#SAD is a bitch and so i am but i'm the weaker one and it's cold.
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544 people are subbed to cosmic lost and found what the fuck
#holy shit somehow i didn't realize#lol i was trying to figure out what to do today#earlier i spent a couple hours binging midgart's Theurgy comic and now i'm like 'well... time for bed'#but it's not even 7 yet and i'm not tired i'm just tiredTM.#like a depressed person you know#sigh#god i don't know what i wanna do#maybe i'll play plants vs zombies... i did that yesterday for the first time in a decade#did y'all know it's like $5 on steam#anywayyyyy#SAD is a bitch and so i am but i'm the weaker one and it's cold.#diaerie
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arthur and john's relationship is so older/younger brother coded, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. it hurts. it also reminds me of the dean and sam dynamic
you're stupid. (i saved you). you'll never understand me. (i worried about you all the time). i hate you. (i hate you for being able to separate yourself from our parents). i know you hate me more for blindly listening to them all my life. (i'm proud of you). i hate that you're brave enough to leave. (i want the best for you). i'm sad that you abandoned me and our family. (i'm so fucking happy that you will always be the best version of me). you're such a loser (so am i). you almost died. (i want to grow old with you by my side). I'll punch you in the face. (take my blood, my gun and my hat). i'm so mad at you for wasting my teenage years with you. (i taught you how to hunt and protect yourself). you'll always be weaker than me. (when did you get so tall?). i don't want to be alone (i remember the story of every one of your scars, even this one, when you fell like a fool in the woods when you were about 11). you're a bitch. (you're my best friend). i hate my life. (you will be write in my diary when i die). you will avenge me and it will kill you
(i want you to could escape for the second time and live a life that i could never have)
#rdr2#rdr#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption#arthur morgan#john marston#spn#supernatural#sam winchester#dean winchester#textpost#red dead redemption two#rdr2 john#rdr2 arthur#my thoughts#morston
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Echoes of Intrigue: Prt 2
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9912e4132862dededde17a6e520107e8/554f00635d3cb117-58/s540x810/54a1335389ace97803de49337fee324fbe74fbcb.jpg)
Villan
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Lola
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Melpomene mask
Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK.
DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.
Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI- Kidnapping, Bondage, Sensory deprivation, Fingering (F), Spanking, Gagging, Anal probing, Use of sex toys, Profanity.
Pairing: black male x black female
Word Count: 5706
A/N: So I'm fairly new to writing fan fiction and new to writing short stories. I began writing poetry and spoken word, then tried my hand at prose. I've been reading a lot of @megamindsecretlair 's stories as well as @thecapodomme 's story and I thought I'd try my hand. I have posted another short story that wasn't really fan fiction on my page before called The Challenge. I didnt cast it or anything this elaborate, but yea. I'm trying to get better at writing more stories and prompts really help. Casting my stories after writing them actually helps to keep me motivated so I thought this was a good marriage of the two forms. This story currently consists of two parts, this is the second. If this part gets positive feedback, then I'll force myself to develop the story even further and write the third and fourth part. Your feedback is greatly appreciated because I'm really trying to get better. So Like, Comment, and Reblog if the spirit moves you. ❤️❤️🥰
Tags: @thecapodomme @writers-of-tmblr @melaninpov @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymusicbias @the-black-label @master-builder42 @miraculously-dumb-bitch @megamindsecretlair @hopefulromantic1 @tranquilfandomer @thadelightfulone @vivalaorgasm
PART 2
My body stiffens as I listen to her last words. Then I head back out of the room and into the surveillance office I set up. I peer at her through the computer screen as I sit on the leather swivel chair. I had always thought that this part would be easy.
Following her after work and memorizing her routine had been tough. She was not the easiest to monitor as she often switched her routine and routes home. Waiting for the perfect time to take her was difficult because she always had people around her. This was not the first time this happened to her. That had been the thrilling part in the beginning. One day, I was tailing her from her favorite hangout spot with her girlfriends on Thursday nights. She looked breathtaking. Her doe eyes had the perfect golden-brown hue with inner corners that tipped downward, starting a trail to her perfect button nose. Her full lips were naturally outlined in a warm brown hue. Her skin was radiant and glowing as the sunset. Her hair was full and bouncy, riding just past her shoulders. Her body. Her body was the thing men go to war or jail over. I’ve seen pictures and video clips of her before. They were always after she was caught and released. She would look disheveled, tired, and angry, then sad. She never looked the way I saw her that day.
When I originally signed up for this, it was the adrenaline rush of possibly getting caught by the police that got me. They were familiar with her and her case. Who doesn’t love the possibility of real danger? Forbidden fruit? The thrill, the race, the fear in someone’s eyes, hurried breaths, the racing of heartbeats. But the feeling I feel today is entirely different, and I am unsure where to place it. It’s not remorse, it’s not trepidation, no. It was more like… sympathy? Rage? Disgust? Again, I wasn’t sure. Today, she is deflated. She has given up fighting and as she bleeds out for hours on end every day, getting weaker and weaker, she seems resigned to die. She jokes, but she acts like this may be her last time talking to someone. They assured me that she would be a fighter. But the more and more I discovered about the people who set this all up, the more doubts I had. The more I started delaying the process. The more I found myself feeling something for her. My thoughts were interrupted by the phone buzzing in my pocket. If I didn’t call my girlfriend’s phone around the usual times, things would look suspicious and the key to this is to maintain routine. I scroll to her number on the screen and tap. It rings five times before going to voicemail. I wait a couple of minutes, then try her again. The same thing, it rings and then goes to voicemail. Just when I am about to try her for a third time, I get another call from a blocked number. I answer on the third ring.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Have you secured the asset yet?” a voice says.
“Yes, but we have a problem. She’s on her menstrual cycle and appears very weak. This isn’t what I paid for,” I reply.
“You paid for an experience. Each man pays for the hunt of an asset, secured lodging, and the option to hold the asset for four weeks barring any injuries or emergencies. As the asset is currently in your possession, our part of the contract has been fulfilled,” the voice retorts.
“Yes, but I’m stuck taking care of her period instead of all the things that I had planned. That should be an emergency,” I say, trying not to raise my voice.
“If you are unsatisfied with your experience, you could release the asset and leave a complaint for management,” the voice says dryly.
“Thank you,” I manage as I hang up the phone.
I walk into the back of a soon-to-be corner office of this construction site. I needed to pace and move. Something about this situation does not feel right and I need an exit strategy. They are watching me. That much I knew. I couldn’t help but think about how I wound up in this space. Therapy did not help and it wasn’t for lack of trying. I had bulldozed through thirty-five therapists varying in specialties from addiction to oppositional defiant disorder to all eight of the paraphilic disorders. All the exercises and techniques worked for a while until they stopped working. They finally decided that they had misdiagnosed me and I was addicted to thrill-seeking stemming from childhood trauma blah blah blah. I didn’t fear death but I knew I also didn’t care deeply for living. I was curious to see how others lived. I wanted to behave like other ordinary people navigated the world, but I had this constant itch. An itch to push the boundaries of the civilized societies, the limitations of my body, the expectations of what I think I’m capable of. I wanted to be fully present for all of it, which was the reason I never fully dove into drugs. It just seemed like after a while the drugs fed off of you rather than the other way around. So, I delved into sex, self-harm, weapons, crime, and all the cliche things daredevils try in their 20s and early 30s until they are expected to settle down and have a family. Even when I was in the throes of the women, the guns and knives, or even drag racing and boosting cars, none of that was ever enough. I needed more. I craved more.
I received a black envelope at the end of last year at work. It was placed on my desk, and my name was typed in white ink on the front. On the back was a crest in white wax. It wasn’t a crest I’d never seen before. I even got one of my tech friends to scour the internet to see what entity the crest belonged to, but their search came up empty. It took me a few days to open the envelope. When I finally did, there was an invitation typed on parchment. I didn’t know that you could type on parchment. The two worlds didn’t belong together yet; they were mashed together to deliver a message I wasn’t sure I wanted to receive.
“Dear Prospect, we would like to cordially invite you to our black-tie informational session on December 20th at 7:37 pm. We have been watching you and have it on good authority that you would be interested in our services. Given your record, we ensure we can curate the ultimate experience for your thrill-seeking pleasure. The address to the information session is noted down below. We look forward to meeting and partnering with you in this new endeavor.
Sincerely, TRG.”
I glanced at the address below, about four blocks from my office. I didn’t know who TRG was or were but I was curious. Usually, when people offer a thrilling experience, it is usually something I’ve already done years ago that regular people would usually piss themselves over. It took a lot to move me. Even the sex I was having with my casual friend was getting stale. It was taking me longer and longer to get off in the orgies I attended every other weekend. Lately, I’ve just been making a game out of how quickly I could make someone cum rather than getting pleased. Masochism was cool but I no longer came as hard as I used to. My usual drag spot had been crawling with cops, so I haven’t been in any races for weeks. While my hopes weren’t exceptionally high for this event, I was hoping that it would relieve some of the tension I was feeling before I had to hurt myself again. The words “We’ve been watching you” replayed in my mind on a loop. Why? How? What did they want from me to be watching me? Questions riddled my mind. I guess I’d get those when I went to the party.
At eight pm a couple of days later, I had been almost entirely dressed in hopes of finding my new outlet. I saw and donned my favorite cufflinks, went to the island inside the walk-in closet where my fragrances were housed, and splashed myself with my signature scent. After one last glance in the mirror, I had to admit, I looked good. I had always known I did pretty well for myself in the looks department but I outdid myself with this custom jacquard suit. I reminded myself to thank my old man for teaching me how to pick and wear the hell out of a suit when I got the chance. I guess all those high society functions paid off every once in a while. I made my way over to the garage of the building and hopped on my motorcycle. Revving the engine to life, I took off and headed to the address I scoped out the day before.
Once at the destination, I handed my keys to the valet, hoping one of them knew how to ride, they gave me a ticket, and I handed the greeter my invitation. She scanned it and passed me over to the l’ hôtesse who then handed me a mask and escorted me to my table. From what I could tell, there was a mix of men and women at my table. On the place cards were professions instead of names. I guess discretion was highly regarded at this organization. I tried to see if there were recognizable features on anyone I brushed past, but I didn’t think I knew anyone here. Suddenly, the room got dark, and three spotlights illuminated the stage. A man ascended from the stage floor and looked around before approaching the transparent podium. His mask was more elaborate than the rest of ours. It concealed the entire top half of his face and was beaded into an elaborate tribal symbol. He stood silently for a few seconds before he addressed us.
“Good evening. I am very excited to see all of you tonight. You all look very elegant,'' a scrambled voice said.
These people did not want to be known. To go as far as to conceal their voice suggested that maybe I was in for a treat after all. Maybe I will finally get the trill I’ve been searching for.
“You all have long awaited this night and I’m sure you all have many questions. Let me start by saying that I am Grandmaster William St Clair of the Lodge Order of Scotts. In the order, we have a long history dating back to the seventeen hundreds and have been involved in regulating world order. We are a very clandestine organization and usually do not make ourselves known. However, as times change, so do our approaches to the free world and its market. All of you are the first to witness a Grandmaster make a public speech outside of order gatherings. Each of you has a unique piece to play in our newest venture. Before I reveal what you have so many questions about, I need you to turn over your placeholders and follow the simple instructions,” he stated.
