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall · 3 years ago

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The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

#poseidon x reader #thor x reader #snv x reader #snv poseidon #snv thor #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv poseidon x reader #snv thor x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok thor x reader #poseidon x reader x thor #snv poseidon x reader x snv thor

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tavtiers · 10 months ago

Note

god tier analysis with planets for a Prince of Rage who bottles up all his negative emotions until he explodes and destroys everything in his path?

The Prince of Rage [symbols: crown, tragedy mask]

The Prince class has its basis in Machiavelli’s The Prince. An example would be Prince Hamlet from the Shakespeare play.

The Rage aspect’s main theme is defiance. You can find its official description here.

A Prince of Rage is among those who alter faith in possibility. This is the “classpect group” they belong to. Members include: the Sylph, Maid, Bard, and Prince of Hope/Rage. These classes are all opposites or inverses of each other that alter the Hope/Rage dichotomy (faith in possibility). A description of classpect groupings can be found here.

The Prince of Rage actively destroys the Rage aspect. Active classes tell themselves what to do and do so for their own benefit. They are more likely to stand up for themselves, but more likely to be cruel. Princes and Bards destroy their aspect and everything it symbolizes, while using that same aspect as a weapon. In doing so, they leave their opposite aspect in their wake. Due to their actions, they come across as their opposite aspect. Simplified, the Prince of Rage is motivated by themselves to destroy defiance. In personality, they come across as the Hope aspect, seemingly defined by assurance.

On the subject of personality, the Prince of Rage wants to have control over things and hates complacency. Personality descriptions can be found here.

Their archetype is the Promised Revolutionary, defined by control and defiance. Archetypes are explained here.

Their opposite is the Bard of Hope, who passively destroys assurance.

Their inverse is the Sylph of Hope, who passively assists assurance.

A classpect or “god tier” is an individual’s best self. All classpects go through a journey from unrealized, to struggle, to realized. When a character is unrealized, they neutrally exist as their inverse. On their struggle, they will wildly flip back and forth between their inverse and true classpect. In their worst moments they will act as their inverse, in their best their true classpect. When realized, they will stabilize as their true classpect. They will still have room to grow, but will become happier, more successful people.

This means that the Prince of Rage begins life motivated by others to assist assurance. When their struggle arrives and they are at their worst, they will continue this behavior in negative extremes. However, when at their best, they will find purpose in instead destroying defiance for themselves. When realized, they will stabilize and continue to destroy the Rage aspect actively, in a positive way.

They share their archetype with the Bard of Blood, the Revolutionary Promised.

The Prince of Rage would quest on a planet similar to the Land of Hope [Opposite Aspect] and Rage [Aspect]. An example would be the Land of Carnivals and Chaos. An explanation of planet naming conventions can be found here.

A possible god, or denizen, to reign over their planet would be Ares (God of War). Other Rage aspect denizens can be found here.

When the Prince of Rage completes their planet quests and dies on their quest bed, they would rise to ascension on the wings of imps (symbols of the devil). A list of soul animals can be found here.

The characters that I have currently classpected as Princes of Rage are: Kurloz Makara from Homestuck [canon example], the Grand Highblood from Homestuck [canon example], Nicki Minaj from Ke$hastuck, Joker from Batman, BOB from Twin Peaks, Florianne de Chalons from Dragon Age, Eddie Blake from Watchmen, Gellert Grindelwald from Harry Potter, and Malcolm X.

If any of the links not connected to my blog break, the content can be found on my Google Drive.

Official Aspect Descriptions

Personality Descriptions

Aspect Denizens

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untaemedqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 5.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

A/N: Shout out to my squad @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @underthejoon for always spitballing ideas with me and reading over what I have written. I’m seriously so lucky to have my girls and my heart is so full with them around <3

Also the beautiful banner is by @xjoonchildx so now we have two gorgeous banners to alternate every other chapter! I’m so happyyyyyy!! Enjoy guys!

It's usually relaxed Sundays at the Yu penthouse like God intended them to be but instead this Sunday was filled with raucous screaming and over dramatic whining which you aren't exactly used to.

"Leena." Jin warns, almost as if he's speaking to a child.

You watch as your best friend takes the stuffed animal you won at the Fall Festival out of it's cardboard box before chucking it back onto your unmade bed. It's her act of defiance and it warms your heart slightly to know how much she loves you.

"Relax, would you?" Jin asks, wrapping a painting of yours in bubble wrap.

"No." She huffs out as she folds her arms.

You find yourself smirking as you wrap your arms around her. She stiffens slightly before melting into the hug and rocking you from side to side.

"I hate him. I hate him. I hate him!" She chants bitterly as Jin sets the painting against the wall.

"Why don't you tell us about your date with Taehyung?" Jin offers, trying to take her mind off of it.

"No." She replies childishly as she hugs you tighter.

Jin sighs gently as he picks up the contract. It's a thick packet with words and legal jargon you find yourself unable to understand.

"I'm going to go read this in the living room. Leena, come with me." Jin commands and she pouts at you as she pulls away.

"At least he bought her pretty things." She grumbles to your other best friend as she follows him out of your bedroom.

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in the almost empty room. Your heart feels heavy in this moment. It's been almost six years since you moved into this apartment with Leena.

This new journey will be the start to something extremely different from your norm. This will be the first time that you won't be seeing your best friend everyday, or when you wake up in the morning. It's jarring and more importantly frightening.

You had already quit your managerial position at the hospital, you've already packed up all of the things deemed "acceptable" for Yoongi's home. It really is a new path for your life.

Your parents loved you so very dearly from when you were quite young. They always knew what to say and what to do, always pushed for you to do the right things quite like them. They worked so hard for you to have a better life than they did when they were young.

You can only hope to be as good of a parent as they were.

Telling them you were pregnant was terrifying at first. You expected them to be disappointed with you. But, surprisingly, they were supportive. It was incredibly comforting, because no matter what happens you could count on them.

Looking down at your flat stomach, although you don't look different, you feel different. With a sigh, you close your eyes for a fraction of a second before taking in a deep breath.

Everyone keeps telling you to be strong, to have strength and everything will work out but unfortunately it isn't that easy.

"Hey Y/N." Jin whispers as he leans against the door frame.

Opening your eyes, you give him a smile to try and tell him you're alright.

"The contract looks good. Namjoon did right by you." He tells you, holding up the packet and a pen.

You hold your hands out and he enters the room.

You can hear Leena's feet stomping down the long hallway as you put the packet on your lap.

She arrives in the doorway with a martini in hand and you tilt your head to her as she scowls.

"You can't have sex? Is he serious?" She scoffs.

You give a smirk as you sign the contract, "Seems like it. I asked him if I could have sex with him because he's the father and he sat there and literally told me he doesn't understand why I would have sex if I'm pregnant. He seemed repulsed."

