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bklynmusicnerd · 11 months ago

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GH Petty Polls Roundup! (Cause I felt kinda bad that I dropped the ball last time, and didn't compile the results of the last round 🙈)

Since we're currently in the midst of the union writers' comeback, there's a lot of developments happening at once. The mood based on a glance at the results is fairly pessimistic but some hope here and there. Which is not that surprising considering post-stockpile, audience trust is at an all-time low, but let's just get into these results.

Going in order of what you guys were most interested in putting your two cents in about:

The groundwork is rapidly (thank god) being laid for the final Trina vs. Esme showdown and regardless of how we feel, battle lines are being drawn and some of our faves are not on the same side. This week made clear that Laura is firmly Team Esme and Ava is firmly Team Trina. I wanted to know where you guys stood and you made yourselves very clear lol.

When asked whose side are you on in the event of Trina/Ava vs. Laura/Esme it really wasn't close at all:

At 97.7 %, Trina and Ava are the people's choice because of course they are! They're ride or die, exude regular bad bitch energy and are found family in its essence.

They have never seriously wavered on each other while Laura and Esme were literally built on the whitewashing of the harm Esme did to Laura's own flesh and blood. Trina and Ava are a comfort power mentor/mentee duo, Laura and Esme are botched redemption prop duty gone seriously wrong. No real competition here.

As for the 2.3% that chose Esme and Laura...

Now onto the results you guys were slightly more divided on...

A certain someone's return was announced on a certain poorly reviewed primetime special and the discourse was immediate. All of a sudden, we had taken a time machine back to 2007. But, since his actual last return was 2017 and a huge dud, I wanted to see where you guys landed on Sonny's Permanent Bottom Bitc-I mean Jason Morgan's announced return.

And for a plurality of you, the answer was the stone cold thrill is gone:

The 2017 return did its damage and there's just nothing for Jason, or his many ships, to offer for you this time around. You're over the leather jacket, the refusal to step up and raise his kids and commitment to a thug life he's clearly aging out of.

32.4% of you are equally annoyed with the announcement of his return but can at least find joy in the man formerly known as Jax fuming in the corner with the confirmation that his conservative clout chasing gamble to sue the network was a huge waste of time.

20.6% of were still too numb over what a bizarre mess the primetime special was to even process the news (I hope you're feeling better ❤️)

And because I do believe in the voice of the minority too, 11.8% of you are excited for Jason's return. You're like me in 2017 and still have hope that he can mature beyond his cyborg ways. All I can say to that is...

And in a related poll, because we are a community united in snark, when I asked how hard you guys will laugh when Drew gets tossed aside for Jason...again. The consensus was clear, 90.6% of you will need a medic on standby, you'll be laughing that hard (I'll be right there with you).

6.3% of you are too kind for this world and will smirk, because you're human and Justice for Scout, but also feel a little bad.

3.1 % can call yourselves the classy minority as you said you'd contain your schadenfreude to a moderate chuckle.

Enough old ass mobster Jason Morgan chat, onto more important matters!

I admittedly felt weird about the first week of the Bobbie's death storyline. Particularly that it was purposefully lined up with the SEC reveal/Granny War fallout. I wanted to know if you guys felt the same and frankly, a majority of you did:

This was a dramatic choice that was a failure for the most of you. Bobbie's death being conflated with Carly's latest feud left us as an audience feeling icky. Especially paired with moments like Carly throwing Bobbie's death in Nina's face and Drew dancing around threatening violence on Nina.

A majority of you (74.2%) felt it was gross and not the proper way to start the honoring of Bobbie's legacy. What was supposed to be an exploration of grief suddenly became a badly timed Nina pile-on.

Luckily, it was followed by a much stronger second week for Bobbie's memorial that focused on her and set the SEC nonsense to the side. But it was definitely a reminder of all the worst habits of the union writers that have led many of us to lose faith in them to focus on the right things.

Which leads me right into my next, equally serious question. When I asked what the truly most compelling feud on GH is, since most of us can agree it's not Granny Wars, the results were unsurprising. The ongoing feud that keeps a majority of you (53.3%) on the edge of your seat the most is....

THE GH WRITERS VS. CONSISTENTLY STRONG STORYTELLING AND CHARACTERIZATION

And who can be surprised by those results? Nothing has been more unpredictable than tuning into see what new, creative ways the writers will come up with to fumble an easy storytelling win!

In second place, it was a tie of Spencer vs. Spencer (13.3%) and Portia vs. Trina's Adulthood (13.3%). Spencer's chaotic tendency for self-destruction and Portia's disturbing commitment to ruining her relationship with her daughter go hand in hand for you guys.

Third but not least, Trina vs. Demon Spawn (6.7%). Trina's tormentor hid behind a baby for a year which meant that Trina, despite her best efforts, was dragged into beefing with a baby for a year. This is a feud that makes no sense but continues to be pushed by the writers, made all the funnier by demon spawn clearly being a Trina fan.

Speaking of Trina fans, since she is once again being bombarded by marriage allegations, let's get into the divorce poll. So many toxic marriages in PC and they can't all last. I was curious to see who you think is more likely headed for splitsville:

The majority of you are not nearly as optimistic as Nina is. You don't think her and Sonny's marriage will survive the onslaught of the SEC nonsense and the inevitable reunion of the Unholy Trinity (Carly, Sonny, Jason 🤢).

The rest of you (34.5%) think that Portia's toxic marriage that she's somehow kept together through sheer force of will (and regularly manipulative weaponization of Trina), will collapse before Nina and Sonny do. All I can say is, for Trina's sake, I hope you're right.

Speaking of failed marriages, I wanted to know what you guys thought of Ava and Nik's post-attempted manslaughter divorcees dynamic. I have to say, these results amused me the most, cause there are a lot more Nava curious people than I thought (stop hiding behind these polls, live your truth 👀)

A plurality (48.1%) are here for the united-in-toxicity chem that Nik and Ava have going on right now. They were a disaster together, but they kind of miss the disaster, and you kind of love watching how much they miss disaster. As someone who considers Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, I share your "why do I not hate Nava???" dilemma and understand it well.

That said, 22.2% of you are staying strong and remember that Nik had a baby (allegedly) on Queen Ava and believe Ava's pride should override any residual chem. Real, and let's hope Ava agrees with you (🥲).

Oh and the 18.5% of you that are most concerned about Ava getting out of Sonny's house are the smartest ones in the room. None of this will matter if Ava has a front row seat to that Unholy Trinity reunion, we gotta get her outta there!

Onto another amusing result. After another Sprina getaway was announced (the union writers clearly saw us all mock them for losing their crown jewel pairing to temps that outwrote them), I wanted to know how you guys felt about this lil Sprina-centered union vs. temp writers competition. And a majority of you (51.9%) have your priorities in order:

Union, temp, who cares as long as you get more Trina and Spencer fluff. You're Sprina capitalists first and Sprina purists second. You don't really care if this upcoming getaway lives up the NYC hype or writing. Your take on this union vs. temp Sprina competition is this:

But for those of you who do care about this temp vs. union competition, 44.4% of you think the union writers are fighting a losing battle trying to do their own Trina and Spencer getaway. You think the NYC trip was a level of magic that can't be topped, especially because the temps snatched not one, but two key milestones from them. You think the union writers slow-burned too close to the sun and won't be able to top NYC despite their best efforts.

3.7% of you actually do have faith in the union writers to reclaim Sprina as theirs, and I have to say I admire that level of optimism post-stockpile, I really do.

Speaking of audience trust (or lack thereof) in the abilities of the returned writers, I was more than a little frustrated in the way beloved throwback character Lois was written in the SEC story and wanted to know how you guys felt about this regime's brand of sloppily warping history for their agenda:

74.1% of you said "hell no" to the idea of your fave from the past being written by this regime. If the price is that they all of a sudden have to sing Carly's praises, regardless of whatever history they had with her, then you'd rather they stay gone and hold onto your pleasant memories of them (good call). You don't trust these writers to not ruin your faves and considering what they're doing to characters like Lois or even Laura, I can't argue with that.

To be frank, the strike stockpile left the audience and the returned writers on a sour note with each other. While there have been some real positives with their return (Bobbie's memorial week was well done and well-received), there are still a lot of kinks to work out. I was curious about how you felt about their return so far:

43.5% of you felt it was the "same ol crap" from them. No clear improvement, just the usual nonsense.

30.4% of you found their return so far to be so terrible that it made you miss the temps (ngl the weak pov for Trina this week made me miss the temps too).

21.7% of you think the returned writers have come back with interesting story ideas but are executing them badly so far and 4.3% of you agree the ideas are interesting but also think they're executing them well.

So, for the most part, trust in these writers remains low. The vibes are wary and pessimistic with the return of the union writers. Maybe I'll ask this question again in a month or two to see if the union writers prove us wrong and acquire some consistent goodwill. For now, their welcome back isn't exactly warm.

Last but not least, I wanted to know how you guys are feeling about Trina's teased morally gray era in the midst of the endgame of the sociopathic mooch. Moral grayness is its own spectrum, and I wanted to see where you guys wanted Trina to fall on that spectrum, light gray or darker gray?

In a very exciting turn of events, 73.1% of you said that you want Trina vs. Esme to escalate until Trina is forced to kill that pest in self-defense. You don't want Trina to just dabble in moral quandary. You want her to get blood on her hands. You want to see the full extent of the darker side of her heroine traits like protectiveness.

26.9% of you are more protective over Trina's "pure" status and aren't quite as ready to let go of her as a good girl moral compass yet and you'd rather her send Esme to prison with Victor's evidence. A neat little full circle to the Pandora's Box motif that started in the summer. Trina was against the idea of using fake evidence because it was wrong but changes her mind when she sees the system as is won't contain Esme because she has power people backing her (Laura 😔).

Whether you're Team Light Gray Trina or Dark Gray Trina, I think pretty much everyone is ready for our girl to start retaliating because going high hasn't worked out all that well for her.

And so concludes another GH Petty Polls Roundup! You guys were as hilariously and brutally honest as ever in your participation, and I appreciate it. I know everyone isn't as loud in the tag about what they think so I like to see what you quieter ones are thinking. Glad to see you're as messy as the rest of us ❤️

#general hospital #obviously going under a cut because im not a monster #as a spiteful nik apologist the nava results made me cackle #nik can really come back from a lot of shit 😭#but mostly i blame MW for being the ultimate chem queen

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weer02 · 1 year ago

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25. Ramble about anything, everything you are dying to tell the world of your WIP.

Sorry you had to wait so long for me to answer your ask, but I held off answering it until I'd have chapter 20 posted. It's the part of my WIP I'd like to ramble about 'cause I feel like quite a lot has happened in there. It will make more sense after reading the chapter, sooo I'd recommend reading the chapter first (it's posted now) then this post!

Max&Nathan doing jigsaw puzzle on the visits

I'm gonna start with a fun one, not really important to the plot . I wondered about the things they can do at the visits, have something that would help them bond as friends. I went for jigsaw puzzle, inspired by my own inexplicable need to assemble a jigsaw puzzle (which I did btw, bought myself a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle and assembled it alone within like a week haha). While I was doing the puzzle, I thought about the size, what kind of assembling strategies they'd have. Yeah, that starts to sound like "method writing" 😂

Nathan getting worried about Max's emotional state

Ok, I'm gonna ramble a lot about it, 'cause that's one of my fav things in this chapter,! I love to write nice and sweet scenes with them after so many angsty scenes! One thing that I love about my very slow build is how they slowly warm up to each other, start to trust themselves more to share certain stuff, how they begin to notice odd behavior in each other.

Max being quiet on the visits is something alarming, because she was always rambling about random stuff, so he asks her to tell him about how is she. He's the first one to know about what's bothering her lately, what makes it more easy for her is that he is/was dealing with more severe emotional issues than her, so she assumes he'll understand + won't judge her. And what she assumes turns out to be true.

Surprise, now it's Nathan who's helping Max! How the tables had turned! Yeah... at some point of writing this fic, I think I was writing chapter 6? I figured out that Max will develop some kind of mental issues because of the trauma she went through. One of the tropes? in the caulscott I'm writing is that they both somehow bond over their issues, and the help part (that in many caulscott fics is often one sided) is reciprocated here. It's gonna be explored more in further chapters!

The other patient's breakdown

Something that I came up with to show more of the hospital environment; that it's a relatively calm space for Max and Nathan to form their friendship, but there are also moments when something unnerving can happen, because it's still a psychiatric hospital. It's also for the plot's sake, the breakdown adds some action to a scene, but also serves as a some kind of a parallel to Nathan's situation, in his group therapy he has people who committed crimes like him; and his line "Yes, I did fucked up shit and that's why I'm locked up here with other people who also did fucked up shit. I don't know why are you so shocked." is a great summary to what I was trying to achieve by introducing that OC (? idk if an episodic character counts as oc)

The Nightmare

I decided to do more "Nigtmare Sequences" because of the feedback I've got for it (and because of one of your reviews Kris @kpchrs :DD)

-For the hallway part I have to say that I drew some inspiration for the setting from my interest in dreamcore/liminal spaces -For the second part with flashes were inspired by the nightmare sequence from the original game, the visit scene floating in the void by the Max&Chloe "memory lane" -The part that happens after the "blood red flash", the "worst outcome of that day/alternate universe glimpse" is actually an angsty thought I had once, that "what if things in chapter 1 went not in favor of our protagonist(s)", "What if Jefferson's plan worked?". That's just plain angst(tm) for all the readers from me :")

I really enjoy considering "what if" scenarios, and because LiS' universe heavily connected time travel/parallel worlds, I took the opportunity.

But is it just a nightmare and her brain fearing the worst or a glimpse of an alternate universe? "Our" Max thinks she got to see a glimpse of another universe, mostly because of her alter-ego's implication, but what's the truth is up to the reader's interpretation. I had so much fun writing in the dreamlike, nightmarish setting, and I'm not done with it yet!

The therapy session

An attempt of a rational explanation of Max's powers, one of things that can be found in one of my first outlines. It was supposed to go like she went through multiple therapists, and from the last one she'll hear she made up the powers to cope with a traumatic experience. I think it's a plausible explanation of her powers, especially for like a realistic approach. It's not the typical "character wakes up and realizes everything (supernatural) that happened was a dream" (though "Staying Vertical" by midnight_neverland on AO3 does it SO well), but something in between. I'll see where that will go in my fic 'cause I have a few ideas how to wrap up the Max's powers part, even though it's not a main focus of this fic. But some kind of explanation about why Max had got her powers is something I wish was more explored in the game.

Speaking of the therapist scene, there's a funny thing in context of my new obsession, THG. I named Max's therapist Dr. Collins, because that was what the name generator came up with, before I even started watching THG and got into it. The authors' name is Collins too. I'm gonna leave it like that 'cause I love a funny coincidence 😂

Oh, so many things happened in this chapter but at the same time I feel like nothing happened at all 😩 I sometimes feel like going in circles with this fic, even though I'm satisfied with my outline and I'm following that outline! Ugh, writing struggles once again! As of right now I have around 10 more chaps planned so the fic would have a nice number of 30 chapters. No one knows what will be left of these plans, 'cause in the original it was supposed to be 20 chapters 🥲

For anyone that stayed up until now, thanks for reading!💖💖

#ask game #fic: ambivalence

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world-cinema-research · 2 years ago

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Week 3 Blog Post Bonnie and Clyde - Chloe Ziegler

The film Bonnie and Clyde came out in 1967 and was directed by Arthur Penn. It was an influential film for its time engaging with themes of crime and action. While typically viewed as a Western Style film, it also brings about a love story between two people, Bonnie and Clyde. Played by Warren Beaty and Faye Dunaway, the two are seen robbing banks and stores nearby as they become more and more comfortable doing it. The film was written by David Newman and Robert Benton after an American couple named Bonnie and Clyde. When the film came out it made almost $50 million in total earnings, while the cost of the film was only about $2.5 million. It was a huge success in the movie industry and for the actors too who played their infamous roles.

https://www.the-numbers.com/movie/Bonnie-and-Clyde-(1967)#tab=summary

Many critics have reviewed this film in the many years that it has been out, but one review I really like is by Roger Ebert. He commends the film for all the different aspects, crime, love, sympathy, action, and overall brilliance. He states that “this is pretty clearly the best American film of the year. It is also a landmark.” Many other critics feel quite the same about it as well. I believe it deserves all the recognition it has obtained over the many years because for its time, the film serves its main purpose of entertainment. It is action packed and has you wondering what might happen next the whole time.

https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/bonnie-and-clyde-1967

In 1967 many things happened that were significant to the whole world. One of the important events that happened that year was the launch of the first international satellite television production. The world's first heart transplant was also conducted. This was a huge success in the medical world though as they increased the odds of patients surviving. This year was very important to the innovation and advancement of technology. In an interview conducted with Warren Beatty he explains the personality of Clyde from his perspective and he came to be in the film.

youtube

The film is an older film that fits the Western style type movies at the time. Featuring the use of shootouts and runaways gangs, the couple refers to their group as the Barrow gang. It is unique in the sense that the film sparked a new era in film making as a crime movie. From my perspective it was the acting and excitement of the film that drew me in from the start. At one point in the movie Clyde says “Now Ms. Parker, don’t you believe what you read in all them newspapers. That’s the law talkin’ there. They want us to look big so they gonna look big when they catch us. And they ain’t gonna catch us.” While the two are starting out their journey of being troublemakers, they find themselves easily causing trouble all while falling in love with each other making us wonder how this may end for the two.