I turned my placeholder over and a QR code was stamped just beyond the middle fold. I looked up and saw everyone around the table scanning their codes, so I followed suit. When I scanned my code, a website popped up with my name, age, and home address. They had indeed been watching me. Below my address was a silver ‘Enter’ button that was pulsating. I clicked it. There was a list of six questions. I looked around again and it seemed the entire room was immersed in what they were doing. They are probably trying to figure out what combination of answers would get them to the next step. The Grandmaster had long vacated the stage. Instead, I saw what appeared to be a woman wearing an onyx Melpomene mask, a body-hugging black gown with a long black cape draping her shoulders, and she held a scepter in her left hand. She scanned the room with scrutinizing eyes. Her gaze finally landed on me. We stared at each other for a moment. I broke my gaze, retreating to my phone, and attempted to answer some questions.
“Question #1: Do you think that the police force is here to protect and serve, or do you think they are here for another purpose entirely?” I wasn’t sure what to make of this question, so I skipped to the second one.
“Question #2: How would you deal with an intruder? A: Call the police. B: Attempt to subdue them on your own. C: Get to the highest point of your house, watch them take what they want, and leave. D: Escape and get to safety.” This one was a bit easier so I marked my answer.
“Question #3: If you were caught in an object at sea and you knew you were going to drown, would you die fighting to get free, or would you allow the water to consume you?” I looked around once more. No one had put their phone down yet to ask what was the meaning of all this or if they were planning to kill us. I looked up at the stage and the Melpomene mask was gone.
The fourth question read, “When in bondage, whether it be physical or mental attempts to limit the ability to focus, how do you center your thinking? Only answer using a maximum of seven words.”
The last two questions were like the abstract reasoning questions you tend to see when people are trying to test your aptitude. I started looking at the first question from the beginning again and scanned the second and third. By the time I got back down to the fourth question, I had decided that I was a grown man who graduated higher education almost five years ago, and if I wanted to be tested, I would rather have a conversation with our elderly receptionist, who is growing more senile by the day. I switched off my phone and headed for the door. I handed my ticket to the valet and tossed my mask. While waiting, I noticed a tall, slender figure appear to my right. She leaned against the outer wall of the building as she lit her cigarette. She took a long draw, inhaled, and a stream of smoke parted the dark air. She flipped her long dark hair to her left side. Hearing an engine pulling up, I broke my gaze and turned to the direction of the sound, hoping it was my bike.
“Leaving so soon,” I heard.
“This isn’t my scene, but it was entertaining,” I replied.
“Well, that’s odd. I thought everyone here loved a good thrill,” she said.
“Thrills, yes. Multiple choice tests, however, are not my idea of fun,” I said.
“So…what is your idea of fun,” she said as she approached me.
The valet handed me my keys and I walked to my bike.
“Hop on and I'll show you,” I grinned.
She flashed a mischievous smile and said, “If I wanted a quick fuck, there’s a bathroom ten paces to the left of the entrance. I am more interested in why you left and what it would’ve taken to make you stay.”
Curiosity had my feet trapped in the spot it occupied. Why was she so interested in me staying at this party? What was her angle? Did she work for those weirdos? After a while, I offered my last thoughts before going home.
“Listen, I’m not sure if you work for them, but offering people an exhilarating experience shouldn’t be so complicated. You either have the goods or you don’t. Eventually, everything you’ve planned there gets stale anyway. I’ve tried everything and I doubt whatever they’re offering warrants me sitting through an aptitude test,” I offered as I stepped one foot over my bike and settled.
“How about I make you a deal? If I show you what’s under my skirt, you have to promise to take it for a test drive,” she offered. If you want to see, follow me.” She walked around to the driver’s side of the vehicle, which, I only then noticed, was parked directly behind me. She hopped in and drove off.
“Fuck it,” I thought and I sped off behind her.
We had been on the roads for a while. We finally arrived at a lofty gate in the middle of the woods. Once inside the gates, we drove to the base of a small summit and began heading up the windy roads. We drove into a hidden garage in the middle of the rock, cut the engines off, walked to a matte black elevator door, and punched in a code. Without saying a word, she stepped into the elevator. I trailed behind her. The grandeur of high ceilings immediately captivated me, enhancing the sense of space and airiness. Every corner whispered understated splendor, with matte black fixtures lending an air of mystery and intrigue. The walls, painted in rich, deep hues, provided a dramatic backdrop for the magical view hidden on the steep mountain's other side. Dark hardwood floors stretch beneath your feet, adding warmth and depth to the space. We walked past the living area, which housed plush velvet sofas in shades of charcoal and midnight black that invited you to sink into them. A sleek, minimalist coffee table rested at the center, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of flickering candlelight. Against one wall stood a towering bookcase, its shelves lined with leather-bound tomes and antique curiosities. Gothic-inspired sculptures and art pieces commanded attention, their intricate details captivating the eye. A vintage gramophone sat nestled among the display, casting a nostalgic aura over the room.
We stepped into a long corridor that led to several rooms. We stopped at the fourth room with a large matte black door. It was the only door painted matte black of all the doors along the corridor. She entered a code, the doorknob inverted, and the door shifted upwards, revealing deep crimson curtains hanging from the windows at the other end of the room. Moonlight filtered in, giving a soft, moody glow. Velvet upholstery in shades of ebony and sapphire draped the furniture. A meticulously crafted desk stood dominating the space in one corner of the room. Its dark wood surface was adorned with antique inkwells and quills, adding a touch of old-world charm. A high-backed leather chair stood behind it and above the desk, an elaborate computer system commanding attention. The sleek monitors were framed by intricately carved Gothic arches, seamlessly blending modern technology with timeless designs. The keyboard and mouse were accented with metallic finishes. A built-in bookcase centered itself on the back wall. Its shelves were filled with leather-bound volumes and antique artifacts. Soft lighting illuminated the collection. She sank into the chair and started clicking away on the keys. I stood around admiring the vastness of the room.
“Take a look at what’s under my skirt,” she said with a sultry smile.
It was the first time she had spoken since we got here. I walked around the desk and took a look at the screen. At first, I didn’t understand what I was watching. After a few seconds, I saw a man tying a woman up. She seemed to be yelling for help. Pleas that should've been audible to the surrounding neighbors. He threw her over his shoulder and started walking into a warehouse, but not before standing completely within my sight, smiling and winking into the camera. Was this real? Did he know we were watching?
“What is this a movie or something?” I asked.
“Oh, quite the opposite. This is a live conquest,” she replied.
“Conquest?” I replied, confused.
“If you stuck around a little longer and completed the quiz, you would’ve been brought back to a secluded room in the building,” she said as she started unzipping her gown, “...it would’ve been explained to you that thrill seekers desire two things. Fear and rush. The real fear of getting caught and the rush you get when you get your hands on the forbidden. It is very simple. If you’re in, you get the opportunity to play an adult version of catch and release. You may even taste your catch if he or she agrees,” she finished.
“What? You mean these are real kidnappings orchestrated by you? Bullshit! How do you get past the cops? How do you get the girls to agree?” I questioned in disbelief.
“It’s quite simple. We own and operate many pleasure and tea houses in the district. Everyone gets a survey of the type of play they are into. We pool those results and filter those with the type of fantasy that aligns with yours. Being kidnapped seems to be very popular these days. Then we categorize those who want to hunt and those who want to be hunted. We gather further intel on the people in each group and give each pair a window of time to conduct their play. Everyone takes a course on ropes, zip ties, chains, belts, how to approach and apprehend your prey, what to avoid, etc. We also have an optional course on accessory devices to assist with capture. Once your time window is up, the “hunted” must be released. No names are exchanged and the face of the hunter is not revealed,” she finished, now in a satin dress that stopped in the middle of her sculpted thighs.
“It can’t be that simple. So, you mean within a certain window of time, someone can be taken like a real kidnapping and then after they’re released, they don’t go to the cops? How would they know the difference between a real threat and this … arrangement?” I asked, my mind flooded with additional questions that my mouth was trying to keep up with.
“Yes,” she laughed, “it sounds like you are interested.”
“If you can assure me that I would walk out of this with a kidnapping charge, then I’ll be down for a good time,” I blurted.
Should I have demanded that the rest of my questions be answered? Yes. Should I have asked even more questions? Yes. But, was this the most enticing game of manhunt I had ever encountered? Also, yes.
“I’ll put you on the list then,” she said with a satisfied smug look. “Oh, but first, you must show me how well you can apprehend your target. She walked over and tapped what was a hidden drawer within the wall. I walked over to the drawer and an assortment of ropes, chains, ties, belts, and toys lay inside.
“You’re serious? Right now?” I asked.
“Well, you missed the chance to perform a demonstration on the dummies we had at the back of the party. So, this will have to do. That is unless…... You don’t have anything to show me,” she said slowly as her eyes pierced into mine daringly.
“Oh, I have a couple of things I can show you,” I boasted as I chose my materials.
I took the ball gag out of the drawer. The undertone of doubt was laced in every sentence when she spoke to me. I didn’t like that, so now, she doesn’t get to talk. There were better uses for saliva. Far better uses for her soft lips. With the rest of my tools in one hand, I took her hand and led her back to the desk. I knocked all the desktops, monitors, laptops, and tablets off the table.
“Lie down,” I commanded.
She laid down with her back on the table, hands at her side and feet slightly spread. I blindfolded and gagged her. I didn’t mind her eyes, their soft almond shape, and the onyx of her irises. But they held such scrutiny and challenge. Almost like she was daring you to step out of line. I didn’t like too much defiance when I played, so they had to go. I went to the seat where I had dumped the ropes. I grabbed them and tied her hands to each leg of the desk with a figure-eight knot.
“Try to get yourself loose if you think you can. I’m very interested in what you think of my Boy Scout skills,” I teased.
She wiggled and pulled at the ropes on both ends until she was satisfied. She stopped when she discovered she couldn’t be freed until I let her loose. I walked back over to the hidden drawer and tapped it. There were other tools that would aid me in my demonstration, so I chose a couple more. I was going to test her reserve. I approached the table again, lowering myself to her left ear.
“There are a couple of things that are going to happen here. The first was going to be me relieving you of your panties, but I can tell you are wearing any. I love a woman who’s prepared. Since you handled that, the first will now be the ground rules. You are not allowed to cum until I tell you to. The second is that there are consequences for disobedience. They get more severe the more you fail to follow directions. For your safety, I’ll give you this double-sided magnet. When you are ready to tap out, tap the magnet on the table. I’ll stop. If you understand, nod your head,” I instructed.
She nodded slowly.
“Good,” I replied. Third, even though you were meant to test me, this is still your experience, and I have to ask you a couple of questions. Can I touch you?” I started.
She nodded.
“Can I lick you?”
She nodded.
“Can I bite you?”
She nodded.
“Good,” I whispered.
