#i have been neglecting everything so it’s my fault this was such a pain in the ass

[angelstrawbabie420]

whole house clean 👍 i feel like this

[shitpostingsapphic]

Why I don't feel disappointed by Vi's arc, but you might

I usually have pretty strong and polarizing opinions when it comes to my takes on Arcane, but this is one where I wanna open up the discussion a bit more and invite people to my perspective, and it's fine if you don't see it this way.

I think there are two primary reasons why people feel disappointed by the arc of s2 Vi. The first, being that Vi had stronger voiced concerns about the state of Zaun in the first season. The second, being that she spent the whole show wanting to be with her sister and she didn't end up getting that.

Why I actually feel fulfilled in Vi's arc has to do with these two points, and I invite you to sit with what I have to say next.

Both of these parts of Vi have to do with her fatal flaw: her neglect of self.

We know two things based on what the creators have said about the show: the theme of Arcane is the cycle of violence, and the entire show was written together, instead of season 2 being written after season 1 production. From this, I can then ask: what do the creators want to tell their audience about this message, knowing they wrote it all out together, knowing the events of season 2 were very purposeful, using Vi as a conduit for that message?

If violence is a cycle, can one person defy it? No, of course not. At the start of Vi's arc, she wants to be a person that breaks it, though. She wants to change things in Zaun, wants a better life for her sister. As season 1 continues on, she wants to pick up where she left off with Powder without truly processing the gravity of the years between them. She thinks she can hold the world on her shoulders and fix any problem that comes her way. She thinks she can use her fists to make progress, thinks she can physically reach out and create change, but it only contributes to the cycle. And that's not because she's morally in the wrong when she does so, but she doesn't grasp yet that her fists can't fix everything. Vander tries to tell her as such in act 1, and it's a lesson that goes beyond just the literal application.

Vi's tendency to try and fix everything around her leads to her neglect of self. Inevitably, when you try to change things you have no control over, it leaves wounds. It leaves a person feeling like something is deeply wrong with them. And we watch Vi go down this spiral. I actually find myself really brokenhearted watching Vi in the first 2 acts, because I think she represents a lot of us: we see pain and devastation around us, but we don't know what the right thing to do is. We try different tactics and try to fix things and are left wondering why things feel worse than how they started.

I think that's something a lot of viewers could benefit to reflect on: I think in watching a show with strong political messaging, we yearn for a message that tells us the answers to these big problems. Truthfully, most of us don't have a fucking clue what we're doing. We want change but don't know how to see it through. That includes the writers. This isn't a show about the solution to political strife. It's about the cycle of violence. It's about not knowing how to change something that's been continuous throughout history in some form.

If we put ourselves in Vi's shoes, it would eventually take a toll on us to try and change something that isn't within our ability to change. Vi can't fix the problems in Zaun. Vi can't change the way time and distance and pain has warped her sister into someone else. In season 2 act 1, she's still trying to take responsibility for things that are outside of her control. She blames herself for the way Jinx has changed and has to tell herself that the only way to fix it is to end the cycle with her own fists. She teams up with Caitlyn because she's convinced herself it's the only way she can help. She sees how violence has devastated not only Zaun but innocents in Piltover as well, and she feels responsible for it.

BUT SHE IS NOT AT FAULT. And she cannot fix it any more than she could have created it.

Perhaps people may feel Vi's arc is lacking because they wanted to see more of her involvement in the revolution of Zaun. They wanted to see her be able to change the situation with her sister and for them to live happily together. But because of the circumstances surrounding both, for Vi to do so, she would inevitably lean into her fatal flaw. She cannot do either of those things without neglecting herself. That's not who she is.

The whole point of a character arc is for someone to be a changed person from beginning to end. If Vi starts out as someone passionate about enacting change to the point of self-destruction, what would a resolution for a character like that look like?

Vi needs to choose herself. Vi needs to release herself of the responsibility of changing the world. She can't do it. There are ways to contribute to positive change that don't involve putting the world on your shoulders, and Vi has yet to put herself first in any situation. Vi choosing love is how she does it.

Amanda Overton, one of the main writers that contributed to Vi's character and the Caitlyn and Vi dynamic and relationship, said about Vi: "If she has no one left to protect, she would fall in love". If Vi finally lets go of this crutch of hers to protect, to fight, to take responsibility for things that aren't her burden to bear, she would fall in love. She would finally be able to choose something for herself.

This is why I find her arc fulfilling. I feel like it's not an arc we really see a lot. It's not every day we have a character that starts out like the classic anime slash marvel protagonist, and instead of being the person that saves the world, they accept they're not a superhero and it's okay to choose love and personal happiness.

If it applies, and you're reading this, I want you to ask yourself: are you perhaps disappointed with her arc because you expected her to be the superhero? And would you be okay with accepting that she isn't and doesn't need to be? That it would be better for her to choose herself?

[wannabeschyulersister]

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” the voice of the man who once held such significance for you said.

You set your wine glass down on the counter and turned to him, “I managed to get an earlier flight from LA. I wouldn’t miss Sarah’s birthday.”

Pedro nodded and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. It was evident that he was just as uncomfortable and nervous as you were. It had been nearly six months since the two of you had last been in each other’s company.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen any pictures or anything online of you lately.” Pedro kept his thoughts to himself, but it was evident that he had been stalking your Instagram account quite frequently since the breakup.

“Yeah, I just needed a break from everything,” you explained. You didn’t want to tell him that seeing his photo online physically hurt you.

“I wanted to reach out to you a lot. I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” You said simply.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry-“

You held your hand up to stop him, “please don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“It’s necessary. We haven’t spoken in months.”

“And whose fault is that? You were the one who wanted to end our relationship. You refused to fight for us. I didn’t give up, but you did.” The pent-up anger and sadness were building up inside you.

Pedro hated the pain he had caused you. He was aware that the breakup would be challenging, but he underestimated its severity. “(Y/n), I was looking out for you.”

That made you laugh, “Are you looking out for me? You broke up with me over the phone to look out for me?”

You knew your conversation was being overheard by the others in the next room, but they had already heard everything from both of you.

“We’re both incredibly busy. I couldn’t be there for you like I should have. I neglected you, and I hated that. You deserve someone who’s always there for you.”

“So, you took matters into your own hands without even asking me how I felt. If anyone can understand your hectic schedule, it’s me. I’m constantly juggling multiple projects, shooting this movie and another one. I would have been there for you when things got tough. I was there.” Your voice trembled slightly, as if you were on the verge of tears.

Pedro wanted to embrace you and offer comfort. “I’ll regret my actions for the rest of my life.”

You blinked rapidly, wiping away the tears that had formed, “I need to go.”

As you stepped out of the kitchen, you felt his hand reach out and grasp your arm. Even though it had been a while since he last touched you, his presence still had a calming effect on you.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m sorry. You deserved better than what I gave you.”

“I genuinely want to hate you, Pedro, but I can’t. I’ll always love you. I believed in us even when you didn’t.”

You moved away from his grasp and left the kitchen. He heard you tell the others goodbye before the front door opened and closed.

He wanted so badly to follow you outside and beg for your forgiveness. He didn’t know if you’d ever would.

[cherryclitgirl]

The Gods II

Pairings : Maegor x reader

Warnings : abortions, child loss, young pregnancy

Notes: brief mention of y/n

The days following the Death of king Maegor’s oldest son and heir where filled with sorrow. The two men responsible for the cold murder were caught fleeing Kingslanding with Aegon’s head on a sack. Maegor’s wrath was inevitable, putting multiple members of the faith to the blade, torturing the head of the kings guard for failing to protect his son. He tortured the two men to death, but it was still not enough. No one dared to step in his way. Adding fuel to the fire, the queen mother Visenya died of a sudden illness. Allowing dowager queen Alyssa and her two young children Jaehaerys and Alysanne to flee from Dragonstone, in return Maegor tortured Viserys to death.

He did everything but comfort his wife. The young girl was consumed with grief, she refused to eat or sleep since the death of her son. She grew paranoid of the shadows, believing the gods would come for her remaining children. When they slept, she didn’t. She would sit in bed clutching Aegon’s toy dragon, when she closed her eyes she could still hear the sound of her son’s muffled cries. The sound of the flesh cutting under the blade, her poor babe. Ripped off her arms so easily. The death of her brother Viserys only made her grieving worse. She began to neglect her motherly duties, as well as her children.

Baelon being the second oldest did not understand why he could not find Aegon. Rhaenor would cry for hours for no apparent reason in the arms of his wet nurse. The new born Rhaella having grown accustomed of being breast fed by her mother would not accept the milk from her wet nurse.

Queen Ceryse having be shut off by Maegor and the young girl, tried multiple times to speak with her. But the young girl refused to speak with anyone. That was until she managed to sneak into her room with the wet nurse who begged the young girl to feed Rhaella.

She saw the young girl standing by the large window holding Aegon’s funeral shroud. The burning of the body had yet to be done, as no one dared to intervene the grieving of the young queen and the cruel king.

Queen Ceryse did not know what to say, how to start. She stood watching the young girl for a moment. She didn’t have the courage to tell the poor girl that it was she who went to Maegor. Despite trying her best to deny it. It pained her when Maegor married his niece. It pained her even more when girl fell pregnant quickly. Seeing the girl bear four healthy children was a stab in the heart for Ceryse. Sending her away with Visenya was the least she could do. It gave her time to be with Maegor and pray that she would fall pregnant. But now her actions, her greed, her jealousy had consequences. “ The gods punished us, they punish me” she thought as she snuffled and wiped her tears away.

She didn’t have the heart to tell the poor girl she had completely forgotten to tell the guards to stand by the door. “It was never my intention to cause harm to you or your children “ Ceryse sniffed softly. The young girl had been condemned to punishment far beyond her understanding. Ceryse gulped and continued talking “I had every intention on telling the guards, protecting the sanctity of you and your children was my first priority”. Not matter what what Ceryse said, she knew it would never be enough. The girl was not at fault. She was innocent.

The young queen slowly looked back, “What they did-“ she said wanting to hold the poor young girl. “It doesn’t align with my personal beliefs of the faith “ she spoke hoping to sooth the girl. The young girls eyes fell on Ceryse’s necklace.

Ceryse clutched her necklace, she regretted wearing seven pointed star necklace, after all was the faith militant that killed Aegon. The young queen said nothing, but beneath those hurt and red eyes, was just a girl, who lost both of her of her brother, her son, and whose mother and sister were nowhere to be found.

Ceryse slowly walked to the girl “What you saw that night” she sighed softly trying to reach and hold the girl “when you came into Maegor’s room-“ The young girl gently shoved Aegon’s funeral shroud into her arms. “This is for my boy” she said walking past Ceryse.

Meagor insisted that both his son Aegon, and his mother Visenya were burned at Dragonstone at the same time. Many lords of minors and great houses traveled to the Dragonstone, although very few were present during the burning of the bodies.

Baelon stood by his mother watching the body of his brother burn away into ashes. His mother held his hand tightly. Baelon felt his mother’s grief, his heart clenched watching her cry. He’s only response, was too cry was as well. Baelon the bitter the history books would call him.