"I'll punch him in the dick." Leena murmurs into her martini glass.

"Yu Leena." Jin scolds as you set the pen down on your lap.

"What?! He's a huge fucking dick suck." She says waving him off with her hand.

Both you and Jin snort loudly and he lays his head on your shoulder before hugging you tightly.

"I'm gonna miss you, princess." He whispers.

"Me too." You mumble as you wrap your arms around his.

"Shouldn't you let the madam buy the child's furniture?" Yoongi hears Maya ask over his shoulder as he scours through the furniture website.

"If her ability to pick out furniture is as bad as her clothing or her shoes, my heir will end up sleeping in a rickety old basket made out of straw and hair." He retorts as she hands him his Irish coffee.

He hears her gentle sigh and he knows it's because somehow, something he said had disappointed her.

"What's wrong, Maya?" He asks as he locks the iPad, throwing it on the other side of the couch to look up at her.

She hums undecidedly before looking down at him as he sips his coffee, "Maybe try to be nice to her. She's going to have a hard time being pregnant in this household with your wife here."

Her suggestion makes a shiver run up his spine. Just hearing the word pregnant sends him into some deep spiral.

Maya always has been kind hearted. She's always been understanding of others. Even if they don't deserve it.

Like with Sera, Maya will bust her ass to try to make the leech smile even if she gets sneers and snarky remarks in turn.

She's too pure for this world. Too amazing for this cheap lifestyle.

"I am being nice to her. She gets to move in here." He responds as he sets the coffee cup down on his marble table.

“Min Yoongi.” Maya breathes out above a whisper before closing her eyes.

He watches her brow furrow with shame and he clears his throat uncomfortably before looking around the open gallery of the mansion to try and find any reason for her to leave.

“I didn’t raise you this way. You know that.” The older woman chides as she dusts off some of the priceless paintings that line the walls beside where he sits.

He lets out a gentle snort as he leans back into the chaise lounge.

“At least someone raised me, right?” He quips to her as he looks out the bay windows.

The garden seems well tended as of late, after the last fiasco with the uneven hedges he appreciates how much work his new gardeners have put into it.

He begins to wonder what you enjoy, what your hobbies are besides getting pounded in the back of your best friends club. Do you enjoy the finer things? Like yachting or horse racing? Do you even know what they are? Just how sheltered are you?

“What do poor people like? Swap meets?” Yoongi asks as he watches the rose bushes sway in the wind.

“Yoongi.” Maya whispers dejectedly and he turns his head to her before shrugging.

“Just asking.” He murmurs as a sparrow lands on the marble bird bath beside the window.

“Why don’t you just try to get to know her? Ask her things like that without being rude.” Maya replies as she turns to him.

With a grimace, he finishes his coffee before handing the cup to her, “Why do I have to get to know her?”

“Oh my goodness.” Maya mumbles as she leaves the gallery.

The billionaire watches her leave before slowly turning back to the window to stare aimlessly for a little while longer.

He's always been so jaded, always been so absolutely fucking ruthless because if he didn't protect himself from the outside world who would?

And even if it causes rifts, he just has to be this way. Because you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

The sounds of construction break him out of his thoughts. The contract must have gone through to Namjoon, if your room was already being renovated. Kira must have called and set up everything like she was supposed to.

It's a good thing she isn't just good for her tight snatch.

Standing up with a groan, he stretches high up to the ceiling. He can hear and feel his bones popping and groaning to welcome a new day in front of him.

As he steps onto the heated marble flooring of the second floor, he knows he should be getting ready for work yet instead his curiosity begins to eat at him.

What is your room starting to look like? How about the kids room?

Walking past his walk-in closet, he can see dust and wood shavings on the floor in the hallway. His first thought is to curse out the constructors and threaten them if even a single wooden shard enters his room. But, before he can even open his mouth the shrill voice of his wife enters his ears.

"MIN YOONGI!" He can feel his brain rattling around in his skull, like a cry for help. He sighs loudly, it's really not a surprise that she can be even louder than the construction right in front of him.

Turning to her, he takes in her half asleep look. Her sleeping mask is stuck to her forehead, her black hair jutting out on all sides as she narrows her big, doll-like eyes at him.

"Some people are trying to sleep!" She screeches from the entrance of her wing in the mansion.

He chuckles to himself at her disheveled state and proceeds into his closet to get ready for work.

It probably won't end at that. And, he is absolutely correct.

Peeling off his sleep shirt, his eyes meet his wife's through the mirror as she storms into the room.

"I need beauty sleep, asshole!" She yells at him and he stares at her for a fraction of a second before clicking his teeth and tilting his head.

"You don't need beauty sleep, I paid for that face, leech." He deadpans.

His body is quick to duck out of the way as she takes the nearest object to the door before lobbing it at his head.

"Did you do as I told you?" She asks, watching him grab his crisp white work shirt.

He doesn't reply, which in turn makes her repeat the same question louder with a high shrill added to her tone.

She's always been impatient and bratty. Once which was endearing to him is now like nails on a chalkboard.

"Hello?! I'm speaking to you! Answer me, asshole!" She yells as she snaps her fingers in his face.

Pressing his tongue to his cheek, he lets out a gentle snort before taking a deep inhale through his nose.

"When do I ever just do as you tell me to, Sera? When has that ever been a goal of mine?" He asks as he grabs his pinstriped tailored pants to match his shirt.

"What? So you didn't?" She asks, clearly shocked.

"Of course I didn't, what are you? Insane? Stupid? I'm a dick but I'm not heartless." He retorts.

"No! Just heartless to me!" She cries out angrily and he chuckles to himself as he grabs a tie.

"I'm sure you'll survive." He mumbles as he pulls the drawer full of his watches open. He watches them spin on their platforms before picking a black Rolex that would go nicely with his pants.

"The plan was for you to make her say that she's my surrogate! Since I'm so beautiful and so famous, she would be carrying my child instead!" Just hearing her ridiculous plan again makes him almost as uncomfortable as the first time he heard it.

In all honesty, as soon as those words left her mouth he didn't even entertain the idea. It seemed so wholly horrible and so absolutely fucking selfish. But, this is Sera we're talking about.

"That was your plan. You think I would ever force her or anyone to have to go in front of people and say their kid isn't their own? Jesus Christ. You really are a fucking leech." He spits out.

"But! But, she's going to use you for your money! She's going to ruin everything!" She screams above the incessant construction.

The sentence sends something akin to fire flaming throughout his gut.

"Well, leech, it's not like I'm not used to being used for my money. If anything you can teach her first hand what it's like to milk me like a money cow." Her mouth opens slightly, as if she's appalled by the notion.

It's then that his patience snaps like a thin twig beneath weight.