The film is based off of a real life couple who lived during the time of the great depression in the 1930’s. The film however, seeks to portray the love story and dramatic effects of the crimes. It is not accurate in the sense of the real life events that occurred but it is inspired by them. It also won a Grammy in 1969 for Best Original Score Written for a Motion Picture. The film follows many of Trompenauer’s dimensions, such as individualism, affective in emotions, and following an external direction (love). Some of the underlying themes found in the film include the power of the law and even importance of family. I think this could relate to the world at the time this was filmed. Clyde Barrow, played by Warren Beaty played an amazing role in the movie especially committed to his part that it made the viewers attached as well. By the end of the movie he says “You know what you done there? You told my story; you told my whole story right there. One time, I told you I was gonna make you somebody. That’s what you done for me. You made me somebody they’re gonna remember.” His story is definitely one that people remember and is special in the way that he starts out as the bad guys and then becomes attached to Bonnie in their adventures.

At the time this movie was filmed (1967) it was definitely unconventional. It featured elements of violence, specifically with guns, and sex and romance. It was typically unseen in the movie industry at the time. However, it followed conventional patterns of rising to the action and then the bad guys eventually get caught. I believe that the ending would be considered unconventional too though because it doesn’t end how we all wanted it to. Sadly, the couple die in a shootout and the rest of their friends are caught by the police.

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fatal-plastic-kiss · 2 years ago

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I was tagged by @starrybluez to answer these questions. Thank you, Dina! 💙

1. What are you currently reading? : Gulf Coast Girl by Charles Williams

2. What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this past year? : I haven’t been to a movie theater since 2014.

3. What do you usually wear? : If I’m at home I’m wearing my pajamas or sweatpants. When I get dressed up, I wear dresses, skirts, and suit jackets. I usually wear black tights instead of pantyhose cause I don’t like wasting and they never last. After one use, they’re ruined. Ripping at the bottom of my foot.

4. How tall are you? : 5 feet 7 and 1/2 inches without shoes.

5. What’s your star sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event? : I am a Libra. I’m blessed to share my birthday (September 24th) with many gifted people in history. Phil Hartman, Linda McCartney, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jim Henson, etc. Some historical events on September 24th include - In 1657, the first autopsy and coroner’s verdict is recorded. 1789, the United States Post Office Department is established. 1930, the play ‘Private Lives’ premieres in London. 1952, Colonel Sanders opens the first Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) restaurant. 1957, the song Jailhouse Rock by Elvis Presley is released. 1964, ‘The Munsters’ premieres on television. 1977, ‘The Love Boat’ premieres on television.

6. Do you go by your name or a nickname? : I go by many names and I’m never opposed to any nickname that someone thinks of for me. I love my name Elizabeth because it’s perfect for my old soul. My parents have called me ‘Miss Beth’ since I was a baby. I chose ‘Libby’ for others to call me, because it’s not as common. I’ve liked it since I first heard it used in the movie ‘What A Girl Wants’ when I was a kid. My boss calls me ‘Squirrely’ , ‘Bootsy’ and ‘Little One’.

7. Did you grow up to be what you wanted to be as a child? : Sadly no. I’ve tried before, but I’m not brave enough.

8. What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at? : I have an excellent memory and I pray to never lose it. I’m not good at being overly busy. I get overwhelmed if there’s too much going on within a few days. I like to know plans ahead of time. Last minute changes make me nervous.

9. Dog or Cats? : I squeal about every animal! They all deserve love.

10. If you draw/write, or create in any way, what's your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this past year? : I did a children’s face painting job over the summer, and these were some of the illustrations I drew for the designs.

11. What's something you would like to create content for?: I would enjoy creating collage artwork for vinyl covers and greeting cards.

12. What’s something you’re currently obsessed with? : Reading historical romance novels.

13. What’s a hidden talent of yours? : I’ve always used my singing voice, but I’ve rarely ever sang in front of other people. I’m not comfortable with people being awestruck over me. I’m completely flattered of course, but it feels awkward when it’s about my voice because it’s such an intimate part of me.

14. Are you religious? : I’m very spiritual, but not religious.

15. Are you in a relationship? : I’m smitten for a British gentleman. My cat Filipp is also a committed relationship. I worship him. He is my king. 👑🐈

16. What’s something you wish to have at this moment? : Every day I wish that my mom could remain timelessly alive - looking and being exactly as she is now. I know that her soul will live forever, but I wish her body could to. It will destroy me when I can’t feel her hugs anymore. She is my best friend and the most sacred love that I’ll ever have.

I tag : @rhavewellyarnbag , @calliopekenobi , @raylangivens-hat , @silveryladystar , @thetombofalfalfa Just if you’d like to :)

#tagged

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fggtwrmz · 4 years ago

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✞ pretty little sinner ✞

Hihi!! Taz here with this accounts first ((technically second)) post! This ones a full fic so it’s v lengthy

warnings: dubcon, noncon is you squint, size kin, dirty talk, talk of breeding, oral, religious themes, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, talk of corruption, did i mention degradation? cus we went a lil ham on degration, very rough in general, no like seriously kuroos hella mean here

please mind the warnings and leave if your uncomfortable with any listed!!

wc: 7.6k

The whole small town that you had lived in had known you and your parents as the perfect catholic family, and why would they have any reason to not believe that? After all, you were always such a good girl. The pride and joy of your parents’ lives, you did good in school, never complained about chores, and attended church every Sunday. That’s right, you were the perfect little catholic school girl.

That's what drew you into him.

You looked so innocent, so pure, so breakable, he just had to have you.

And that cute little cross necklace you wore to show your faith? He just wanted to rip it off of you. Have you worship him instead.

When you had spoken to him you didn’t imagine what he would actually be like. He’d put up such a sweet facade. But that's all it was.

A facade.

“What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this, Dollface?” Came out the velvety voice of the walking personification of temptation himself; Kuroo Tetsuro.

You had heard about him through whispered rumors throughout the halls. He had an infamous reputation. But rumors were just that. Rumors.

So you humored him.

“At….The corner store? I’m getting snacks, what does it look like?” You had to giggle. It was such a foolish question. So foolish that you didn’t know the weight that it had held.

He had you hook, line, and sinker, you were just too innocent to realize. And he had been oh so sweet to accept your invitation to church on Sunday! Of course, you had to ask him, the house of God was as good a place to get to know someone as any. Much better than a dingy corner store anyway.

His words were sweet and charming, even for just a small chat. There was a look on his face that made you suspect something, but the way he spoke pushed your suspicions.

So when Sunday came and you saw him waiting for you at the door, in what appeared was his normal attire, you still gave him a big smile and waved him over to where you and your parents were.

“Kuroo! You made it!” You wanted to embrace him in a hug, but you felt that would be a little too familiar for someone you had only met yesterday at a convenience store. “Of course I made it, I wouldn’t blow someone as cute as you off.” He spoke, caressing your cheek.

Of course he wasn't nervous about being too familiar.

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, the affection catching you off guard.

“Sorry if I seem a bit underdressed.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though it seemed as if he didn’t care. His attire could be deemed inappropriate for a church setting. His ripped jeans, loose-fitting button-up shirt, Jordan Retros, contrasting with your pure white short sleeve blouse, frilly plaid green and black skirt, and shining black Mary Janes, and of course that shiny cross necklace that hung so prettily from your neck.

You giggled, “No worries! I’m sure if you had shown up naked the lord wouldn’t turn you away.”

And there you went again, going on about how the lord would love anyone, sinner or saint. He’d wondered how you would react if you knew the sins he had committed, had planned to commit.

He wondered what filthy sins such a precious girl like you were hiding under that short little skirt of yours.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

You had taken your seat in the far back pews, opting to sit in between him and your parents. You’d been paying attention to your pastor, up until you felt a warm, calloused hand rest itself on your thigh.

You looked up with a curious look, but Kuroo seemed to be more focused on the word of the holy father than you, so you relaxed at his touch. Keyword; seemed.

And that wasn’t all he was planning to do, unfortunately for you.

He rubbed up and down your upper thigh, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh between your skirt’s end and your thigh highs beginning, pushing your skirt just a little higher up your thighs to get more space.

At that moment you thought you'd absolutely die if your parents looked over at the sinful act that was going on between you two, but when you looked over they were both too caught up in the pastor’s prayer to notice anything.

His hand moved inward, causing your breath to hitch. His fingers practically brushed against your core, causing you to let out a gasp. It was loud enough for just him to hear but low enough to where your parents wouldn’t suspect anything.

You placed a hand on his wrist, signaling it was not the time for this. He simply flashed a smirk, never looking down your way. His fingers made their way to your panties, gently rubbing against your folds, you ended up dampening the garments in the process.

You sucked in your breath, now holding onto his wrist with a feverish grip, notifying him just how on edge you were.

“Time for the communion! Everyone, form a line, children, teenagers, then adults.” Father announced.

You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding in.

Your pastor had just saved you from eternal damnation.

You and Kuroo walked in line, behind a couple of kids and in front of a few more teens. He rubbed down your shoulders and arms, sending chills down your spine.

You held your hands behind your back as children took their crackers which were symbolic of the flesh of Jesus, their “wine” symbolic of the blood of Christ, and scattered back to their seats.

When it was your turn, Kuroo made sure to keep a keen eye on the way your head tilted back ever so slightly when you had opened your mouth for the cracker to be placed on your tongue.

He wondered what other situations you would be in such an arguably compromising position.

You ate the cracker and took the small, plastic shot glass-like cup with you back to your seat.

“Nah,” Kuroo shook his head, declining the offer of the cracker, and took the cup, downing it and throwing it in the small trash bin next to the pastor, walking back to his seat, not looking back.

He sat back down next to you, his hands in his pockets this time. You stared ahead, waiting for anything to happen, the tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Suddenly, he leaned down to your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. “By the way, you get so fucking wet. It’d be pathetic if it weren't so adorable.” He hummed, sending heat straight to your core.

You gasped at his words, looking up at him as he leaned back up. “Kuroo!” You whispered. “You shouldn’t curse in the house of the lord!”

He looked down at you and chuckled slightly.

“Oh princess, if it were just us here I’d do so much worse.” He teased, making your eyes widen. Heat rushed over your body, causing you to break eye contact with him. His gaze became too much to bear.

Your parents and pastor had warned you of temptation before, but you had always thought it would be easy to overcome. You would have never thought that it could be something like this. His words and gentle touches felt like too much yet not enough all at the same time.

You wanted it all to stop, but yet you wanted to beg for more.

But you had to keep your composure, God's eyes were on you, you reminded yourself.

But all you could feel was his eyes on. They were fixated on you. The thought alone of that insatiable look in his eye made your thighs pressed together and your throat run dry. It all made your head reel.

And just like that, it was over.

You had been so lost in thought that it took Kuroo shaking you to make you notice everyone getting up and gathering outside for the weekly catch-ups that turned, “just a few minutes dear, and then I swear we’ll leave,” into 30 minutes and plans to babysit Mrs. Johnson's grandsons next weekend.

“Is it time to go?” Kuroo asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Only the adults are leaving, the teenagers and children stay for Sunday school, that’s why I’m wearing this outfit.” You whispered to him.

He went silent until he proposed an idea that caught you way off guard. “We should go back to my place for bible study, I might be able to show you a different type of God.”

Your eyebrows raised at the sudden invitation, you didn’t know what he meant by that, but you know it’d be rude to decline such an offer since he had come to Sunday worship despite his belief in this “other type of god”.

Before you could answer he tapped your mother’s shoulder, catching the attention of both of your parents.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I speak to you for a second?” He asked politely. Your parents said their goodbyes to Sister Elise and stepped away with you and Kuroo. “Yes?” Came the voice of your mother.

“Would it be alright if me and your sweet daughter here, a real angel if I do say so, could go back to mine so we can go over the Psalms? I would offer to do it over the phone but the lord’s word can only be understood in person.” It’s like he had the good Christian boy next door role down pact.

Your parents looked at each other worriedly. “I don’t know, will there be a guardian to watch over you two?” Your father asked. “Yes sir, my fathers at work, but my mother will be there. I promise I’ll have her home at a reasonable time.” He promised.

Oh yeah, he has this little act down to the T, not like you could see through it though. You were so naive and thought that you could bring out the good in him with the help of good. How foolish.

Your father looked at his watch. “It's five now, so have her home no later than eight. Understood?” “Crystal clear, thank you, sir. Shall we get going?” He asked you, a perfect and pure smile plastered on his face.

He was too perfect, your parents already adored him.

Too bad it was only to get in your pants.

———

You were on his bed. His room smelled of pinewood and lavender. You drowned in the scent, loving every second of it.

His room was nothing like yours, he had deep red walls, wooden floors, and everything looked to be either black or red, barely any other colors being seen other than the clothes in his closet, and some other things you couldn’t identify, but he shut it before you could get a good look.

“Sorry if my room is a bit dirty, I didn’t think about cleaning up before inviting you.” He apologized, closing the curtains.

You loved the way he spoke, it was like his words were coated with chocolate. His luscious and velvety voice made you think things, things the lord would frown upon.

“No worries! Nobody’s perfect.” You kindly reassured him with a polite smile.

He’d think differently, you were a goddess in his eyes. Every part of you, even everything he couldn’t see, not that he’d be in the dark for much longer.

He chuckled, his eyes wandering down your figure, undressing you with his eyes, as you sat innocently on his bed waiting for whatever he might do.

“So where’s your mom?” You asked innocently, catching him off guard. “What?” “You said your mom was here, where is she? I didn’t see her when we walked in.”

He’d already forgotten. Typical.

“Oh, she’s probably taking a nap.” He lied with ease.

He didn’t think he'd be able to forgive himself if he was in the presence of his mother while thinking about such ungodly things. He planned to defile you, and he wanted to be the only one who even got close to experiencing you in such a state.

“Oh well-uhm...I’ll be sure to be quiet so I don’t disturb her.”

He held in a chuckle. There was no way that you would be quiet, no way you could be quiet when he got his way.

“So…. While I have no real interest in changing faiths, I have to ask about the god that you worship.”

He had you right where he wanted you.

He hovered over your frame at the edge of the bed, him standing and towering over you. He’d lifted your chin to look up at him with the tips of his fingers and said in a delightfully sinful tone,

“Oh baby,” He leaned in close to your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “I’m the new god, and you're gonna worship me like I’m your true creator.”

You felt yourself shrink, yes at the way he was menacingly towering over you, but at the way he describes his God—no, himself.

“You-you’re...the god you were talking about?” You stammered, your hands on his chest, trying to make some distance between you and his dominating presence.

Sadly to no avail.

“Mhm, and you’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understood?”

"Y-yes, sir."

"Awe look at you, using your manners without me having to tell you. Keep that up and you just might get a reward." He cooed.

You felt a familiar heat pool at the pit of you.

What was he going to do to you? What were these sudden temptations? And most importantly why did you want more.

This was god testing you, and you were failing miserably.

You wanted so badly to give in to your desires. To leave behind the life of that sweet innocent angel that everyone once knew, you wanted to give yourself wholly to your new one and only savior.

You were really doing this.

You were abandoning the only faith you’d ever known for some stranger.

For all you know he could be a demon from hell himself, here to stray you away from the path the lord had originally sent you to. No, he couldn’t be a demon. He was so sweet when the two of you had first met, and he was so polite when addressing your parents.

You felt like Eve, being tempted with such a delicious specimen by the devil himself. So when he pushed his lips against yours harshly, like Eve, you gave in.

His lips molded perfectly against yours. Your tongues were dancing in an elegant waltz that could only be described as heavenly. His lips tasted so sweet on yours. If this was the forbidden fruit you would happily taste it again and again.