- - - - - - -

Alyssa had fled to Storms end with Jaehaerys and Alyssane.They were promised to be housed and welcomed by Lord Rogar shortly after fleeing . Rhaena had fled with her daughters shortly after the death of her husband Aegon. Alyssa had yet to receive word from her and her whereabouts. Her second daughter was but a walking corpse of sorrow and grief trapped in the hands of Maegor. Viserys had been tortured to death by Maegor. Her grandchild murdered in cold blood.

It was what they did to her sweet girl that pained Alyssa. Her poor daughter a victim of a crime she did not commit. She watched when Maegor took her to marry. She was there when her girl of ten and five gave birth to her first child, only to return months later pregnant again and again. She watched and could not save her.

She could only pray that Jaehaerys would take the throne. Save his sister and her children. Allow them to be free from Maegor’s grasp.

Alyssa exited the wheelhouse she had managed to pay for. The guards of house Baratheon stood with their Lord Rogar. She looked up as the rain began to fall on her face. A sight of freedom, a bitter sweet freedom. Unfortunately her daughter could not experience it. Oh her precious y/n, how much she adored the rain. She would’ve enjoyed dragging Aegon and Rhaena into the courtyard to play in the falling rain.

Before Alyssa could take step another step towards Rogar she fell to her knees. The hard rain fell on her;mixing with the salty tears that rolled down her cold cheeks. She could only remember times where her six children were together. Sitting at the long table together as Aenys wished for it to be. They were contented. A happy family, a good family. Maegor took that from her.

She cursed his name, desperate and angry she cried, her nails clenching into her palms. She wished for nothing more than to run, get her daughter and grandchildren and give them the freedom they deserved.

- - - - - - - - - -

In 45 AC shortly after the construction of the red keep and a year after the death of three year old of Aegon. Baelon Targaryen at just four summers old was officially named heir of the iron throne and prince of Dragonstone. A large tittle for a small boy who did not understand the it’s great significance. Soon after the announcement Maegor took his wife to her chambers. Her arm wrapped around his they walked past Ceryse. Her relationship with the girl had become strained and unpleasant.

“Baelon will marry Rhaella” Maegor firmly told as he left his wife’s bed. Y/n sat up from the bed lifting the sheets up to her bare chest. Her long silver hair covered her shoulders, weakly guarding her naked body “She’s barely one ” she muttered.

Maegor looked back at her “Let her be promised to him from a young age” he replied coldly. “I have let you name our children, let you pampered them with love, so they grow weak and feeble. He spat moving closer to the bed. He sat down close to her “You have no say on the matters “ he said firmly.

“Why keep me here then” she asked him. Slowly she was regaining the strength that was once taken from her. Although she still mourned the death of her son, the constant overlooking of those who surrounded her made her regain what she once lost. Her desire to fight. Not for Maegor, not for the crown. But the her children.

Maegor looked at the girl for a moment, his hand twitching to reach over and tighten itself around her neck. He liked her better when she did not question him. But something had changed in her, he knew it , he felt it. It had taken him off guard when she first rode him. He still remembered her hands on his large bare chest. The way she looked when she moaned. She was not just riding him to please him, she was doing it to please herself. Something in their marriage that had never happened. She was no longer callow and afraid , she took him for her own pleasure. For every night that he spend with Tyanna or Ceryse he would spend ten nights with y/n. Ultimately, he stopped visiting them. Solely focusing on his young wife. She would take him good. facing him , on her back, on her knees, his cock down her throat, the things that made him proud.

He didn’t answer her question. The silence between them felt long and unease. He pulled the silky sheets further up her bare chest.

He stood up and began butting up his breeches “You have been faithful, despite the circumstances you remain at my side, that’s why I keep you here”. He reached for Blackfyre and held up to her, the sharp end pointed at her. “I assume even when I’m gone you will carry me in your thoughts”. Unfortunately he was right. Despite her being deathly afraid of him and after years in his cruel grasp.She developed fidelity and compassion for him. Strongly believing he would protect her. Maegor knew this, he used to his advantages. Fueling his wife with lies and deceptions. Believing she had no one else to turned to , knowing she would do anything for her children. Maegor believed she will do anything to have Baelon on the throne. He offered her a seat in the small council to serve as his advisor. This did not go over lightly with Tyanna, but to her misfortune, Maegor did not care. He wanted her close, manipulate her as he always wished. Maegor left her chambers leaving her covered with the sheets of their aftermath, alone in the large empty room. Despite her enjoying their intimate moments the constant act of enjoying his company felt foreign to her. But it was necessary for her survival. Although the developed feelings of safety and compassion for him were strong. Something inside her opposed them.

The morning shortly after he left her trusted maid drew her a bath, and carefully cleaned and washed her. The warm water kissed her skin as the sponge glided down her arms and on her back. Her maids soft fingers caressed her scalp with gentleness, soothing away her turbulence. Kiara was her most trusted maid.She was gentle and attentive, appointed by grand maester Benifer himself. Kiara was fiercely loyal to her queen .

“Does my queen wish for a moment alone?” Kiara asked her as she brushed the last of her hair. The queen looked at her maid through the mirror and nodded “please “ she said softly. Kiara nodded, she made sure her queen had everything she needed before bowing and leaving.

She was to await someone, who always came after a night with Maegor. Moments late the door of the chamber opened, y/n looked to see Grand Maester Benifer standing by the door holding a something covered with a small cloth. He looked back the door as it shut and made sure no one was looking as he unveiled a small round cup with a lid. “Good morrow your grace”. He bowed his head at her and slowly walked to where she was. His wary expression was noticevale as he placed the cup on the table. “Good morrow grand maester” she said watching him place the cup on the table. The tea’s vapor dancing on top of the cup. “As requested “. He watched her slowly take the cup and smell it before she drank it slowly. She never enjoyed the taste of the sour taste, it burned her throat as she drank it, pausing here and there.

“If I may your grace” he spoke solemnly “ This happens to be the third one you’ve taken” he said in a hush voiced. “If the king find outs.. this is treason, killing potential heirs-“ Maester Benifer was cut off by the y/n who placed down the cup. “I’m aware…grand maester, but the king has three healthy heirs” despite her justification, the act was still immoral and distasteful to some. “ But his desires are not mine…this is my choice, my right “ she said firmly.

Grand maester Benifer nodded and looked down “What you do for your children your grace… it’s admirable…your labour will not unheeded go ” he promised her. He covered the cup with the cloth again. He had brewed the tea for her, and advised her when to take it. He was well aware of the risk that came with aiding the queen, but he would take that risk and more.

Unfortunately for him, and for the young queen it was not Maegor’s wrath they ought to be afraid of. For the gods tend to not be satisfied with only one son.

[revelboo]

Im not sure if these are updated based on request or based on your whimsy, but if it *is* request based, may I please beg for Ironhide? I love the old man >.<

If not, feel free to ignore and I will continue to patiently wait :) 👍

Love u so much for this blog; it gets me through the work day.

Honestly, it’s mostly based on people reminding me in the asks that I’ve neglected a character or story, because I’m not motivated enough to make a posting schedule I know I won’t stick to and those asks are sitting at over 300 at this point 😂 no matter how fast I go through them

Hold Me Down Pt 4

Ironhide x Reader

• “Rules,” he growls, servos flexing as you scowl up at him from where he’d unceremoniously dumped you on his cluttered desk. “You’re going to behave. Primus help you if I catch your sticky little fingers on anything that’s not yours.” And you’re looking around, ignoring him. Smacking a hand on the desk to make you jump and glare, he grins. “Act like a sparkling and I’ll treat you like one, darling.”

• Eyes narrowing at the big, red jerk, you curl your lip at him. He’d made it abundantly clear that you’re not getting away. That you’re stuck with each other and that he hates it. Well, that’s fine. The hate is pretty much mutual. He’d tried to give you a heart attack after all. And, okay, maybe you’d been trying to steal him at the time, but how were you supposed to know he wasn’t a real van? If anything, this is his fault. And what is a sparkling? Sounds like an insult. One thing you have figured out? He can’t hurt you or you’re pretty sure he’d have chucked you out while driving and that makes you brave to cover up the fear. “Look, demon van,” you say ignoring his pointed ‘it’s Ironhide.’ “You kidnapped me, so I have every right to make you miserable. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

• You’re grinning at him, no longer putting him in mind of a sparkling. No, they’re at least innocent. You’re a vicious little scraplet, all teeth and evil. “Try me.” Because he’s not putting up with any sass or attitude and unfortunately, you seem to be nothing but. He almost liked you better screaming. Bending slightly to get on your level, he reaches out and taps you on the head with a servo. Grimacing as you slap at him, swearing. Maybe gentler next time, he decides as you rub your head to send your hair into disarray. “I’d behave a little better if I was your size.”

• “Well, I’d punt you across the room if I was your size,” you mutter, rubbing your head. He’d thumped you hard enough to hurt. “Jerk. Demon van. Asshole.” Those big servos flex into a fist and you shut up. Know he can’t hit you, but the threat? Cringing and hating yourself for it, you glare up at him, heart racing.

• That shut you up, but it twists unpleasantly through him, too. That fear in your eyes so raw. It’s the look of someone expecting a blow because it’s familiar, cringing but still defiant. Resigned. “Look,” he grumbles, sitting down and suddenly exhausted. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you can ease up on the back talk.” Lips pressing into a thin line, you just shrug. Right. Brat. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not cut out for taking care of sparklings.” And far too old for it besides.

• That word again. You’re beginning to suspect what it means and it’s not flattering. “You understand that I’m an adult, right?” When he just stares, you swallow a laugh. “I’m not a kid, pal. I’ve been on my own for years and I don’t need taking care of.” Or want it. Relying on other people, trusting them to look out for you, to have your back can only come back to bite you. The only one you can count on is you. You’ve learned that the hard way. Anything else just gets you hurt and you’re so sick of pain.

Previous

Next

You hold me down

You're the echoes of my everything,

You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.

You're the laziness of afternoon,

[atinyniki]

i ruined it...

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee felix x f!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff if you squint

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, almost breakup, y/n doesnt think felix loves her, felix is referred to as lix, felix neglects y/n bc of his job, felix misses their two year anniversary dinner, felix has trouble breathing in the scene, felix cries a lot, proposals, promise rings, insecurities, felix has been broken up with a lot bc of this, y/ns fav flowers are peonies, fighting

authors note: i cried. i dont even know why this came to mind??? but it did !!! so enjoy the angst :P this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 2232

“i’m sorry”

“sorry isn’t going to cut it anymore, felix. you’ve said it so much i don’t think you mean it anymore.”, you bite back harshly.

you’re normally understanding of felix’s job. it regularly requires him to stay overtime and keeps him very busy, but he’s missed too many of your activities.

he missed ice skating, your birthday, at least ten dates, but now he’s missed your anniversary. two years that you’ve been together, yet it’s like you don’t even see the boy anymore.

“what…?”

“it’s always ‘sorry’. if you were really sorry, maybe you would’ve skipped dinner with the boys. you could’ve come home… to me…”, your voice falters at the last two words, cracking with raw emotion.

it’s not fair to you anymore, nor is it to him. he can’t leave group activities or basically anything work related, even when it’s an emergency. if no one’s in danger, then there’s no chance he can leave.