"Do you want to see my dick?" He asks briskly.

"Ew! What? No, of course not!" She yells at him as he gathers his clothes onto one arm.

"Then get the fuck out. I have to get ready for work." She stomps her foot loudly as if in protest but he brushes by her without a word back to his bedroom.

"Fucking money grubbing leech." He whispers to himself as he slams his bedroom door closed behind him.

Thursday nights were appointed for one thing in Min Yoongi's eyes. Poker.

The library which he barely ever entered as well as his wife that couldn't read more than ten words without having a seizure was always occupied on Thursdays.

Usually, the other five members of his social circle were always present but today he only had the pleasure of four of them.

"I love that Maya deals." Taehyung chuckles as he pulls the pile of poker chips in the middle of the table towards him.

Yoongi snorts gently, clamping the cigar between his teeth tighter as he stacks his chips with one hand.

"Maya, can I please have some more ice?" Namjoon asks softly as he holds up the bucket.

"Oh of course!" She says quickly as she takes the bucket from him.

Taehyung and Jimin watch her leave before slyly smirking to Yoongi as he leans back in his chair with a groan. The way they look at him makes him feel like prey in a baron forest.

"What?" He murmurs as he pulls the cigar from his mouth.

The tips of Taehyung's fingers slide over the green felt table as he lifts his glass of whisky.

"I heard something interesting about you." He replies to his older friend.

Namjoon clears his throat uncomfortably as he crosses his legs beneath the lip of the table.

"Oh yeah? What's that? Something about my board of trustees?" Yoongi asks with a laugh as he picks up his own glass.

"Not so much." Jimin murmurs as he ashes his cigar.

"Heard you got a girl pregnant." Yoongi chokes on his whisky as he hears Taehyung's smooth voice. His eyes widen and he spins his chair around to dab at his mouth.

His blood runs cold as the hotel CEO chuckles behind him. It scares the ever living shit out of him and he hates that.

"Where'd you hear that?" He asks gently, his voice audibly shaking as he turns back around.

"A little after I pulled my dick out of Yu Leena's tight ass." Jimin snickers at the admission and Yoongi closes his eyes in defeat.

"You won't say anything, right?" Namjoon asks quietly as he looks over at his best friend.

Hoseok, Yoongi's other best friend since childhood had only recently found out about you and his heir. While he was surprised, he was always loyal to the CEO and Yoongi knew he could count on his silence.

"I definitely won't. I like it when Leena comes over and if I say anything she won't let me take her to France in two weeks." The Kisung Connected CEO sighs in relief at the younger man's admission.

Maya returns with the ice and it gets quiet for a bit, just the gentle sounds of ice clinking against glass and poker chips smacking into each other resound throughout the large library.

"Leena loves her, y'know. She never shuts up about her. I feel like I know her with how much Leena tells me." Taehyung says as he rubs two poker chips together between his fingers.

This peaks his curiosity as he begins to relax into the chair once more.

"What does she say?" Yoongi asks softly and he watches as Maya smirks gently. Her motions are soft and smooth as she deals the cards.

"About Y/N? That she's really sweet and kind. She works really hard and enjoys simple things like most poor people." Humming inquisitively, he lifts his whisky glass to his lips to ponder that thought.

"Simple things? Like?" Taehyung rolls his eyes at Yoongi's question.

"Yeah. Simple things. She likes to paint and to watch romantic movies. She enjoys cooking and other poor people shit."

He begins to wonder how well you can paint. If you were any good at it.

"She's really sweet." Namjoon adds and Yoongi grimaces in his direction.

Noticing his grimace, the lawyer shrugs with a smirk.

"Is she the girl that was with Leena on her birthday?" Jimin asks and both Yoongi and Taehyung nod at the same time.

"Oh dude! She's so fucking hot! I can't believe you got to her before me!" Hearing those words roll off of his friend's tongue sets him in an uncomfortable state.

His body leans away from Jimin's as he clutches the cigar tighter between his index and middle finger.

"So she's moving in here?" Jimin asks happily.

"In two days. Yes. We have to go to the doctor and then she'll be in the mansion."

Hoseok nudges Namjoon as they watch their best friend move uncomfortably.

Yoongi loosens his tie around his neck, his face and chest begin to feel incredibly hot and flush. He can feel the sweat building on his hairline as he uncuffs his cufflinks.

"Maya." He whispers as he holds them out over the table.

Swallowing thickly, he stares down into his glass as the ice clinks against the crystal sides.

"You're lucky she's moving in. Now you'll have constant pussy." Jimin says as he scrolls through Leena's Instagram.

The concept is completely foreign to Yoongi, "She's pregnant. Why would I fuck her?"

Namjoon chuckles to himself gently as he looks at his cards, he tosses a few chips into the center of the table before looking pointedly at his best friend.

"Because man, pregnant pussy feels so much better than regular pussy. Plus, she's carrying your baby. That's fucking hot." Yoongi sneers at Jimin, the corner of his upper lip flicking upward at the notion.

"You're a fucking short little weirdo, Park Jimin." Yoongi's sentence comes out just a bit more acidic than he means it to but he doesn't apologize.

If anything the small flames of anger seem to burnish brighter as Jimin chuckles to himself. Park has always been so sure of himself, so absolutely ruthless in getting what he wants. But, you weren't his to have.

"If you aren't going to fuck her right, can I?" He asks as he tosses chips into the middle of the table.

Yoongi's hand grips into a fist, the edges of the chips he holds make uncomfortable indents into his skin as he focuses on Maya's face to calm himself down.

"Whoa. Jimin." Hoseok mumbles as Jimin laughs.

"Calm down hyung. I'm just playing with you. I'll just ask her out on a date and we'll see where it goes." Yoongi chuckles to himself.

He can't begin to understand why it bothers him so much to hear those words. Maybe it's because you're being treated flippantly or maybe it's because you were his. Or, should be his anyway. You were having his child. Doesn't that make you off limits?

But he was better than this. He was better than letting small, simple things beneath his skin.

"She won't say yes. She's pregnant with my baby." He says as he chucks his chips into the center of the table roughly.

"We'll see. If she does say yes, just know I'll treat your baby mama with a lot of respect...as I rearrange her guts with the head of my cock." Jimin and Taehyung chortle loudly as they knock their shoulders into one another.

Scoffing gently, he downs the rest of his whisky before wiping the back of his hand over his lips.

It takes all of his restraint to not get out of his chair and punch the shorter man in the face. It takes every single ounce of strength to just stay seated and look as if he's calm while on the inside he's burning bright with red hot rage.

"You watch your fucking mouth, Jimin. She's the mother of my child." He says as he points his finger over the lip of his glass at the younger man.

The laughs die down as they notice just how deadly serious he is.