I took the Velcro wrap and one of the vibrators I found in the draw and turned it on. I lifted her dress, exposing her mound, which revealed the finest landing strip I’ve seen thus far. I traced it with my free hand and circled her clit with my middle finger. I slid my fingers slowly down her flower and she moaned as her body shuttered. I secured the Velcro strap to her left inner thigh, attaching the vibrator to the strap and placing it right on her center.
“Mmmmm!” she moaned loudly. I guessed she liked that.
“Remember, you’re not allowed to cum until I tell you to, or else,” I reminded her, watching her squirm in place.
“mmMMMM” she moaned as she tossed her head from one side to the next.
I grabbed a pair of headphones and inserted them into my cell phone. I placed them in her ears and began to play “Pro” by Devon Culture. I always started with “Pro” as a source of encouragement. No one wants to play a game they know they can’t win. At least, no one that’s sane. I walked to her right side, bent down, and began to lick and kiss her neck. I retrieved the nipple clamps I placed in my left back pocket after my first trip to the drawer. I moved further south, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest. I popped her right breast in my mouth, making sure to apply just enough pressure to her nipple with my teeth then soothing it with soft laps of my tongue. Her loud moans interrupted my focus as I heard the faint sounds of “The Mood” by Arin Ray ft D Smoke. I placed the first nipple clamp on the right breast as I turned my attention to her left side, my strong side. As gave her left breast the attention it needed, I increased the intensity of the vibrator.
“MMmMMMMM!!!” she yelped as she wriggled furiously.
I looked at her and smirked knowingly. She was coming undone. She disobeyed my orders, and I knew I would enjoy what would happen next. I placed the left nipple clamp on and walked around to the other end of the table. I lifted her leg, bending it at the knees. She had indeed started to cream over the vibrator. I returned to the drawer and grabbed the paddle I had seen earlier. Walking back over to my prey, I removed the right headphone.
“I told you there would be consequences if you disobeyed me, didn’t I? I expected you to hold on a little longer since this was a test you requested. I must say, I’m a tad disappointed,” I started.
“Mmmmmmm,” she moaned in what I assumed was a protest.
I headed over back to where her legs were wriggling and I lifted them over my right shoulder as I proceeded to spank her with the paddle in my left hand.
“Five lashes for the first offense,” I said, and then I gave her the remaining three.
They were slow, swift, yet hard. Her breathing paused, then quickened in anticipation of the next one. When she received her five, I gently placed her legs back on the table. I walked over to the desk chair where I had placed the internal vibrator.
“OK, we are going to try this again. You can’t cum until I tell you to. Is that understood?” I asked.
She nodded vigorously.
“I’m glad. Do you remember what to do if you want me to stop?” I asked.
I heard a loud tap of the magnet on the table.
“Very good,” I said.
I reached over to replace the dislodged headphone in the corresponding ear. Upon hearing “W.E.T.” by Paloma Ford, I decided it was time to up the ante. I repositioned the now-soaked vibrator where it had been before, but only this time, I spread her swollen lips apart with my fingers and massaged her kitten until I felt her dew. I entered her slowly with my fingers one by one until three of them were exploring her depths. I took the internal vibrator with my free hand and inserted it into her. I licked my fingers clean and began to turn vibrator number two to the first setting. She would most certainly let me in after I was done with her.
After setting number two had been pressed, I watched her squirm. A second ago she was the most confident, intimidating person someone could come across. Now she would probably do anything I say. I couldn’t help but wonder how high I could tell her to jump. I went from setting two to number three. An audible buzz was coming from in between her legs. She started bucking and fighting her restraints.
“MMMMMMMMM,” she shrilled.
I smirked wider. She’s mine. I walked over to her right ear again. Dislodging the headphone in that ear I said, “Not yet,” as she moaned uncontrollably. I could now hear “Disgusting” by Sy Ari Da Kid playing. I watched as her stomach contracted, and then I whispered, “Now” as I turned vibrator one to the highest setting and vibrator number two to the fourth setting. I lubed up a silicone anal probe in just enough time to catch her orgasm and make her scream.
The sound she made could break all the glasses in the room. She came. Hard. And I had a front-row seat to the most incredible show. I slowly removed the vibrators one by one, her pussy still humming and pulsating. I walked over and removed both headphones, then I untied her hands. I left her blindfold on while I cleaned her up.
“Mmmmmm”, she cried.
I removed her gag, and, finally, her blindfold.
“Am I in?” I asked.
“Fuck me!” she said.
“I’ll take that as a ‘Yes’,” I chuckled.
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My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of construction boots walking in from the other end of the floor. I scan the monitors and notice that it is now 5:30 am. The next security shift is coming in, and I have lost track of time. I haven’t given her a sedative or gagged her and we need to move. I turned off all of the monitors and changed my shoes. I replaced my face mask with a black surgical one, gathered all the cell phones on the table, and walked swiftly to the other side of the floor and down the stairs. I’m losing my shit over this girl. Weeks of planning could go down the drain instantly, but I would be a liar if I said I didn’t feel alive. The blood pumping and my heart beating through my chest had not been what I used to lose sleep chasing after. That was until I found…I couldn't think about this now. I have to get her out undetected before someone does a perimeter check. I ran to her. I used my box cutter in my pocket to cut the zip ties on her wrists.
“What is happening? Where are you taking me?” she asked frantically.
“Hey, I found something to free your hands with. It’s not the sharpest but it may help,” I heard from behind me.
“Fuck!” I thought.
P/C: If you would like to be tagged in any of my stories, please feel free to let me know in the comments and I'll be happy to add you. I hoped y'all enjoyed this installment. If you haven’t, check out Part 1 below.
Part 1
#black tumblr#tvchi#writers on tumblr#black literature#fanfiction writer#writing prompts#writing inspiration#writing#Spotify#readingissexy#black girls of tumblr#blackauthor#TVCHIVERSE#aldishodge#aldishodge fanfic#fanfic
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Your fabolousness Queen Ashi, it is I, poll nonnie or a nonnie named desire.~ just kidding you can call me whatever. Anyways I thank you ever so kindly for giving me the chance to share my tragic story and unburden myself. Oh and that phrase you like is a spanish saying. One of my favorites that i try to live by. I believe you could use it in this time of need, because though I haven't expressed it you have my support. As I said previously fuck dem kids. Best thing you can do sometimes is not acknowledge the squealing, don’t give foolishness a platform. There's enough of that already.
Now, I will try to make it brief, but I tend to ramble, so I may require two parts. But I'll try to get to the point. So, without further ado, hit it with the sad violin music or Sarah McClellan.
I must begin by saying that I do not receive much male validation... like ever. Which is strange because I have an ample bosom and a winning personality, but alas men will fuck a mcchicken sandwich but they won't fuck me. I have found however that they do fuck with me quite often. See, ever since I was a girl, I've been the object of cruel pranks where I would be asked out as a joke. Boys had no qualms using me as a sort of penalty of a low bar of attractiveness if you will and that remained through grade school. Thing is everyone said you will thrive in college and that happened to some of my friends, but not me. Even in college nothing ever really happened, and I was always more invested in the interactions than the men were. So I've learned to pick up cues and behavioral patterns to know when I'm being led on, or when they're waiting for me to put out.
This all leads to a couple days ago. You read that right. Mere days ago I reconnected with someone from early college through Facebook, a den of foolishness and evil. Being graced with male validation I was gleefully happy for the first couple interactions. I returned to my youthful girlish days of squealing when I got a message.
My grave sin, is I caught myself simping. *Simping* for a human male when I swore to myself and vowed by the queens Ruby and Teresa that I would *never* be caught simping for a man unless that happened to be Leon Sexy Kennedy in the fucking flesh. Needless to say, the man I was tragically simping for is far from a Leon. I wouldn't even consider him an Ethan Winters (less beloved but perhaps equally devoted lover). I decided to stage an intervention and request assistance in this endeavor from some bad bitches because that could not stand. No it would not stand. Homeboy was leaving me on read. Taking hours to reply. Sending single sentences responses? I knew the signs. I knew them well, I had not put out. Or perhaps he had realized that he'd drunk messaged me. Regardless it would not stand that interaction though only days brief would end by my terms dammit. I just needed some reassurance that I was doing the right thing, because a softer. Weaker part of myself kept making excuses for this fool. So thank you again your fabolousness, and if you've made it this far you are a real gem. I sincerely thank you for helping me remember my worth because Queen Ruby didn't get her face burned so that I would simp for a common peasant who can't be bothered to send a timely reply.
“alas men will fuck a mcchicken sandwich but won’t fuck me” TOOK ME OUTTTTT 😭😂
PLEASE I JUST GOT HOME FROM A HARD DAY AT WORK AND YOU GOT ME DYINGGGG /POS. “i wouldn’t even consider him an Ethan winters” DRAG HIMMM 👹
i could listen to you ramble about your life all day i am so entertained. your storytelling skills >>> i’m glad metaphorically kicked that guy the the curb cus you deserve better queen 😤 especially with a personality and sense of humor like yours.
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Obito Angst Oneshot
TW; gaslighting, toxic behaviour, mention of friends death, Abuse { this story is about Obito always comparing y/n with Rin}
I am so sorry, but I feel like pain today so we gon be in pain today.
OBITO X READER (ANGST ONESHOT)
You were more than upset you were angry, sad and yet you still felt guilty in some way. You stormed off in such rage as you heard Obito shouting behind you. You found out why he picked you of all people to date because you were "just like Rin". Rin was your best friend you did everything together you were like sisters. You saw her dead body that day, you were never the same after that and he out of all people when everyone thought he was dead himself, had the audacity the nerve to compare the both of you. To everyone else including you, Rin was like a rose beautiful, sweet, kind, and loving the pure symbol of love. And you were the sunflower bright, funny, could always light up a room, and always looking at the brighter side of things. So to say both are the same is good enough as saying the emerald is the same as the diamond. Both are rare stones, both beautiful, both almost priceless but they are not the same. And he knew you felt guilty for her death like you could have done something to stop it like it should have been you instead. But it all made sense now why he said you'd look better in purple makeup, why he said he liked ur hair shorter and brunette, why he always kept the photo of Rin all these years. He never got over her he just found a replacement. And that replacement was you. He grabbed your hand and forced you to look at him. "what do you want!" you shouted you weren't going to cry until you saw he didn't look the least bit sorry or upset he looked angry. "Stop over-reacting you're acting like a child y/n. Look I'm not comparing you to Rin, you could never be as good as Rin she was always the better one out of the two of you. You aren't even as close to as good as Rin." he stated in monotone he didn't even sound the least bit empathetic he sounded annoyed like you were a bother. "Excuse me?! How dare you have the audacity to compare us! And not only that put the blame on me you bitch-" you felt a slap go right across your face as you shouted. "Shut up y/n. Next time you even think of calling me a name like that, I won't hesitate to teach you a lesson of your life." he sneered "I- did you just hit me?" you said as more of a statement just out of pure shock. "Yes I did not like you can do anything about it you were always the weaker one compared to rin. Your lucky I even dated you, do you know how lucky you are to have me? How many times I saved your life? You need me and now you dare to claim I am comparing you to rin?! After all the bullshit I did for you! You have ten seconds to apologize before I leave you to get eaten by Zetsu you pathetic loser." maybe you were wrong I mean Obito was right he saved your life so many times, and he was so kind and sweet to you before maybe you were overreacting you couldn't believe yourself, I mean he was still the same Obito from when you were kids, right? " You're right...I'm so sorry Tobi. I overreacted could you forgive me," you asked sobbing at this point. "Fine just this time, but next time I won't go so easy on you y/n," he said with a smirk to show he did genuinely forgive you. You hugged him as tightly as you could. "Thank you, Tobi," you said as you hugged him. "Of course, darling, now let's patch up your cheek. You know I would never hurt you but sometimes you force me to do things I don't want to do. If hurt you, it's because I hurt you out of love dear," he exclaimed you believed him because you did call him some pretty awful things. And then the cycle continued...