His hands roamed your backside, hiking your skirt up so he could get a feel of your cotton panties. Your breathing sped, feeling him caress your clad ass. You’d always been told to never let anyone touch you like this unless you’re married, but I guess your god was the only exception.

That’s right. Kuroo was god now, and you had to let him do whatever you want.

Suddenly, he roughly pulled your skirt off, throwing it behind him. You whimpered, afraid he might’ve ripped your skirt.

Feeling his rough hands run up your sides and into your shirt, he stopped kissing you to look down, causing you to let out a whine, missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Awe baby, don’t look so sad, I’ll get your mouth back to work real soon.” He whispered, trying to unbutton your shirt. Trying.

You could tell he was getting frustrated at how the buttons wouldn’t come undone.

He groaned loudly, grabbing an open hole of your blouse and ripping it open, making the buttons of your shirt fly everywhere. You gasped, whining because now you didn’t have anything to come home in.

“Kuroo! How am I supposed to go home without a shirt?” You whined, hearing him chuckle soon after.

“Hush, you’ll be fine don’t worry, you won’t be needing it anytime soon.” Kuroo reassured with a smirk.

He unclipped your bra and threw it behind him, looking down hungrily at your tits, admiring how perfect they were. He cupped one of them and proceeded to place the other in his mouth. You let out a soft moan, awakening something fierce in him.

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait to hear more of those sweet sounds, princess. That’s right, let it all out for me baby.”

He kissed up your chest and to your neck, peppering kisses and bite marks on you. Claiming you.

He bit down on a certain spot, making you moan out, your fingers getting intertwined with the back of his hair. Your legs clung onto his waist as he abused the spot with his mouth, leaving dark hickeys.

Your moans became needier when he brought his knee up to your cunt, grinding it right against your clit, making you wetter by the second.

You felt high on ecstasy, the pleasure becoming heavenly, but what made everything pure bliss was his words.

The way he’d call you his baby, his princess in between kisses, and the best of all, his little sinner.

Being called his sinner made you feel a different type of feeling. It felt wrong, you could feel the heavens looking down on you in disappointment with each response you gave him.

Yes, you’d be giving up your oath to stay pure until marriage, but if it’s your god taking your virginity, what harm could be done?

When he lifted up off you, you were snapped from your pleasure.

He was looking down at your body and you resting upwards on your elbows, wondering why he’d left.

“Get on your knees.” It wasn't a request. It was an order. One that you, of course, didn’t even think to disobey.

So there you sat. All pretty and kneeling in front of him as if he was an alter.

You looked like such a perfect slut in his eyes. Who knew that such an innocent little virgin could look like the perfect whore.

He wouldn’t tell you that though. No, he wanted to warm you up first. Call you such sweet names, make you feel like his precious baby girl and then let you know just how much of a dirty slut he thought you were.

Knew you were.

All you needed was a push in the right direction. And he would provide that push.

“Now you want to know how to appease your god, don’t you?”

You nodded from in between his legs enthusiastically.

“Well, first, you have to atone for your sins. Now how would we go about doing that?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know what to say.

“C’mon baby, be a good girl and use your words. How would you atone for your sins? Think about the position you're in before you answer.”

You looked down at your legs which were folded underneath you and looked back up at him.

“P-Prayer?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your innocence. “Oh princess, so innocent even in such a vulgar position baby. You’re gonna atone for your sins by sucking me off. You don't want me to be mad, do you?”

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even understand what sins you had even committed, but if Kuroo says you’ve sinned, you'll let him do anything to make you holy again.

He stood up and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock and waving it teasingly over you.

“Now stick out your tongue.”

You did as you were told, eyes never leaving his cock. It was the only one you’d ever seen, and the only one you ever wanted to see. It was a good 7 or 8 inches and about 4 inches wide in girth.

It had the drool pooling at the bottom of your tongue before falling on your thigh high socks. It felt every bit as sinful as it looked and it had your panties soaked. You'd grinded against yourself for some sort of friction.

“Awe, so pretty for me, now listen to me, you're gonna take everything I give you, ok princess?”

You nodded, feeling as if your voice would betray if you tried to speak.

“What’d I say about using your words? Such a shame, you were being so good earlier.”

“Sorry sir, please don’t be mad, I promise I’ll-I'll take it all. I'll be so good for you.” The words were coming out faster than you could control. If someone would have told you that you would be in that predicament about a week ago you would have laughed in their face. But here you were, begging for him to do something, anything.

You sounded absolutely brain dead and he loved it.

“Ah, yeah that’s it, that’s my good girl.” He said grabbing you by your hair and gently guiding you down his shaft.

“Fuck baby, ‘gonna train this throat so well you’ll be ready to worship this cock with your mouth anytime of any day.” He growled, lowering your head down faster, soon hearing you gag over his length. You felt tears prick your eyes as he finally thrusted his full length in your mouth, going well past your limits.

He lets out a dark chuckle, suddenly being cut off by a throaty moan.

“Ah f-fuck princess you’re being such a good girl, now remember to breathe through your nose.” He reminded you, resulting in you looking up at him and nodding, letting him know you understood.

Your parents would disown you if they knew what you were doing. Your pastor and priest wouldn’t even think of speaking to you. You’d only have Kuroo, but that doesn’t sound too bad. After all, you had devoted your life to your religion in the past, so what would be so different now? You’d just be able to indulge in such fine luxuries as getting facefucked after church.

He put his other hand on your head, roughly shoving your head down, matching the bucking upwards of his hips. The action erupted a loud groan from him, throwing his head back.

You could feel him all the way down your throat.

“Oh yeah, that’s my good girl, fucking hell baby girl,” he moaned, you could feel his thrusting start to get uneven, your throat not having anymore time to adjust to his size and abuse.

His pace was absolutely brutal but you sat there, taking everything he gave you.

On the inside you were smiling, happy to please your god, you felt so proud of yourself for making him feel good. Being his good little girl. His obedient little worshipper.

Your eyes became watery, the way he roughly thrusted into your mouth made your throat hurt, which made your eyes water.

He bit his lip, lowering the sound of the grunt he let out. “Mmf, baby you look so pretty right now, such a pretty fucking princess for me.” He grunted.

You didn’t feel pretty, though. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, makeup, and ran down mascara. Your hair was under Kuroo’s grip, messily overlapping his hands. Strings of drool were hanging from your plump lips onto your thighs, not to mention your soaked panties.

Kuroo on the other hand looked heaven sent. Hair messily askew and face tinted slightly red. Biting his lip while sweat slid down his forehead. He looked like he was graced by God.

He looked like he was graced by God.

You felt ashamed at how wet you got by just looking at him, but fuck was he sexy.

He shoved your head down quicker and quicker, thrust harder into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck baby you’re gonna-you’re gonna make me—” His groans became more and more breathy, and his working became more and more sloppy, until you felt a warm, thick, sticky liquid coat the insides of your mouth.

The foreign substance tasted bitter and you wanted to spit it—

“Ah ah,” he sang, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him.

You looked disgusting. He wanted to see you like this more often.

“Be good and swallow for me, baby girl.”

You gulped down the liquid, feeling it still in your throat, but it didn’t bother you enough to where you couldn’t breath.

“Di-did I do good, sir?” You sounded absolutely broken, and it was like music to his ears.

“You did amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard. Does your face feel alright?” He cooed, tucking himself back into his pants.

“My jaw hurts, and so does my throat, but I’m glad I got to make you feel good.”

Kuroo smirked, admiring what he molded you into. Such a dedicated disciple, you deserve an award. “Now it’s your turn. Come on, hop up on the bed for me,” he commanded, patting the spot on his bed beside him.

You did so eagerly, not wanting to break your obedience streak. You sat on your feet, your hands resting on each of your thighs, smiling with the light shining beautifully in your eyes.

Even as the mascara ran down your cheek, you looked so beautiful to him.

“Lay down.” He softly said. You obeyed, as usual, keeping your legs closed in the air. You had no idea what he was thinking of doing.

“Spread them for me, babes.” He commanded. You were confused, why did he want your legs spread?

“Wait, why?” You asked innocently. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Because I said so. You’re not really denying the word of your lord, are you?”

Of course you didn’t. You were completely devoted to him, so without further hesitation you spread your legs. He pulled your drenched panties up off you and threw them somewhere in the room.

He ducked himself inbetween your thighs and planted your thighs on the side of his head with a secure grip.

“W-Wait!” You squeaked out.

“What’s wrong baby? You’ve been such a good girl, and good girls deserve rewards now don’t they?” He acts like this is for you, when in all honesty it’s all been for him. This whole time he’s only been fulfilling his desires of turning you from a sweet and innocent princess into a filthy fucked out whore and he knows this will only speed the process a bit, you just so happen to be getting some pleasure out of it.

“Yeah I gue- Ah!” A moan cut you off when you felt him lick up your wet folds, moaning your legs jolt up and your back arch.

He plunged his tongue into you, his thick tongue thrusts into you, making your moans come out in squeaks. You felt absolutely amazing already.

His tongue circled around your clit, pushing his tongue in and out of you in patterns; leaving his tongue in, out, for a second, then in again going back to sucking and circling.

Your moans became higher and breathier each time his tongue circled your clit, it drove him absolutely crazy.

He was...spelling something? You could feel it as he kept making the same trails around your cunt.

Kuroo.

“Mmph, Kuroo, more please…” You moaned tugging at his hair. He slid his thumb up your thigh, rubbing your clit as he pushed his tongue deeper in you, prodding your sweet spot.

The sudden action made you cry out in pleasure, tugging at his hair. He moaned from under you at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure on his scalp.

Kuroo stuck his tongue in and out of you, continuing to rub your clit with his thumb. You felt a tingling sensation grow low in your stomach, making your grip tighten on Kuroo’s hair and while your other frantically grabbed at his sheets, the foreign feeling traveling through your entire being.

You moaned his name, wanting to ask him what the sensation was, but your mind only focused on him, making barely anything come out other than moans and his name.

His fingers sped up as his tongue explored your walls. The sensation made you tighten, sending chills through your core as the pressure became too much to process alone.

Your legs twitched as your orgasm rocked through you, your eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly.

All that you could think of in that moment was Kuroo. KurooKurooKurooKuroo. It was a repeating mantra in your mind.

Your walls tightened around Kuroo’s tongue, a moan squeaking from your throat. Your grip tightened as you came, covering his tongue. You came from your high slowly, allowing you to let out a satisfied sigh.

You smiled peacefully as he hungrily lapped at your clit, making sure not to let a single drop of your cum slip from his tongue.

As he pulled out his fingers and lifted up from your body, you relaxed, your legs falling and your hand bringing itself to rest upon your stomach.

He came up and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. You tried pushing him away, not liking the taste of yourself, but he slapped your thigh, taking your hands and holding both of them above your head.

You whimpered squirming, uncomfortable with him holding you down. You shook your head in the kiss, trying to get away, but he only took this as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body temperature rise as he rocked against you, grinding against your thigh. The foreign feeling felt weird, but knowing you were giving him pleasure did cloud your mind with a hazy fog.

He parted ways from the kiss and looked down on you.

You looked so fucked out, and the real fun hadn’t even started yet. He wondered how you would be able to take him all the way, the thought of you not being able to handle all of him snuck its way into his mind and making him groan.

You would look so cute crying that it was all too big, how it wouldn’t fit. The money he’d pay to see that, he’d bow down and pray to any god to see that image and keep it in his mind forever.

He leaned up and loomed over you, caging you with his hands on either side of your head. His eyes were dark with lust. It struck a tinge of fear in you.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out, and spread your legs once more.

Leaning down, he whispered in your ear. "Do you think you're worthy enough for my cock princess?"

"Huh!?"

"Awe, what did you think was gonna happen sweetheart? You thought it'd be that easy to make up for your sins—"

"But you said—" you felt tears prick your eyes. You didn't think you were ready for such a big step before marriage. You two weren't even dating!

"But you said—" He mocked in a whiny voice. "I know what I said, and now I'm saying," he pulled you by the cross on your necklace.

"That I'm gonna fuck you until you’re too fucked out to even think about anything else. I'll turn you into such a pretty whore that you'll feel dirty even thinking about stepping foot in that church. Do you understand slut?"

Whore? Slut? Where was this coming from? He’d been so nice to you. You wouldn’t think he’d call you such degrading names. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him.

You looked down at his size, causing you to whimper in fear for your small body.

Kuroo squeezed your cheeks in one hand roughly, making you whine, your eyes watering. “Use your words, you dumb bitch. Do you or do you not understand what I’m saying?” He repeated.

You nodded. “I-I understa-stand.” You hiccuped, hugging your arms.

You we’re borderline sobbing at this point. This wasn’t the smooth and sweet guy who chatted you up in the convenience store. This wasn’t the sweet christian boy your parents knew. This man was Lucifer himself.

And now, your new lord and saviour.

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You should have never given him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone was right about him. He was just a mean playboy jerk who treated women like shi-

“Awe don’t cry sweetheart. You were doing so good just a minute ago.” His sweet and comforting tone snapped you from your thoughts, and you felt your mind become just a bit less panicked about the whole situation. “Although, you do look awfully pretty when you cry… hm… How bout this; I’ll just make you feel so good to where your instant reaction is to cry. That way I get to see that cute little tear-stained face, and you get to have my expert cock. How does that sound, princess?”

You nodded, feeling like if you opened your mouth only sobs would come out.

“What did I say about your words?” He quickly chastised.

“S-Sorry. Yes sir I-I’d like that…”

“That's a good girl,” The praise made your chest bubble with joy. You were happy that you could be seen as good in his eyes after all the disgusting things he had just called you.

“Now here’s the worst part.”

And that was all the warning you got before he rammed his cock into you. It was the worst pain that you had ever felt. The agonizing stretch, the unfamiliar feeling of being so full, it all was too painful to bear. So you did exactly what he planned and cried.

He thought of going slow, he really did, but then he wouldn’t be able to see you and those absolutely gorgeous tear streaks.

“Kuroo, it hurts! It’s too much! Take it out please!” You sobbed out.

He laughed at you. “Aww poor baby, is it too much?”

“Good.” He said with another slam of his hips. “You seem—fuck— to forget what we’re—oh god your so fucking tight—doing this for. You were acting like a bitch in church. In the house of your—shit—precious lord.” He said the last point in a mocking tone. “And now you're just paying for your sins to your new god.” He breathed out while continuing to thrust into you at a brutal pace.

You could only cry harder as he fucked you with such vigor. The stretch was so painful and with every rough thrust he hit your cervix dead on. It was absolute torture.

So you 're confused as to why the pain slowly subsided and turned to pleasure. Were you… enjoying this? No. There was no way. You didn’t even get a real say in what was happening. So why we’re tiny gasps coming out faster than you could stop them? And why did your hips start to move down to match his thrusts.

“How do you thi-think your parents would react to your sinful actions right now? Huh, you dumb slut? Bet they’d be so disappointed to see that their precious little girl is nothing but a pretty little sinner huh? Say it! Fuck- Say you’re a sinner, and make sure the neighbors can hear you say it.”

“B-but your mom..!”

“You actually believed that?” He laughed. His laughing consisted of grunts and groans, making his laughing time out. “You’re such a fucking dumbass, you know that? I wouldn’t be touching your disgusting ass if my mother was home.” He growled, making more tears stream down your face.

You whined, covering your face because of the absurd amount of embarrassment you felt.

“Oh no no no, don’t cover your beautiful face now!” He grunted, taking both of your wrists and holding them above your head.

With only the bottom half of his cock fucking into you, his thrusts were long and deep, making sure you felt it in your stomach. Your eyes rolled back with each agonizingly painful and deep thrust, your nails ripping off your skins from balling your fists.

“Oh fuckkkk you're so tight for me.” Kuroo groaned. ”How’s such a slut like you got such a tight pussy?”

It was obvious that the question was rhetorical as he started to slow his thrusts but put more force behind them, bruising your cervix. All you could let out were little “ah ah ah ahhhhhhs”.

He slowly stopped, looking down at your trembling body. He let out a breathy groan, shaking his head and biting his lip.

He let go of one of your wrists and grabbed hold of your hand, bringing it down to your stomach.

“Princess, do you feel that?” He asked, rubbing your hand over a bump on your stomach. You looked down with him, seeing a slight bump stand with attention below your belly button, making your eyes widen and your breath quicken.

“Ka-ka-Kuroo! What is that?!” You frantically questioned.

He looked up at you with the most agrivated, most dumb founded look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?! That’s me, dollface.” He spat, making you jump. “Y-you..?”

He groaned, slamming into you again, causing you to scream out again. “Ya’ see that moving in your stomach? That’s me, fucking deep into your tight tight pussy.” He growled. You look down again, seeing the bulge in your stomach move with each sharp thrust Kuroo sent through you.