"Oh, now you care about her? Seemed like she was going to be just another leech ten minutes ago." Jimin chuckles as he speaks his words and Namjoon's eyes flutter shut in defeat.

"Yeah well, if she was to be a leech. She would be my leech. Not yours. You watch your fucking mouth when you talk about the mother of my baby in this fucking house, do you understand me?" He doesn't even understand where this rage is coming from. He can't begin to process it, but he doesn't miss the smile that creeps onto Maya's face as he defends your honor.

Jimin holds his hands up with a laugh as he clenches his cigar between his teeth.

"Calm down Yoongi. I'm just fucking with you. I don't want to fuck your poor baby mama, alright?"

Namjoon sits up fast as Yoongi goes to stand up, "Let's just all relax. Calm down." He tells his best friend as he puts his hand on his shoulder.

"Get out." He says aloud as he brushes Namjoon's hand off his shoulder.

Jimin looks up at Yoongi as Maya gently sets the cards down on the felt table.

"Oh Yoongi. Come on, I was fucking around." He says half heartedly.

"I'm done for the night. Get the fuck out." He burns his cigar out before opening up the library doors.

Everyone stands and thanks Maya softly before heading out one by one. Yoongi catches Jimin by the shoulder as he leaves last.

His hand clasps roughly around his skin and Jimin cringes at the sharp pain, "You keep her fucking name out of your goddamn mouth. Do you understand me? Don't you dare ever disrespect her in this household again. Or, I'll release those pictures of you at your bachelor party to Dispatch. You keep your dick away from where it doesn't belong in this house."

The threat sends Jimin's eyes widening a fraction before he collects his composure, "I got it. Relax." He says before pulling his shoulder away and patting the older man's arm.

Taking a deep breath, he looks around the library before meeting Maya's gaze as she clears the cards off of the poker table.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that nasty stuff." He apologizes and her nose wrinkles sweetly as she smiles.

"Now that, that is how I raised you." He smirks gently at her praise before pocketing his hands and looking down at the floor.

"Can you order some paint brushes and canvas?" He asks softly.

"Oh of course! For you? You don't paint." Maya asks, her voice is riddled with confusion as she stacks the poker chips back in the oak box.

"No, I don't but Y/N does." He mumbles and Maya smiles widely before nodding.

"Of course I'll order her some painting materials! That's a great idea, Yoongs!" Seeing her, the woman who has raised him, get so excited about it makes him feel almost drunk off of delight.

But, then he gets brought down to Earth once more as he hears his wife giggle from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Maya." He mumbles as he sets off to his wing of the mansion. He eyes Hoseok chatting up his wife as they both lean against the bar and he snorts to himself in disbelief. At least someone would be getting laid tonight.

The problem with having a wife that sees other people is just how loud sex can get when you're not involved.

At one point Yoongi craved to be in Hoseok's position. He was dying to get in between Sera's legs albeit she was annoying and bratty since they were kids. He had a genuinely real crush on her that dissolved into distaste and pure hatred in a matter of moments.

Even across the whole mansion, he can hear her getting fucked like there's no tomorrow and he grimaces while turning to the window as he lays in bed.

"Music up to ninety percent." He calls out in the room and the volume of the classical piano piece rises quickly to drown out the feral noises of sex from the other wing in the mansion.

Pulling out his phone, he begins to scroll through Instagram before finding Leena's page. There were so many posts with just you and her or you, her and Seokjin. Your smile was pretty. He takes into account that you haven't really smiled around him all that much but he can understand why.

He can remember your giggle too, when you were in Namjoon's office. It was soft and gentle, like hummingbird wings. The noise instantly made him relax and he can remember how his eyes fluttered shut just upon hearing it.

You weren't a bad person. You weren't trying to trap him-- he could see it on your face when you had lunch. You were genuinely mortified. So fucking frightened. And, even though he doesn't know you, you don't deserve that.

You don't deserve to be terrified of him or anyone.

He can see in most of these pictures, you're wearing borrowed things. The Chanel, the Balenciaga, the Gucci-- it was all Leenas and none of it was your own.

How fucking depressing must that be? Did Leena make you wear her clothes or did you ask her to borrow some in order to not feel poor and unworthy around others?

Sighing gently, he presses his face deeper into the pillow as he continues to scroll.

Maybe he shouldn't treat you like another Sera. But, he doesn't trust a single person. He's learned to lock his heart away in an iron cage after Sera so brutally stepped on him.

He's not sure if he could ever truly open up to someone else that isn't the woman who raised him.

Next Chapter --->

Third Wheeling Taglist- @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @laabellaavitaa21, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @jooniebugg, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes

Some people couldn’t be tagged, I’m so sorry about that!

#third wheeling #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #ceo!yoongi #ceo!au #yoongi x reader #yoong x you

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the-descolada · 3 years ago

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Penny and Winter as Symbolic Human Machines

So honestly, I’m really impressed by how well done the ending of RWBY Volume 8 was with regard to character arcs being fulfilled, especially for Penny and Winter. I’ve seen a lot of takes, some that I somewhat agree with, and some that I just don’t, that Penny’s death was “bad writing,” and I think that, subjectivity of what constitutes bad writing aside, this is ignoring a lot of aspects of V7/V8 that made for a very compelling narrative, and feels heavily based in just people wanting Penny to not have died.

And I get this! Penny is one of my favorite characters and I’m very sad that she died; however, I really actually loved how fitting her death was for her story and the broader story of RWBY as a whole, so I wanted to do a write-up of my whole rant on this so that people could read it and see my thought process for why this only made me love Penny’s writing more. I’m not necessarily going to ascribe value to the writing itself in this analysis, as that is highly subjective, but I am biased so that’ll shine through some.

V7 through V8 had a lot of moments that frankly I hadn’t picked up on right up until the end that worked to build a dynamic interplay between Penny and Winter’s characters. Specifically, Penny's role is of a literal robot becoming less of a machine in the thematic sense and more of a person throughout, contrasting with Winter, who, while she is helping Penny realize herself as more of a person and less of a tool, is going through the opposite experience herself. This is essentially textual - it’s explicitly said by Winter herself in less words during the Maiden power transfer scene in V8E14.

When we as the audience reconnect with Winter at the start of V7, she is firmly entrenched as Ironwood’s confidante and second-in-command, serving as a face of the Atlas military as it squeezes Mantle. It’s safe to say that not many Mantle citizens like her very much, but she is insulated from this and continues to follow orders without regard for the welfare of the people. Ironwood at this point is already extremely authoritarian, even though he hasn’t graduated to full on dictatorship and declared martial law yet, and his will is also imposed on her through bringing her into the fold with the chief purpose of grooming (god this word feels grossly fitting given their dynamic) her to become the next Winter Maiden.