DISCLAIMER
this is not a healthy relationship please do not think you want this. Abuse is never okay in a relationship okay loves <3.
#toxic relationship#akatsuki#naruto#anime#anime gif#obito headcanons#obito x you#rin nohara#team minato#team kakashi#naruto angst
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The Vessel [ Pt. 10 ]
Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader
Summary: You go back to Cintra, back in your kingdom and back amongst the people that love you, and your two companions go back with you.
Warnings: Idek?
A/N- Although I decided to have Ciri in my story, Ciri actually does not have any powers in this one, and the reader does. For some reason, Pavetta's bloodline could not have the elder blood in it.
[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]
Calanthe had a tight lipped smile etched to her face; this celebration was making her feel claustrophobic and the crackling cords of the lute gave her a headache. On one side sat her husband, the King of Cintra, Eist Tuirseach of Skellige and on her other side sat her granddaughter, the blonde haired blue eyed beauty, Cirilla.
"Spare me the festivities, I can't wait to retire and sleep off all night," she muttered under her breath, her fake smile still plastered on her face, as she acknowledged the lords that bowed their heads in her direction in greeting.
"Calanthe, love, it's her anniversary, you can atleast pretend to have a good time," Eist smiled, his fingers curling around the goblet in front of him as he lifted it and brought it up to his lips, taking a sip.
"Would someone even bother asking me if I like it?" Cirilla scowled, rolling her eyes. If there was one thing she couldn't do, was pretend, unlike her grandmother and her husband, who could give a 1000 watt smile on even the gravest of days.
Eist scoffed, but was met by a glare from his wife, as she turned towards Ciri with a stern look on her face, but not one with hatred, "Ciri, when will you learn?"
"Oh stop it grandmother, not again."
Calanthe let out a deep shaky breath pummeling from deep within her lungs as she sat back, trying to get more comfortable when she spotted one of her soldiers speaking to Mousesack by the gate. She squinted her eyes, bringing her index to her chin as she leaned forward, letting her chin be supported by it. Mousesack's expressions screamed at her that the discussion was not a common one; something was up.
Mousesack craned his neck to his side, discreetly and looked at her, her eyebrow instinctively shooting upwards in inquisitiveness and he blinked, slowly striding towards him until he was leaning next to her and whispering something into the Queen's ears; Eist and Ciri watching them with their eyebrows raised.
"We need to see Calanthe," Geralt said to one of the guards at the massive gates for the fifth time, and the guard asked him for the fifth time back what their purpose for visit was.
Geralt pursed his lips shut, and turned towards you. He looked at you in the eye, and you sighed. This wasn't working. There was no way on earth they were going to let you go in unless you told them what the truth was, but you couldn't risk it. What if they didn't believe you?
"Guards, back away. Let them in. The Queen wants to see the three of them." Mousesack's voice rang from behind them and they turned around immediately, moving out of the way until you came face to face with the a man with greying long hair, although way shorter than Geralt's. He had a pleasant, kind look to him but still, he had caution in his eyes.
"Follow me," He said, his voice not wavering a bit.
You turned towards Geralt who was stiff, and alert too, his eyes scanning the man in suspicion. When you didn't follow him, the man turned and his expressions softened, "I am Mousesack, Queen Calanthe's confidant. I mean you no harm."
"Geralt, I think we should?" You asked, and he blinked in approval, his lips clenched together.
The three of you entered the palace, slowly following the man in front of you. The hallways were elegant and beautifully lit, and a faint sound of a lute filled the hallway. You slowly turned towards Jaskier, and saw him in a daze just like you had expected him to be.
"Jaskier, I'm sorry about your lute," you sighed, and he looked away for a bit, in sadness, his hands held together in front of him.
"You know? Lovers may come and go, but she was forever loyal to me."
"I'm sure you'll find a new one," Geralt grumbled next to you and you gasped, elbowing him in his side.
"Geralt, can you please not?"
He grumbled something again, but you chose not to entertain the Witcher. Instead you linked your hand with Jaskier's, sliding it against his arm until you were holding it and walking, leaning against him.
"I don't think Yennefer will take my revenge on your lute."
Geralt snorted next to you, and Jaskier threw his arms in the air, dramatically and you giggled teasingly.
"I thought you were on my side, [Y/N]. But I see that your priorities have changed."
Jaskier wiggled his brows dramatically and flush crept on your cheeks, your insides flaring up once again. Your heart almost felt like it stopped, and you couldn't bring yourself to take a look at the brooding man walking next to you. Finally, you mustered enough courage to look at him, but when you did, you realized that he was actually grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"You too?" You growled at him and he stopped smiling.
"Jaskier isn't always wrong."
"Hey! I am NEVER wrong—"
"Geralt, I supported you. You're siding with him now?"
The three of you were talking at the exact same time and Mousesack abruptly stopped, turning towards you and all three of you stopped bickering, looking at him with embarassment on your faces.
"We all thought you were dead, Princess."
You looked at him in disbelief; he knew?
"My apologies, I didn't meant to startle you. I'm, uh, a druid. I know things, and I can feel powers. The minute you stepped into Cintra, I felt your presence," you blinked, "and Tissaia de Vries might have told me you would come?" He smiled at you.
"Does she know?" You asked, your voice coming out weaker— as though something was lodged to your throat.
He smiled, and nodded, "She does. She has been waiting to see you ever since the sorceress paid her a visit and told her you were alive."
As Mousesack stopped talking, you looked up to see that you were in a richly furnished chamber but it wasn't the chamber that surprised you, it was the woman that sat nervously by the edge of the king sized bed, her fingers nervously toying with each other. Another young girl stood in a corner, excitement glimmering in her eyes.
"Your Majesty, she is here," Mousesack announced.
Calanthe looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. She glanced at you from top to bottom as though she was trying to fit your memory into her mind. She blinked, ignoring how thick chunks of tears now flew from her eyes and she stood up, almost trembling like a leaf.
"Come here, sweet child?"
You didn't know what came over you. Maybe, it was the fact that you didn't ever experience the love of a mother. Or maybe, you were going to be a mother yourself, so you knew what a mother's role was. You ran towards her, and she almost choked on a smile as you ran into her arms, burying your face into her chest as her fingers began stroking your hair.
"I can't believe it's you, sweet child. I never thought..I'd get to hold you in my arms. Look at you. You're.. grown up," you pulled back, and her palm came to rest against your cheek, her thumb stroking it gently.
"What's your name? I never.. got to name you."
"It's [Y/N], mother."
Ciri awkwardly walked up to her grandmother's side, her fingers clenching the Queen's garment, her blue eyes looked at you.
You looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Meet Ciri, [Y/N]. Your niece."
You sat back, trying to get more comfortable in the utterly soft chair on the Queen's table; your back hurt like a bitch.
Calanthe nodded at one of the lords who took her hand and plastered a kiss against her knuckles and she gave a fake smile before turning to you and muttered, "The child giving you trouble?" Her words ended with a glare towards the Witcher and you bit your lip.
"I'm fine, mother."
"I can't believe you brought that wretched bastard with you, [Y/N]. Men like those, treating our bodies like we are nothing but a fucking commodity."
She took a sip of ale, her eyes not leaving Geralt who stood in the farther end of the hall, drinking ale from a pitcher himself. Jaskier had taken the lute from the bard, borrowed it actually, and was now entertaining the guests.
"Mother, he isn't.. I mean.. I know this all doesn't paint the right picture, but Geralt has been kind to me."
"Kind? You would call a man who used your body just for the sake of having a child? And look where it got you—" She hissed.
"Mother—"
"Calanthe, my love," Eist intervened, and you swallowed the lump forming inside your throat, your eyes fixed on the Witcher.
"Fine but he needs to leave. Before I ask him to leave myself," Calanthe growled.
Your heart sank at this, and to make this worse, Geralt was right there in front of your eyes and your heart aches to go talk to him but you didn't want to anger your mother, especially when you had met her for the first time in your life.
You sat up in bed, drenched in your own sweat, your chest heaving up and down. You had seen the sorceress in your nightmare and she was smirking, holding your baby in her hands. What made it worse was the fact that Geralt was next to her, holding her by her waist, as he bent down to kiss the forehead of his child.
You swiped your palm over your face as reality sank back in and you realized that it was just a nightmare— you were in Cintra. You were safe.
You laid back down in bed, closing your eyes so you could fall back into a deep slumber yet again, only hoping that the sorceress wouldn't torture you in your dreams again.
For a few minutes, you kept tossing and turning in bed, your body churning in discomfort. You couldn't sleep.
You sat up once again, rubbing your belly, trying to comfort your unborn baby, until something struck your mind.
You decided to explore the palace, for this was your first time you had actually been to one, and ironically, this was your home. You slid into your robe, tying it securely around your blossoming waist as you stepped out of the chambers, holding just a candlestick to help you look around.
You wandered aimlessly through the palace confines for a few minutes, exploring.
It was only after fifteen minutes or so, you decided to check out the other tower. Only, you had no idea that the other tower was the guest tower where Geralt and Jaskier were staying the night.
Geralt frowned, squinting his eyes as he threw back his head, downing the contents of the pitcher in one go. He looked at Jaskier, who had a blonde woman curled against his lap, his fingers fondling her thigh. Shaking his head, the Witcher slammed the pitcher onto the table and pushed himself up.
He pushed his way through the overly drunk guests at the celebration, his only goal now to reach his own chambers for the night so he could get a peaceful sleep before the dawn came the next morning.
The hallways were quiet this side of the palace, and Geralt could practically hear the sound of his feet as he climbed the staircase towards his room.
Strangely, his eyes fell on you— you were sitting on the topmost staircase, staring at your hands, a look of exhaustion draped over your face.
"[Y/N].." Your name shot out of his lips like a prayer and he saw you look up, a look of relief reflecting in your eyes.
"Are you okay?"
The concern in his voice was like a sharp knife cutting through your heart, hurting just the right amount. You blinked, giving him the weakest of your smiles as you nodded and stood up. You were now on the top most step, and Geralt was on a step below you, so the man was just the same height as yours.
His eyes were golden, a fire lurking within his irises, his eyes although hollow and devoid of any emotion, for others, you could see a flicker in them, that made a warmth tingle inside of you somewhere.
"Couldn't sleep.. "
"Is it the baby?" He frowned, still looking at you, an inexplicable look on his face. It was only then that you felt something. When you lowered your eyes, you saw his palm pressed to your stomach.