“don’t you ever want to see me…?”

his face contorts into an expression of disgust. not with you, but with himself. his tears finally drip over his lashline, eyes red and burning. the tears are continuous now, completely unable to stop.

“i do… i do want to see you… i miss you so much, y/n.”

you scoff, “don’t lie to me, felix.”

he opens his mouth to say something back, but only a squeak comes out. “do you still love me…?”

“i love you to the ends of the earth… i promise.”

“then why don’t you ever show it? i don’t even know if i believe you anymore.”

he clamps a hand over his mouth, not out of surprise, but to suppress his sobs. he continues hiccupping, but clutches his mouth harder, not wanting to make too much noise.

he tilts his head down slightly so you won’t be able to see the painful look on his face. he tries to pull through, knowing that your pain must be much worse than this.

the sight breaks your heart.

“take your hand off your mouth. you won’t be able to breathe”

he complies, quickly wiping his tears and taking long breaths. “please- please believe m-me. i really do love you. i’m so sorry.”

he says it again, and you look into his eyes. you can see the pain in there, causing your heart to crack even more. you know he’s dealing with a lot right now, but so are you.

and now you need space. time to think about yourself, and time to think about if this relationship is really worth it anymore.

“i swear, i mean it, y/n.”

“you’re the one ruining this. this isn’t fair at all, felix. i love you, but i don’t think you love me the same way i love you. you’re not making an effort in anything. i don’t know if this is going to work anymore if it stays like this.”

silence.

“i need space.”

“i can give you that.”

“i don’t think this relationship is good for either one of us right now. ill come back when im ready.”

he nods in understanding, but his eyes are blown wide. the second you leave the room, he starts sobbing again.

no, not sobbing. wailing.

there’s nothing else he can do. this truly might be the end of what he hoped would be forever. 

he hurt you. he hurt you and that hurts him. your pain is his pain, but he knows you have it worse. if anything, he deserves this pain. you’ve had to bear this pain for months.

it’s his fault, he knows it. everything’s falling apart because of him, like it always does. everything’s ruined. it will end like it always does. 

just felix, alone.

someone else will come along, and he’ll break them too. it’s happened time and time again, and he’s finally given up.

it’s you he wants to spend the rest of his life with. it has to be you. no one else has made him feel this way, not once.

what’s worse is that you’re truly considering breaking up. ending it all because of another stupid thing felix did.

and for this, he will never forgive himself.

he’s still crying, just as loud as before, but now snuggled up into the couch. it smells like you, he realizes. maybe that’s why he’s getting so emotional.

he plays with the promise ring on his finger, crying even more now. maybe he won’t need it anymore after this.

you start packing, taking a good amount of clothes and stuffing them in your suitcase. you’ll have enough space for everything, you’re sure.

you grab one of your favorite sweaters from the closet, it has an adorable baby chick embroidered onto it. you stare at it again, but then put it back. it reminds you too much of him. 

you make your way to the bathroom, placing your hand on the counter while you open the drawers to check for any jewelry, when you hear a clink.

you place your hand down on the marble again.

clink.

you look down at your ring finger, a singular tear leaving your eye. you remember when felix got down on one knee on your one year anniversary. it was too early for a proposal, so you freaked out, but he calmed you down and opened the box.

a promise ring. a simple band to symbolize eternity. an eternity you believed you’d spend with felix. you’re scared that eternity doesn’t exist anymore, as much as you want it to.

you don’t know if he cares. if he cares about what you have. if he cares about you. 

you remove the band from your finger, shaky hands placing it down onto the counter. you observe the thin tan line it’s made, has it truly been that long?

when did everything change…?

you look for the box that felix gave it to you in. you’ve never taken it off since you got it.

you check in your jewelry drawer, but it’s not there. so you check in his.

there it is. a navy blue box with gold accents on the edges. you smile sadly, crying a little more when you truly think about your circumstances.

you grab the ring from the countertop and flip open the box.

your heart stops.

it’s supposed to be empty.

why isn’t it empty?

there’s a gorgeous gold band on the inside, small peonies engraved into it. your favorite flower, you realize. additionally, there’s a perfect heart shaped diamond sitting on top, almost taunting you. 

the heart was meant to symbolize your love. the love you have for eachother. the love he has for you. but felix has never been able to show that properly, not while under his circumstances.

is this the surprise he mentioned the week before? is this why he told you to dress nicely to dinner? is this why he told you to do your nails all nice?

it had to be, right?

you close the box and hold it tightly in your hand, trying your best to suppress the tears that are trying desperately to escape.

but your heart controls you more than your mind.

its almost as if your heart actually has a mind of its own, bringing you to where you are now. standing in the living room, watching the sobs rack felix’s body, velvet box still in hand.

his body jerks with each hiccup, the noise completely muffled by his hand. it’s then you realize that it’s not muffled, he’s suffocating himself.

you place the box down onto the table, rushing over to felix. you grab his shoulder, pushing him over and sitting him upright. he jerks when you touch him, not expecting you to be anywhere near him.

once he truly processes the sight of you, he cries even more. you pry his hand off of his face again, you know it’s a bad habit.

“felix. you won’t be able to breathe when you do that.”

“im sorry. i didn’t w-want you to- to hear m-me”

“deep breaths.”

he inhales deeply, trying his best to follow your breathing patterns, but it fails every time, broken up into small hiccups. “i c-can’t.”

“calm down…”

you give him a small smile, almost to reassure him. he tries again, but it doesn’t work. he shuts his eyes, unable to take it all, and the tears just continue to spill.

“i- i can’t… i can’t breathe”

you rub circles onto his back, trying your best to do breathing exercises with him. you forget how truly sensitive he is. 

“i’m right here…”

“you’re r-right here.”

“mhm… i’m right here, felix.”

“you’re right here… w-why are you here?”

you tilt your head in confusion, wiping a single cascading tear away from his cheek. “i’m here to take care of you.”

“you- i… i don’t deserve it…”

“what?”

“i don’t deserve you. you can- you can leave. i’m not forcing you to stay…”

your heart is now barely holding on, and it feels like only a single thread is holding it together.

“i’m here because i want to help you, lix.”

“you don’t- no- you don’t need to help me… it’s my fault.”

you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. 

“it’s my fault… i’m sorry.”

“felix…”

“you’ll leave…”

what’s going on with him?

“they all leave… n-not you too…”

“felix.”

“i don’t want you to leave… it’s all my fault.”

“felix, please, calm—“

“you’re going to leave…”

“i’m not going to leave.”

“i ruined it…”

it’s almost as if he’s stuck in the same state of mind, every part of the world being blocked out except for the terrible thoughts swirling around in there.

you cup his cheek with your hand, guiding his gaze towards you. one single look into your eyes, and he’s sobbing again. 

you place your left hand on his knee, you know how much he loves to feel you, but he only seems to cry more.

he tentatively brings a hand up to the one splayed out in his knee, and you watch him out of curiosity. he giggles, and you look back up.

he’s crying even more now, you don’t even know how that’s possible. he picks up your hand by your ring finger, staring at the tan line that your promise ring created. 

“i ruined it. how could i ever let you go…?”

he runs his thumb over it, and he quickly pulls your hand closer to his face. he places a soft kiss onto the line, just once, as to finally seal his fate.

it will never happen. he must accept it.

you don’t let go, instead intertwining your fingers. “i thought about it for a little. i really don’t want to leave you felix. i just… i didn’t know if you loved me anymore.”

“i do… i do love you.”

“i know that now.”

“you don’t know the full extent to which i do, y/n. i don’t just love you for what you have to offer. i love you for you. i love you for your smile, and i love you for waking up everyday. i love you for working hard, and i love you for your heart. i love you for things i can’t even see, and i love every part that makes you you. i love y/n. i love you. and i love you for being you.”

it feels as if the tears in your heart have finally been stitched up. every crack in your heart healed with his pure words. you know they came from the heart too. 

“i can’t guarantee i’ll be there for every event, and im sorry for that. ive tried to change that, but the rules are strict. even then, i wont give up. i’ll try my best to change them, i want to be the best boyfriend i can be. i dont want to rush dates because im running out of time, but instead because i cant wait to get home and finally cuddle with you without being in the public eye. i dont want to be late to any events just so that i can see that beautiful smile on your face when you see me there. i just want to make you happy, happier than you’ve been recently.”

“oh felix…”

he doesn’t say anything else, placing your hand back down on his knee and retracting his hand. that’s when his gaze flies to the table in front of him, the dark blue velvet box staring right at him.

he stands up, grabs it, and then kneels back down, on not one, but both knees. it looks almost as if he’s begging, but what you don’t realize, is that he truly is. he’s begging for your forgiveness, and he’s begging for another chance.

he has to make things right.

“y/n… i know i haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, not at all, but i want to make things right. you’ve brought so much light into my world, and i want to bring you that light too. i just need you to give me one last chance. one chance to make it right. i know it’s not the perfect proposal, but please, make me the happiest man in the world.”

he flicks open the box, displaying the band you last observed in the bathroom.

“i love you.”

“that’s not a yes or a no.”

“yes, i love you.”, you repeat.

you can’t control your heart anymore, and you take the chance to push felix down to kiss him. you know it’s not the ideal proposal, nor is it the ideal post-proposal kiss, but your answer would always be yes.

“it’s you, felix. it’s always been you.”

“y/n.”

“hm?”

“i promise, i’ll never let you go again.”

<3

[fake-sturniolos]

𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐬

SYNOPSIS: Chris begins to distance himself, prompting y/n to finally confront him about his behavior, but the confrontation doesn't go well.

WARNING: just angst

word count: 811

ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ 'ʙᴀɢꜱ' ʙʏ ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴏ

Lately, Chris has been distant. When we're out with friends, he either drops my hand or completely ignores my presence altogether. It's been a week since he last told me he loved me, and even our texts consist of dry, one-word responses.

I'm trying to figure out what could have happened between us. I glance over at him; he's sleeping on his side, turned away from me. Tears start to fill my vision, and I get up and walk out of the room.

As I step into the dimly lit kitchen, the cool tiles beneath my feet provide a stark contrast to the warmth of my emotions. I reach for a glass, the faint clink breaking the silence as I pour myself some water, the sound echoing in the empty room. The tears stream down my cheeks, a mix of sadness and confusion.

Chris enters the kitchen. Quickly, I wipe away the tears, trying to hide my emotions as I lean against the countertop, holding the glass tightly. With an effort to appear calm, I take a sip of the water, trying to regain my composure.

"Why are you up?" Chris asks as he grabs a glass and pours himself some water.

"Couldn't sleep," I shrug.

Chris nods and turns to walk back to the room.

"Wait, Chris," I say, and he turns around.

"Is something wrong? I feel like you've been acting distant."

Chris hesitates for a moment. "No, everything's fine," he says reassuringly, but the hollow ring in his voice fails to convince me.

"Just stressed with work," he adds quickly, almost too quickly, as if trying to fill the silence with anything but the truth.