It made your head feel fuzzy.

Your body started adjusting to his size, finally. You lifted your legs to cling onto the side of his waist, but they quickly fell spread for him. Your arms also stopped struggling, relaxing under his grip. Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head. With each animalistic thrust of his hips you could feel the bed shake. You could barely hear the frame hit the wall over the sound of your high whines and moans and his low groans filling your ear. But you could still faintly hear it, reminding of how rough he was getting.

“Alright princess now open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” He commanded from over you.

You opened your mouth and leaned your head back being sure to lol your tongue out.

You felt a cold liquid settle near the tip of your tongue, it was Kuroo’s spit. He’d let it fall like a fountain. Licking his lips when he’d finished.

“Now swallow like a good girl.”

You closed your mouth and gulped. Letting the spit slide down your tongue. It should have grossed you out, but instead it made your eyes roll back.

“Aww, look at you, all pretty and fucked out.” he shrugged, thrusting upwards into you, hitting a spot that made you scream out in ecstasy.

“Kuroo, right there! Fuck, Kuroo yes right there!!” You moaned, arching your back and throwing your head back.

That was the first time you cursed. Ever.

“Such a dirty vocabulary you’re discovering! I’m such a good influence on you, your parents would be so proud.” He sarcastically exclaimed in a low and gravelly voice.

Your parents. You were so caught up in your pleasure that you completely forgot all about them, and the time limit they'd set for you. You were sure you’d past it, it was fairly dark outside.

You whined, feeling more tears of disappointment roll down the side of your face. “Do-don’t talk about them right now…Ah-I’m gonna-Kuroo fuck p-please!”

He only thrusted harder faster. “Awe baby, do you think you're the one in control? That’s so cute.” He pulled you by your necklace for the second time that night. “You’re atoning for your sins, and I’m using your body for my own pleasure. So you’re gonna sit back, and make sure the only thing that comes out of that pretty. Little. Mouth,” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust. “Are those pretty. Little. Moans. You got that princess?”

“Y-yes sir. I’m so sorry sir.”

“Awe look at my baby! Using her words like a good girl!” He deeply cooed.

You bit your lip, holding back the moan you desperately wanted to let out, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your voice. He noticed and started to pound faster. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck! Kuroo! Ple-ase! Fuck you’re so good. Sosososo good. Pleeeeease!”

“Listen to you! You sound downright pathetic!” He laughed at you. It felt humiliating, but you felt yourself getting wetter from the whole situation. The intensity, the humiliation, Kuroo’s groans, they all were filling up your senses, and you could feel yourself nearing your climax.

“Look at you, you’re getting tighter. How much of a- fuuuuck how is it possible that your tighter- slut are you? You're really getting off to me calling you a slut? You like that? Huh? Go on, answer me whore.”

“Yes! Yes Kuroo! I’m your whore! Fuuuuuckkkk!” Your moans were high and breathy.

He pulled you by your necklace one again and snatched it clean off of you.

You gasped, snapping out of your lustful trance. “Kuroo!!! My dad gave me that!!” You cried.

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m your god now, you don’t need a stupid cross, I’ll let everyone know you’re mine.” He huffed, dangling it in front of you, before throwing it out his window.

The window. The window!

“K-Kuroo, how long has that be-been open?” You asked.

He groaned, slowing down his thrust. “The window? It’s been open since this morning.” He shrugged, fucking into you sloppier and sloppier.

You felt embarrassed, heat rushing over your being as you held onto Kuroo to hide your face. “O-oh…” you moaned, scrunching your eyebrows together in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed that my whole neighborhood can hear how bitchy, and pathetic you sound? Fuck- Good, fucking cry about it like the stupid bitch you are.”

Each insult brought you closer to that edge. You forgot all about your previous embarrassment and basked in the bliss of Kuroo’s rough thrusts.

“Holy shit- Did you get tighter from me reminding you of how much of a—shiiiiiitttt—of a fucking slut you are?” His voice sounded so breathy. You could feel him twitching inside of you.

And then the dam broke. You could feel your orgasm sparking through you like electricity.

“Kuroo! Kuroo! Im cumm- Im cumming! Oh Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! You're so good!”

He revelled in the profanities spilling from your mouth, knowing that before this you probably would have never thought about saying such vile things.

“Oh thats right baby who’s making you cum on his cock like a dumb bitch in heat? Who’s your god? C’mon, say it, princess.”

“You! Shit! You're my god! Oh please- It’s too much! It's- It’s too much!”

He laughed at you. “How many fucking—Fuck baby you feel so good—How many times do I have to tell you this isn’t- Shit- This isn’t for you.” The last part came out as a dark growl.

“Y-Yes sir! I’m sorry.”

“Yeah that's a good girl, oh you're such a good slut for me. Shutting up and just taking it. Yeahhh that's a good fucking whore. You want your god to cum inside you? Breed you and fill you up so nice? That what you want princess?”

Your eyes widened. Nononono he couldn’t! He had to pull out!

“N-No...Please...” Your voice sounded so weak and tiny.

“Oh no baby, that was rhetorical. You're gonna sit back and let me breed this little pussy like a good girl who stays in her place, because surely- fuck- you remember your place and wouldn’t talk back, now would you?”

You knew it was useless to deny him. You don’t even know why you tried.

After a few more thrust there was a particularly hard one. The force of fit knocked you back a bit, but he pulled you back by your thighs so he would stay fully buried inside of you.

Suddenly you felt nothing but warmth filling you. He was cumming inside you. You could feel him shooting spurt after spurt. You had never felt so full, his thick cock splitting you accompanied by his come pushed you to another orgasm. Your legs shot up and you let out a loud whiny moan.

“Oh god! Oh fuck! You feel so good filling me up Kuroo- Fuck!”

“Aww you came again from me cumming in you? What happened to you not wanting it?” He teased. You couldn’t respond, you still hadn’t come down from your high.

_________

You woke up in an unfamiliar location, dark red walls and black sheets were unlike your pastel blue walls and baby pink sheets. You panicked, until memories of your earlier actions came back to you. You weren't completely calm though, you were sure you definitely passed your curfew and Kuroo was nowhere to be found.

“Kuroo! I need to get home like— now!”

He entered the room and laughed. “Oh calm down you big baby, I called your folks and said you’d passed out cause you were so tired. Took some convincing, but they’re fine with you spending the night here.”

You sighed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “Oh, thank god.”

“Speaking of,” He came closer to you. “You down for round two?”

You felt warmth flood your face and threw a pillow at him. “You pervert!”

“How am I the pervert when you're the one naked in my bed?”

He was right, you did feel a cold breeze brush against your cold body as you pulled the covers up.

“Well then where are my clothes?”

He winced, itching the back of his neck. “Ya’ see...your skirt is still ripped, but I put your underwear and skirt in the wash. You could wear something of mine though!"

#haikyuu!!#haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu x reader smut #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro smut #x reader smut #tw.noncon #tw.cnc #tw.spit #tw.religious imagery #tw.dumbification #tw.degradation

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scorpionatori · 2 years ago

Text

AoT Ending Ramblings

The ending of acclaimed manga Attack on Titan, as could be expected from a famously controversial series, was met with a lot of controversy itself, with some fans praising it and others claiming that it turned the whole series on its head and ruined it. As tends to be the case with controversial endings, I personally liked it. I’m not going to go over every single thing that happened and this should be pretty short, but I wanted to touch on some things, mostly people’s concern with the famous genocide committed by Eren (which many, even fans, accused the series of glorifying) and the militarization of Paradis by the Jaegerists.

First of all, to clear up the genocide thing, I want to post this interview I was shown by my brother a while ago.

[Isayama talking about how saying “it’s okay to kill” may be more meaningful in a story than “do not kill” because it will cause the reader to think “of course it’s wrong, what are you talking about?”. He says “if you have a message you want to convey, you may not necessarily want to draw the manga as you want to convey it”. The next paragraph has his editor discussing how “I didn’t mean to condone the on-site massacre at all” and Isayama was worried about the controversy and people accusing it of supporting genocide. The editor goes on to say that this could be a good thing. Paraphrased: “Compared to a real war where people die and only then do people think ‘genocide is bad’ if people read Attack on Titan and think it’s pro-genocide and then feel bad about it, then the same message was conveyed without anyone needing to die in real life”.]

There you have it. Isayama and his editor DON’T condone genocide after all and there was actual concern over people interpreting it this way.

“Armin thanks Eren for committing genocide!”

That still doesn’t mean the story is condoning what happened. I understand people’s discomfort at this scene, it’s objectively uncomfortable for a character to thank another character after he commits mass murder. But immediately after this he calls what he’s doing “a terrible mistake”. Armin doesn’t condone this genocide, but he sympathizes with Eren and feels a strange gratitude for his intention to save his small group of people. It’s too late to undo the horrific damage Eren did, but he wants to make the best of the tragedy and not let it go in vain. Armin and Mikasa love Eren unconditionally. They have throughout the entire series. Even after all the terrible things he does they still love him through the very end. I think Armin’s line speaks more towards this love for his friend and less towards him being glad the genocide happened, which he clearly isn’t. I understand people’s discomfort and interpretations with it, though. But guess what, so does Isayama!

Isayama thinks the way he drew that scene was immature and that it made it so it could be interpreted the way people did. He goes on to clarify that Armin doesn’t approve of Eren’s actions at all, but he benefited from them anyway. According to Isayama, he wanted to say goodby to Eren and tell him he was also an accomplice.

The Jaegerists take control of Paradis with their military. I disagree with any idea that this was supposed to be a good ending for Paradis in the story. I may have been confused or disappointed if this series just ended on the bittersweet note of the bird pulling Mikasa’s scarf and her thanking Eren for wrapping it for her, and all the characters living happily and discussing peace talks. It would have been like, “Okay, so Paradis was taken over by a fascist military and everything is fine now?”. But that is not how the story ended.

After a small montage of peaceful images by the tree Eren was laid to rest, we then see a chilling image in the far future of the now modern city being bombed. Then the tree is shown in the distance past a pile of rubble. This means the “peace” Eren’s grand plan brought was only temporary and unsustainable. This means rule under the Jaegerists and Paradis’ militarization was unsustainable. The violence inevitably came back, and Paradis is now covered in rubble.

The very last panel has a boy and his dog approaching Eren’s tree, similar to the tree Ymir approached. I take this to mean that the cycle of the story is only meant to continue.

It should at least be cleared up by the interviews that the creator never ever intended to glorify genocide in this series. I also think the panels depicting Paradis being bombed clarifies that the island becoming a military state under the Jaegerists was not a good thing, and it inevitably lead to more war in the future. However, I do think (as does the actual creator of the series) that some of the points could have been clarified and portrayed better. The ending to me felt like a lot was trying to be wrapped up in a small amount of space. Isayama even says that he had a hard time conveying and wrapping up the themes and feels sorry for fans he disappointed.

But whatever your feelings or opinions are of the ending, I think it’s important to clear up that this ending, and this whole series, never meant to condone genocide and the extreme nationalism of Paradis, and any accusation of such is ignoring real interviews as well as the themes that have consistently existed in the series.

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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ksqwildwest · 3 years ago

Note

"laying on their lover’s chest, listening to their heartbeat, drawing circles on their chest" This for Jack and Mason.

Thanks for the ask!

----------

Jack's mind wondered as he listened to Mason's soft snores. His brain was still in a post-drunken haze, everything seeming both too dull and too much at the same time. Everything except Mason's heartbeat and breathing. His thoughts floated along like a leaf in a gentle stream.

The streams name was Mason.

Perhaps it was simply because he'd fallen asleep on top of them, or maybe it was the crush he had. No matter the cause, Jack's hazy thoughts would not stop circling back to him.

Currently, as he lazily drew crooked circles on Mason's bare chest, he tried to remember why Mason wasn't wearing a shirt. Not that he was complaining. Hazily, he recalls Mason complaining of feeling too hot at some point, but everything after that was a vague blur. If he wasn't nursing his hang over, Jack might have questioned why Mason was complaining of the heat at near midnight, when it got cold enough some nights to freeze water. But, that wasn't where his mind wondered.

Instead, he thought about the many adventures, pranks, and thievery the two had committed together. And Connor too. Technically. But he wasn't laying on Connors chest or listening to Connors heart beat right now. Plus, there were so many reasons to think about Mason. Like how he always was the first to carry someone who was injured or how he scrunched his nose a little when coming up with good plans or how his entire face lit up when Jack complimented.

"Your such a softie," he groggily told Mason, who only stirred and held Jack a little tighter to his chest.

And so, his thoughts continued to drift in silence. Never leaving the man he was laying on.

---------

I AM FINISHING THIS 5 MINUTES BEFORE IT'S POSTED!!! LET'S GOOOOOOO!!!!!

#tales from the smp #tftsmp #tftsmp wild west #jack kenoff #tftsmp mason #short

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jedivszombie · 4 years ago

Text

Okay gang, since there are a bunch of anons going fucking wild across the dash tonight about some joking posts about Mark Webber and Ann Neal - that were someone’s shocked reaction to the age difference between them. I thought it would be interesting to go on a little journey together.

This little journey is the story of how Ann and Mark met, and will hopefully give you guys some insight as to why the ‘sexism’ and ‘ageism’ arguments you are currently using are bullshit - and why using these words in such a buzzword way actually is not the kind of critical thinking you think it is. And why this situation is more akin to a student and teacher starting a relationship - which I think we can all agree is not advisable, even if you don’t know why.

Below the cut is going to be a little discussion of Mark and Ann the early days; the reason the age difference is iffy at best and fucked up at worst; and, a little discussion about how these situations require nuance and the ways in which f1blr often likes to blow situations out of proportion.

I have split it into three parts:

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy. (tw: for racism here, be careful)

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

A little disclaimer for you guys: I do not pretend to know anything about this relationship, other than what is readily available to learn about it from what they themselves have put out about it. I am just providing a timeline and some facts. Whatever conclusions you draw from it are your own.

Feel free to come for me if you so desire.

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

We start our story in Australia in February, 1994. Mark is competing in Australian Formula Ford Championship and Ann Neal is the new media and PR officer for the category. This is their first meeting. Just so we know what’s up here Mark was 17 at the time, and Ann was absolutely an adult (apparently there is a 13 year age gap, which may not sound like much but we will get onto that later, which makes her roughly 30 when they first met).

Some key things to be aware of from this first meeting:

Mark is 17, Ann is about 30. Mark is a young racer, Ann is the media and PR officer for the category he races in.

In an excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 57 to be exact, we get to find out what Ann had to say about the first time they met:

“She thought I was a bit of a smart-arse when we first met. ‘But I liked how bold and cheeky he was,’ she says, ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’”

In another excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 61, Mark tells us other things Ann remembers about their first meeting:

“Ann remembers our first meeting and my opening remark about her being so important. She can even remember what I was wearing – a stripey green and red top, one of those United Colors of Benetton things – so that was pretty prophetic, as things turned out!”

Now this may sound extremely cute to some of you, like they’re just having a normal ‘aww remember how we met’ moment. But let me please re-direct your attention back to the fact that Mark is 17 (and still not an adult yet if this is what you are gonna nitpick about) and Ann is very much an adult, in a position of power.

So, a teenager makes a quip about how important you are and you commit to memory what he was wearing the day it happened?

Now let’s bring in the first quote I put up there where Ann herself was recalling the first time they met. I would like to draw your attention to the following sentence: ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’

Hmmmm, where have we all heard language like this used before? If, like me, you have some experience of adults trying to start inappropriate relationships with you as a teenager then you will be very familiar to this sort of language. The emphasis is on how mature he seemed, is what’s sticking out for me here tbh.

Now, if this had been a fleeting meeting, and they had met again a few years later, I would be more on board for whatever justification some of the anons have been trying to use. However, it wasn’t.

Again from Aussie Grit, p.61:

“After that first meeting we kept in touch. My family sometimes met up with Ann and Luke for weekend get-togethers, and I ensured she got her motor-sport fixes by dragging all my old F1 tapes out. By way of revenge she would bring down all her British Formula Ford tapes for me.”

Oh cool, so she gained the trust of his family and Mark was hanging out with her son. This is so sweet Alexa, play Chosen Family by Rina Sawayama. Real talk though, again if this is how it had ended - with them just being family friends - then we would not be having this conversation.

BUT, we all know how this little story ends so onwards we march. We shoot forward to late 1994, Mark has done okay in Formula Ford but his Dad is no longer able to fund him. SO, he turns to their old pal - the ever present and super helpful Ann, bless her heart - to try and drum up some sponsorship for Mark so he can race.