It felt oddly intimate. It was just the two of you, in that hallway, and Geralt had his warm palm protectively draped over your belly— and as though the baby already knew who his father was, you felt a flip in your stomach.
"No, the baby is okay."
Relief filled him, and he gave you a flicker of a Ile before he placed his other hand on your arm and pushed you slightly towards the wall to step up the topmost stair, so he could tower over you.
"She haunts my dreams," you blurted out, although you didn't know why you said it and Geralt looked thoughtful for a bit.
"Mine too."
"In what way?"
Despite the crispness of the weather in Cintra, you could feel your blood running cold and your toes begin to tingle, not in a good way. You could feel the jealousy rise inside of you, and your nostrils flared.
"I see her as a monster."
"Not your lover?" You mumbled.
Geralt took a step closer, and you instinctively took a step backward, until your back was against the wall. The proximity between you two was almost that of a finger length, but you didn't mind.
He shook his head as he took a deep breath.
He smelled of ale and the forest— of nature.
"You're safe now. And so is our baby."
"Until when?"
It was all rainbows and sunshine, until thick black clouds fled up the sky, hiding the sun and it was all dark.
"I—" Geralt began speaking, but almost immediately, he fell quiet, and you blinked, waiting for him to speak but no words came out of his throat.
"What?" You asked.
"Do you regret this?"
The question pulled you off guard as you were least expecting it. Your eyes went from widened to confused, as you tilted you head slightly and placed your palm against your side, parallel to the wall and using it to support yourself.
Did you regret it?
"Which one? Having you use my body to find yourself a motive in life?" You asked, bitterly.
"Meeting me I mean."
"We didn't exactly meet in the best circumstances, Geralt," you chuckled nervously, bringing your palm to your front, your fingers hooking to his locket, as your fingers began toying with it, your eyes fixed on his, "the thing I remember, you fucked me on the Great Mount."
Geralt grunted under his breath, but he still leaned closer, letting his face dip, ever so slightly so that his lips were inclined to yours, aching to be pressed to them. He parted his lips, letting his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, as your fingers began trailing upwards, his locket now forgotten.
Geralt closed his eyes, the instant he felt your fingers run against his chest up to his neck, as you suddenly grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him closer, your noses now touching, and your chests heaving out of control.
"Tell me, Witcher, do Witchers dream?" You suddenly asked, your hand flying up to your head as you absentmindedly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.
Geralt's lips twitched, and his eyebrows creased slightly, as though he was thinking hard. Finally, his face moved slightly, just a light bob, signalling a nod.
"What do you dream of? What did you dream of most recently?"
He blinked, tilting his head, "I saw you. You were in the woods."
You were captivated by him; frozen on spot, and he didn't even touch you, or hold you. It was like there was an imaginary force binding him to you, drawing the two of you together.
"There was a woman long time back, I met her in Blaviken."
You bit your lip hard, a taste of metal flooding your tastebuds. Why was this making you jealous?
"I think I should go." You stepped away abruptly, and immediately took a step around, your hand flying to your heart, as you began fisting your fabric into a ball, your cheeks still heated up. Your steps were fast, and you didn't stop until you were at the end of the hallway when Geralt's voice rang out behind you, and you paused, just for a second but didn't turn around, only to let his words sink in. "Her name was Renfri. And she said something to me— The girl in the woods will be with you always. She is your destiny."
You gasped at the realization, his words slowly sinking into you, settling into everywhere in your body— your mind, your senses, your heart. You didn't look back, and instead you began running, towards the confines of your chambers, for you knew if you didn't, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from falling into his arms.
The Vessel Taglist:
@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha @vikingsbifrost @babypink224221 @jessyballet @strrynigxts @rn7rocks @theroyalbrownbarbie @amirra88
#geralt of rivia x y/n#geralt of rivia works#geralt of rivia x you#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt of rivia#the witcher x y/n#the witcher x reader#the witcher#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill
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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 18
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/cd134ddde58b59344556661ed824992e/fcc3541b99a4683d-a4/s540x810/d90f9f29bc431a0253aadd315aee91678964b628.jpg)
Afterglow chapters
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
NOTE: Third Person POV starts after this sign: " ✪ "
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
With Bucky, three short days felt like three months.
The next few days were spent oh-so-blisfully slow with Bucky constantly next to you, either naked or clothed. You were always at each other's skin and flesh the second you would close your laptop (you have been busy doing your end of the presentation you had to pitch in next week for Sam, after Steve gets you formally and officially fired). You’d be making out on the couch and soon afterwards, clothes flew around like money being tossed carelessly. No matter what the situation was, it always ended up with you naked, grasping each other's bodies, grazing each other's skin — in your bedroom, in the kitchen, in the shower, and on the living room floor. He wore you like a necklace, your thighs wrapped around his neck as you sat on the kitchen counter, him on his knees, devouring every bit of you. That time, you tried your best to stare at him as he ate you.
Tantalizing were his eyes, his mouth moving against your core. Legs shaking, you’d scream his name over and over again as you came all over his mouth, your screams clashing with the sounds of pots clanging against each other.
Then, you’d move to the shower where you had your thighs wrapped around his waist, your bare back against the bathroom's slippery walls as he thrusted inside you. His strong hands kept you steady the whole time as your legs trembled around him, making you weaker and weaker each second, like your knees had been struck by a wrecking ball.
He gave and he gave and he gave pleasure, riding you into your euphoria, into your oblivion. You were no longer the master of your body. You became his, as he was yours. You submitted fully to his godly control. The phrases "fuck, babydoll" and "you feel so fucking good" and "say my name, sweetheart" were forever etched in your brain. You kept the frustration of not being in control to yourself. You kept it all as he instructed you to say his name, say it louder until you could no longer remember yours, until you could no longer hear the dripping noise of the water droplets against the floor.
His face, the epitome of a god and a devil. A god that brought your voice and soul to heaven, so bright and glorious. And a devil that brought unholy things to your body.
As much as you had your thighs wrapped around him, you knew he had you wrapped around his finger. You knew it all too well.
Since then, you couldn't hear the clinking of utensils against each other or the faucet leaking or any kind of liquid dripping without seeing what Bucky looked like during those hours — knees on the ground, head between your thighs, body dripping with water along with your juices. And how he made you feel. God, the thought of him alone already brought you to heaven.
Afraid that you won't be able to get your mind (and body) off of Bucky, you texted Nat to meet you in a coffee shop a few blocks away from the apartment, hoping she could accompany you while working on the pitch deck. If you spent one more time with Bucky with your presentation undone you would be — well... Either way, you would be screwed.
This morning, you left a note on the nightstand, letting Bucky know you were with Nat. You planted a fleeting kiss on his forehead one last time, smiling at him, hating to leave his side, before heading out to meet with Nat who was almost an hour late, anyway. Still, you didn't get much done, missing Bucky's presence.
Then the hopes of getting your mind off my man went down the drain, hearing the clinking of glasses and the dripping liquid from espresso machines on the café counter. You bit your lip, staring at the laptop screen in front. Your screams echoed on the walls of your brain, together with morphed images of you and Bucky leaving your traces everywhere in the apartment, tainting lust everywhere. You bit your lower lip harder. A sudden rush of heat climbing on your body, from your toes, to your thighs, and your center.
Why didn't I just go to the public library?
"... Y/n? Hello? Earth to y/n?"
The images vanished like dust in the wind, and were replaced by Nat snapping her fingers on your face. Bucky's voice, together with yours that were echoing in your mind soon became faint street noise, along with the café's playlist. "Are you okay?" She asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
With your throat dry, you cleared your throat (which hurt even more). "Y-yeah." You finally managed to say. "Yeah, no, I was just having a tiny problem. You know what, I'm thirsty," You tapped a waitress' shoulder, "Hi, can I please have a glass of cold water? Thank you."
With that, she nodded and turned around, fetching what you needed. As soon as she handed you the glass, you immediately downed the whole thing but it still didn't quench your thirst.
"Is he riding you?"
You nearly choked on your water, hearing Nat's question. "W-what?"
"Sam Wilson. I mean, the work. With Sam?" Nat frowned, stirring her cup of coffee. "Is he?"
"Oh no, not at all! He's been really great and very appreciative." You replied. "But he has this assistant who's a complete total bitch. Even Bucky doesn't like her."
"Oohhh, interesting." she said. "Tell me all about it."
Thankfully, telling Nat about the meeting that happened three days ago did get your mind off Bucky. Highlighting the little banter you and Sharon had in line with the models and the whole marketing strategy was Nat's favorite. Of course, Nat lived for the drama. Especially if it were others'. To her, you were just characters on a television show. Now, all she needed was a bucket of popcorn.
"You should've seen the whole thing, Nat." You smirked. "The look on her face when Sam agreed with me? Priceless!"
"Wow, you ate her up." Nat chuckled. "Now, I'm sad I missed the show. If I were there, I would've taken a photo of her disappointed, sad ass and had it framed and had it hung on the bar. Steve would approve of it."
You raised your eyebrows, shaking your head. Even though that was pretty badass of you to do, Sharon was a woman living in a man's world and as you thought about that encounter, she was just doing her job. If she were a man, you would've still said the same thing. "Too harsh. A little cheer would suffice."
Nat rolled her eyes. "Like a woop, woop?"
"I mean not literally but sure. Whatever floats your little boat."
"Peter was right. You're a boring old hag." A sip of coffee. "Hey, how's the little skipper, anyway? I miss that little kid."
You fowned. She always had a nickname for Peter. If it's not skipper, it's slugger, or sport, or tiger, or any nickname for a kid you could think of. "You know he's just as young as I am, right?"
"The guy looks like a kid and sometimes acts like one." Nat pursed her lips, pointing it out. "So, when's he getting back from his corporate retreat?"
The last you heard from Peter was yesterday when he sent photos of him and the rest of his team somewhere by the lake. He looked a bit worn-out by the deep bags under his eyes but his wide smile said otherwise. Winston Schimdt was with him in all the photos, hair still perfectly gelled, spiking up in one direction. You wondered how much gel he always had to consume. And then felt sad for his sticky hair.
"Some time on Tuesday, I think." Then, you showed the photos to Nat who carelessly took the phone from your hands.
"Where on earth is this?"
You shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I couldn't even pin his location. It seems like he's literally off the radar."
"Maybe he's in a galaxy far, far away." Nat joked, remembering Peter's fondness for Star Wars. "What do you even do on a corporate retreat? Think about money?"
"I don't know but whatever it is, he says it'll help keep his mind off things." You said, leaving out the part that Peter was, dare you say, "lovesick." You honestly didn't mind telling it to her but you just knew that she'd ask you a bunch of questions you don't even know the answers to.
Nat nodded while scrolling mindlessly on your phone like it was her own. You tried to get it back but she gripped it tighter.
"Hope Bucky's taking care of you? Oh," she lifted her eyes back to yours, the light on your screen illuminating her smirking face, "he's taking care of you, alright. I heard you two haven't been able to keep your hands off each other. You're like... leeches."
"Ew. Think of another metaphor." You scrunched your nose up, cringing.