Winter, despite holding a a significant level of power and authority due to her military rank, has very little agency in this decision. She insists that her choice to take up the duty as Ironwood ordered is something she’s grown into and chosen, but it’s alarmingly clear that this is not the case; nearly every action she takes in V7 is still fully in the purview of Atlas (read: Ironwood)’s goals. I would go so far as to suggest that Ironwood giving her this position within the military after she escapes her father’s influence is intentionally conditioning her to view him as the sole way out of an abusive situation, and to disguise the fact that this new situation is just as abusive as the first below the surface.

Penny’s role in V7 is completely in opposition to this; while she is still theoretically under the control of the Atlas military, she is presented as the Protector of Mantle and seems to be beloved by the people. Our immediate image of her in Atlas is one of emotion and caring; she is overjoyed to see her friends from Beacon again, and this continues throughout the volume as she talks about what it means to be a person with them, Ruby and Winter especially. When things start going wrong and she is accused of killing people through the doctored footage from the rally, she is horrified at the prospect of being seen as a monster and continues to make every decision with the aim of protecting everyone around her, even at the expense of what her “duty” to Atlas might be. It’s clear that she is growing into her own agency, rather than being beholden to what Ironwood wants for her, and this helps prove to herself that she is her own person, not simply a tool of the military, not a machine.

The climactic scene of V7 takes these two character arcs running in strained parallel and drives a wedge between them, even as they battle a common enemy side by side. Winter’s devotion to Atlas (read: Ironwood) results in self-destructive tendencies, uncaring for her personal survival if it would further a goal that she ultimately and ironically does not truly believe in. Penny, however, begins to entirely shake this duty, risking even the Maiden power going to Cinder if it means saving Winter from dying. To her, personal feelings (ding ding ding!) and personal friendships mean more than duty to a state, or even (as we see later) her own well-being. Self destructive tendencies aside, this loyalty to people she earnestly cares about, who earnestly care about her, is loaded with symbolism that separates her from the metaphor of machine.

The result of the V7 finale reinforces the track the two of them are on; Winter, having been molded into a machine of the military, fails in her duty, while Penny, who has begun to recognize herself more and more as a person, succeeds at keeping the power from Cinder. She still has a massive amount of self-doubt and deep-seated fear that she doesn’t count as a person, but the Maiden power, being the perfect thematic symbol of “maidenhood”, goes to her, proving her to be a “real girl” and reinforcing the ongoing narrative. Winter, battling her own mixed feelings over being chosen for the power, never questions this; it’s clear that she, too, recognizes that Penny “was always the real Maiden, while [she] was the machine.” This also reinforces Penny’s narrative being heavily trans-coded, but I think that’s pretty obvious and doesn’t need to be reiterated. The two of them part sides here, one remaining with the Atlas military and one actively rebelling against it.

As Ironwood starts going off the deep end at the end of V7 and throughout V8 and starts sacrificing everyone around him to fuel his own narrow and tyrannical view of how to save Atlas, Winter simply...falls in line. She is continually forced to follow harsher and harsher orders, and any choices she makes as part of that, with only two exceptions, still are entirely in service to Ironwood. She has become, in essence, a machine locked into a set path, a path she, conflicted as she may be, follows all the way up to a choice she cannot abide - mass murder. Even orders that would result in her sister’s closest friends’ deaths she follows unquestioningly - it’s unclear whether she would have actually gone through with it, since the option is taken off the table by forces outside her control, but she certainly says as much in her conversation with Marrow. Only the prospect of annihilating the entire city of Mantle finally snaps her off the track Ironwood has set her on, making her recognize that all of this has never been for Atlas at all, but for Ironwood’s own ego. Fittingly, finally seeing Ironwood as her enemy and not a savior, she is tasked with taking him down herself.

Contrasting this, Penny’s role in V8 is entirely one of rebellion. The entire volume is her building her agency more and more, making decisions based on what she thinks is right and what she values. She rarely listens to any one person telling her what to do; even her father, who she loves dearly, isn’t able to make her do something when her sense of justice is on the line. Ironwood no longer has his hold on her for the most part; any attempt at manipulating her into doing something against her own morals is met with defiance, supported by her friends’ love for her. She has to be outright hacked to be forced into doing his bidding, and she fights this all the way down, her own inherent personhood pushing back against this attempt to dehumanize her. In this sense, even her becoming organic symbolizes this; she and the people she cares about defy this dehumanization of her, finding a way to free her from the last remaining vestiges of Atlesian influence and further reclaiming her own agency.

And what does she do with that agency when she is faced with oblivion? She simultaneously affirms it by making her final choice in a desperate situation, defying Cinder’s attempt to rip her power away, and also gifts it in the form of the Maiden power to the woman who she is watching attempting to also shake the shackles of Atlas, symbolically showing Winter her own inherent humanity. This decision, though dire, is in recognition of what is most important to her: her friends. Even believing half of them are dead, she gives up her life to ensure the rest survive. In the final moment she has with Winter, she reassures her that she won’t be really gone: the memory of her choice and who she is as a person will live on through Winter’s continued choices, through her agency.

In the end, neither of them were machines; just two hurt people fighting back against a brutal world that sought to strip their agency away. The tragedy in this conclusion, that that brutal world took one of their lives away, is fought just as defiantly. Penny knows that gifting the power in her soul to Winter means that her death won’t be meaningless, that her agency will last beyond her mortality and might result in the world finally being freed from the threat of destruction. It’s because of hope, not despair, that she makes her final choice.

#rwby spoilers #rwby8 spoilers #my writing #CRITICAL ANALYSIS TIME #i've been meaning to write up my rant on this for months #rwby #winter schnee #penny polendina

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johobi · 4 years ago

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A Lycan Dignity

Word count: 4k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: rough, penetrative werewolf sex, pregnancy sex, blood consumption, biting, knotting, squirting, very strong dom/sub dynamic, extremely graphic sexual description lol, impreg kink, baby bump worship, masturbation, giant COCK, i mean huge, tiny amount of angst

A/N: This was commissioned by the wonderful @divine-bangtan in exchange for a Black Lives Matter donation! I really hope you enjoy it!

Next: Mark of the Beast || Tooth and Claw Masterlist

Sympathetic to the plight of the werewolves your kind have culled to near-extinction, life as a human informant has never been one of safety. However, when you catch the eye of an alpha, your situation only grows more perilous.

After many months of unremitting use, your once solid bed frame had become a rickety, wretched old thing. Its joints ground like those of a horse bound for the knackery. Weeks ago, you thought it near total collapse. Since then, however - though it protested any and all movement - it had remained intact. Because, no longer did you and Jungkook breed with the impassioned fervour you once did. No, these days your bed hosted only the most lacklustre of sex; the sort you never imagined needing endure when you tied yourself to him. After all, Jungkook was an oversexed, testosterone-burdened manbeast with a twelve inch cock and a negligible refractory period. So why was it now so scant? So underwhelming?