Little background on why Ann was chosen to try and help with this, I’ll give you 3 guesses and only one of them is correct. Yes, that’s right, it’s her experience - which she has managed to get by being 30 and having a background in motorsports. She started out as a motorsport journo and ended up dealing with press and PR for Paul Warwick (Derek Warwick’s brother). In 1986 she started dealing with Johnny Herbert’s media before working for Formula Ford in Europe in 1991.

Ann begrudgingly accepts and draws up plans with Mark, which leads him to a Yellow Pages sponsorship for his next season in Formula Ford, and beyond - how sweet, how nice, they are #winning! We stan teamwork besties! And Ann started working with Mark and his family to further his career.

Ann had a plan for Mark, as outlined in Aussie Grit, p.69-70:

“By the end of 1995 Annie told me, in no uncertain terms, that – and I quote – I had to get my arse out of there. She didn’t just mean Australian Formula Ford, either: she meant Australia. She thought it was time for me to go and have a crack at some of the big guys, and she proposed to help me go about it in a serious, business-like way.

‘How the f#*k are you going to get to Formula 1 coming from Queanbeyan?’ Anyone who wants to trace my journey should start with a piece of paper that Ann drew up on 6 July 1995.”

So, now Ann has outlined her hopes for Mark and a glimmering career in motorsport. I would like us to know that at this point in time Mark was the ripe old age of 18, going on 19.

In 1996 Ann and Mark moved properly to the UK so Mark could drive in the British Formula Ford Championship - at this point Mark is still 19. At this point he is living in the UK with Ann and her mother, and Ann’s son.

So this is probably sounding pretty okay so far and sure it’s just a business relationship with a business set up, like no real cause for concern. But then we discover that this business relationship had turned into a relationship-relationship pretty damn fast.

From the horses mouth himself, Aussie Grit, p.87:

“Back in England, Ann and I moved house to Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, on the edge of motor sport’s equivalent of Silicon Valley. We had started out as teammates and friends on a mission but over time our friendship had deepened into something else. I enjoyed spending time with her and we felt entirely comfortable in each other’s company. Moving to England was a huge step for me and I think it was a case of us needing one another and that’s how the relationship was formed.”

Okay, okay, okay so I know at this point Mark is 19/20 he’s an adult right? He can make his own choices. But, can we please admit that at best it’s an iffy situation because of the position of power and authority she was in? In his life? For his career?

There are a few other excerpts I found particularly interesting, about Mark’s family’s reaction (all from Aussie Grit, chapter 3):

“My parents came over to the UK in the English summer of 1997. While they were thrilled about how things were developing for me in racing, they’d been less thrilled by the romantic relationship that was developing between Annie and me....” “...Annie was bitterly disappointed at my behaviour. Her plan to take me to the highest level of motor sport was starting to go horribly wrong, so she left Australia earlier than planned and headed back to Europe. My family arranged for Alan Docking to collect my belongings from the house we had been sharing and the one and only car Annie and I had at that stage...Campese Management told her that they had been instructed by the Webber family to terminate her role as my manager and that Campese Management would be taking over all aspects of my career, including the negotiation of my driving contracts.“

“While I knew Annie provided the support and guidance I needed in my racing career, I was missing her in so many other ways too. We were such a dynamic force in every sense; we could make things happen when we were together. We were teammates, soul mates, call it what you want.“

“As to Mum’s concern about our age difference, that has never been a factor for us. When we began to be more open about being together, perhaps the top end of the age gap shocked a few people. In those days people were less accepting of a big age difference between partners, especially when it’s our way round. It’s not such a big deal nowadays and it makes us laugh when so-called celebrities reveal they’re dating an older woman or younger man!“

While the Daily Mail is trash, the beginning of this video is very revealing to me - particularly Jackie Stewart’s comments from 00:12.

Obviously you can make up your own conclusions from all of this information, and I would once again like to point out that none of us - not me, not the anons, not you - actually know the nature of their relationship. They have been together for 24 years - good for them! Whatever they have going has obviously worked for them, this is not me trying to shit on that or anything, and I’m gonna be real I’m not the biggest Mark Webber fan.

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy.

All I want to do is add some nuance to the conversation, an overview of the timeline, an understanding of what the facts are. So that some of those cowardly anons (or anon) can hop off their self-built thrones and get a grip. The sexism and ageism argument literally does not apply here, for all of the evidence and reasons listed above - if the situation was flipped we would still be calling it out. The only difference is you guys would probably be on board with it being called out.

So Ann is a woman? So, what? Do you think she’s above reproach? You think one person’s 50 note post on this site is gonna rock the foundation of a relationship that has been 26 years in making? If you have answered yes to any of these questions then you are either: a) Mark Webber himself, or b) delusional as hell. You really think that responding by sending anon hate to a teenager, who btw only made a post calling out the age difference because she was shocked and had just discovered it, is the right way to go?

You really think that sending me this message, attacking other people in such a vile and racist manner is okay?

So you don’t like Nehir and Sera? Good for you, go block them, if you follow them, unfollow them. Those options are free and readily available to you.

For me, it’s so funny to see you hiding behind that little Anon mask spewing this vile shit. The commitment you have to proving that you are just a cowardly person with nothing better to do than rag on a bunch of different people for reblogging a post, that in the long run is not going to reach the people it’s about, is outstanding. I really hope you pat yourself on the back for this one.

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

There has definitely been a spate of ‘conversations’ that have been happening recently that have very much been straying into the land of discourse, over very small comments or posts. I think that some people need to remember that we’re all here for our own entertainment and as soon as it stops being fun - you are allowed to log off; you are allowed to block people; you are allowed to unfollow people.

Sending anon hate is so counterproductive to whatever conversation you think you are starting or having with a person. Also guys, sometimes it’s not that deep - sometimes jokes are just jokes, sometimes someone finds out something they didn’t know about a driver or an ex-driver and they make a joke post about it. That does not give you the right to send them hate, or to make racist comments in other people’s asks.

Sometimes these discussions require a debate and sometimes discourse can be good - but honestly? I’m worried about some of you guys, it is not healthy to get so angry at other people for the things they post on their blogs that you are not obligated to follow or interact with at all.

I am also worried about people who turn every little thing into something discoursey. There are causes and issues to care about in this sport and community, for sure. But sometimes you also have to pick your battles - especially when I know a lot people in this community have fragile mental health. I do not say this to patronise any of you but to just provide a reminder that you do not need to engage with everything that makes your blood boil, and furthering some of these conversations sometimes is not doing you guys any good. Burnout is real.

Please take some time to take care of yourselves, the pandemic is doing a number on all of us and I know being online gives you a gateway to being connected to people, but sometimes you just have to walk away from a discussion. Sometimes you have to just go and reblog something unrelated, or stare at a photo of your favourite driver, or listen to some angry music. Anything else to process your knee jerk reaction, to give yourself time to figure out how you feel about something and whether it’s worth engaging in or not.

#maisie talks #the post that no one asked for but we sure as shit needed #anon hate below the cut #would also like to say that i am not pretending to know shit about their relationship and this is all information provided by the couple #themselves #under the cut is a bunch of information about their relationship up to you how you take it but i know how i feel #tw racism #i went insane i've seen the opposite of god #thnx ana for supporting my rage #here i am a hundred years late and a dollar short #mark webber

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wooyunhwa · 4 years ago

Text

kingdom of welcome addiction | C.S.

view pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (mostly suggestive in this part though)

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: blood drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

If you had to read the words pythagorean theorem one more time, you were gonna smash your brains in.

You reached over to your phone, unlocking your screen to the group chat.

y/n: anyone wanna come over and help me with this dumb problem? my heads gonna implode.

chaeyeon: busy tonight, Y/N. lol, just summon a demon or smth.

yuri: lmao that ouija board is still there right? I think we left it under your bed

chaeyeon: I don’t think you summon demons with a ouija board, yuri

y/n: ugh you guys are no help. brb, summoning demon...

You realized how weird this conversation would sound from an outside perspective, but it was a sort of inside joke you had within your friend group. You and your friends had joked about ‘summoning a demon’ before, and you’d even used a Oujia board a few times and done fake seances to freak each other out. The results were always disappointing—not that you ever actually wanted to contact the dead or anything, but you were at least hoping for a spooky story or something you could tell.

You knew they were joking around, but your brain felt a little delirious from all the math churning it into mush.

You switched tabs from your test, typing in the search bar “how to summon a demon”. You chuckled a little under your breath at the ridiculousness. But at least then you could tell your friends you actually tried. They’d get a kick out of that.

You followed a few rabbit holes down some forums, mockingly reciting strings of incomprehensible Latin. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna commit fully.

“You called?”

You scrambled backwards, nearly jumping a foot off the bed at the sudden unfamiliar voice echoing in the room.

Then you saw him.

He was perched on your bookshelf, one leg dangling lackadaisically over the edge, the other folded up at his side. You caught a glimpse of his piercing crimson-red eyes illuminated in the dim candle-lit room. He looked particularly cat-like in his position, a devilish grin painted on his face, what looked like fangs coming to two sharp points in his mouth.

The man picked up a pen from your bookshelf, twirling it in his hand casually with playful twists of his fingers. “You’re new…” he mused, glancing at you up and down. “And... cute. Fresh blood. How'd you get my number, hmm?”

You sat stunned, dizzy from confusion. Your words were lodged in your throat, unable to utter a single sound. This had to be a dream, right? Had you fallen asleep while working on your homework? It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the oak of the bookcase, waiting for your next move. The only words you could manage came out in a hoarse croak, shaky and uncertain. "This—I'm dreaming…"

He shook his head, clicking his tongue tauntingly against his teeth. "Oh, there's a lot of things I could do right now to assure you you aren't," he started, the gleam in his eye particularly sinister as he drew his gaze up and down. "But trust me. You wouldn't want that."

“Who—”

“I have a lot of names, but you can just call me San. Your friendly neighborhood demon.” He flashed a fiendish smirk. “Well, maybe don’t linger too much on the ‘friendly’ part.”

“D—demon?”

“What, you didn’t know? You’re the one who summoned me, darling.” He drew out his words, slowly, carefully, continuing to play with the pen in his fingers. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, as if he had the power to kill you at any moment. He probably did.

He pressed his palms against the top of the shelf to hoist himself off, the books on it threatening to topple with the sudden movement. The minute he vaulted down from the shelf, you were able to get a better look at him.

The first thing that drew your eye was his impossibly broad shoulders, accentuated by the tight cut of his shirt. It contrasted against his tiny waist, cinched in neatly with a belt. His proportions were unreal, and so very fittingly non-human. He was undoubtedly the most incredible sight you'd ever seen in your life, human or otherwise. He made his way over to the bed where you sat. You snapped your laptop closed, pushing it to the side, your blood turning to ice as he inched closer to you. The way he sauntered across the floor almost seemed like he was floating, like gravity was merely a fun game to him.

He poised himself over you, his powerful stance alone commanding you to look at him. His fingernail dragged under your chin with a distinct sting, pulling your gaze up to his intense eyes. It was cold, like a dull knife, causing your body to tremble slightly. His piercing eye-contact was entrancing, even spell-binding—you couldn't tear your eyes away. "How cute," he teased sing-songily, “you’re a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, still pulled in by his magnetic gaze. “How did you—”

"I can smell one from a mile away. The scent… it's just so…" he paused to lick his lips, drawing his tongue slowly over his black metal lip ring. "delicious."

“Anyway, you must have had a reason to summon me, no? A soul to harvest? A sacrifice maybe?” Something about his tone was giddy at the idea. “At your service, darling.” He drew down in a playful bow, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

You hated to say it, but he was entirely your type. From up close, you could see his other piercings more clearly, several earrings lining both ears, glimmering against the cartilage. His right eyebrow donned a shaved slit, decorated with another piercing. Of course the demon you summoned in your dream would be your ideal man. Well, he kind of looked like the edgy Hot-topic boy of your 7th grade self’s dreams, but you couldn’t deny that was still kind of your type still. His jet-black hair framed the sharp cut of his jaw perfectly—you were sure he could see you practically drooling over him at this point. He looked crafted by heaven—hell?—itself.

Even so, no single part of you desired for him to take your virginity right this second. Maybe under different circumstances, but not with the time ticking down on your math assignment and the fact that he was a fucking demon you just conjured into your room.

You shook your lewd thoughts out of your head, worried for a moment that demons might have some sort of mind-reading powers you weren’t aware of. “Well, uh, actually… I need help with my math homework.”

He snickered, his eyes trained on you like prey. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m kind of serious. It’s like 10% of my grade.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, breaking eye contact finally, and you felt a sense of relief as you finally had a moment to breathe away from his suffocating glare.“For someone who just summoned a demon you’re a real buzzkill.” He perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his butt lightly against the edge of the frame. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s say I actually helped you. You know how this works, right? If I do something for you, you have to give me something in return.”

You gulped. This was a dream, it had to be, and the best you could do was go along for the ride. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel shaken, despite doing your best to convince yourself it wasn’t real—like some sort of subconscious defense mechanism your body employed in danger. And, well, he kind of seemed like danger. “Like what?”

“Well, normally...” He glanced back over, pinning you down with his gaze once again. “It’d be your soul.”

Your breath stopped in your throat. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to give up your entire soul for 10% of your math grade, although that was a pretty accurate metaphor for your college experience.

“Your virginity maybe?” he hummed, drawing his tongue back over his lips, then, seeing your expression, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “No? Damn. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Um… I can offer to make you dinner?”

He paused, his eyes widening for a second, then burst into a cacophony of laughter. It was the first time he broke his exterior, and for a moment, he looked a bit more human. “I’ll take it.” Then, more “but you realize a contract with a demon is binding, right?”

“So, I’m contractually obligated to make you dinner, that’s what you’re saying?”

He paused, his smile turning amused once more. “Feisty. I like you,” he winked flirtatiously, sending heat rising in your cheeks. You hated to say it, but he was devilishly charming, on top of being probably the hottest being, human or not, you’d ever seen.

You glanced at your phone, noting the time ticking down slowly but surely. “Okay, I’m not joking. The math. My assignment is due in 45 minutes.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He sat next to your side on the bed for a while, guiding you through the problems like some sort of hot e-boy math tutor. Not that you were complaining about that. The way he sat was surprisingly cute, one leg tucked up at his side, the other folded underneath him.

“Where’d you learn math, anyway?” you asked, admiring his immaculate side profile as his eyes trained on the laptop screen, typing the answers in. “They have like, demon school or something?”

He gave you a side glance, and you once again felt uneasy under the heat of his gaze. “A demon never reveals his secrets.”

“I thought that was a magician.”

He visibly stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tightly to avoid giving you the satisfaction of breaking his serious exterior. “Can you be quiet? I’m focusing. I’m a demon, not a mathematician. This is way out of my scope of work,” he grumbled through his teeth.

You watched him silently as he worked. As he typed, his tongue lingered just outside his parted lips in concentration. “Even you sitting next to me is distracting,” he hissed quietly. “You don’t realize what your scent is doing to me right now.”

Right. Your virgin scent. Was that really so appealing to him?

“Fine. I guess I’ll go make dinner. You promise you’re gonna turn this in in time?”

“I’m contractually obligated,” he responded dryly.

You hoisted yourself off the bed and headed to the kitchen to make dinner, but something about leaving a stranger in your room felt strange. No stranger than accepting he was a demon, though, you supposed.

You returned with a large plate of pasta, pretty much the only thing you had on hand. He received it apprehensively from you.

“What?” you asked, offended at his look of disgust. “Sorry, I didn’t have any fresh human souls on hand. My bad.”

You sat across from him on the bed, watching in fascination as he nibbled slowly at the thin spaghetti noodles. “You have any hot sauce or anything?” he asked, wincing as he took a few more bites.

“I barely had enough pasta to feed two people. I’m a broke college student. Anyway, I never forced you to accept the dinner offer.”

“I didn’t think it’d be so bland. What, you didn’t know demons prefer spicy food?”

“I didn’t know demons existed until today. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This is all a dream I’m going to wake up from in a bit anyway.”

A wicked smirk danced up on his lips again. “Oh, you still think it’s a dream? Cute,” he sang condescendingly. “Well, then I guess it wouldn’t matter if I did this...”

Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as he crawled forward on his palms. You felt his breath linger on your neck first, then the gentle scrape of his pointed canines against your sensitive skin. Every hair on your body stood up. He pressed them down slightly, just enough to feel the tension on your flesh. Then he bit harder, nearly piercing as he sunk them in.