Nat took it way too seriously, thinking off into the far distance. "Barnacles on a boat?"
"No."
"Sorry, that's all I can think of."
You chuckled. "Where did you hear that, anyway?"
"I didn't."
"So, how did you — "
"Remember how you found out about me and Steve?" She cut you off.
You hid your face on your palms as soon as the realization dawned on you. "Oh no."
"Oh yes." She took another sip of her hot coffee, her eyes fixed on you. "Babydoll, you've been wearing him like a damn perfume since day one and you love it."
And just when you thought you had kept Bucky away from your mind, there he was again, slithering his way back. The images flashed back, like a montage in a romance film — however cliche that sounded.
"Well, I don't not love it." You shied away, looking down on your shoes which still had a tiny bit of mud from your previous running sessions.
"So, you two are dating now?"
You sheepishly nodded your head, avoiding her stare. You told her about that same day you had your meeting: Sam's confrontation and the conversation you and Bucky had that night. As much as you didn't want to put a label on things, and as much as you hated the god-awful "talk", you fat did it anyway, under the stars as you lied on your backs in that little tent of yours.
"Sometimes, I think," Bucky traced the stars in the pitch-black skies with his finger, "that the stars aligned for us." He finished by poking your nose which elicited a giggle from you. A weird sound you only used with Bucky, and for Bucky.
You turned around and wrapped your arm around his torso. "You're getting cheesier and cheesier each day, Mr. Barnes."
"You bring it out of me, doll." He chuckled.
"Hey, why do you call me doll?" You asked in a whisper. "I'm sure as hell do not look like one."
He looked at you and traced your jaw with his finger, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. "Dolls are sweet yet fun to play with. Remember when I made you that drink? You said it tasted fruity and minty — "
"Fruity and minty." You laughed, reminiscing.
"And I've never played with quite a doll before." Then, he met your eyes. "Then, you happened."
"When you say play, not like, playing with my feelings, right? 'Cause you know this doll can punch, James. I won't hesitate."
"Don't worry, y/n." he kissed the tip of your nose.
The word "dating" wasn't explicit at that moment, but you didn't need to, anyway. All you needed to hear from him was the next words he uttered:
"I won't give you any reason to."
"What have you guys been doing when you're not having sex, anyway?"
"Nat." You scolded but answered anyway. "We watch movies."
"Boring."
"Oh, you know what's a good movie?" You asked, ignoring Nat's little comment. "The Grand Budapest Hotel."
"It's Budapesht."
You tilted your head to the side, frowning. "I'm pretty sure it's Budapest. 'Cause y'know, Budapest is the Budabest."
"No. Budapesht." She insisted.
"Budapesht is the Budabesht?" She nodded. "Yeah, that doesn't sit right with me. I'm gonna stick with Budapest."
"Anyway... will you tell Peter about you two when he gets back from... wherever the hell he is?"
"Well, yeah of course. It's Parker." You replied, chewing your inner cheek. "But not right away." Bucky's words echoed in yours.
"Oh, you're gonna butter him up." Nat chuckled, finishing her cup of coffee. "I know how. Give him free drinks for life."
"Even if I wanted to, I can't 'cause last night was my last shift at the bar." You smiled proudly, thinking back to the last drink you ever made last night. Everyone was there to witness it — except Sam. When you sent the photos to Peter, you were bombarded with a series of questions that you promised to answer once he gets back.
"Oh, that reminds me!" Nat suddenly exclaimed, catching other people's attention, clearly annoyed with her. She stifled a giggle, looking away from them. "That reminds me." She said it quietly this time. "We're throwing you a little party tonight. Steve's idea."
"Like a surprise party?"
"Well, it's not a surprise anymore 'cause I blabbed. So, act surprised when you get there and finish up your presentation."
You posed no further questions, the idea of a surprise party warming your heart. You just smiled at Nat, and got back to the laptop screen. "Yes, ma'am."
Later that night, you did as you were instructed to do as you opened the door to the bar: act surprised. "Oh my god, you guys!" You exclaimed, putting on a wide smile on your face. The small party might have been a surprise but the decorations put up wasn't. Hanging from the ceiling on multiple threads were your photos which used to be on the walls.
Every single one of them.
Below were everyone waiting —Nat, Steve, Nick, Bucky and even Sam — and watching your reaction as you adored the whole set-up. Steve was the first one to approach you, enveloping you in a hug.
"Oh my god, Steve." You muttered, hugging him back.
"Surprised?"
"Not really." You pulled away. "A pretty little number may have told me." you said, looking over at Nat who already had a beer in her hand. She acknowledged you by winking.
"Natasha." Steve sighed, also looking at Nat. Caught, she turned around and took a big gulp of her beer.
You began to walk towards the little group; an odd combination of people, you might as well add. "This is amazing, Steve."
"The whole party was my idea but these photos?" He said, pushing you carefully towards Bucky's direction who took delight in your expression. "Was your man's."
You walked towards Bucky, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Hey, you."
"Hey, doll." He greeted, kissing your cheek. "Like the place?"
"Are you kidding me? I love it!" With your arm still around his neck, you admired the photos hanging from the ceiling once more. Bucky let you go, greeting the others as well.
Nick engulfed you in a hug, and whispered. "If he hurts you, I'll kick his ass."
You chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Nick, you can't even hurt a fly. But thanks, anyway. I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
"You better." He said. “We actually got acquainted while we were decorating the place. He's a good man, y/n. It's a good thing you didn't go out with me."
"If you want, I'll set you up with Parker." You joked.
"Ha-ha, you're a very funny girl."
With all the tables drawn towards one side of the bar, a big space on the center was in view, perfect for dancing or any kind of performance you could possibly think of. You all went towards one of the largest booths that could accommodate all of you. On the table were a bunch of American food — wings, fries, burger, you name it. And of course, cold beer.
While eating and finishing your first bottle of beer, you asked the group to settle a tiny debate, which Nat didn't like.
"It's Budapesht!" Nat exclaimed, insistent. A crack on her voice was evident.
"Budapest!" Nick boomed, downing his first bottle. "Don't you know how to spell? It's clearly Budapest!"
"I told you, it's not Budapesht! Budapesht is not the Budabest. Budapest is!" You argued with Nat, high-giving Nick. "Team Budapest for the win!"
"Take it easy there, honey." Bucky chuckled, grabbing you by the waist.
"Budapesht!"
"Budapest!" You and Nick exclaimed.
"I'm Russian, it's Budapesht!"
"Bup-bup-bup-bup." Sam butted in, one elbow on the table, a finger pointing up the ceiling. "If there's a swarm of termites in my house, do I call the pest control, or the pesht control?"
"Ha! Budapest wins!" You yelled which annoyed Nat to no end. She threw a stick of fries to your face. "Hey!"
"Come to Russia." She said in an accent. "I dare you."
You all broke out in a laugh.
After eating most of the food, Steve stood up, retrieving something from the back of the bar. When he came out, a big karaoke machine was wheeled in. "Rented this baby for a special occasion." Steve said proudly, slapping the top of the karaoke machine. On his other hand was "Who wants to go first?"
"Hell yeah, I'd go first!" Sam shouted.
You couldn't even begin to describe the first few hours of that night. Sam and Nick were the most wasted among all of us, quickly developing a weird friendship. They hogged the karaoke machine the most, singing duets, singing a LOT of Adele, and Lady Gaga. At one point, Sam even sang a Taylor Swift classic, We are Never Ever Getting Back Together, and made a weird "weeee" sound while singing the song which cracked you all up. Steve sang an old mellow song. Nat sang American Pie, her raspy voice blending all too well with the melody. The only people left who haven't got a chance to sing and dance on the floor were you and Bucky.
"Come on, you lovebirds!" Sam groaned, shoving the songbook in front of your faces.
The others joined in a chant, finally convincing you and Bucky. You stood up, hand in hand, and approached the machine. "Wait, before we start," Bucky said, holding up a bottle of beer, "let me raise a toast to the girl I like most — "
"Oh, Bucky."
"To y/n!" He said your name proudly, raising his bottle. The others did as well, saying your name.
"And to Steve!" You raised your own. "For having the guts to fire me."
"To Steve!"
"And to you," you turned towards Bucky, "for believing in me."
"Oh, cut the crap already!" Nat shouted, cupping her mouth with her hands. "Sing, bitches!"
And on cue, Bucky punched in some numbers. A familiar melody came out, which made you shake your head at Bucky. "Oh god no."
"You love this song!" Bucky said.
"No, you love this song!"
He started to sing the first verses and when he almost came to the chorus, he offered his hand. "Come on, doll. Sing it with me... Now, I've got you in my sights. With these..."
"Hungry eyes!" You finally gave him, letting him pull you towards his body so you can share the microphone.
"One look at you and I can't disguise!"
"I've got hungry eyes. I feel the magic between you and I!"
"I feel the magic between you and I!"
You continued to sing, your backs facing the door. Suddenly, another voice chimed in, making you and Bucky turn around.
"Hey, guys!" Peter closed the door behind him, dropping his bags on the floor. "What did I miss?"
✪
On a high-rise building in the Upper East Side, Tony Stark of Stark Industries sat on his office chair, looking over the never-sleeping New York City. He watched the cars and people go by, like watching ants do their work in an ant-farm. So tiny. He thought, happily sitting on his empire he had been building for decades. He watched in amusement as more and more car lights appeared. The hues of red and yellow looked like teeny little dots in his view, which reminded him of stars, making himself the glimmering moon which stood high up on the skies, unreachable yet adored by the many.
A knock on the door interrupted his high. "Come in." Tony said.
A tall figure walked in, with legs that could go for miles and with hair as golden as the sun. "Sir." He spoke.
Tony didn't turn around in his chair, rather he looked at the tall glass windows in front of him. The city lights became blurry. All Tony could see now was his reflection staring back at him, and Jarvis'. He glanced at Jarvis on his right, then back at his own. "Jarvis." He acknowledged. "You have something for me, I believe."
"Yes, sir." Jarvis replied, the English accent heavy on his tone. "But I'm afraid you're not going to like it."
A frown started to form on Tony's face. "James?"
"Yes, sir." The tall blonde replied.
Bucky had been missing quite some appointments with potential partners and investors. Not that he did most of the work, anyway. He would sit in on meetings on end, letting his assistant or Leonard, his concierge, deal with the negotiations. In the end, Bucky gets most of the profit "running" the hotel. He was merely a figure, a presence needed for signatures on piles of papers. But he would know if he was being undermined, if he was being scammed. He knew how to handle business but he just chooses not to. No one knew this, of course, not even Peter; except the parties involved on Bucky's side and Tony Stark. Tony lets it slide, only because the White Wolf had been improving the past years but God did he hate that name.
"I gave you that hotel and no way in hell are you changing the name." Tony sternly said. They were eating dinner at a fancy restaurant in the Upper East Side.
Bucky's treat to butter him up for his good news. Well, good news for Bucky but not so much for Tony.
"I knew you'd say that." Bucky replied. "That's why I went ahead and scrapped the old name and changed it into something new while the renovation was happening."
"Oh, James." Tony sighed, his knife stopping midway through the juicy steak. "What's the name?"