"It's not just work, Chris," I say."You drop my hand when we're with friends or ignore me. You haven’t even told me you loved me in a week. I mean, what am I supposed to do with that?"

Chris's expression shifts, his features contorting with defensiveness. "You're blowing this out of proportion," he retorts, his tone sharp. "I have a lot on my plate right now, and you're making this about you."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel a surge of anger rising within me. "Making this about me?" I shoot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Chris, this is about us, about our relationship. And if you can't see that, then maybe we need to reevaluate things."

Chris's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with frustration as he struggles to find the right words. "Look, I know things haven't been great lately," he begins, his tone softer now, more conciliatory. "But it's not fair to put all the blame on me. We both have our faults, our issues to work through.”

His attempt at diplomacy only serves to stoke the fire of my anger. "So now it's my fault too?" I retort, my voice laced with bitterness. "Fine, let's talk about my faults. But don't you dare deflect from the fact that you've been distant, that you've neglected our relationship.”

"Maybe we both need some time to figure things out," Chris finally says,

As he storms out of the room, I'm left standing there, the weight of his words heavy in the air. Tears threaten to spill over once again, but I refuse to let them.

Gathering my courage, I make my way back to the bedroom seeing Chris packing his stuff. my throat felt like it was closing up.

"I can't believe we're finally living together," Chris said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Yeah, it's going to be amazing," I replied, my heart swelling with happiness at the thought of sharing my life with him.

He walked up to me and kissed me. I smiled into the kiss, my hands in his hair. I kissed him once more and pulled away. He chased my lips, and I turned away, laughing.

But now, as I watch him pack his things, that happiness feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by the pain of our current situation.

"So, you're just going to leave?" I manage to ask, my voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and hurt.

"I'm going back to live with Nick and Matt," his tone devoid of any of the warmth or tenderness that used to fill his words.

I can feel the sting of tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I struggle to comprehend his nonchalant demeanor. "So that's it?" I press, my voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desperation.

There's a tense silence that hangs in the air, punctuated only by the sound of his continued packing. He grabs his things and walks past me. I stand there, utterly stunned by his actions.

never thought I would see him walk out the door with his bags.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!! ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ɪᴛꜱ ʙᴀᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ

ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʟᴀᴜɴᴀ

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps 5

Yandere! Platonic! Batfam x Mentally il/Forgetful Reader

Warnings: exploitation of mental illness, depression and self-neglect, forcing the use of medication, manipulation,arguing, implied threats of violence against an animal (DW MOMO IS IN NO DANGER), and captivity and general yandere themes.

Despite what you thought, they don’t hound you twenty-four seven. They are not constantly at your side, are not as close as they normally are. Dick comes around, because it’s Dick and you were normally attached to the hip. Or you had been. Things were different now.

And of course the peace wouldn’t last. Of course the Wayne’s wouldn’t be content to allow you some much needed time to adjust, of course things went wrong. When there’s a quiet knock at the door of your room, you’d stiffened, Momo in your arms.

Tim pushes the door open. It was always Tim, or Damian, or Jason. Dick didn’t really come to see you in the mornings. Not after you’d refused to even touch the food he’s laid out, not after you had ignored his existence the entire time he’d been in your room. As far as you were concerned, Dick was to blame for all of this. He’d had the initial idea to kidnap you, he’d introduced you to his family, he’d been the one to cause your pain.

You shift, fingers clenching your blanket tightly, letting Momo slip out of your arms. She prances up to Tim, rubbing her face against his pant leg, and it makes your heart race in your chest. None of the Wayne’s had hurt her, sure, but she was so little and friendly that it worried you that they would. Tim, thankfully, barely even acknowledges her. He gently nudged her out of the way with his foot, setting down the tray he had been carrying on the bedside table.

“Alfred mentioned that you hadn’t touched your plate. Is the new medication interfering with your appetite?” He asks, and you swallow. You really didn’t want to have your meds changed again. They had just put you back on the prazosin for fucks sake, and you would prefer if you didn’t go back to those stupid drugs.

“Did Alfred mention it or were you just stalking me again?” You mutter, drawing your knees up to your chest. Tim frowns.

“It’s not my fault you keep trying to do something stupid!” He snaps, and it’s defensive. Angry. Maybe it’s because he knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s in the wrong.

“You barely take care of yourself, (Y/N).” He starts, and he angrily sorts your meds as he does so, fingers flicking through the pills to lay them out. You noticed he did that. Compulsively sorted or organized thing when he was thinking, lips pulled into an angry frown.He continues, ruthless.

“We’ve tried doing it your way. We gave you space, like you asked, and you haven’t eaten. You barely interact with anyone, you haven’t brushed your hair since after dinner three nights ago, and not only that, you’ve barely gotten out of bed. You only get up if one of us make you or if it’s to feed Momo or use the restroom.”

His voice starts to rise in anger, getting loudly and louder as he yells in your face.

Your ears ring. You can’t tell the cotton in your mouth is from disassociation, anger, or sheer, unadulterated indignation. How dare he.

“And who’s fault is that?!” You snarl, pushing yourself up. Tim wouldn’t hit you, you knew. He argued with you, and he was clingy as fuck during the rare occasions you let him touch you or got caught off guard enough to not protest when he initiated it, but never did he hit you.

“You all- I can’t even leave the HOUSE! I can’t do anything without a fucking escort! You watch me through the fuckin cameras, you creeper, don’t think I haven’t heard Jason fucking teasing you for it! You all might not be at my hip all the time, but I’m not stupid enough to let myself even THINK for a second that you aren’t aware of everything in my life!”

You scream.

“You’re so fucking convinced that I am incompetent and stupid, you’re so fucking convinced I can’t take care of myself, that you ruined my life for it! That- I can’t even leave the house, I can’t do anything by myself, don’t think I didn’t notice how literally anytime I walk past the kitchen, someone’s always watching me, this isn’t fucking fair or right, and fuck you for doing it!”

You snarl, and Tim just… stands there. Takes it. He doesn’t argue, which you expect, but he doesn’t apologize, either. You hate that you used to trust him. You hate that you used to look up to him, admiring his wits and intelligence when he had been using those very same attributes to rip apart your life so he and his family of snakes could pick up the pieces and put them back together again.

“I trusted you and all you did was throw my trust in my fucking face!” You snarl. “I told you, how I struggled to remember things! How I felt like I was going insane because my stuff kept vanishing! You offered- you offered to help me search my apartment! Was that just- just another opportunity to stalk me?! To manipulate me?”

Your voice cracks. You weren’t even screaming anymore, no matter how much the anger burns.

“You were right to trust us.” Tim finally says. “I know you don’t like it, I really do, and that it’s not fair, but we’re doing this to help you. You-“

He sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“You haven’t eaten. Haven’t brushed your hair, or your teeth. You’re lethargic. You fight us every step of the way on taking your meds. What if we weren’t around taking care of you? What if-“

He wrings his hands slightly, and you feel a trickle of doubt seep in. He seems to genuinely believe what he was saying. That you needed him, needed them, to keep yourself alive. To keep yourself sane. You don’t know if it’s delusion or paranoia or some other, crippling thing, but it makes your stomach twist with guilt and what might be sorrow.

“Tim.” You cut in, grabbing his hands in your own. His eyes widen, and you worry your grip is too tight from your anger and your desperation to be heard, so you loosen it, slightly. He tightens his grip.

“Tim, I took care of myself for years. And I-“ You swallow, there’s this faint pressure in your eyes that might be the beginnings of tears, but it was something. “- I get I didn’t always do the best job, okay? I get that. But you need to just- you need to trust me. Please.”

You plead, and his face softens, cracks. The anger drains and you feel guilt. What you’re doing, it feels like manipulation even though you know it’s not, and you wonder how the Wayne’s have gotten you so twisted up into knots that even asking for your autonomy as an adult and a person felt like some forbidden thing. You hadn’t even been with them that long. Certainly not long enough for Stockholm Syndrome to occur, and the conditions for Stockholm weren’t even really being met, you were pretty sure.

“I do trust you.” He insists. “We all trust you. But- you need help. Help that you won’t get for yourself and won’t let others get for you. Can’t you just trust us back?” He asks like it’s simple. Like you would want to trust the people who hurt you so totally, so completely, you thought you would never recover. The Wayne’s had been the few people in your life you had sought out, the few people who had been a part of your life, who hadn’t minded your quirks and oddities. They had fit into your life so seamlessly you had nearly forgotten a time they weren’t there, and it had scared you, so you’d pushed them away.

You should have pushed them away sooner.

Your hands go lax, and you slide them from Tim’s grip. There’s a moment where he seems reluctant to let go, before he releases his grip, and you place your hands in your lap.

You were already tired of arguing. The righteous anger had burnt itself out in the face of how sincere he was being.

“Why don’t we get you ready for the day and you’ll feel better?” Tim offers suddenly, like you hadn’t just nearly broken down in front him about being treated as incapable, being treated like a child.

You hold out your hand. He places the pills in them, and you glance down. You consider throwing them across the room again, but last time you had, you had simply gotten the same medication forced down your throat. You take the pills with a grimace, and Tim passes you a glass of water. This, you also resist throwing.

You eat mechanically, the food tasting like ash in your mouth even though you know it probably tasted delicious. Alfred’s cooking always did. When you’re done, you set the plate to the side, and Tim takes it.

“Why don’t you get dressed, yeah?” He asks softly, like you have a choice, and you narrow your eyes at him, silently communicating you wanted him out of the room. He doesn’t budge.

“Hey, Tim, where’s the-“ You jump slightly when Duke pokes his head in the empty doorframe, surprised.

“Oh! Hey, you’re up! Tim said you were having trouble with your hair, yeah? Want some help?” He lifts the comb and strangling brush, a myriad of other things in his arms.

You pause, considering. Part of it was spite, part of it was the fact Duke was asking, and not telling, but you nod, and he beams. He looks absolutely delighted, and he steps into the room after a moment.

“Awesome! Grab a pillow to sit on and let’s get started, yeah?” He beams, setting down his supplies on your bedside table. He doesn’t mention your meds, or the food, or anything else. It’s refreshing.

“Sure.”

Momo hops into your lap, the little opportunist, and you stroke her fur softly as Duke gets everything situated. Tim looks horribly jealous, and the thought makes you a little smug. It didn’t even feel all that petty, given how he had just been practically demanding you listen to him, and Duke had come in, offering you help but not demanding you take it.

Duke’s hands are gentle as he does your hair, carefully working out the tangles, and you hum, leaning back into it. You were still.. wary, you’d be an idiot not to be, but it was a little better with his fingers in your hair and you wanting them to be there.

“Duke?” You say slowly, Momo in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“Why’re you okay with.. all of this?” You start, fingers tapping on your thigh as he works out the knots.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you wonder if he’s going to play stupid.

“All of it. The kidnapping, the tampering with my medication, the…” You trail off.

Duke sighs. He sounds so much older than he is, and it makes your heart ache.

“I’m not.” He says lowly, glancing at the now closed door Tim had left through. “I understand where they’re coming from, don’t get me wrong but.. it’s not fair to you.” He finished. “Figured I may as well give you some normally.”