According to him, it was necessary.

Ugh.

Oh, how you longed for the days and nights Jungkook would run you all the way through, bending you this way and that to offload himself for the third, consecutive time. How he would grow and grow and grow, locking into place in the depths of your cunt and soothe you all the while.

Being that you were now five months pregnant, however, you were the only one ballooning. God, you missed his knot. Missed the intensity with which he once bedded you. Missed the—

“Does that feel okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Presently, Jungkook mounted you with the shallowest of thrusts, barely wetting half his length. The bed swayed beneath you, tapping the wall to the rhythm of his gently rolling hips. Before you’d grown big, it had clapped the cabin’s pine like thunder, and splintered where it struck. Today you clutched a pillow for comfort as Jungkook rocked you into a drowsy stupor.

It was so quiet that his breathing carried across you. It, too, was shallow - hardly laboured - and sometimes there came an occasional grunt of effort. Or perhaps of pleasure? It was difficult to distinguish to what extent the act satisfied Jungkook when he restrained himself so. By the furrow in his brow, it appeared more akin to torture. It certainly was for you. Your libido had grown unruly during gestation, and nothing much gratified you.

Nothing but your aforementioned, well-endowed mate. Only he could alleviate the nagging ache.

So it was to your utter dismay when Jungkook deemed you too large for such boisterous intercourse, and insisted you be handled like some delicate bijou. It was preposterous! You were tough enough to withstand a decade’s duty in the militia’s vanguard! A few extra inches of cock weren’t like to break you.

In the end, despite two full days of moody back-and-forth on the matter, he tempered your lovemaking significantly. And though your post-coital canoodling was as much to your joy and satisfaction as it ever was, you found the preceding act painfully lacking. Actually, literally painful. Pregnancy was quite intolerable.

You challenged Jungkook on several, fruitless occasions thereafter. But his constant dismissals would not deter you. Especially not today, when the entirety of you quivered for satiation, and he had been drip-feeding you cock for the past twenty-odd minutes. It was maddening. The path to climax was a sleet-sodden slope that you could never hope to climb.

"Jungkook, please, enter me fully. There’s no need for such caution. I know it hurts you to hold back." And me. “How many times must I assure you that I’m not as fragile as you think me?" You grimaced at the headboard as Jungkook probed your entrance with middling impetus. His girth was such that your cunt begged and fluttered to receive it deeper, distressed by the gaping space that went unfilled.

“Hmph.”

Jungkook’s considerable weight descended, blanketing your back to secure your compliance. With his breath at your ear, he interwove your fingers and exerted pressure enough to bow you to the blanket. Your ass, however, remained high and accessible; as submissive a posture there was. By the devilish chuckle that blew across your cheek, Jungkook already thought himself the victor of this quarrel. "And how many times must I ask you not to challenge me? I know my own strength." It was difficult to rebuke him when his lips skirted your ear so. So soft and wet and careful in their pressure.

"And I know your strength just as well. I have been on the receiving end of it for months before th-this—ah!" Pain suffused your neck where Jungkook’s mouth lingered. He curled his lip at your continued defiance. Out of the corner of your eye, his fangs bore a red glaze.

Mayhaps it was a warning, but it only served to embolden you.

"Nothing you could do would harm the pups. Please, Jungkook. I'm begging you." He liked being begged. Liked when you relinquished your power and station entirely. Because, outside your bedchambers, you were as important and respected as he. That he liked, too.

Your particularly bullish nature meant that Jungkook relished your surrender. Especially in the aftermath of contentious discussions. There had been many an occasion where Jungkook’s red-blooded urges almost jeopardised tactical assemblies, because he simply could not ignore them. Particularly the meetings where you butted heads on some divisive detail or another. The tension grew so stark during these exchanges that it cowed the other attendants into silence. You would exchange little else, thereon, but sultry glares, and Jungkook would orbit you in inappropriate proximity, breathing down your neck and rubbing you where others could not see. The sex after those meetings was singularly wild.

Jungkook attested often to his being a tethered beast, but you were the one with the leash. “Please. Put it all the way in,” you snivelled. “Alpha.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched at your urging; you felt him on your back, chest broad and feverish. He did not perspire out of exertion but sheer sexual frustration. It was obvious by the weight with which his balls hung; you spied them between your legs when you looked beneath. "Please, alpha. Take me completely."

Furtively, you grinned. Jungkook was an astute man. However, he was also a simple, dick-driven creature.

“Argh!”

A snarl seared your ear, drawing gooseflesh in its wake. You tilted your head to behold him; to enthrall him with lust-lidded eyes. But it was you who was captivated. Jungkook would never be anything less than breathtakingly handsome. The type women ripped costly bodices for. He was rugged; as hewn in the jaw as he was in body, and with eyes so honest you could be sup from his soul. Your mouth hung in open appreciation of his masculine beauty. Jungkook’s hips stuttered, then, as you drunk one another in. A fleeting slip, but enough to propel him deeper for a crucial moment. The repercussions manifested immediately. Your eyes rolled in their sockets and out came a harrowing groan. The entirety of your body tautened as your cunt did, grasping at his elusive length as it again withdrew. "Ugh. Jungkook!"

"Cease your attempts to seduce me, woman," Jungkook menaced, butting aside your head and raking his fangs along the angle of your jaw. "Your charms will not work." His tongue laved wherever they grazed, his hands surrendering your hips only to snake beneath and caress your rotund belly. So tender was he in his touches, that your cunt pulled with desire. Jungkook splayed his fingertips, cradling your circumference as best he could in his calloused palms. He muttered something soft and indiscernible about our children as he admired you, your provocation momentarily forgotten.

His cheek came by yours, then, rounded nose drifting to your temple to huff in your pregnant scent. According to him, you’d become overwhelmingly, wonderfully fragrant. Such that he would pine if denied it too long.

Chamomile.

That was what you effused while with child.

Jungkook’s favourite tea.

The headbutt that came next would reasonably incapacitate the average person; indeed, it was so strong that your knees rattled on their hinges. But Jungkook went unscathed, nuzzling a path through your tangled hair, air whooshing through his nostrils as he scented you. "God, you are beautiful. So round, so full. And utterly mine," Jungkook murmured, teetering on the fringes of abandon. He continued his ardent groping with a whine.

Had he really sabotaged his own restraint?

How funny that his undoing was his own. Positively hilarious.

That was, until you felt his cock sink deliberately deeper. Jungkook groaned as you did, though you were far more shameless in your desperation. “Oh, God—!”

"Fuck!" The curse word unravelled into a low, ungodly growl.