"White Wolf."
"Oh for fuck's sakes."
"Mr. Stark?" Jarvis repeated for the third time, finally grabbing Tony's attention.
"Sorry." He replied. "So, what is it? What did you find?"
"Mr. Barnes has been seeing a girl."
Tony rolled his eyes and finally turned around in his chair, looking at Jarvis. "He's always seeing girls."
"I'm afraid it's different this time, sir. It's why he's been missing a lot of meetings lately. And it's just not a girl." He said.
"Apparently, she's Peter's best friend."
"Huh, that's a twist. Around Peter's age?"
"Yes."
"That is new."
"But that's not all, sir. I'm afraid James is getting acquainted with Mr. Rogers once more."
Tony's body stiffened. Eyes unblinking. "Rogers? Steve Rogers? Are you sure?"
"A hundred percent. This girl James has been seeing is an employee of Mr. Rogers. Some kind of bar underneath an apartment building on the Upper West Side."
Tony frowned. "I thought Rogers had been taken care of."
"He was, sir. This was just some... big coincidence."
"It's a big mistake." He spoke. "I need you to keep an eye on James and pull out Rogers' files. Find anything — everything you can about this new life of his."
"Understood, sir. How about the girl?"
Tony frowned, not seeing anything wrong with it. "I won't worry about it too much. If he falls in love, then that's good." His eyes flickered to the photo of Peter's mom who passed away years ago. "I mean, I did before."
"Alright, sir. I'll be heading out now."
He nodded, watching Jarvis walk away from him. "Jarvis."
Jarvis stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his boss once more. "James can never know, Vis. He can never know."
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes story#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky x you#bucky x reader#marvel#bet u didnt see the end coming hUH
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I'm offering you an empty salt shaker - asks 2, 5, 6, 15 (go ahead, I know you have something XD), 16, 20, 25 (about Bloom searching for her parents storyline)
Starting this again because guess who accidentally hit the key combination for undo and lost half an answered ask! This bitch right here.
I answered 2 here.
5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*
Not that I can think of. It’s usually the source material that ruins things and fandom is tasked with fixing them later.
6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*
I didn’t hate it but Bloom x Icy was incomprehensible to me. Fics helped a lot and so did other posts from here and there and I can see it now. Also, I totally couldn’t see Griffin x Codatorta but that changed, too. Though, that was less fandom and more trashcankitty12 with an ask that made me think about it a little more in-depth so it was pretty much me roping up myself into yet another ship. But ooh, I also don’t think I had considered Palladium x Avalon before fandom but, yes, indeed, it is right there in canon. And I was so puzzled over the Riven x Nabu content I was seeing but after watching seasons 3 and 4, I can totally see where this is coming from. The people are right. That is a bromance right there.
15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?
I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t (but you’re right that I have something aka A LOT) so I’ll just list my strong opinionsTM, okay? I will try not to dump on Bloom too much also because it is not a secret that I don’t like her so there is no need for me to go in too much detail.
4kids is the superior dub. That is probably the most controversial opinion I hold. But don’t worry, I’ll try to top it and up the ante. XD
I love Enchantix but it has so many flaws as a concept and even more as an execution and the thing that is really pissing me off is how obviously centered around Bloom’s arc it is. It was clearly created for the advancement of her character and the other girls’ stories came as an afterthought which is why Tecna’s Enchantix was total bullshit. And for having a transformation that is specifically created around Bloom, hers was bullshit as well. I think they should have let her reearn it in order for her to be able to use all of its functions like miniaturizing. Also also, at so many points it totally sounds like Bloom is not upset about the fact that Domino and all of its people were destroyed but about the fact that that means she won’t get her Enchantix. Which btw was a hasty conclusion because at the time Enchantix became a thing, she was still on a mission to find her parents which would have definitely been a way to earn her Enchantix and she had a sign that they were alive. So her angsting over not getting an Enchantix because of what happened on Domino was bad form on the writers’ part.
That spell for good decisions in 1x05 was one of the show’s lowest and most ridiculous moments. It was only included to flaunt in your face how naturally being a leader comes to Bloom because “See? See!!!!!! She can make a good decision without using magic to help her!” So can the majority of the population (note that we are talking about ONE good decision, not an unbreakable sequence of such). She ain’t all that special. Plus, Tecna was written wildly OOC there in order to boost Bloom’s stats so to speak. I’m sorry but Tecna would’ve known that three against four doesn’t give them advantage since they are freshmen and the Trix were seniors at the time. God, that scene was stupid.
Flora is the most boring character in seasons 1-3, fight me about it.
The writers totally had no idea what they were doing with the witches throughout most of season 1 which is why Griffin’s characterization in that season is so inconsistent. Also, wtf was that in 1x06? She straight up tried to kill a bunch of 15-year-old girls. Take a chill pill! I’m glad they figured out a much better balance with her later on.
Not using the fact that Cloud Tower is a living organism more was a fucking wasted opportunity. Especially in season 3 when Valtor took over it. That could have made everything so much better. Also, the witches should have been used more. They were interesting but deserved so much better in terms of development.
Sky should have just fucking died in 2x10. What were these resurrections and Bloom getting healing powers out of nowhere for a total of 5 seconds? You know, that could have been a good setup for a Bloom x Diaspro romance. It would have been so much better if they’d gotten together right after 1x17 and dumped Sky’s sorry ass. Also, Diaspro deserved better.
Riven is the best Specialist but he is especially better than Sky. Remember 1x22 when he was trying to escape CT? He was trapped deep in enemy territory with monsters everywhere and so high above the ground, yet he found his way out. Sky would’ve fucking died out in the open at Magix against one single monster if Bloom hadn’t shown up to rescue him. And the show has the gall to imply that Sky is a better Specialist than Riven is? Please!
The teachers should be fined and sued for emotional and physical damage they haven’t protected their students from. Especially the Alfea teachers who in 1x02 practically admitted that the witches might maim a fairy and they still won’t do shit about it. Nice one!
Griffin and Valtor is canonical subtext and I have nothing more to say about this. It is all there.
Valtor up until 3x18 and Valtor from 3x19 to 3x26 are two different people and the prior is superior in every way. The show ruined him in the last third of the season because there was no other way for Winx to defeat him.
Speaking about Valtor, his whole thing with the Trix is despicable and I hate it so much. It is extremely cringy on their part and extremely underhanded on his and I can’t stand it. Not to mention that it is wildly OOC for the Trix because they are obviously better than that.
I cannot understand saying that Bloom x Valtor is love-hate. I see only hate.
It is ridiculous how easily the Trix beat Griffin in season 6 and how they nearly take control over CT in season 2. And it is also ridiculous that she had to wait for Winx to unspell CT in season 3. She is a teacher, the headmistress of the most prestigious school for witches, a veteran and has been Valtor’s partner (and he himself admitted that together they were unstoppable which means that she has to be pretty powerful and even somewhere close to his level of power). Can the show stop acting like she is defenseless?
The teachers should have been used more. It would’ve been so much better if they were there to at least help Winx if not lead their battles. And it would have made much more sense. Also, how come Ediltrude and Zarathustra literally disappear when it’s convenient and then reappear again (like they did in season 1 when the witches went to Alfea)? That’s just bad writing.
Sky is adopted. He doesn’t resemble Erendor or Samara neither in appearance, nor in character and I hate them enough to headcanon that he was adopted but nobody knows because they don’t want to have claims that he is not an “official” heir of the throne because he isn’t part of the bloodline.
Mike and Vanessa are much more parents to Bloom than Marion and Oritel are, especially when the latter were first released from Obsidian, and the fact that Bloom starts calling them Mike and Vanessa instead of mom and dad after she learns she has other parents is abysmal. Also, they are literally the best parents ever and I love them to death. (I also like Marion and Oritel but Mike and Vanessa are definitely the superior pair of parents if we’re ranking them. I like the idea that the two couples are actually super close and love each other like relatives, in fact.)
What the fuck is up with the magic in this show? There is literally, like, NO FUCKING CONSISTENCY WHATSOEVER! You can’t blink without the rules of it changing in some way. But what am I saying? That would imply that there are any rules which is just not true. Also, there is no clear distinction of how powerful anyone is after season 1. The balance of powers especially between Winx and the Trix is pretty much whatever works for the episode. Same for Winx vs Valtor. The fuckery on that account is unreal. Plus, some of Bloom’s major power explosions happen due to her getting angry. According to the official Wiki - “While practicing or harnessing positive magic, one must keep a compassionate heart, primarily by keeping their thoughts and feelings clear of all negativity, making them capable of attracting positive energy more easily. Thus, if one is plagued with negative thoughts or feelings such as sadness, anger or fear, then their magic will grow weaker until they may even be left incapable of casting magic until said feelings pass.“ Read that and then read it again, let it sink in. According to the rules of the Winx universe, during some of Bloom’s most powerful moments she was actually using dark magic, not light such because it was fueled by rage. Way to keep it fucking consistent. And that is not just Bloom! FLORA out of all people attacks the Trix in rage in 3x12 when they hurt her sister aka she was also using dark magic at that situation (and then you have Wizgiz scolding Mirta for it in SotLK like it is a sin to use dark magic, smh). In some instances I would argue that it was more of determination to protect rather than anger which I would say would still result in light magic. But The Flora thing, Bloom vs Stormy in 1x09 (Bloom even says she got so angry so that was not a case of protectiveness), Bloom vs Icy in 1x26 and Bloom vs Valtor in 3x14 were definitely rage aka dark magic. And then Bloom is all “fairies don’t have any demons”. Guess again, bitch! Also, writers, you need a dictionary to start comprehending the words you are actually writing?
Now that I think of it, the whole arc in the Resort Realm was bullshit. If it is a magic-free realm, nobody should have any magic in it, period! What is this bullshit that you can use Charmix and Gloomix there because they have higher magical energy? That absolutely doesn’t matter! If there isn’t any magic in the entire realm, having a higher amount of magic in you will not matter because you still can’t use it... because there isn’t any in the realm!!!!!! What the hell! Honestly, the writers can’t comprehend what words mean and that is not the only instance in which it shows.
Someone told me that SotLK is better than Magical Adventure and I don’t mean to offend but that is simply not true. Magical Adventure is leagues above SotLK even if it has some structural problems. Like, literally everything is better. Bloom and Sky are even likable and communicate!!!!!!!! Literally when have you ever seen a better moment for their relationship than in Magical Adventure? If it had been all like that, I would have liked them as a couple.
I think I got everything that comes to mind rn out. Might think of more at some point. I was done and then came back to rage some more because I remembered I had more material.
16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?
I would have them make smart decisions because 99% of the shit they pull is so stupid it is unreal. I literally cannot tell how they are still alive. Oh, no wait! Plot armor. Yep, that’s it.
But if I had to pick something specific? Bring Nabu back. I sure as hell wouldn’t have killed him. That was an asshole move and I have no idea what the hell the writers were thinking when they wrote that.
And my second choice is - implement a magical system into the series because there isn’t one. Magic always works the way the writers need it to work to pull off their bullshit plot even if it contradicts everything that we’ve seen before. Please, for the love of god! Consistency is already dead; stop stabbing its corpse!!!!