You nod, and sigh, leaning against him.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

[the-great-empress]

Better with them than with you (partII)

Replaced au about obey me x what the "hell" is bad?

Here Mc is woman

warning: grammatical errors, English is not my native language

Tags: @huuvu

Part I | Part II | Part III

A long time ago Mc left with the “other” Satan, or as the six lords nicknamed him “Doppelgänger Satan”, the physiques and personalities of both Satans were opposite, however, their aromas and auras were identical like two drops of water, that “red thing” came from time to time to look for something that only Solomon, Simeon and Satan could give to Mc so that he can stay in the other hell

It's been a while since Michael and Raphael went to the house of lamentations to help Mc leave with the other Satan and to scold the brothers, except for the "real Satan", for abandoning Mc and the avatar of wrath when They needed them... when they almost died...

Michael in front of Mc seemed serene, although his eyes reflected sadness as he said goodbye to her, when Mc left... he was the one who was most upset, without warning the high-ranking angel slapped Lucifer with such force that it embedded him in the wall, Michael's face was of anger, pain and sadness, as if he had said goodbye to a great secret love, Raphael could swear that Michael would slap the rest of the brothers, Diavolo and the rest arrived in time before Michael "reconditioned" to his former companions, but only Luke was able to reason with Michael.

Even so, Michael points out Diavolo's negligence for letting Lilith's actions slide and allowing the other lords to behave that way towards Satan and Mc.

—If you really care about your plan to unite the three kingdoms, you better put on that crown that you use for your whims and not be soft on Lilith and the six Lords because BECAUSE OF THEIR FAULTS, the person who helped you the most in uniting left. to the three kingdoms and probably won't come back again

Diavolo did not punish them... or at least he did not give an exemplary punishment, he simply put them under house arrest, except for Satan, once again Diavolo was soft because of his affection for Lucifer. Michael and even Raphael and Solomon preferred that there be physical punishment, because the person who managed to connect the three kingdoms left due to the prince's negligence and favoritism, but again Luke defused the situation...

—Lord Satan~!! Ayeeee!

An adorable red mass appeared in front of the Lord of Wrath, the mass in question had a set of horns, bat wings and a tail, it was the adorable little demon that responded to the name of Ppyong, the little demon smiled radiantly at The demon held three black bags, one of them made a sound similar to full glass bottles hitting each other lightly, in fact, it had the silhouette of two bottles.

—Oh! Ppyong! I was wondering when you were coming. Are you coming for "that"?

—Yes, aye! Simeon and Solomon already contributed their parts, only Lord is missing, aye!

The smiling little demon handed him two of the bags, keeping only the one that had two bottles. The fourth brother gladly and smiling accepted them. As soon as he perceived the aroma of Mc coming from one of them, his face turned bright red and he ran to your room where you could have privacy

—Ppyong! How are you?! How is Mc?!

Another voice was present, it was Prince Diavolo accompanied by his loyal butler, both gave the image that "everything is fine" but not only were they there, there were also the rest of the lords, after all they were in the house of the laments, they had a haggard and neglected appearance, they even had circles under their eyes... they were... depressed and resentful as they stared at where Satan went...

What was “that” that only the former angel, magician and demon had to help Mc?

Why not them?

Will Mc be okay?

Why haven't you invoked them?

I miss you Mc…

Those were the thoughts of the six brothers

As for the cheerful Ppyong, he politely greeted the prince, butler and lords, the little demon was extremely oblivious to the thoughts and true situation of the brothers, he was only aware of the few things that Mc told him, positive things that were true later. After all, Ppyong earned a space in the heart of the human who did not have the courage to break the illusion that the demons of his reality were different from hers...

—I'm fine, aye! Mc… —his face expressed concern although he was also moved so much that he shed tears when he named her—, she continues to worry a lot about everyone, aye! Heals the wounded, she rebuilds destroyed houses and fights angels with her rare, out-of-this-world magic, Aye! She is a great demon, aye! Not to mention that she has the support and help of her ancestor Solomon, Miss Mc likes to talk and hear from him, aye~! —Ppyong exclaimed happily

Every time Mc heard about Lilith she seemed oblivious to the conversation.

She has never spoken about Lilith... the onlys exceptions was... before it was revealed that Lilith was her ancestor and... when Belphegor was going to kill her again

The demons of the Devildom were more than aware that the “others” of that “Hell” would not tell lies because of what said truth.

—Who would say that because our Solomon's descendants escape this reality centuries ago, we have been given the pleasure of knowing her, aye? She made some of Archangel Gabriel's feathers come off and she gave them to me. Do you want to see them, aye?

—A-ha... no thanks, I still haven't gotten used to the fact that in the other reality the angels are cruel —Diavolo spoke with his head down because the other reality was at war.

—Oh! I think we both have the same feeling Prince Diavolo, my body still doesn't get used to the little angel around even though he has proven to be a good demon and Miss Mc claims that he is good, Aye! …

—Sit with us Ppyong while you wait... whatever Satan is doing —Asmodeus spoke sweetly while making sure the little demon saw his eyes so that his charm could take effect— Come on~ sit next to me~ that bag looks heavy~ let me hold it for you while you get settled~

Since he first saw Ppyong, Asmodeus always used his charm on the little demon, at first the naive Ppyong obeyed Asmodeus, approaching him like moths to the light, however, shortly after placing his beautiful hands in those bags to know what “it” was once and for all, the stubborn Ppyong grabbed the bag and prevented him from doing so. “No, thank you, aye.” Ppyong rejected his proposals. “It must be something vital. Solomon gave the hint that it was “milky.” Could it be a potion?” Those present in the room thought, even Diavolo and Barbatos wanted to know, but Ppyong only limited himself to telling them that he promised Mc not to tell them, not even bribing him with all the things Ferrere could offer him would say that it was “that.”

—Mc is currently in Lost Paradise due to a sexual injury, aye! Although the same can be said for His Majesty Satan and His Majesty Mammon, aye —Ppyong reported smiling.

—I hope they get better —Diavolo said until his brain clicked like the rest— Wait... What?

The six brothers stood with stunned eyes and open mouths, they felt a horrible sensation in their stomachs, perhaps among the six the worst who felt at that moment was Mammon for listening to his counterpart, Mc and the word with “s” in the same sentence

Did she replace them?...

They had to go, she wouldn't replace them. Right?

Mc managed to have a threesome with whb Mammon and whb Satan

When they find out what "that" is and how she has a connection with the three kingdoms, she take from each one 🤣

Even though Simeon is still a ex angel here, he was the candidate that Ppyong wouldn't try to kill him on first sight.

[gay-dorito-dust]

would you do basically reader's universe collapsed and she's in shock and horrified back at the spider society hq and miguel's basically grudgingly comforting this teenage spider version who says she failed?

I know I say this about pretty much everything I write but this might be a lil -or a lot- like ass. My brain took a holiday and left this behind 😂

‘Miguel, you’ve got to go to them.’ Lyla said, looking at you.

‘No.’

She huffed and looked at him. ‘Why not?! If anyone here can relate to how they’re feeling right now it’s you.’

‘That’s different.’ Miguel replied, keeping his back to her. The reason why he was being so hesitant to comfort you was because of that familiar look of primal fear in your eyes; You were painfully reminded him of the things and the people that he’s lost, their bodies were warped and distorted until they vanished into nothingness before his very eyes as he was then left unable to prevent it from consuming everything-including his daughter, Gabriella- in their entirety until nothing remained but the memories.

‘How is it?’ Lyla asked, only understanding Miguel’s attitude towards your situation as heartless and unnecessary cruel, you had just been displaced from your home that starting as of now, quite literally does not exist, in what could be considered the worse way imaginable and were in dire need of a shoulder to lean; Lyla thought that due to shared experience, Miguel would be that comforting figure but to hear him downright refuse to check in on you made her put him under intense questioning.

‘Because it is.’ Miguel responded vaguely. Lyla huffs again but said under her breath, ‘what kind of leader are you if you’re not going to be there when it counts.’ Before disappearing, leaving Miguel to press his head into his hands, breathing in deeply and holding it for a couple of seconds before exhaling; On most occasions he hated to admit it but in this instances, Lyla was undeniably right in the fact that you were in need of support but for that support to come from him was where he hesitates. For Miguel was still very much hung up on what happened to Gabriella that he was trying to process what happened under a logistical viewpoint that he had yet to emotionally recover from his losses.

So when he looked back at you to see you staring off at a wall opposite, blankly, mentally having checked out the moment you were brought back to hq by the scruff of your neck. Your friends, Hobie, Miles, Pavitr and Gwen came to check on you regularly but even they couldn’t put your broken pieces together; so one of all of them would just keep you company by making sure you were that you weren’t neglecting your basic needs. While nice as that all was, it doesn’t get rid of the fact that you had no home anymore to return to, no family, no friends; and worst off you had nothing to remember them by but the memories that would forever haunt you to the point where even sleep felt like a method of torture.

‘Mr o’hara.’ Your voice reached out to him. ‘Did…did I fail?’ Miguel, forever a father at heart, felt pained by your words, he knew that he was partially to blame for putting it in everyone’s head that to have your home reality collapse was a fault upon the Spider charged with guarding it, but he thought by doing so everyone would work better at keeping their wits about them and keep their realities stable; unlike him who was more taken by the fact that he had a family elsewhere and wanted to indulge in a life that wasn’t his to experience.

‘No.’ Miguel finally said as he joined at your side. ‘You didn’t fail, you fought valiantly in protecting your reality.’ This didn’t seem to reassure you of anything as you responded with, ‘if I fought so valiantly as you say, then why does it feel like I single handedly destroyed everything I swore to defend as Spider-Man?’ Miguel thought the very same on a daily basis that he didn’t wake up or go to sleep without reminding himself as a way to keep him within that moment; and in doing so he had driven himself to the point where he didn’t recognise the person staring back at him in the mirror. He grew angry, he grew hateful, he grew spiteful and had grown to be condition himself into finding comfort in his isolation and solitude to the point he couldn’t remember who he was outside all of it.

He didn’t want you going down a similar route as he did, for it wasn’t a life he thought best suited you.

‘I was exactly where you are right now, to be honest I still am,’ Miguel admits, ‘I blamed and blamed myself to the point I lost sight of who I once was but you.’ He placed a hand on your shoulder awkwardly, it was obvious that he wasn’t use to having to comfort someone and you couldn’t help but appreciate his attempt. ‘Despite everything that has happened to you thus far, you are still you and that’s far more admirable then any feet of physical strength and you wanna know why?’ Miguel asked rhetorically as he moved to kneel in front of you so that you would be forced to look into his eyes. ‘It takes an extraordinary person to to come out of hell the same person they entered as.’ He tells you, smiling to himself when he saw a small flicker of light return to your eyes, even if it was minuscule and brief, it was a start.