"Yes, Jungkook. More—" Your hands scrabbled for purchase on his backside, but it soon retreated out of reach as he again withdrew. "Godfuckingdamnit! What must I do to convince you? Please, do it again. I can take it!"

"I will not. It’s too much a risk. What happened was—was entirely unintentional, and I won’t allow it to happen again." He stated it with resolve, but his hips stuttered traitorously, heeding not him but the wolf within him. A rush of breath buffeted your shoulders and then Jungkook's nose was again in your nest of hair, inhaling himself to his senses. "That is the end of it," he murmured on exhale, seemingly sobered. "Now, let us continue." Penetration resumed at its previous, underwhelming pace, maddening you to your very marrow.

"Fine." A growl of your own grew in your chest. "Then I will not submit to you today."

When you dared look Jungkook’s way, the sheer displeasure buckling his features very nearly undid your determination. His brows hung gravely over his eyes, obscuring their usual, gentle glimmer with a severity that stirred your wanton pussy. "You will. You will always submit to me. I am your alpha," Jungkook stated with a snap of his teeth, seeking to subdue you with his hefty physique.

Oh, you absolutely would and should submit but it was imperative you defy him now or you would never see satiety.

With something of such import in the balance, you heaved yourself onto your elbows and then your hands, quaking beneath the werewolf that hung plastered to your back. As you rose, as you straightened your spine in defiance and denied Jungkook your submission, the growl behind you grew in outrage. His cock stalled at your opening, tip still between your folds.

“Not today.”

Jungkook's lips curled back along his gums, a slight tremor to his tautened jaw. Two, prominent fangs confronted you in the candlelight, your skin prickling where they'd countless times pierced. His authority was difficult to oppose when the mere visage of this apex predator was enough to buckle your knees and sodden your cunt. "You're a baffling woman. I've dominated you on hundreds of splendid occasions, and today is the day you defy me? Must I subjugate you again, my sweet?"

As much as you yearned to present him your sopping hole, it would be another five months of unrealised desire if you did.

To hell with that.

“Come, now. Show me how ready you are to receive me.” Jungkook sought to bow you with nips and kisses, but you would not be bowed. Not this time. When this much became clear, he peeled himself from your back and his cock from your hole. Oh, no. No, this wouldn't do.

"If you will not obey me then you will not receive me at all," he snorted, as enraged and engorged as a hung bull. Truly, he was a marvel that you could not tear your desirous eyes from. Not when he knelt there so, in all his strapping, virile glory. You whined for what you were cruelly denied. Jungkook interpreted your meaning well. "It is your own fault." He vented frustration through his flaring nostrils. "Present yourself to me or I will simply finish all over you."

Your cunt pulsed in anguish and joy. What a dream it would be if he painted you, cock in hand and strangling it of cum. If his sac throbbed with each ejaculation as it fell across your body, hot and sticky. If his lips were bitten bloody and his eyes crinkled closed.

God.

Yes, it would be beautiful. But it would afford you nothing in the end but your own, spiritless fingers to finish with. Jungkook had been so keen a lover that you could not even recall the last time you masturbated. And you weren’t about to start now, as unquenchable as you were.

So, you persisted. Prayed that your ruse might finally bear fruit. It all culminated with this: "I won't. How about you I take you, so that I may seek my own pleasure? Get on your back. Offer your belly up to me, wolf, so I may sit on you."

In a lightning's flash Jungkook was atop you, one muscular forearm looping your hips and the other strong across your chest, claws toying with the malleable flesh of your swollen breasts. His weight suffocated you once more, but you did not resist when he sought to manoeuvre you into submission. Not when, in the ferocity of his outrage did he then stuff you full with his entire cock, plunging to your depths in one, fluid thrust. It took your breath away. Deprived you of your vision. For a moment, nothing but blood raged in your ears as you fully comprehended just how in want you were. "Oh, G-Gods."

A scramble of depraved utterances streamed from Jungkook's mouth as he handled you as he truly wished. With just the one, greedy hand he bullied your swaying breasts, squeezing them as if to strain you of milk. Every vulgar grope, every pull of your nipples manifested violently in your cunt, throttling Jungkook's monstrous cock in arrhythmic convulsions. "I-Is it truly safe?" He posed it to you as a throaty moan, his other hand charting the flesh of your inner thighs and skimming them like a potter might wet clay. As his thumbs brushed the apex between, willingly and desperately you split your legs further apart, elevating your backside for his inspection. The mere act of yielding to Jungkook sensitised you to him tenfold. Though you were not werekind, his influence was such in its potency that it affected you all the same. A familiar, innate desire to pleasure him overcame you. And as you submitted to him now, nothing thrilled you more than the whines of appreciation that kissed your ears as his full length stretched you silly. Jungkook murmured again; lower and in earnest. "____. Is it truly safe?"

"It is. A thousand times I've said it." As you spoke he shifted within you, and the world shifted too. The gratification was profuse. "The babes will come to no harm," you sang, sliding along the base of his girthy cock. "And neither will I. No, I need this. And so do you."

"I won't deny that." Was all he said before he pinned you like a ravenous beast its beaten prey, hips snapping, momentum rippling through you. Each drive of his pelvis bombarded your cunt with his weighty, bloated balls as he dove in deep. They struck you like a rider’s crop, again and again, until you were sore and splendidly puffy. “Fuck, you’re so deep. I forgot how far back you go. God, you’re made for me. My perfect, pretty little bitch.” Jungkook was quickly carnal. Every phrase concluded in a wolfish whine.

He rutted you with the vigour of his first heat, feverish and erratic, jamming you to your limits with his colossal cock. His tip kissed your cervix on repeat, greasing your insides with pre-cum as he ploughed apart your unyielding walls. He leaked it so liberally now, so profusely that it dribbled from around him. All the while you yelped up a din beneath him, fully engrossed in your deference to him. You glimpsed night sky in the bedsheets, spatterings of stars combusting before your very eyes. They fell as tears, streaking your cheeks wet with relief.

"Yes, yes—that's it. Oh, you feel so good, my love. S-So good." Jungkook pistoned into you with expert precision, sweeping across your g-spot with every frenzied pass. A glorious ache tugged at your navel as he did so, wringing your insides like a sopping sponge. And, oh, how you were sopping. Vulgarly so. Jungkook juiced your cunt each time he crammed you full, soaking the space between you. It lacquered his abdomen 'til he shined in the lowlight. Gods, he was gorgeous, you could not help but glimpse him past your shoulder, to observe him as he split you apart, his eyes sharp and expression fraught. Your cunt heaved at the sight and sensation of him, and spurred him on.