20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?
Purest ship? Lmao, asking me this question is underhanded. XD If you mean no drama, then Flora and Helia Mike and Vanessa. But I think my actual answer would be Griffin x Faragonda because they have been through so much that we know of or we can deduce and they still stuck together. Sure, they had their ups and downs but it is obviously a love for life that has lasted through so many obstacles and keeps lasting. The reason why I can’t say the same for Mike and Vanessa is because we don’t really know that much about their relationship with each other. But anyway I love both these ships so much.
If you’re talking about a canon ship, though, then Brandon and Stella (I do not recognize the stupid relationship drama in season 4 as canon). He did lie to her about his identity in season 1 but it was for his friendship with Sky (alternatively, for his job and duty as Sky’s squire). I just love how obviously in love Brandon is with Stella and how much Stella doesn’t care about anything but him. She didn’t care that he was a “commoner” and - one of my fave moments - in 1x08 she only cared about his well-being rather than the competition. It was adorable and they are adorable and I love them so much. Pure serotonin, right there!
25. How would you end the Bloom searching for her parents storyline/Would you change the ending?
I would certainly change the logistics of the whole thing because, boy, did it make no sense at all. As for the actual ending, I’d argue that physically finding them is not the end of that storyline and she needs to “find” them emotionally as well which would definitely take more time than SotLK cared to address. Like, she got them out of Obsidian and boom, everything’s fine! She literally doesn’t know them! Those are her parents and she doesn’t know anything about them! Their touch and their voices are unfamiliar to her even and they have missed on so much that they will never be able to get back and you’re saying that everything is fine? Yeah, right.
I would have had her spend a year on Domino with them before season 4. The school year that started in SotLK? She spends that with them. Possibly even the one that starts in Magical Adventure as well. She learns everything she can about them and the family history. She also learns how to be a proper royal because she is the Crown Princess now and she has no idea what the fuck she is doing. I would have made seasons 4 and possibly 5 about that and added more politics in it. Layla and Stella are also princesses who will run their kingdoms one day so we could have had adventures in political relations with Winx Club. They are pretty famous so I am sure there would be rulers of other lands that see them as threats and don’t like them. There could have been tension about that and the whole thing with Domino being the planet of the Dragon Fire could have been addressed. Who would dare oppose them when they are the most powerful force? Are they the most powerful force after the 17 years the planet spent as an ice block? Are there old alliances to be reforged? What is the political climate in the Magic Dimension? All absolutely fascinating questions that would have helped the worldbuilding and made place for Marion and Oritel in Bloom’s life and in the show. We could’ve gone back to the feel of season 1 when they also had other things going on besides the big baddie of the season and it could have been a little more episodical with a loose theme to connect the season and the overarching story of Bloom finding her parents and her place in the world she was born in. That could have been positively epic... And a great way to retain the cast because the Company of Light were allegedly friends so we could have seen Marion and Oritel reconnecting with Griffin, Faragonda, Saladin and Hagen. There could have been resurfacing debates left over from the war. Kingdoms angry at Domino for something that happened back then in order to include flashbacks with the events. AND that would work out with the fact that the Ancestral Witches were still around and could have led to another epic battle that wouldn’t end with the destruction of a whole planet. Like I said, there were amazing possibilities... and they were all wasted.
Well, this was long... and just what I needed. I hope some (civilized) discussion will spark out of that because I am tired of screaming in a void and I want people to talk to me.
#winx club#anti bloom#anti sky#too many opinions to tag#meta#winx club meta#ask#her-majesty-wears-jeans#winx griffin
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Christopher Velez • The Last Letter of Ariana Smith • Annie's 200 Followers Celebration Contest
This is my entry to @cncoh-damn's 200 followers celebration contest and I picked My Chemical Romance's Cancer as prompt. This is kinda irky and short but I hope yall like this.
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Dear Beloved Christopher,
By the time you are reading this letter, I am already gone, just like the usual, cliche and annoying sad chick flix on Netflix. Thanks to that motherfucking cancer. Anyways, as I am writing this shit to you, you already left 5 minutes ago, of course to live your life. Or maybe sleep because you've been here like, I don't know, maybe a month, without going home? You stink by the way, you need a bath. I am getting weaker. And I know I promised some shit to you, and I can't even make myself to fulfill it.
It's making me sad to leave because I don't want to. Who would want to leave someone like you: funny but annoying, cute but stinks like hell, thoughtful but an asshole. Yeah, totally, I don't want to leave you. Not because of all of those but because I don't want you to be sad. I promised you that I will get better but I can't. This bitch is killing me. Literally.
But can I ask you something? Please go out there. Live your life. Do not look back on my shadows. It will only make you sad. Please? I don't want to know that you're being miserable because I'm gone. I know you love me so much. But please, someone is out there, way more deserving of your pure love. You're still young. You deserve so much better and so much more. I love you but do not hold on to that because I will not be around but my love for you will stay.
My mom got a little cold to you these past few days rights? She even didn't alloq you to see me. It's one my wishes. I want you to stay away from me and I don't want you to see the breath leaving my body. Because it's going to traumatize you. I want you to start moving on as soon as possible. It's hard but you need to to this.
I left the box, which I assume that mom gave to you. The box is full of our memories together. Our photos, which is weird because I love printing shit and getting it physically available. Please burn all the content of the box. Including this letter. Get rid of all of the memories that you can see. I want you to forget me. Please, babh. Forget me. Because I can't deal with the fact that I will leave you broken. I don't want that. I want you to be happy.
You might be crying now but please don't. I'm gone, that's it. And I know the hardest part of this is leaving you. I tried to fight, Chris. You know damn well I tried. But it's hard to fight a battle when you already know that you're already losing.
The doctor prohibited me to drink coffee but fuck her, I am drinking my favorite Starbucks drink. You know damn well what it is. Well at least before my last breath I can be happy.
So I guess this is goodbye.
Remember: I love you. And I am sorry I lost the battle I've been fighting to stay alive. I hope you well.
Love and Truth,
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/07803018a5d489c7121c95b33d2c9fd0/81667c5089c333c1-29/s540x810/837fe4420b04728b603ba6dd2845b731b3bb8cd4.jpg)
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Opinion
Being scared of rejection. "what's the worse she/he can say? No." and right after we are in the exact same spot that we were just a few minutes ago. I have never had a problem with people telling me no. Especially when it came down to relationships with others. But there is something about the level of insecurity that a person like this has in them. They feel like they are not good enough and a NO would only increase this level of insecurity even further. A person like this judges others based on looks and status rather than what people can bring to the table. It might be genetics. I have always said that the bitch gene does indeed exist and I know that is very harsh so I'll tone it down for some of these idiots, the weak gene sounds a whole lot more kind. If these people were sheep than as someone who is aware that they are of lower intelligence how do you react? Do you make them walk off a cliff or do you try to help them and make sure that they are safe? I have found in my experiences that these type of people with the bit- I'm sorry the weak gene are better off being left alone. The smarter ones will find their own way to safety and the dumber ones will walk off a cliff themselves. It is the one that realizes that these people are weaker and tries to do something about it that walks off the cliff with some and rescues others. But now you have a job. A job that you are signing yourself up for. And that on it's own is proclaiming that you are weaker than the sheep because you believe that it is your job to save the world when in reality you just cursed yourself with trying to play good potato bad potato. A responsibility that only a fool embarks on. If this person who tries to take on this responsibility of "saving" the sheep is of the scared of rejection nature then he is not someone who is trying to save the sheep but rather someone who is a sheep himself but believes extremely hard that he is someone who can save the flock. But how can this sheep save anyone when he doesn't know what he is doing. More sheep are flying off the cliff than finding shelter. Now why am I writing this? Well for one I love to point out a sheep who is trying to lead me to safety because I find it extremely hilarious for a sheep to try to tell a smarter sheep what to do. This is when it is pointed out to him that he in actuality is a sheep himself trying to play good potato bad potato. And as much as I find this hilarious I also find it extremely sad. Because if I was smart enough to figure this out, imagine how many other sheep have also realized this fact and are watching him try to save sheep while laughing at him for his complete failure of a task. Again what's the worse she/he can say? No. Being scared of rejection and trying to save sheep is a very bad combo because really no one can save these sheep but the sheeps themselves. You only find it easier to get yourself to shelter when you realize that you are a sheep and you do not have to save any other sheep. Once you are in shelter than you have shown everyone how to get there. Being scared of rejection is the start of someone who truly believes that he can save others despite being lost himself.
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So I'm not very good with empathy or understanding the core of what upsets people but I am aware that things can be sensitive topics so if I were to ask questions in regards to your distress when it comes to manipulating your facial muscles from a purely unbiased and simply curious standpoint, would it be bothersome/upsetting? I cannot completely relate so I find myself wondering about the lifestyle, and while I don't ever intend or wish to offend, I do tend to upset people with my bluntness.
You aren’t upsetting me.
What I have is called “Central Core Myopathy”, and it’s pretty rare. One of the signs and symptoms is lax facial muscles. That’s actually one of the more minor issues, but it is the one we are talking about. Most of the issues are down in my abdominal muscles, the “Core”.
Not all of my facial muscles are weak. I can keep my mouth shut just fine, for instance--and no comments from the onlookers, please. ;) It’s mostly those that deal with expression that are a bit weak. Not even all of those: I don’t have the scientific names to hand, but there is one set that pulls the edges of your mouth to the side, and another that pulls them up. The ones that pull them to the side work fine, but the ones that pull the mouth up into a smile are definitely weaker. Both are involved in a “proper” smile. (Yes, I am sitting here isolating those muscles and trying this out as I type this.) So my impulsive smiles tend to look more...hmm...sardonic? Cynical? Smirk-ish? Worse because I am those things, but that is the expression I give even when those words don’t fit my mood.
One of my friends on here put it best: I have a permanent case of what is commonly called “Resting Bitch Face”. That’s kinda what it looks like, yeah.
Note that I am discussing smiling. That’s not the only expression I have trouble with, but it is the most noticeable, and it’s the easiest one to discuss. Frowning deliberately is also an issue, for example. (I let my eyebrows carry a lot of the freight on that.)
I can smile. I can do all the expressions that I presume you can do. It just takes more effort, and I can’t maintain it as long. Probably due to the effort, it is less likely to happen unconsciously. I smile when I choose, consciously to smile. So it looks sorta forced. I also had “lazy eye” when I was a kid, and spent a lot of time with an eyepatch on in an attempt to correct it (which made school no fun.) I suspect that is related. It did clear up.
Add in that I have fairly bushy eyebrows, porous face (both gotten from my father along with the CCM), thick beard, and dark eyes, and you get somebody who I am told can look a bit intimidating, pissed off, etc. Or sometimes just “you always look so sad.”
So I do comedy. Jokes. I make the world laugh. Puns--lots and lots of puns.
There is no cure, nor really treatment, for CCM. It’s a very slowly progressive thing, and it’s not fatal. It does affect various parts of my life, though. Facial expression is just one of the most noticeable to someone just meeting me.
(Irony: I am told that I use too many emoticons. Overcompensating, perhaps?)
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