‘You’re not alone, even if you may feel it more so then ever, you’re not and you never will be alone, especially with friends like yours.’ Miguel continues as his eyes lifted over your shoulder, causing you to look also as Gwen, Miles, Pavitr and Hobie could be seen poking their heads into the room; Upon realising that they’ve been caught, the quartet attempted to act as casual as they could with Hobie leaning cooly against the doorframe, tuning his guitar, whilst Pavitr began to talking to Miles and Gwen about something. You couldn’t help but smile a little wider upon seeing your friends, you were so lost amidst what you lost that you didn’t see what was right in front of you, and Miguel could tell that they mean more to you then anything and you wanted nothing more then to show them that you were on the mend of being okay again.

‘I just want to make them proud.’ You said but Miguel knew you weren’t talking about your friends in that moment as a melancholic look crossed over your face when you looked back at him. ‘I can’t speak on their behalf but I’d like to think you already have, they know you tried and they couldn’t be prouder of you. There’s no reason to hold unjustified resentment towards yourself over something that you couldn’t have possibly known was coming.’ He says softly. ‘The hardest part of healing is knowing when it isn’t your fault because we’ve conditioned ourselves to bear the brunt of the blame, to the point where it’s hard for us to understand that when something catastrophic happens, we have no real control nor dictation over it or how it happens. We can be doing our best and it’ll still come whether or not we spend our whole lives preparing for it.’

You reached over to hug Miguel, burying your face into his shoulder, clinging onto him for dear life as he goes stiff as a board at the contact. ‘Thank you.’ You said, voice muffled but it was still coherent enough for him to hear it. Miguel’s body relaxed once realising he wasn’t in any trouble and he brought his arms to cage you against him. ‘No problem kid, just don’t go thinking you have to be be responsible for everything in life because that’s not a healthy way to live and realise that you’re not alone in this for you will always have us to fall back on.’

[naomis-daydream]

on the throne // shuri udaku

summary: just read tbh….ok fine i’ll explain😒. being queen comes with a load of royal responsibilities; from border patrol, to technological advancements, and everything in between. though wakanda’s ruler realizes there’s a special someone she’s been neglecting. shuri’s come up short, and her wife’s coming to collect what’s hers.

warnings: pregnant!wife!reader. descriptions of pregnancy (obvs), teeny weeny bit of oral (shuri receiving). barely proofread.

a/n: this is the product of baby fever and ovulation😜 also this is a draft from forever ago, it kinda sucks so im dropping it under the cloak of night🥷🏽.

there were many things shuri loved about your body.

your hands, for instance. they always offered her a soothing rub or relaxing touch whenever she became stressed or overwhelmed with the weight of the crown. or something soft to hold as you spent evenings watching the wakandan sunset from the palace garden.

then there were your arms. shuri found that she only slept peacefully when yours were wrapped tightly around her middle. and if the royal ever woke to realize you rolled away, she’d assure she wiggled her way back into your grasp.

and bast your thighs. if the queen could spend the rest of her days between them, the soft, plush cushions, there’d be absolutely no resistance from the panther.

now it was worse, and it was all your fault. it was one of the many nights the queen spent inside you. somewhere between when she slowly pushed into you and when she brought you nearing your third high of the night, you had joked about her getting you pregnant. something about her having the genius and the looks to make a great gene pool. “fill me up, my queen,” you uttered, “give it to me. i want all of you.” you we’re fucking tantalizing.

it didn’t help that she had the science to make what originated as a lustful thought a reality.

now, seven months later, everything she loved about you only grew as your body changed. your natural curves only hypnotized her more as your hips widened and breasts swelled.

shuri also couldn’t help but smile when you wobbled cutely around your shared home due to the swell of your ankles, and while you refused to be helped with an act as simple as walking, you would feign resistance to shuri’s pleads to ease your pain before caving to let her massage your aching joints.

but the absolute worst part was the hormones. the cravings that made shuri tip-toe into the kitchen for you well after midnight, the hot flashes that would cause you to walk practically bare around the palace, and your sex drive, yours nearly matched that of her’s when she took the herb. though, only two of those things seemed to be prevailing today, where the only thing separating you from her was the thinnest dresses. it wasn’t unusual for you to forgo a bra this late into your pregnancy, but it seemed you’d forgotten any undergarments at all today as you sat on the lap of the queen, grinding helplessly into her thigh.

“yiza, mntwana,” you purred. come on, baby. “let me touch you.”

your wife squirmed from her place on the throne, hands on your hips as she guided you. you trailed your lips down her jaw to land on her pulse point before sucking intently.

while you were preoccupied, the woman took the chance to glance at the clock in the room, hissing slightly when noticing the time and when you sunk your teeth into her flesh. you were going to ruin her, she knew that much. the sad part is, she was gonna let you.

“the elders,” she whined, finding words rather hard when you moaned against her. “our meeting, they’ll be here in minutes!”

you pause your movements to lean up to her ear, whispering, “fuck the meeting.”

shuri threw her head back, sinking further into the the chair and further into the trap you set in motion the minute you walked into the room.

you always started by entering with a sweet smile, followed by asking her how her day was or what project she was working on. then you’d begin rubbing her shoulders, kissing her neck while muttering sweet nothings and telling her she worked too hard. “let me take care of you,” you’d say, “you deserve to feel good, don’t you wanna feel good?” and soon shuri would end up on her back, eyes wide shut as her legs were thrown over your shoulders and your fingers snug between her walls.

this time was different though. it had to be. the council meeting was nearing by the minute, and you showed no signs of waving the white flag.

“entle,” she began, licking her lips as she spoke. “i-i really think we should wait.” you continued to kiss her, attaching your lips to whatever skin you could reach as shuri continues. “once it’s over we can do whatever you want, my love.” her hands run over the curve of your ass, squeezing gently.

you pulled away from her, hands still cupping her cheeks. “i wanna do whatever i want now.”

“i know. i promise i-i’ll make it up to you.” she says, tilting her head up to look at you before placing a soft kiss to your lips. it’s sweet, the taste of her, and as much as you wanted more, she pulls away. “you better,” you scolded, “you’re the one who did this to me anyway.” you nod your head down to your stomach, stretching against the fabric of your maxi dress. the hormones had been driving you insane. and it didn’t help that shuri spent so much time away with all her new duties. this left you to take care of your own needs more often than you’d like to admit. you needed her. to feel her. while it might seem like you were caving, her majesty should’ve known better than too assume her wife would back down so easily.

your words bring a smile to shuri’s lips, a laugh escaping her as you sigh while you rise off of her, giving her a full view of your bump as you do so.

“whatever you want, mama.”

you hum a lazy response as your queen visibly relaxes, no longer antsy with your aroused antics. though she wasn’t in the clear just yet, you came here for a reason, and wouldn’t leave unfulfilled.

a simple idea sprouts in your head, and soon, a mischievous smile dances across your features as you reach back to unclasp your necklace. shuri raises a brow in question, but remains silent as you both watch the dainty jewelry slide down your chest and onto the floor, right between her feet.

“oops.”

the royal shakes her head, already having a clue of where this was headed. but you’re already sinking to your knees, eyes never leaving hers.

you rub your palms along the fabric of her black dress, reaching just below her knees. you play with the hem, eyeing the fickle fabric before tracing your fingertips higher. and higher. and high-

“thandiwe.” she warned.

beloved. how wholesome a name in contrast to your actions upon her. you peered up at her, batting your lashes at her. “yes, my queen?”

“we have ten minutes before our meeting-”

“i’ve made you come in less,” you continue, hooking your fingers around her underwear.

shuri wanted to protest, she really did, and she tried to. she mutters tiny objections at first, and you almost believe them, but the way she lifted her hips to help you remove her underwear, the way she whined when you tugged her to the throne’s edge, and the way she threw her head back with the first stripe you licked up her center told you all you needed to know. let’s face it, she knew she was done for the minute you walked in the room.

you begin to place gentle kisses to her clit, giving her a little stimulation, but not quite enough for her liking. shuri shudders above you, legs shaking gently. she began to realize just how long it’d been since the two of you had sex.

“still want me to stop?” you asked, tongue twirling around her entrance, to which she moaned in response. a light chuckle escapes your lips. “i’ll take that as a no.”

[bad-as-me]

Love without Compassion, Compassion without Love

Ok so I wanted to unpack this for a while, but it would be a whole thing to explain and, I'll be honest, the constant hostility from both camps towards the other made me hesitant to make a whole thing about this. But it's been over half a year since sote's release, and the heat has died down enough where I feel comfortable enough to dissect my thoughts as a fan of both of these guys.

tldr: I believe Mohg and Miquella's actions towards one another are meant to mirror each other, because they are inversions of each other's goals.

Full disclosure, this is a culmination of all my general headcanons and interpretations of these characters and their actions. Elden Ring is deliberately vague because it wants you to make up your own mind on what really happened, what matters most to you, things like that. I am not claiming I know the mind of Martin, Miyazaki, and Fromsoft, nor do I think that it would entirely matter if I did.

However, they are still trying to communicate a story with themes at the end of the day, and I find that there is a super common thread in this story around karmic retribution and characters mirroring the actions of another. Mohg and Morgott are an obvious one, as are Miquella and Marika.

But I feel that the intense scrutiny around who the "true victim" was between Mohg and Miquella is completely ignoring the fact that they kind of do unto each other more or less exactly what the other did to them. And I really don't believe that is a coincidence!

We knew in the base game that Mohg stole a sleeping Miquella from his cocoon in the Haligtree. We know he has a penchant for kidnapping people for his service, and that he intended to use Miquella's godhood as an offering to the Formless Mother in his pursuit of Lordship.

We also know the Mohgwyn dynasty is heavily coded in gothic romantic sensibilities. That as Varre tells us, Mohg intends to bless his followers with Love, even if that entails pain and suffering on their part. Mohg is in a lot of ways, a forever open wound: forsaken by his mother for his curse, he only seemed to find respite in the embrace of the outer god known as the Mother of Truth. I think, to Mohg, this idea of love as a painful endeavor is something he operates his entire situation around. He craves love, he craves it especially in maternal figures and people who are in so many aspects, a perfect reincarnation of his own mother. And the painful truth, to him, is that love can only be seized for yourself, and damned be what everyone else thinks of you.

But love is not a kind thing to him. It is a painful, bottomless hole that he is trying to fill for himself. This isn't his fault obviously, it's the result of centuries of abuse and neglect, but that is the fatal flaw of his design that makes him an enemy in our game. He wants a dynasty founded in Love, but without Compassion.

Then we have Miquella, a child of Marika who was surrounded by people who were suffering, but not particularly experiencing that suffering firsthand. He was cursed with eternal childhood, but he was incredibly gifted, and destined to succeed his mother in ascension to godhood. This is his fate, and he knows it's coming no matter what, but either out of a deep sense of care for his sister or just an innocent desire to make everything right, he sets out to make this happen in a way that will somehow fix everything, for everyone.

It's a bold ambition, to be sure. One might say it's a utopian ideal, an impossible ask in a world mired in war and conflict. But Miquella holds this with a deep conviction that could only be manifested in one with a childlike heart, who can't understand just how impossible his own desire really is. He knows of everything his mother accomplished, and in his mind, the only thing that really needs fixing is to just do it right this time.

I'll be honest and say, I don't think Mohg's kidnapping was initially a part of Miquella's plan. I think the track record he already has in seizing people for his own purposes (the albinaurics, the white masks, etc) is enough to believe that he would do it again, and I think it tracks with his general understanding that acceptance is not something that is given to someone like him- it is taken.