"You were right. So right." Jungkook's tongue flicked around his gaping mouth, touching on his teeth in concentration. His eyes remained fixed to the site of your messy joining, tracking the drag and draw of his throbbing cock. "You can take anything. You're so strong. So beautiful," he whispered between uneven breaths, adhering himself to your arching back and resuming his earlier, intimate ministrations. As his lower half rippled and rammed you, his upper half cocooned you in comfort, gifting touches so soft they could be whispers.

You sensed it before it came. Hot breath tickled your nape for the briefest moment and then, there it was, sharp and soothing, a bite as familiar as his tender kiss; the bite that affirmed your initial bonding. It no longer induced pain, only a midsummer's welcome warmth. This first bite was the gentlest; Jungkook reasserting his claim. But then he withdrew, and struck again, and again, latching onto your nape for purchase as he pounded himself into your cunt to eke mewls from you.

"Ngh, fuck, it's happening too soon." Jungkook sounded utterly bereft. He did not, however, slow his incessant pace. His zeal had displaced you so far up the bed that the headboard clattered against your cheek. Discomfort was an irrelevant notion when you were having the life fucked into you, however. "I should withdraw."

"No!" It was practically a scream. "Knot me. Please, it's been too long. I need it, I need all of you," you burbled, tears afresh in your eyes. You were so close. Something momentous accumulated in your abdomen; teased glimpses of divine completion.

"Fuck!" Jungkook's hands roved your underside in woeful abandon, gripping at you like he might yet reestablish restraint. Clearly he could not, for his next move was to indulge in the blood that trickled freely from your neck. His long, rough tongue lapped you clean of his excesses, and his lips made sweet reparation. "I want—" A wet, solemn kiss. "I w-want—" A quick, furious thrust between your legs. "I want to fill you to the brim."

"Yes, do it, alpha. Please, please." Your whining rivalled that of the den's neediest pups. "I'm strong, like you said. I can take it. There is nothing more I've wanted these past months than that. Please knot me, Jungkook." As incentive you pitched your backside higher, clenching both orifices for his appreciation. Jungkook observed the gesture keenly, his cock jumping to a stall within you.

“Sh-shit—”

With surprising composure, he cupped the back of your head and tilted you toward him. Your cheekbones brushed in passing, and the tips of your noses pressed close. He sifted your eyes for sincerity before pressing his lips to yours in a long, torrid kiss that conveyed all that you needed from him. As you parted, Jungkook's tongue lingered long enough to draw strings. And then he grinned. "Alright. As you deferred to me so readily." His pace quickened, escalating into a frenzy of cunt-cleaving thrusts that drove ruthlessly along your upper wall. "I shall oblige you."

"Oh God—" The reservoir within you burgeoned suddenly, pulsed behind your cunt for release. And as you felt the dam begin to fracture, Jungkook's fingers found your clit amidst your plastered folds. One, establishing touch was all it took to undo you. As the base of his cock began to thicken, a river of fluid rushed around it as you finally, joyously climaxed, eyes half-lidded and sightless as you ascended. Euphoria tinged your every atom and daubed the world white. You convulsed on end and with alarming force, your pussy gulping down Jungkook's rapidly ballooning cock. The stretch of him stung wonderfully, pushed apart your seizing hole without care for your capacity.

"F-Fuck." Jungkook faltered upon witnessing the ferocity with which you gushed. It soaked what little remained dry of his thighs, clinging to their definition. You gasped and moaned beneath him, dizzied by orgasm, your mouth agape and cheek crushed flat to the headboard. His vascular forearms shook to support him as he hurtled toward completion. "You needed all of me, hm?" Jungkook panted, drunk on lust and wild with power. He gloated over you like the primeval beast he was, fangs bared and liberated by instinct. "Your slippery little cunt missed this, didn't it?"

You mustered little more than a gurgle as he continued to ravage your boneless body, fucking through your spasming cunt until he himself began to twitch. "Sh-Shit, fuck," he exclaimed on high, head thrown back and knot taking root. Though you were spent and without much sense, Jungkook's sudden, violent expulsion shot new life through you. Together you groaned, until he began baying, grinding his turgid cock as far as his knot would allow, frustrated by its impediment. Possessed by ferality, Jungkook nipped desperate pleas into your bruised shoulders, grunting with each subsequent spurt he emptied into you. Though he could no longer snap his hips, they nonetheless dug into you as he milked himself of residue. “God. Shit. I—” Monosyllabic cusses continued to fall from him as he prised himself from your limp body. Without a moment’s reprieve he maneuvered himself to his knees so as to better inspect your expanding belly, his hands roaming your bulging expanses. "Yes." It was almost a hiss. "You are perfect. So full of me and mine."

"Indeed, I am." You cast him a struggling smile. When Jungkook returned it, it revitalised you. Your smile grew into a grin. "And what a lucky woman I am."

"Come, let us make you more comfortable," Jungkook muttered with a touch to your dampened cheek. Historically his knots did not always abate in a timely manner. Knowing this, Jungkook clutched you to his chest, adjusting you so as not to tug at your joining, nor disturb your swollen belly. Ever so gently he steered you onto your side, his sweat-slick body clinging to your back. His knot throbbed pleasantly within, interlocking you indefinitely. And you did not object, because this was when you felt most at peace, most loved, most protected. His arms cradled you, encircled your precious load, and all the while he washed you of perspiration and blood. No week went by where your neck and shoulders were not a spectrum of colour due to Jungkook's oral attention.

You did not object to that either.

"Thank you, Jungkook. I really needed that. I genuinely shed tears," you giggled, your breasts askew around his forearm. It tensed and pulled you closer.

"So did I." A growl laced his chuckle. "But I would never harm you or the pups to satisfy my own selfish desires. Forgive me my obstinacy, but I had to be sure."

"I understand. And we are safe. We're the safest with you, my love."

Jungkook suspended his rigorous bathing of you to kiss the crown of your head. "You are. Nothing shall befall you while I still breathe.

For a dreadful moment, your ongoing predicament punctured the post-coital glow. But you resolved not to let it. No, it could wait until tomorrow. In the here and now, you did not have to fret whether Jungkook would return home tomorrow. Whether his dinner would grow cold and your bed perennially so.

No.

In this moment, he was here, as were you. One bonded pair and their six, synchronous heartbeats.

Just a quick note to elaborate on the reader’s pregnancy, as I appreciate not everyone will have read these asks.

1) She is pregnant with four boys.

2) They develop in utero as wolves, and are born in that form too - therefore they are quite a bit smaller than human babies. So she isn’t particularly overburdened. A few months after birth they will begin popping in and out of both forms until they learn to control it.

Next: Mark of the Beast || Tooth and Claw Masterlist

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jungkook fluff #jeongguk fluff #jungkook x you #jeongguk x you #jungkook scenarios #jeongguk scenarios #werewolf!jungkook #werewolf!jeongguk #bts smut #bts scenarios #a lycan dignity #tooth and claw

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