You reeled back, shoving him off you breathlessly. “What the fuck-”

“You still think it’s a dream? Then it wouldn’t matter if it sunk my teeth in. You’d just wake up, right? Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” he taunted, a smile curled up on his lip. His fangs gleamed under the still-dim light of your bedroom. “Humans are so amusing,”

You wiped at your neck, rubbing circles where his teeth pinched your skin. He sat himself upright again and stood up from the bed. “Well, my end of the deal is over. Consider you released from your contract.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Well I’m not gonna stay here.” His hand came up to his ear like a phone. “Call me if you have a soul to harvest. You know my number.”

He was gone before you could blink, like an apparition, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Your eyelids grew heavier as you reflected what had just happened, and you wondered what would happen if you fell asleep in a dream. Would you just wake up?

You collapsed into bed, still unsure whether or not the past few hours had actually happened or not. Part of you hoped they had—there was something about him that was so deeply captivating, you would do anything to see him again.

As he said, you did have his ‘number’.

You woke up dazed, still unsure if you had dreamt the events of the night before. The only sure way to know was to check your assignment—if you had really fallen asleep while doing your homework, you wouldn’t have turned the assignment in, right?

You opened your online class page, scanning for the assignment, and there it was, in bold letters:

Submitted: 98%.

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt two distinct emotions: relief that you got the assignment turned in, and complete disbelief that your encounter last night was not part of your imagination.

You could summon him again.

He seemed about as harmless as a demon could seem. At first, he had been entirely intimating—his aura made it seem like he could have eaten your soul right there with no second thoughts. But watching that powerful being, capable of so much evil and chaos, do something as mundane as your math homework… that was the most entertaining, and almost adorable thing, you’d ever witnessed.

Besides, you had something he desired, something you could dangle in front of him to keep him coming back. You had your virginity, which seemed to be the ultimate prize for a demon like him. The way he had talked about it last night, it seemed you were irresistible for him. But he also accepted your rejection so easily.

As long as you kept drafting up meaningless contracts, he had to oblige, right? You weren’t sure exactly how it worked, but that’s how it seemed from your interactions last night. If it worked like you thought it did, his job as a demon was to make a contract with his summoner, no matter how insignificant, as long as he takes something in return.

That night, you read the same latin phrase you had before he’d appeared, this time off a sticky note push-pinned in your wall.

You heard him again before you saw him, and you whipped your head around to see where he was standing behind you.

He wore the same playful, devilish smirk, displaying his fangs. “Hmm, you decided to let me harvest your soul now, have you? That was quick.”

It had barely been 24 hours, and yet you’d already forgotten how incredibly hot he was, for lack of a better word. Your lips parted slightly in awe, forgetting for a second to formulate a response.

“I hope your silence is a yes,” he interrupted.

You shook your attraction to him out of your head for a moment, remembering what you brought him here for. “I want you to clean my bathroom.”

He laughed in disbelief, plopping himself down on the bed. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?”

“That’s how this works right? I summon you and do what I want. And I give you something in return.” You leaned against the desk behind you.

“What am I, your errand boy?”

“But that is how this works, right?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes,” he grumbled reluctantly. “But what do I get this time?”

“I cook you dinner again.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I’ll let you bite my neck. Draw blood if you want.”

His eyes widened at your proposal. His reaction confirmed your suspicion—the blood of a virgin must be like crack to a demon like him. His face went flush. “Deal,” he confirmed eagerly.

You watched him as he cleaned, and there was something satisfying about watching this bloodthirsty demon scrubbing the bathtub on his hands and knees. He almost looked a bit pathetic. You stood in the door frame, unable to help from grinning at making him perform such menial tasks. A lot more was at stake now than just dinner, so you might as well have some fun with his end of the bargain. Even on his knees, you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. Every part of him was sculpted immaculately—his appearance was distinctly human, and yet he was in all other ways otherworldly.

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to some human’s lowly errand boy,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Less talking, more scrubbing,” you demanded with a smirk, and he shot you a deathly glare.

You followed through with your promise of dinner, and this time you came prepared with hot sauce. He devoured it eagerly, and you felt proud for making a dinner worthy of a demon’s praise.

But there was still one more promise you had to follow through on, and the thought made your head spin.

He sat across from you on the bed, eyes trained on your neck in a very un-subtle display of desire. You’d never felt so wanted, even if it was just the thought of your virgin blood that had him practically drooling.

“You sure about this?” he asked hesitantly. It was strange that he was even asking permission, as he seemed so eager the other night to just sink his teeth right into you.

“I’m contractually obligated,” you teased dryly. Then, more seriously, “But yes, I am.”

He placed his left hand on your neck, steadying it in place. His fierce, almost predatory gaze washed over you completely.

He leaned forward, parting his lips to drag his teeth gently along your neck. You tipped your head back, giving him a better angle. He teased there for a while, lingering his sharp canines on your skin. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, the warmth of it sending chills rocketing down your spine. Your lips parted slightly, gentle moans escaping at the sensation. The situation was predatory, and yet it felt completely sensual in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

He paused for a moment, lips fluttering over your skin as he spoke. “You have no idea how hard it is not to completely drain you,” he whispered, voice dripping off his tongue with a sort of lustful hunger. “I promise I’ll only take a bit.”

He sunk down, and you heard it before you felt it—the distinct sound of teeth piercing flesh. You cried out a bit, bringing your own hand to your mouth to muffle your whines. It stung a bit, but in a twisted way, there was something about it you liked. You felt his tongue draw over your wound slowly, lapping deliberately at the fresh blood like a starved animal.

He moaned against you, and it echoed in your ear like the most divine sound you’ve ever heard. He may have been a demon, but his noises sounded like they came from heaven itself. He pulled your waist against his as he slowly bathed his tongue over the punctured flesh, his fingers squeezing as he grasped at your waist. He littered a few faint kisses across your blood-stained skin, moving slightly down towards your shoulder blades. The sudden sensation drew soft, pleasured moans from your lips.

As he finally pulled away, parting his lips tenderly away from your skin, you caught the faintest glimmer of his blacked-out eyes before they flickered back to normal. His deep red irises sparkled like rubies as he maintained eye contact. He brought one of his hands up from your waist, gently wiping at his blood-stained lips with the back of his palm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself for a second. Your skin tastes so sweet, like candy,” he praised softly, voice deep and wanting. “And your blood, fuck—it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

The seductive gleam in his eye signaled that you had awoken something in him, something you hadn’t meant to. He was still holding you, probably without even noticing, but you didn't want to draw his attention to it quite yet. You wanted to experience it for just a bit longer if you could. Something about the way he held your waist against his made you crave more of him.

Almost as if a switch flipped, his expression went dark, his fingernails suddenly digging all the way into your waist. You yelped in pain as he nearly punctured the skin through your clothes. “I need you to walk away from me right now. Before I do something I’ll regret,” he growled. You watched as his eyes flashed to the same demonic black for a moment.

You gulped, slowly backing yourself away from him, scrambling off the bed. "Farther," he groaned painfully, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. His hands clenched at the blanket on the bed, balling into restrained fists. "Now."

You ran from the room, your feet moving before you even knew where they were taking you. You ran all the way down the hallway to the front door, sliding your back down against it as you collapsed to the floor. Your limbs shook weakly, trying to calm yourself down. You must have sat there for an hour or more, completely frozen, not quite aware of the passing of time. You wiped the blood of your neck, but it didn't do much, smearing it across.

When you managed to finally stand up again, you made your way hesitantly towards the door of the bedroom, swinging your head around the doorframe first.

"San…?" you called apprehensively.

But he was gone, leaving only a light imprint on the sheets of the blood-stained bed and two deep punctures in your neck to remind you he was ever there.

[to be continued]

#san smut #choi san smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #hongjoong smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfiction

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chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

hi! i wanted to request a smutty fic w prompt 100 with ransom and reader. maybe they were at a party and someone was hitting on reader and touching her and ransom got mad. 🤗

Hi love! Again, to everyone (including you) that has sent in a request, i’m sorry it’s taken so long. I feel bad for making people wait but i never wanna upload work that’s anything short of great in my eyes. I always want to be at my best. This didn’t quite go the way i wanted it to but i really hope it’s still good. Everyone reading, please feel free to leave feedback. It helps and is very appropriated.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Prompt #100: “Call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else touch you”

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, swearing, smut, sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, slight ownership kink (if you squint) and daddy kink. 18+

Word Count: 3,563

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @kylosrehn go check them out💜

Over My Dead Body

When making plans for the weekend with Ransom, going to a party full of stuck up rich people wasn’t exactly on your agenda. But, seeing it’s part of his lifestyle, you made an exception and besides it was yet another party hosted by his grandfather Harlan.

You never used to attend these parties since Ransom never invited you. He preferred to keep your interactions strictly bedroom related, nothing more, nothing less. It was beginning to confuse the hell out of you because sometimes on a rare occasion, he’d let you meet his friends and family.

But as previously stated, it’s rare.

When the two of you first met, sparks flew instantly. Your friend had introduced you, she was on a date with her boyfriend, her boyfriend brought him along just like she brought you along.

Their way of setting you two up. And it worked.

A solid 2 hours after meeting the man, he was balls deep inside of you making you forget your own name and turning you into a moaning mess underneath him. Since then you’ve been hooked. Whenever either of you are horny, you fuck.

But like any other fuck buddy relationships, there’s a catch. You two have a clear love for each other, one that neither of you will ever be brave enough to admit. Mostly because Ransom is a huge commitment phobe. The thought of only being with one girl for the rest of his life scares him and you just don’t admit your feelings because the thought of being rejected weighs heavier than the optimism of it working out in your favour.

Although he’s scared of settling down, Ransom sure did seem keen to bring you along with him to this party tonight which now you come to think of it, he’s been like that the last few times he’s taken you out.

Maybe he’s changing his mind.

“Red wine?” you hear, turning your head to see the man himself holding a wine glass for you and a tumbler glass for himself, no doubt filled with whiskey on the rocks. He does love his whiskey after all.

“Thank you, so tell me again. Why am i here?” you ask before taking a rather large sip of your wine, you certainly need liquid courage if you’re going to talk to these people.

“Who else would i have brought?” he responds, voice monotone, almost as if he’s bored and very uninterested. So all this time you thought there was a possibility of him changing his mind when in reality, he’s just been bringing you along to all of these lavish parties to keep up appearances.

No doubt to keep that controlling mother off of his back.

You shrug, continuing to look around as Ransom greets some of his grandfathers guests. One of them looks at you before looking at Ransom who eventually introduces you two, attempting to strike up some small talk until he’s being dragged away to talk to a group of men who no doubt are a lot older than him. Leaving you stood all alone.

That’s when you spot a guy across the room. He looks around Ransoms age. Tall, expensive suit, blonde hair and blue eyes. Plus he seems friendly. He raises his hand to wave and you reluctantly strut over, greeting him with a shy smile which he reciprocates.

“So, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing stood all alone?” his compliment has you flustered and unsure how to respond but still, you find the words “thank you and i’m not alone, i came here with Ra-”

“Ransom Drysdale, yeah i saw you with him, where did he disappear to?”

“I have no idea, off talking to random strangers” you chuckle nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed about his absence. Little do you know, Ransom can see you with this mystery man, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw at the sight of you laughing.

Surely he can’t be that funny, he thinks to himself. But he is. He’s hilarious.

“So what do you think drew her to him then?” you giggle, gesturing to the couple next to you, a woman who’s dressed up to the nines with her husband who looks a lot older than her “oh obviously his looks, what makes you question her intentions?” he smirks and you shove him playfully.

“Oh of course. What was i thinking? Silly me” you wink, downing the rest of your drink in seconds before he takes another flute of champagne off of the waitresses tray for you.

“If i didn’t know any better i’d say you’re trying to get me drunk sir” you say using your best posh voice. Unbeknownst to you though, Ransom can hear your whole conversation, every single thing you’re saying to this man.

But can he really be mad? You’re only talking to, right? Besides he’s not exactly your boyfriend so you’re free to talk to whoever you want. Not that you want anyone else.

What he won’t admit now though is how jealous he is right now, he’s had just about enough of another man making you laugh the way that he’s supposed to make you laugh and now the only way this man is taking you home is over his dead body. But for now, he’s gonna make use of his best poker face, side eyeing the two of you on the sly as anger starts to build.

You start to look around the room yourself, trying to find Ransom and as you do, you spot him heading over to the drinks table so you decide to take that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, joining your date.

“Hey you” you bump him, a cheesy grin plastered across your face, one that fades as quickly as it appeared thanks to Ransoms straight and unimpressed expression.

You stand in front of him, blocking his access to the drinks “is everything okay?” but instead of an answer, you get silence. No response whatsoever. Why is he ignoring you?

“Ransom?”

“What?” he mutters, evidently agitated “what’s wrong?”

He chuckles in response, shoving past you to get his drink and lifting the tumbler to his plump pink lips, practically gulping it down without even so much as a flinch “oh don’t worry, everything is fine. Hey why don’t you go back to your little conversation with Mr Perfect will you” and just like that, he’s storming away from you and up the stairs to the second floor, instantly regretting sending you back to that man.

What could have gotten him so wound up?

If seeing you with that guy is the problem then maybe he shouldn’t have left you.

And without a second more to overthink and fester over his random outburst, you return to the other gentleman. One who knows how to treat you with respect as opposed to shutting you out.

“Hello again” he beams “i was about to say your name but then i remembered we never exchanged those”

“I’m Y/N”

“Jack”

“Nice to meet you Jack”

“Likewise”

The two of you shake hands as another conversation sparks up, pushing all Ransom related thoughts to the back of your already full brain.

Whilst Ransom is sat in the bathroom. Flustered, angry and ready to blow his lid at something so small. A situation that means nothing. That man means nothing to you, surely. You’re just being friendly, after all he did leave you to go and socialise. What did he expect you to do? Stand in the corner away from everyone?

You don’t want this guy though. Jack is just a friend you’ve made here. You want Ransom and he wants you too but his pride is in the way.

God what is wrong with him?

Evidently a lot.

One minute he’s all over you, taking you to parties and the next he’s giving you the silent treatment and acting like you’ve done something wrong.

And the only reason for his odd behaviour is because of the plan he made for tonight. Anyone who knows Ransom knows very well about his thoughts on relationships but with you, things are different and they always have been. You force him out of his comfort zone, you challenge him and you make him better. He was so nervous for tonight that the second the two of you arrived at the party he was drinking and acting strange.

As much as the thought of settling down scares him, he knows that it’s much better to tell you than watch you leave and find someone new. Seeing you with that guy only confirmed that.

After spending who knows how long in the bathroom trying to talk himself out of kicking up a fuss, he heads back down to the party, maybe he should go and spend more time with you but as he walks down the stairs, he instantly spots you and that same guy again. His hand is on your arm and you’re way too close for his liking. Close enough to make his skin crawl and his jaw clench even tighter.

He storms over, hearing his voice as he does so.

“So i know you came here with Ransom but i was wondering if i could maybe get your number?” he asks, scratching the back of his head as he anxiously awaits your reply.

Jacks nerves are abundantly clear until Ransom cuts you off, stopping you from opening your mouth to respond. He tugs on your arm, pulling you back “the answers no, prick” he snaps, dragging you through the crowd and out into the cold night air, barely giving you a chance to say goodbye to anyone and causing goosebumps to form all over your bare arms and legs.

“Ransom what the fuck?” you yell, trying your best to yank your arm from his tight grip “just get in the fucking car” he demands, opening the door for you. How chivalrous of him. His raised voice made you jump a little, cowering slightly and leaving you with no choice but to do as you’re told.

The second he gets in too, he’s shoving the key in the ignition and speeding off away from the party. Jack and all of the crowd long forgotten not just out of sight but out of mind too. Now all you can think about is Ransom and what’s got him so angry all of a sudden as he was pretty happy on the journey here.

You daren’t speak though, god forbid. Your words will only wind him up further.

Knuckles start to turn white as he grips the steering wheel like never before, his fingers tapping frantically which is an obvious indication of his need to get home as soon as physically possible.

You honestly can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this angry in the whole time you’ve known him and that’s quite literally the scariest thing about this.

Eventually you reach his house, or should you say bachelor pad and he barely waits a second for you to exit the car before he’s storming off into the house without you.

Once you get inside he’s nowhere to be seen until you hear a loud slam of a door coming from upstairs. You head up and into the master bedroom instantly to find him undressing and discarding his clothes across the room.

“Ransom” you approach him with caution, worry filling your soft and caring voice but the moment you’re a few inches away and about to touch him, he shoots around, scaring you.

“Would you have given him your number?” he questions, his blue eyes looking deep into yours almost like he’s looking into your soul.