Plus, given the understanding that he was bewitched, I just don't like the idea of taking a choice of his that is so central to the events of the game that it is a part of the opening cutscene, and rendering it effectively powerless on Mohg's behalf. I can believe that Mohg's need for an Empyrean body for his goals, meshed with an unhealthy, obsessive need for love from his mother, would translate into jumping the gun and stealing Miquella when everyone is away at the wheel. Love, again, does not come to him out of Compassion, only through force. Unfortunately for him, Miquella is used to failed plans, and knows well how to shift gears and improvise.

Miquella's vow to Radahn happened when they were both fairly young, likely well before Mohg had ever set eye on the vision of a Dynasty in his name. Miquella, forever trapped in the same stage of his life, not only keeps this promise long after it's ever relevant, he incorporates it into his ultimate desire to make everything okay in his new Age.

For the sake of keeping this about only two major characters, I'll keep the Radahn custody situation brief, but in short, Miquella is put in a situation where his promised Lord needs a physical body. And as it so happens, there is a fresh one right in his hands. Someone who also desired for his hand, and the glory of Lordship, but was much too late to be considered for the part.

Miquella's age is one of Compassion. It is so devoted to the idea of endless Compassion, that all other parts of him are shed and made irrelevant. In this endless ambition, powered by centuries of failed plan after failed plan, he starts to forsake so much of himself that the line between "Person" and "Concept" start to blur. He abandons things that should never be forgotten for the sake of a dream. He abandons his Love.

I believe that, in an ill-guided attempt to solve every loose end and satisfy everyone involved, Miquella chose Mohg's body as a vessel out of a "compromise" for Mohg's desires. Radahn may be his destined consort, and Mohg's death may have been made inevitable. However, the wish to be loved and worshipped as Miquella's Lord would still be made his - in body, but not in soul.

Ansbach remarks on the grotesque ritual by saying that "I'm afraid Tender Miquella fails to grasp the humiliation implied by this act." And I am inclined to take him at his word here. Miquella can't understand how this "solution" is an abomination, because the part of him that could have known better is long gone. It is a choice made in Compassion, but not Love.

I hope all of this expresses how much I don't believe anyone in this story deserved their outcome. Rather, their choices are deliberately made to call back to one another. I really do enjoy both Mohg and Miquella as characters at the end of the day, because in so many ways they are mirrors of each other's flaws. Both of them had the intention of using the other's body as a vessel for their own ascension. Neither was right for doing so, but they also had their own reasons for deciding that was what had to be done.

You can't have Love without Compassion, nor Compassion without Love, and that is why they were both doomed to make the same cruel mistakes in their grasp for power.

[m-ayo-o]

emoji event 🍒💔🖤 : virgin!reader + breakup sex + suguru 18+ messed up emotional situation, depression mention, insensitive reader, good fuck w the saddest boy around :( wc 1k for @i-literally-cant-with-this !! ty for requesting this one was soooo hard

You've been pulling away from him for months.

He can feel the distance. 

Or perhaps he's pushing you… he finds it easy to blame himself these days, with the way he's been suffering. All the negative thoughts stacking up, one by one. With each curse he collects, another part of his soul dies. He wonders how much longer he can keep this up.

Either way, your relationship is going downhill.

Since you're a few years younger than him and he's your first boyfriend, he hasn't been pushy with you physically and you've never even had sex all this time.

But now, after another dramatic argument centering around his apparent self loathing and lack of motivation, things are getting quite heated.

If only you knew what he was going through. If only you understood the burden that weighs so heavily on his shoulders.

If only he could tell you.

But he can't.

And he can't stop you hating him.

And with the way you're going, he's going to end up hating you too.

"You don't even want to fuck me, do you?"

He's pulled from his thoughts.

"What?"

You turn to face him, tears in your eyes, "You don't want me."

He can hear the pain in your voice now, everything slipping into place. He realises, through no fault of his own, without even meaning to, he's been neglecting you. He's been hurting you.

"Wait, it's not-"

He panics. But it's already too late. You can't stand it anymore. It's not that you hate him, it's not that you're blaming him for being depressed... you feel guilty thinking like this, but you need the old Suguru. You need the Suguru you met last summer, under blue skies, with that confident smile and those flirty eyes.

You need him. But he's not coming back.

"All I wanted- was for you to be my first, ever since I met you, Suguru... I loved you..."

"Wait, wait- loved?"

"I have to go, I have to leave, Sugu, I can't stay here. With you-" your sniffling and hiccupping is persistent now.

"No..." he steps up to you now, leaving his apathy behind to clasp your hands, "no"

His grip gets forceful while he leans down to face you, nose to nose.

His dark eyes flit between yours; tear stained and puffy. He presses his forehead to yours and blinks away his own tears.

"You can't go," you feel his breath on your lips, for the first time, feeling that desperation and want from the man you so sorely crave.

You shake your head.

"'s too late"

"No, no, baby, please," he grabs the back of your neck now, his expression turning pained.

"Please..." his voice mellows again, "please let me show you... how much I love you"

You blink up at him with those pretty, watery eyes. It's been ages since he told you that.

"Sugu, it, it's different-"

"Please," he insists, pushing you till your ass meets the kitchen counter and his arms surround your body.

"Let me," he presses kisses to your cheeks, like he's trying to make the tears disappear, "let me do this."

Your lip trembles, but you nod and accept a soft, longing kiss.

And another. He keeps going, more and more, until he pushes your mouth open. He takes his chance, slipping his tongue against yours in a kiss so deep and loving he might just convince you to stay. At least for one more night.

"It's really over?"

You look up at him and nod, not knowing what to say, and he claims your lips again; your whole mouth.

This kiss feels heavier, now you can feel the warm trickle of tears down your cheeks. You can't tell if they're yours or his.

But you don't care. You get lost in the moment, finally feeling him touch you how you need it.

Now you're all over each other, everything is just going so fast.

You tug at his hair, then his shirt, stripping him and exposing his muscular chest.

"Suguru…" you don't want to leave him.

You pull at his belt now, undoing his jeans and getting your hands on him.

He looks a little hesitant, but moans at the contact, his hips starting to move as you stroke and palm him.

"Baby," his hands find your waist now, "let me take your virginity."

And there it is.

That sexy, charming voice of his has got you weak at the knees.

"Y-yes, Suguru" you blink and nod, feeling stunned, "yes."

He lifts you instantly, taking you into another hot kiss while your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter to feel every smooth roll of his hips.

"Sugu- ah-"

The bulge in his shorts feels heavenly between your legs- you're so touch starved he could easily get you cumming in your pants, just as he has many times before.

But tonight you're finally getting the real deal.

One of his slender hands pushes your skirt up, panties pulled aside, making you gasp. You can't help the look of hesitation that crosses your face.

"You want me to touch you?"

"Uh huh, yeah Suguru, I, I just need to feel you, please," you're borderline sobbing, hearing his voice so smooth and assertive.

He can't believe you're getting like this for him. He didn't realise you wanted this so badly.

So he taps at your clit, building up that pool of slick that's just perfect for sliding his fingers through. Then into you, slowly, seductively working you open. With each suck to your lip and every pump of his fingers, your pussy throbs and aches for him.

He watches your eyes cloud over with lust when he pulls his fingers out of you and proceeds to smear the wet juice all over his cock.

"Ngh, so fucking wet," you hear him moan, spreading your legs for him eagerly while he pumps himself and massages his tip over your clit.

He quirks up an eyebrow, giving a final check over your expression to ensure you're not backing down, and starts sinking himself inside.

"Ah!"

"Shit- I'll go slower, sorry"

You cling onto his shoulders, watching him bury himself into you, inch by inch.

He gets you crying his name, now he's pushing on such a sensitive part inside you- one you've never touched.

You take in sharp little breaths, the feeling starting to overwhelm you.

"Does it hurt?" He asks softly, pressing kisses over your cheeks.

You nod and stroke his hair.

"Yeah, Sugu it hurts…"

Fresh tears prick in your eyes, feeling the spread of his cock, the ache in your core, in your chest, in your heart.

You never thought your first time would be like this.

It was never meant to be like this.

But god, he feels amazing.

Your body starts to relax, your mouth hanging open with a soft moan as you start to enjoy the motions of his body; your bodies, entwined as one.

"Does that feel nice, baby?"

He holds your legs open and steady, fucking you slow, getting your insides all knotted up with his sweet words.

"Yeah, f-feels so good- s-so full"

"Mm, you feel that really nice deep spot I'm hitting?"

He watches your eyes roll back. Of course you can.

"Yeah, Sugu-"

"If I keep touching you there you'll cum- you want that?"

He sounds so fucking sexy all you can do is nod and take him.

"Yeah, I know you do, I know, let me do it for you"

He fucks you so sensually, your hands tangled in his hair with his lips sucking at yours, your bodies undulating together; pulsing like waves.

You collide again and again, in and out, until you're introduced to a new kind of pleasure.

He fucks you through the most intense orgasm of your life- you know it may be the last he'll give you. Seeing you lose yourself, leaning back on the counter to accept every ounce of pleasure, he fills your body to the brim.

"Ngh, yeah, well done baby- how does your little virgin pussy like my cum, hm?"

"F-feels hot, Sugu"

He pumps you slower and slower, bringing you down gently.

"Did so good sweetheart."

He kisses your cheek and brings your head to his chest, his body engulfing yours in a big hug.

"Now you can at least say you'll miss the sex," he hums and kisses your head.

He lets you get cleaned up, watching you set your clothes back in place while he savours every moment of your presence. He knows he's going to have to watch you walk out that door at some point.

"Stay," he brushes your hair out of your face, "just for tonight."

"I-I-" you hesitate, looking down.

"Then I'll let you go."

Suguru, why are you doing this to yourself?

"It won't hurt as much if I get to fuck you a few more times."

suguru | m.list

[crazylittlejester]

Fic prompt because your fics are addictive (and thank you so much for giving our poor boy some love! He was so neglected!): due to everything going wrong and Warriors (and everyone else! It wasn't just his fault!) underestimating his injury, they now have to re-break his bone to set it correctly.

ALDKDKDK AAAAAH IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY FICS 🥺

sorry this took me so long to complete, the burn out got me 😔, but here you go!! (286 words):

“Oh you’re fucking kidding me,” Warriors groaned, falling back in the grass after he caught his first good look at his arm now that the fight was over.

“Fuck,” Time grimaced, looking down at the captain’s elbow, which had healed up very crooked. “That’s…”

“You’re gonna have to break it,” Warriors sighed, throwing his uninjured arm over his eyes.

“What??” His brother choked, staring at him with wide eyes. “I..? I can’t just break your fucking arm!!”

“Well I literally can’t do it myself,” he huffed, letting his good arm slip down off his face, landing above his head.

He KNEW he should’ve set his arm properly before taking that red potion but he’d been in a rush and he needed his arm to work well enough to finish the battle. But with it healed incorrectly it didn’t bend how it was supposed to and it ached, he needed to fix it as soon as he could, and that required having his brother break his arm again so he could have it heal correctly.

“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you??” Time stumbled over his words, shaking his head. “I can’t do this.”

“I’ll be fine,” Warriors grumbled. “Just help a guy out with you? Break my Hylia damned arm.”

His brother looked so torn between listening and helping him and not wanting to hurt him, and it took a few more minutes of back and forth arguing before one of Time’s hands was wrapped around Warrior’s forearm, the other around his upper arm just above his fucked up elbow. There was a sickening snap and an explosion of pain as Time snapped his arm in a way it was certainly not meant to bend.

[darkphoenix07]

Hi :3 Could you don’t Seonghwa comforting your ptsd?

like you grew up in a toxic household of yelling and fighting and you were neglected so now your really sensitive to loud things and people who get angry, and don’t trust people easily ,

thank you, this seriously means so much to me

Seonghwa Comforting your PTSD

Link to my mental health related requests

Masterlist

Paring : Seonghwa x Reader

Genre : PTSD, Mental health, Comfort

Music : Fine by Taeyeon, Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine

Warning : Negative self talk

6:40 p.m.

You are working on your college assignment in study room. Your desk full of papers and files, a coffee mug and your favorite cookies. You check the clock and realize Seonghwa is late for your date. He said that he would come and pick you up at 6 but it's 40 minutes past that. He has never done something like that but he didn't even call you saying he will be late.

A vicious anxiety is creeping inside your head. Did he forget about you? Doesn't he care about you anymore? In your house, you never had the love you wanted. They always expected too much from you and you always felt nothing important to them. It broke you in ways nothing did. They were your family but their shouting, screaming still echoes in your head as you close your laptop and finish you coffee.

You start to pace around the corridor and time passes by.

You think about Seonghwa how he has always been there like a friend, like a supportive person. He is everything you have never had. He does everything for you that you didn't have. Even though you feel guilty for having doubts. What makes you feel guiltier is that he never accuses you for doubting his love because he knows you have severe depression and he always does his best to make you feel safe, make you feel like yourself around him.

As the good things he did for you calm you down, you notice the time that it's already 7:30 which makes you a little upset. You can call him but you wanted to see why isn't he calling you instead.

Suddenly the door bell ring and you run towards it. As you open it, you see Seonghwa standing looking a bit drunk. Your heart skips a beat seeing him like that, all sweaty and smiley.

"Baby, good evening. How have you been?" He says as he pulls you for a hug.

A sudden relief washes over you, at the same time you're confused.

"Where have you been?" You ask him as he releases you.

"We had a little after party in Yunho's house after practice. It was fun, you know. I missed you," he pouts.

You understand that he is not that drunk but he is still looking like a baby, a lost one.

"Come inside and get fresh," you tell him.

"Yes, ma'am," he says taking off his shoes.

As he starts going inside your room, you call him, "Seonghwa, aren't you hungry?"

"Nah, I've already had dinner," he says and gets inside the room without asking you if you have had anything for dinner, if you are hungry or not.

He has forgotten about the date. No, he has forgotten about you, just like that. You have started to annoy him, you think.

He has gotten tired of your traumatic behaviors, your wanting too much. He has started to neglect your dates with him. Then what? When will he ask for you to break up?

You feel angry and disgusted at the same time. No matter how much he tried to help you, you were not getting any better and he is avoiding spending time with you now. He is having fun with friends, not you.

"Baby, are you alright? You look a little red right now," Seonghwa says washing his hair, he looks refreshed now.

You look down, "Do you not love me anymore?"

"What?"

"Am I being too much of a burden nowadays? Should I leave your apartment?" The insecurities in your head sounded to painful as you utter them out loud.

"Baby, is it my fault? Have I done something wrong?" He asks coming closer to you.

You look at him with red puffy eyes, your tears fighting to come out, "Did you do something wrong? Can you ever? Wasn't it always me? Wanting too much from you?"

"Come to the point. What have I done to cause you-"

"How do you take me? I can't even take myself. How do you do that? Aren't you tired? So much tired that you wanna let go right now?" You say and he grabs your shoulders.

He looks mad, "You are talking nonsense again. What will make you feel whole again, baby? What? What else will I have to do to make you understand that nothing is wrong with you?"

You move his hands, "Nothing, Seonghwa. I guess, I'm broken in a way no one and nothing can fix me. I'm a trash can and an empty shell. I can give you nothing but trauma and sadness."

"Are you out of your mind? What's wrong with you? Why're you suddenly saying all these?" He asks running his hand through his hair.

"I can see it, Seonghwa. I can sense it that nothing I do will be good for you," You tell him.

He suddenly looks like he is about to break something as he says, "I had a very good day and thought that I would talk to you about taking you to a therapist after coming home as I met one. But here you are acting like like a crazy woman."

"I am one, I am just going to destroy you,"  you say as old days echoes in your ears.

You don't deserve the love, the support, the comfort we give you.

Such an attention seeker

You reek of failure

You are nothing but a destruction in our house

All the things make you feel hurt. Seonghwa is finally done with your drama. You can see it in his eyes. He is frustrated right now.

"Stop making yourself feel like this, you are being too much," he says a little too loudly and you step backwards.

"I'm sorry," you say as tears roll down from your eyes. You deserve this attitude, you don't deserve his kindness, his soft kisses, his warmth.

Seonghwa steps closer to you and tries to hold your hand, "Baby, snap out of it."

"I am so sorry," you say moving far from him but he doesn't give up.

He tries to hold you fast as he shouts, "Baby, please!"

But you flinch hiding behind your hands, "I'm sorry. I won't do that again," you say as you fall on the floor, your hands trembling with your lips, your feet going numb.

"Oh my God, sweetheart. I wasn't going to hit you," you hear his voice softening as he sits in front of you.

"Look at me," he says trying to look at you but you look down.

"I said, I'm sorry. I wo-"

"Baby," he pulls you in his arms by your right hand and hugs you tightly.

You can feel him trembling with you, his hot face in the crook of your neck as he shed tears with you, "I am sorry for shouting like that. I was only trying to calm you down."

He starts patting your back as you keep trembling in his arms. But his warmth washes you with so much love and his continuous apologies calm you down after some minutes.

As he cups your face and pecks you on the lips, he takes you in his arms in bridal style and lays you on the bed. He lays beside you still in his bathrobe and pulls you in his arms, "Even if you don't love me or can't love me enough. I'll love you for the both of us to fill it up. So, don't even think about it."

You look at him with guilt and astonishment. What you've done to deserve a human like him in your life?

"I am so grateful that you are my girlfriend. I don't care how many times you have breakdowns or you snap out. I will always be there to make you feel safe in my arms. You are mine and mine to protect. Do you understand?" He plays with your hair and you nod.

"You forgot about our date and I am sorry, I sho-"

"What? Oh yes... How did I? I even had a reservation. Hell no. Baby... I'm so sorry. Shit," his face looks hilarious as he panics but you keep your hand on his chest.

"It's alright. We can go tomorrow," you tell him but he sits up straight causing you to fall on the other side.

"No way, we are going today and I'm feeding you the entire menu as an apology. Even desert after that," he winks as he starts getting up but you grab his hand, "No, please. It's fine."

"We are going right now."

"I don't have energy to get ready."

"Just stay there," he says leaving your hand and takes out a dress of yours from the cupboard.

You keep staring at him in awe as he kneels on the bed, helps you sit up and start to unbutton the shirt you are wearing but you hit his hand, "Excuse me, sir. What are you doing?"

"Helping you get dressed so you don't feel tired."

"I don't feel like walking."

"I'll carry you and make you sit on the chair."

"GOD, YOU ARE CRAZY," you fall on his shoulder and he smiles against your neck.

"Surely, you make me crazy, sweetheart.

I believe there will be a day when you won't even need comfort from people because you'll be able to comfort yourself. Keep going, you have got this and remember, you are not alone.

Taglist: @yeologicc @notyuji @theaufanartist @hwanchaesong @littleninja97 @fudgeflyssworld @loosmyshit @pinki-minki @sanshinee-world @harusoraa @kitty4hwa

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Could you do a fic about movie ballister finding out ambrosius burns scars from the director and leads to an angsty realization and conversation about how many times he could have lost ambrosius

Ooooh, Pain (Movieverse based on context)

--

Ballister carefully finished wrapping clean bandages around Ambrosius's shoulder. Things were still rocky, they'd just gotten discharged from the hospital. Ballister was still mad at Ambrosius, extremely mad, but he couldn't help but worry. His (former?) partner was so concerned with his injuries that he neglected to take care of himself. Ballister was in worse shape, but a fourth degree burn that disintegrated flesh to the muscle cannot just be ignored.

"Thanks, Bal." Ambrosius smiled softly at him. "I don't know what I did to deserve your kindness after everything."

Ballister sighed. "You've been taking care of me, I take care of you. We're both hurt. I'm glad Nimona broke the canon, but I hate that you were up there when it happened. You were so badly hurt in the blast."

Ambrosius brushed him off. "It was nothing. The blast didn't actually do much, it's my own fault I'm injured. I tried to reason with the Director."

"It's not your fault you were up there, Rose." Ballister crossed his arms. "You were trying to stop her from destroying the Kingdom!"

Ambrosius turned around to look at him quizzically. "Yeah, but--? If I hadn't tried to reason with her, if I'd had my men rush her, she wouldn't have blasted us. I wouldn't have these burns, nor would any of them. Some of the other knights got really badly hurt, I was their leader, it's my fault." He looked down. Ballister furrowed his brow.

"What are you talking about? It's not your fault she fired the cannon."

"No, I mean when she blasted us. With a Jadegun. Same type of weapon she replaced your sword with. She shot us because I tried to reason with her, that's where I got the burns. Did you think it was just collateral from the blast?" Ambrosius's eyes were warm with concern and confusion.

Ballister had been dealing with so much pain. Now even more. He couldn't bear it.

Before he realized he was in tears, he was already in Ambrosius's arms, melted against his good shoulder, sobbing.

"Bal, what is it?" Ambrosius's soft hand stroked his hair.

"You could have died! You could have died and it would have been my fault!" He buried his face into Ambrosius's neck.

"How on earth do you figure that!?" Ambrosius squeezed him. "The Director attacking me is not your fault!"

"I knew she was willing to kill you!" Ballister pulled away and stared into his eyes. "The-the video, the viral confession video-- I never showed you the whole thing." He wiped his face. Gloreth, how could Ambrosius forgive him for this?

"In the video, Nimona pretended to be you. She confronted the Director about my accusation as you. The Director--" he sobbed. "Stabbed her, thinking it was you. We didn't release the full video because we didn't want people knowing Nimona was a shapeshifter. I was going to tell you at the pub but I was so mad and I didn't think of it--" he swallowed. "If you knew she was willing to hurt you you would have been more careful. I didn't tell you and you could have died because of it. I'm so sorry."

Ambrosius looked shocked, but he continued to embrace Ballister. "You have nothing to apologize to me for, I just, I had no idea." He buried his nose into Ballister's scalp. "I'm so sorry for everything. For not believing you. I know everything is hard now, but I'll fix us. Just let me fix us."