“Who? Jack? No, of course not. Why’re you even asking me that?” you protest, hoping he’ll believe you but now you come to think of it, you probably looked way too close for comfort.

“Lies”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Because it sure seemed like the two of you were getting awfully cosy tonight, laughing, drinking, touching each other” he explains, closing the space between you and making you gulp.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t of treated me like i was invisible all night then i wouldn’t have needed to make friends with him. You forget that you barely said a word the whole time” now you’re the one that’s angry as you step back after your outburst, watching him carefully. His next actions shock you though as he just laughs, turning away and speed walking across the bedroom to the en suite. But before you can even follow him, he slams the door, making you flinch and then as you thought he would, he locked it.

Why can’t he ever be mature enough to talk about things. All he ever does is avoid confrontation. You don’t really like it either but at least you’re trying to sort whatever issue has him all in his feelings and angry.

Rather than sitting and waiting for him to leave the bathroom, you decide to go and get ready for bed in the other one, showering before getting dressed into whatever you can find. Which just so happen to be a shirt of his.

He dries off, wrapping a towel around his waist before unlocking the door and walking out to find you sat on the bed.

“The answer is no and that’s the truth”

“Oh yeah? Then why was his hands all over you like you were there with him tonight?”

“That was nothing, we were just laughing. What about you though huh? Snapping at me all night, leaving me and then deciding at the very last second that you want to spend time with me. Felt a lot like just another one of your games” it doesn’t look like he believes you and now you’re over trying to prove yourself.

“I left to talk to people and i was acting funny because going to those parties never end well, i wasn’t playing games with you” he stalks towards you, closing the gap.

Okay, now that makes sense. It explains all about how his behaviour changed when the two of you entered the actual party.

“You know, seeing you with that guy wasn’t easy. I got angry. All this time i thought you knew that you belonged to me, clearly i was wrong” his fingers graze your arm before settling underneath your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

“Maybe you need a reminder” he’s so close to you now, his hands are all over your waist, moving down agonisingly slow towards your ass. He smacks the backs of both thighs as a signal for you to jump and you do. How can you resist?

His lips attack yours in a brief and passionate kiss before he throws you down to the bed “i’m gonna make you forget all about him” he then removes the towel.

You furrow your brows watching as he lifts your (his) shirt up, revealing your laced panties. His favourite on you. He spreads your legs with his hands as he tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling down to press a firm kiss to the inside of both your thighs.

That’s when he does what he always does, turns you into a moaning mess by devouring your pussy like a man starved. Sucking, slurping and flicking his tongue all over your sex effortlessly like your body was made for him. Just how you felt the first time he ever touched and tasted you.

“Mhmm, just like that” you run your fingers through his styled locks, messing them up without a care. “I’m the only one for you" he mumbles and it vibrates onto your clit making you giggle.

“You’ve always been the only one” you whisper and he looks up at you with lustful eyes but also a look of love. One you’ve not seen before or maybe you’ve never noticed.

The way he looks at you isn’t new but all this time you’ve assumed it’s because of his attraction to you, that he’s only looking at you that way because of his uncontrollable lust.

“Only i am allowed to touch you like this, taste you” his lips wrap around your clit, sucking like his life depends on it as his thick digits tease your dripping entrance “s’wet sweetness”

You tug a little harder as you lift your bum off of the bed, grinding yourself on his face with a burning desire for that sweet release, the one only he has been able to give you “that’s it sweetness, cum all over my face, cum for daddy” his low and raspy voice spurring you on and talking dirty sends you over that edge as you cum with a loud moan. Quicker than usual.

You try to push him off as you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars. All you can focus on is how sensitive you are but he’s cleaning you up with his tongue, clearly can’t get enough of how you taste.

“Always so sweet” he gets back up, moving you further up the bed and parting your legs as he hovers above you with his fingers making quick work to slip your panties to the side. The tip of his cock rests at your entrance as he dips his head to capture your lips with his tongue pushing past them and into your mouth to battle with your tongue.

You can taste yourself on him and that alone arouses you leading you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso “i need you, now” you plead, urging him to give you what you want, which he does. He pushes in slowly at first, seating himself deep inside before really moving.

His pace gets going, rocking his hips back and forth, making sure to fill you up all the way as you claw at his back, your mouth hanging open in the perfect O shape “fuck, daddy it feels so good” you groan moving with him in his thrusts.

“Feel good baby?” he pants, resting his head in the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to your weak spot “tell daddy how good it feels sweetness. Use your words” he growls and you lift his head up so you can kiss him, cupping his face with one hand “it feels incredible, please don’t stop”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Wanna feel that pussy cream all over my cock. Give it to me sweetness” he licks his index and middle fingers before pressing them down on your clit hard, rubbing aggressively as his pace turns animalistic.

He’s ramming into you with such vigor, his breath fanning your shoulder and the noises he’s making are a far cry from just moaning. No he’s not moaning, he’s upset too or at least bothered by something.

“Can feel you squeezing me sweetness, you close?” he kisses your shoulder but this time he’s more gentle, almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you.

“Yes, oh my god i’m gonna cum. Please, keep going”

The two of you move more frantically. Desperately chasing a joint release.

Grunts, growls and the sound of skin slapping together fills the room, the sound bouncing off of the walls as you both near closer. That’s when you turn the tables around, kissing his neck this time, biting too.

“I’m gonna cum daddy”

“God i love you so much, cum with me”

3.2.1

And you’re legs are shaking in the air, his cock starts to twitch before he coats your walls with his hot seed.

“I love you too”

As he looks back into your eyes, you see it, the tears brimming and threatening to spill but he quickly kisses you, knowing full well that it’ll distract you but not this time. You pull back to look again but he only moves.

“You know i don’t think i was ever angry at you” he starts, standing up to retrieve the towel “it was him. Seeing him flirting with you only made me realise what i wanted” you get off of the bed now, approaching him “call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you” he rests his forehead to yours, his hands resting on your waist “you’re mine, plain and simple”

“You never were one to do things the easy way” the two of you laugh before he kisses you “the easy way is boring”

Although you’re shocked about his confession, you daren’t pry more right now on his feelings. For now you just want to enjoy this moment. The two of you feel the same and that’s enough for you.

-----------------------------

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @kaminorogers @yassspose @randomsevans

Just Chris & His Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @whxre4cevans

LMK if you wanna be added to my tag list.

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ljblueteak · 4 years ago

Text

Throwing my hat into the “Why did Paul and Jane break up?” ring. There have been fantastic posts on this already, but looking at the McCartney bios by Sounes and Salewicz back-to-back has given me a slightly different perspective (this could all need to be tossed out if anything else about them comes to light/there’s other material I’m not aware of, which is more than possible, but here’s what I’ve got for now!)

The short version: I think they split up because of a lack of long-term compatibility that they both recognized as they got older. They also grew to prefer different lifestyles and possibly also had different ideas about whether/when to start trying to have children. By the time they split up, Paul had already realized, according to the joint interview with Jane described in Hunter Davies’ 1968 bio, that it was “silly” of him to have expected Jane to do what the other Beatles’ partners had done and give up her career after marriage (Paul describing his expectation as having been “silly” is in Davies 308-309. The observation that all the other women who had “married in to the band” had given up their careers because that was “expected by men of [the Beatles’ background]” is in Sounes 189). Jane having a career she wanted to continue after marriage seems to have been resolved as a possible impediment before the split. The Salewicz bio suggests that what *may* have been a factor was the question of children, with Jane not wanting them to interfere with her career. However, it’s not clear from that bio when this question came up for them--whether it was closer to the time of the split or whether it had been discussed and resolved prior to their engagement. I think these are the main reasons they split. I don’t think his many, many, many affairs helped at all, but I think the above reasons are the main ones.

Jane and Paul got together when they were quite young (Jane was 17 and Paul was 20) and their interests diverged in a few ways that really mattered as they got older. As the bios have suggested, Jane wasn’t really into rock ‘n’roll and really wasn’t into the drug scene. Paul was into both (understatement!). This likely contributed to the tension that people like Marianne Faithful witnessed between them. In addition to that, they both seemed to realize that they didn’t ultimately “click.” For bio excerpts and more, please see below!

In terms of not actually “clicking,”which would be enough reason to end a relationship on its own, imo, here’s what Jane Asher had to say (sourced from the amazing @thecoleopterawithana via @amoralto:

“No, it wasn’t love at first sight on my side. It was several months before I felt at all certain. And of course, I was young. Only seventeen. Inevitably, one changes. After all, Paul himself was only twenty when we met.

“I knew in my bones that the break must inevitably come a long time before it actually happened. Although we had this emotional thing for each other, we found it difficult to be really happy together....”

Jane Asher, interview w/ Godfrey Winn for The Australian Women’s Weekly: Girl with a broken love affair. (April 23rd, 1969)

And here’s Paul in Many Years From Now:

“During that period with Jane Asher I learned a lot and she introduced me to a lot of things, but I think inevitably when I moved to Cavendish Avenue, I realized that she and I weren’t really going to be the thing we’d always thought we might be. Once or twice we talked about getting married, and plans were afoot but I don’t know, something really made me nervous about the whole thing. It just never settled with me, and as that’s very important for me, things must feel comfortable for me, I think it’s a pretty good gauge if you’re lucky enough. You’re not always lucky enough, but if you can feel comfortable then there’s something very special about that feeling. I hadn’t quite managed to be able to get it with Jane....She was a very intelligent and interesting person, but I just never clicked. One of those indefinable things about love is some people you click with and some people who you should maybe click with, you don’t” (264, 452-453).

In addition to their own words, there are differing takes from observers about Paul and Jane’s compatibility and reasons for the split. Artists like Jann Howarth, who along with Peter Blake made the Sergeant Pepper art and had known the Beatles for “four years” before that observes in the Sounes bio that:

“I thought [Paul and Jane] were adorable together. She was wonderful. She was a very calm person and, in the middle of all this, you felt she was a wonderful balance for him, and you felt she was his equal for sure. It didn’t feel to me as though Paul was the big deal and she was trembling along behind, whereas you felt that a bit with Pattie Boyd and some of the other gals. I mean Cynthia was left standing still, basically, by John. Whereas you felt Jane was an absolute equal to Paul and had a very supple mind” (131).

Howarth sees them as “adorable” together and says that Jane’s “Paul’s equal for sure” and doesn’t suggest that this is a source of tension in any way.

Marianne Faithful, who frequently visited Cavendish with Mick Jagger, seems to imply in her autobiography that a major cause for the tensions she observed between Paul and Jane were related to Jane’s career aspirations and that Paul had wanted “an old-fashioned Liverpool wife,” which is what he got with Linda. However, I think it’s worth noting that while there had been tensions about Jane’s career, as detailed in the Davies bio (though Paul had also been really excited about and supportive of Jane’s career), Paul had already recognized that he had been being “silly.” Of course, there may have been continuing tensions related to it, but it sounds like Paul realized he’d been wrong on the whole. In addition to that, Marianne and Mick were part of the rock ‘n’ roll drug crowd Jane disapproved of, so these tensions between Paul and Jane that Faithfull observed may very well also have been related to Jane not being thrilled about more drug-using rock ‘n’rollers taking over her house.

Here’s the bit from Marianne Faithfull’s book via The Guardian:

Visits to Paul and Jane Asher weren't quite as relaxed. They were a bit uptight, and there were constant little frictions, but that's what happens when couples start to come apart. In any case, I was in a very different position from the one that Jane found herself in. I'd done what Paul wanted Jane to do, and given up my career. I wasn't going on tour with the Old Vic; I wasn't taking any more movie roles and very few parts in plays. Jane was a serious actress and wanted to continue her career, but Paul had other ideas. That's why Linda was so perfect for Paul; she was just what he wanted, an old-fashioned Liverpool wife who was devoted to her husband. Whatever we thought of Linda - and she didn't make that great an impression on me - I think it was a credit to Paul that he didn't marry a model. Because that's what all the others have ended up doing, they've married these models. And they have children who also become models.

The Guardian, 6 October 2007.

In his bio of Paul (which doesn’t directly address Faithfull’s comments), Sounes doesn’t suggest that the perception that Paul would be happy to be with someone who was prepared to let their own career take the backseat, at least for a time, is wrong (I do think it’s important to mention that in addition to her Wings career and solo/with Paul songwriting work, Linda also did work that didn’t involve Paul’s career at all down the line, like working on her cookbooks and frozen food line). But Sounes does say that it was much more than that that drew Paul and Linda together:

“Anything Paul wanted to do seemed possible with Linda, or Lin as he called her affectionately. She had bucket-loads of American confidence, which he liked. Both were relaxed and open about sex...Lin dug rock ‘n’ roll in a way Jane never had and unlike Jane, this American girl wasn’t uptight about drugs. Although a modern, liberated woman in some ways, Lin wasn’t a committed careerist. She was already tired of scratching a living as a rock ‘n’roll photographer, more than ready to settle down with a man who could look after her and Heather” Fab (215).

Paul was also ready to start a family. Indeed, John Lennon suggested that part of what drew Paul to Linda was the “ready-made family.” In the same interview where John pointed out that Linda could provide a “ready-made family,” he claimed that Jane was not ready for children: “If Jane was to have a career, then that’s not a cozy family, is it?” Chris Salewicz’s Paul bio also addresses this, saying:

“A source of considerable contention between Paul and Jane--perhaps the cause of those adverse remarks about the theatre to Joe Orton--was her insistence that having children would interfere with her acting career. Yet, now that Paul had everything he could possibly ever want, all that remained to fulfill his life was the presence of children, something he had always desired far more than the other Beatles” (199).

While we (or at least I!) don’t know whether Paul and Jane had discussed the issue of children before they got engaged, disagreements over whether or when to have kids contribute to a fair number of breakups to this day--and they had plenty of good reasons, from just not “clicking” in the right way to disagreements over drugs, to break up anyway.

#Paul McCartney #Jane Asher #Linda McCartney #Paul and Jane #Paul and Linda #long post #really really really long post #and I have thoughts about Linda being a traditional Liverpool wife too #but that was already too long #I just edited to mention all the cheating #and could have talked about it more #but I really don't think it was a primary factor #down to discuss though!

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metanoiamorii · 3 years ago

Text

Wip Re-Introduction: A Rope In Hand

❛Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back. It can’t be hidden away like the guilty secrets we try to keep in our subconscious.❜

♧ Title: A Rope In Hand [ARIH]

♧ Status: First Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person, flexible between a few

♧ Genre: Dark Fantasy, Supernatural, LGBTQ+, Action, Drama

♧ Warnings: This story revolves around the occult. There will be talk of witch hunts and trials and cults. There will be torture methods used to gain confessions, and these methods will be justified under religious belief. There will be toxic and abusive relationships, particularly family; finding an escape from them, and healing from the trauma. There will be homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and colonization. There will be major character deaths, but I can spoil after the book ends the main characters do get a happy ending. Each chapter and scene posted will have personalized warnings, but these are the main things to expect.

♧ Featuring: The majority of the characters will be LGBTQ+, from pansexual, homosexual, to asexual; genderfluid, agender/nonbinary, and transgender. Each character is complex and morally grey. Yes, they will do things that are blatantly terrible, or actively good. Overall, they will be morally grey and questionable at best. There will be complex world-building, from both the universe it takes place in, and the religious pantheons brought up. The religions brought up will be polytheistic and animism-themed. The romance between the major characters will be slow-burn enemies to friend to lovers, and them learning to love themselves through one another. There will be an exploration on generational healing, and unlearning toxic, and bias believes.

♧ Setting: The setting is influenced by Victorian London, and Medieval Ireland. There will be mention of other places, primarily western Europe, the Ottoman Empire, Ancient Rome, Eastern Asia, and Napoleonic France.

♧ Synopsis:

In the town of Arkaley, in the northwest of the Duchy of Ruairc, the people have been plagued by bad fortune and crime. Attacks of bandits on the road, raids from pirates on the shores, untimely deaths of children and young women, elected officials coming out corrupt; there is no end in Arkaley of the suffering the locals endure.

Rationally, to explain such a bad string of luck, there is only one possible explanation: Witchcraft.

The Duchy of Ruairc already has a history of witchcraft: the Ó Ruaircs turned out to be witches, the Abondé incident in Salem, the Liathain incident in Trakee; the Ruaircs have their record. Perfectly acceptable for everyone to assume the worse of the Ruairish, as they have proved to be nothing but.

To prove his worth, the young Reverend Prudence Clemency Frye, takes up the task of quelling this coven of witches and heading this witch-hunt. Young and naïve, witch only knowledge from books and little hands-on experience, he’s unprepared for this challenge. When he finally leaves the town, well… everyone would rather put this incident behind them.

♧ Tease:

My darling dear, a knave so clear

You appear, so bravely near;

Do you hear my darling dear, sneers of austere jeers?

Behave, my dear, when I am near;

For peers will lear, in their fear,

Allow me o' dear our persevere

So my fave you appear

And volunteer a slave so dear

in an atmosphere we fear.

my darling dear, wave so clear

Depravely as we leave, and give a souvenir;

My lips to yours, as you crave in these fallin' years.

Be brave darling dear, and give into hearts o' queer.

For mine you be, your darling dear,

To the stars you have swore in love, so crystal clear.

My peers shall sneer, but whore I be, and you I crave

Oh so bare. slurs and glares, just listen to my prayers.

Kiss me love, and leave o'they to a'crave

In this atmosphere that we fear

Their own, o' pure, knave so dear.

♧ Excerpt:

".... This is wrong." Prudence finds the words slipping from his lips, voice a quiet whisper; a breathless tone of voice. He allows his fingertips to falter against scarred skin, watching as Mastema turned his cheek, he pressed himself into the palm of Prudence's hand. Eyes closed, a smile curled on his face. Prudence couldn't help but smile at the scene, but slowly, slowly, slowly, he rescinded his hand; breaking the hold.

"Revered..." Matching his voice, Mastema replied. Maintaining such a soft voice, as he shifted himself forward on the bed. One foot to the ground, the other drawn beneath himself. Over Prudence he leaned, resting one palm to the sheets, the other lifting to seize Prudence's hand before he could recoil back. "You have made me feel something in which I've never felt before..."

From where he laid, Prudence could only form a soft frown. He knew he could draw his hand back, the grip was far from tight. But he didn't. He laid there, allowing Mastema to hold his hand. "... This is wrong, Mastema."

Mastema frowned; he matched the reaction Prudence wore. Through it, he forced a half-smile, tightening his grip on the other's hand, and forward he brought Prudence's hands to kiss the knuckles. "... If this is wrong, I do not wish to be right."

At the response, Prudence shook his head. "It is not for us to be right or wrong, the gods—"

At the angle he sat, Mastema shifted once more. He dropped Prudence's hand, to lean forward; to lean in close. Both of his palms found the other's cheek, as he touched their foreheads to one another. "... Do not force your will onto another." In that soft whisper, he spoke. Eyes closed, breath drawn in. "Is that not a Commandment of our Creator?"

"I..." Prudence faltered. In, he drew his breath, to try to steady himself. "... I did not take you for the religious sorts."

"I'm not." Mastema all too quickly retorted. But as he was, he laid; this proximity. "But you are."

♧ Characters:

The Order of Witchesbane

Prudence Clemency Frye; The Reverend

Half Fae/Half Human • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Homosexual • Homo-demiromantic

The bastard son of Lord Zachariah Frye. Raised by his father, with his mother dying young, he took to following in his footsteps. He became a religious young man and an active witch-hunter. A part of him desires his father’s acceptance, his praises; the other part despises his father and everything the man stands for. In recent years, he has joined the De La Cruz household, becoming an apprentice beneath the famous Witch’s Advocate; upholding the beliefs that not every witch is evil and has foul intentions, and the ones that mean harm are the only ones that should be hunted.

Zachariah Frye; The Bloodhound

Human • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest living member of the Order. Now he is the man that holds the face of the Order, who you think of when they come to mind. Cold. Vindictive. Despotic. Violent. He is not a good man. He is firm in his beliefs and stubborn to change. Once his mind is made up, he cannot be reasoned with. He is blindly convinced of his beliefs and his cause to eradicate every living witch, unfazed if he has to fill a few innocent thousands in the process.

Calisto Ferzan Hermengildo Melchior Lorencio De La Cruz; The Witch’s Advocate

Half Fae/Half Human • Amab • Nonbinary • Genderfluid • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

A witch-hunter in title alone, Calisto has been making enemies since he could first talk. He’s always enjoyed being the underdog, going against the expectations of society, being ridiculed by his peers. The sole reason? Proving them wrong. To ridicule his own peers for their outdated beliefs, he’s taken to defending witches, proving them innocent of their ‘crimes’, and going on to help them to set up a life in a country more accepting of witchcraft

The servant of Calisto, never seen far from his side. He is a servant in name alone and is more-or-less an assassin, a hitman for Calisto. Held in contempt by Athylian society for being a foreigner, he often treated by others more as a slave than a servant. To help be unseen, to help the De La Cruz Household, Michelotto endures the treatment and goes as far to be perceived as ignorant, alongside him being born a mute. Keeping his true intents and intelligence duly guarded, only a handful are aware he is also a witch.

Myk'loumihr [Michelotto Dougal] Siavash; The Man-Servant

Witch; Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

Austin Duvine; The Lord Without A Ring

Half-Human/Half Fae • Amab • Nonbinary • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

One of the younger members of the order, Austin relies on his father's wealth and name. He doesn't care for responsibilities, he doesn't care for hard work. He's a playboy at heart. He's fit to hold social events, and use his natural talent to gib and fib his way through life. He'll keep his mixed feelings to himself, struggling with doing the right thing or upholding tradition.

Alistair Lavine; The Witchfinder General

Human • Amab • Agender • He/They • Bicurious • Aromantic

The best friend to Zachariah and his right hand. Where Zachariah is business and lacks charms, Alistair can charm a crowd and hold their attention. He knows how to feign being an ideal human, without letting on his own bloodlust; he's a monster in human skin. At the end of the day, unlike Zachariah, Alistair does have morals and standards he will abide by, even if they come back to ruin him.

━━━━━━━━━━

The Vakari Coven

Ausrine Baoghal; The Lady

Witch • Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Aromantic

The woman in charge of the town, widowed and inheriting the right to rule as her husband had no heirs. She is a manipulative and dangerous woman, eager to commit any sin or crime for more power. She, in truth, cares only for herself and would feel no remorse if she had to turn on one of her coven to further her own agenda.

The magistrate and also the chief policeman of the town. He maintains a calm, but manipulative personality. As a front, he presents himself to be fair and just, liked and favored by the people for genuinely caring for them. While in truth he has his own heinous and sinister agenda, aiding Ausrine in her plans.

Leary O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate

Witch • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest member of the coven, Dairine lives under the guise of an elderly woman, who lives alone with her children and grandchildren already leaving her to live their own lives. She is a kind and understanding woman and cares for the younger witches in the coven. She will not support Baríon with her agenda, nor does she care for the servant girl, she even despises the so-called ally Ausrine claims to have and who they all adhere to.

Dairine Ó Séaghdha; The Crone

Witch • Afab • Agender • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The acting servant of Barion, Anisha’s true loyalties lie elsewhere. She stays within the town, serving the coven while acting as the eyes and ears of someone, the person who is truly pulling the strings. She is the one to relay information and letters between the coven and her master. She is a quiet woman, that keeps her head down and her mind to herself. She only shows her true, confident and demanding, nature behind closed doors with the coven when they dare to question her.

Anisha Kaur; The Servant

Witch • Afab • Demigirl • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The charming son of Leary. Many whisper that is part fae, due to his charm, if it’s true or not many are unaware. He is a very sophisticated young man, that has managed to wrap the entire town around his finger. While on the surface he is alike his father is a caring, compassionate, charming young man, something sinister brews beneath. He is devious, demanding, domineering.

Nathir O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate’s Son

Half-Witch/Half-Fae • Amab • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic

Being the baker's daughter, Liannah helps around the bakery and family business. Unlike the company she keeps, she is a reserved young woman. She is polite and maintains her manners with whomever she is dealing with. She has the patience of a saint and rarely loses her cool. Liannah is a woman with a calm demeanor about her, being a woman many are comfortable around due to her peaceful and calm aura.

Liannah Ó Buachalla; The Baker’s Daughter

Witch • Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Panromantic

Ausrine's bastard son she had with a spirit she bargained with for more power. Since he was young, he was raised by the servants of the house, and the coven, over his own mother; the two have more of a business relationship over a family one. Since he cares less about what his mother does, he spends his time with Liannah and Reyes, either at the bakery or getting into trouble somewhere. With Reyes as an influence, Mastema is a flirtatious man that enjoys scandals and making the most of life

Mastema Baoghal; The Knave

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

Rochan Misra; The Charlatan

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic

A foreigner to the Coven, born and raised in the Duchy of Incali. At a young age, he became a traveling charlatan, recently settling within the coven only as he befriended Liannah and Mastema and enjoyed their company. Now, he is the local bad influence: scamming locals out of their money at the taverns, wooing and seducing young men and ladies alike, always trespassing and vandalizing something. He is trouble but has a heart of gold when it matters.

ARIH: : @hekat-ie, @writings-of-a-narwhal, @silent-creed

━━━━━━━━━━

Taglist:

General: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @alexwritesfiction, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

Both: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark

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heybeybey · 4 years ago

Text

Ai-Ai Gasa

Since seeing this post from @rivapetosprmcy, I keep thinking of a “sequel” of sorts where Levi catches Petra drawing the love umbrella.

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Genre: Romance

Summary:

What are those two up to now?

Levi decided to approach Petra and Oluo but before he can even speak up, he finally sees what Petra wrote on the wall.

Huh, so this is the reason why she always serves him tea first.

---

Levi takes the last few coins, pocketing the change before nodding at the shopkeeper in thanks. Today’s their scheduled biweekly restocking day and as usual, his squad insisted that they all go together since it can be a “bonding moment” of sorts for the whole team.

Eld and Gunther went off to restock their alcohol, medicine and bandages while he, Petra and Oluo go for the groceries. He asked Oluo and Petra to wait outside as he wraps up and pays for their items, making sure they’re not forgetting anything.

Instead of seeing them just a few steps outside of the shop, Oluo and Petra are across the street. They were facing a wall as they discuss something.

What are those two up to now?

Petra started to write something on the wall.

Great.

He leaves his subordinates alone for a few minutes and now they’re fucking around and committing vandalism.

Instead of calling out to them, Levi decided to approach Petra and Oluo. Before he can even speak up, he stops as he finally sees what Petra wrote on the wall.

Huh, so this is the reason why she always serves him tea first.

A triangle with a line in the middle. The words “Capt. Levi” and “Petra” written on each side. A heart above to top it all off.

He knows what that symbol means. Levi may be the oldest in their team but he’s not stupid.

“Ral. Bozado.” He sees the both of them freeze and if he was the type who’d laugh out loud, he’d be slapping his knee right now.

He retains his impassive face instead as Oluo immediately turns around.

“Captain Levi!” Oluo exclaimed, trying to shield the wall from him.

Petra, on the other hand, remains frozen on the spot.

“I believe I called you, Ral.”

Petra still refuses to face him and he notices how the hand holding the nail she drew the symbol with was starting to shake. He’s slightly concerned because it seems she stopped breathing too. Seeing that she won’t be turning around anytime soon, he steps forward instead, giving Oluo a pointed look to move away.

His eyes scans his and Petra’s names on the wall before turning his head towards said woman.

“You have good handwriting. Considering that you wrote this with a nail,” he says casually, as if they’re just discussing the weather and not a younger subordinate having a raging crush on her superior.

Her face is so red now, he’d think she got bitchslapped ten times.

“Captain, I’m sorry! It doesn’t mean anything. I swear!” she finally blurts out.

“Mhmm.”

“Oluo and I were just messing around, right Oluo?”

Oluo doesn’t answer. Most likely scared that he’ll get his butt kicked by the captain if he does join the conversation. Levi remains silent, assessing the situation, before speaking up to address his other subordinate.

“Oluo, go help Eld and Gunther. They’re doing a shit job for something as simple as shopping for medical supplies.”

Oluo hesitates for a moment, looking between Petra and Levi before saluting him and walking away.

“Captain, please don’t kick me out of the squad!” Petra exclaims once they’re both alone.

“Petra-”

“I’ll be on toilet duty for three months! Or! Paperwork maybe? Do you want me to do all your paperwork instead? Of course, you’ll still have to supervise but at least you don’t have to stay up late every night-

“Ral-”

“No, wait. I’ll buy all your cleaning supplies for a year straight or-or- I can pay for all your tea supplies-”

“My salary’s higher than yours, Ral.”

“There must be some way I can make up for this. Do you want me to shoulder the whole team’s chores instead? I didn’t mean to disrespect you captain-”

“Pet-”

“I promise I’ve never allowed my feelings to get in the way!”

“Feelings?” he replies in an almost amused tone. “I thought you said it doesn’t mean anything.”

She finally deflates. “Captain, I’m sorry...”

He watches her and it’s quite comical that the woman in front of him is the type who’d be brave enough to jump straight into a titan’s mouth and kill it from the inside out. By just (accidentally) revealing a crush, her whole body’s shaking and he just knows she’s about to cry.

He feels his chest tighten at that thought.

Awkward silence. Deep down, he knows he should shout at her to stop this shit at once. Romance and feelings shouldn’t have a place in the Scouts. Not when there’s a risk that they’ll die every month. Instead of listening to his better judgement, he allows his curiosity to get the best of him instead.

“Is this what you meant when you said that you wanted to devote yourself to me?”

Petra seems to realize that there’s no way out of his question. Lying will only get her in further trouble. Who knows what the commander would do if he finds out? Much more if he learns that she flat out lied to her direct commanding officer? “...yes, sir.”

“I see.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching Petra deflate further. It seems the woman may be thinking that she really will get kicked out of the Special Ops now.

Levi, for all his attempts to repress his sexual urges and feelings, does recognize the fact that his 24-year-old subordinate is beautiful. She’s also kind and skilled to boot. He’s seen the way Oluo looks at her and how even some Scout recruits try to find the guts to approach her and ask her for “tips” when really, it’s just a veiled attempt to get closer to her.

He never allows himself to explore feelings beyond friendship when it comes to Petra. He shouldn’t have even allowed friendship in the first place. How she wormed her way in, he still doesn’t know to this day.

Levi continues when he noticed that Petra’s emotions show just how her mind is starting to spiral downwards, his voice more quiet than before. “I’m not worth it, Petra.”

That causes her head to snap up. “Sir?”

“You’re better off with someone who’s not a grumpy midget.” He remembers how Hange can also get creative when describing people.

In his mind, it’s true. He’s a 34-year-old man who never had a girlfriend. He knows how to kill titans but he doesn’t even know how to romance a girl. He’s a former thug from the Underground and 90% of the women he’d met are taller than him. He knows that if not for his “Humanity’s Strongest” status, he’d be the last man most would choose to go out on a date with.

He actually heard it once, while he and Erwin were walking along a street in Sina. Two women were giggling and whispering to one another as Levi and Erwin passed by their table in front of a tea shop.

“Oh, I’d totally bang the commander. Just look at him! I wouldn’t be surprised if half the Scouts are crushing on him. Think we can invite him over for dinner one day?”

“How about the captain? They say he’s Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.”

“He’s alright, I guess.” The woman shrugs. “A bit on the short side for my taste though.”

“With how he’s always frowning, he actually reminds me of a gremlin,” the other answers in a whisper.

“Do you think he’d be into blindfolds? I mean, I bet he’d be good in bed with all that training he gets but... you know.”

The two nobles weren’t exactly discreet in their conversation and he remembers how Erwin gave him a sympathetic look.

Not that he cares.

Levi looks at Petra again. She’s been quiet for awhile but now, he sees that she’s now looking at him softly. His squad once noted how Petra’s huge eyes just highlights her emotions even more and this is the first time that he can actually agree. He feels captivated, staring back.

“Captain...” For all her persistence to deny her feelings awhile ago, the emotions behind this one word reveals just how much truth the love umbrella holds.

Levi doesn’t give her a chance to continue. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if this conversation actually goes somewhere. He breaks eye contact and turns away from her.

“Let’s go. We need to go back to base. Training’s in an hour.”

----

Two weeks later, they went back to the market. Since they only needed to restock a few things, they didn’t need to bring the whole squad for this week’s scheduled shopping day.

He and Petra were about to cross the street when the rain started to fall. Levi took it upon himself to open the umbrella to shield them both from the rain since he only had one bag in hand.

As they huddle closer together inside the umbrella, Levi remembers their conversation a few weeks ago, the illustrated umbrella with his and her name below the sharp triangle flashes in his mind, and he feels his heartbeat quicken at the thought.

It seems Petra is thinking of the same thing as he notes the soft blush on her cheeks.

#this is cheesy af #levi x petra #petra #petra ral #petra x levi #levi ackerman #rivetra #rivapeto #levitra #not v great with fluffy stories but i just wanna publish this idea so here u have it #petra rall #attack on titan #snk

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